#It's technically pointless to post these for a second time

[thenthereisthisstuff]

My fav panels from my choose-your-own-EDventure blog. I'm still learning the style, and will no doubt move on to another obsession long before I perfect it, but at least it's tricking me into drawing again.

[asuyaka]

This one is for you, baby!

★ - hellooo!!! original idea comes from sanjisboyfie <33 (user s so real but m more of a Zoro guy ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ )

☆ - Basketball Player Gojo Satoru x Male Reader!

♡ - CW: homophobia but you and Satoru deal with it!

If there's anything to know about Gojo Satoru, the top scorer of the 'Jujutsu' basketball team, is that he has a boyfriend.

And God does he love [Name] to the ends of infinity and back.

It was a scandal when the press first saw you two technically three since Satoru's best friend Suguru was there too together, doing the unthinkable.

Holding hands.

Articles and Magazines came out with headlines like "Player for the Kaisen Basketball team, Gojo Satoru is gay?!" or "Should kids be allowed to watch Gojo Satoru play?" came out. Every time during a game, there would always be someone who, without a doubt, asked if the rumors were true.

Their coach, Yaga Masamichi, advised Satoru to stay neutral on the situation until it blew over. But if there's one thing Gojo Satoru is not good at doing, it's following orders.

So, he brought you to a game one day. Bout you a court-side seat (even though it was expensive as hell), and made sure you were wearing his jersey.

He was playing against an almost equally talented team, the 'Cursed' with their star player, Itadori Sukuna (older brother to the friend of Satoru's son).

Thirty seconds before the last quarter ended, the score was tied, 104 to 104. Satoru had the ball, dribbling it down the court as time seemed to move faster.

He passed to Suguru, running down to the three-point line to make the last shot of the game.

Your heart was thumping violently against your chest, hands gripping the hem of Satoru's jersey as you watched the ball swish through the net as the end-game buzzer went off.

Cheers immediately erupted from the crowd as the ball bounced on the floor two final times, securing the Championship for Satoru's team.

What he does next surprises you. Satoru and Suguru don't do their usual handshake after winning a game—no— he makes a beeline towards you, using his wide arms to pick you up by your waist, and then he kisses you.

On National TV, in front of several people, with absolutely no shame.

Satoru smiles at you, it's full of teeth and nevertheless beautiful before putting you down.

That was when the public knew about how kind Gojo Satoru could be when he was not on the court and the only person who managed to pull that personality out of him.

Back to the present, you're sitting court-side again, way after the game was over, relaxing on your phone while Satoru and Suguru were looking to see who could make the most free-throws to decide who was paying for their victory food.

It was pointless, really, because they're both rich as shit so the competition was stupid, and Suguru was most likely going to win since free-throws were how he scored points 96.99% of the time.

Your throat feels a bit parched from all the cheering you were doing, so you get up with a yawn, stretching your body and rubbing your eyes slightly. "I'm gonna go get something to drink, maybe use the bathroom too."

Satoru turns to look at you with a smile. "Use my card and be back quick! Watch me dunk on Suguru's head!"

A ball slams against the back of his hair, a loud laugh erupting from behind him. "You can't score on me, your defense is ass."

Satoru grabs the ball with new-found malice in his eyes. "One-on-one, right now. Loser has to post whatever the other says on their Twitter account."

Suguru smirks. "Bet."

You roll your eyes at their antics as you put on Satoru's jacket. Satoru is tall, much bigger than you so the sleeves fall right past your arms. It looks like a dress on you, but that's how most of Satoru's clothes look, you've gotten used to it.

You use the bathroom, rolling Satoru's sleeves up as you start to wash your hands. The door opens, and a man walks in.

It's a bathroom, people are obviously going to enter inside so you pay it no mind. It starts to raise a few flags in your head when the man stays there, too close for comfort as his shoulder brushes against yours.

"You're dating that gay dude, right?"

The question takes you by surprise. You slowly go back to drying your hands, looking at the man through the mirror with a blank look on your face. "Excuse me?"

The man scoffs. "Don't play stupid. Gojo? You're the gaybo that's dating him, right?"

Now, you aren't a rude person. You don't believe in violence and while you'll stand up for yourself when needed, you aren't one to sit down and let yourself get disrespected. "Yes, I'm dating Satoru. Is that a problem?"

The man's face contorts in obvious disgust before turning into something malicious. "Fuckin' thought so. Now that your little boyfriend isn't here, me and you can talk, right?"

You unroll Satoru's sleeves and pull up the zipper. "I'm not interested, thank you though." You respond in a passive-aggressive tone, moving towards the door before a hand pushes you back.

"I said, we're going to talk, right?"

Your face hardens and you cross your arms. "And I said, I'm not interested. Now if you excuse me, I have a boyfriend that's waiting for me on the court."

The man stands before the door, using his frame to block the exit. Instantly dropping the 'nice guy' act, he stares at you like you're dirt underneath his shoe. "I never understood why people are gay. You seriously like taking it up the ass?"

That's where this was going.

You rub your temples as a long sigh leaves your lips. "Okay, great, can I leave now?"

"Can't you understand what I'm saying?!" The man raises his voice. "You're supposed to like—"

"Listen man," You interrupt with a bored expression. "I really don't care what you think of my relationship. I love Satoru, Satoru loves me, we're happy. Now, if you don't have anything else you want to tell me, I'll be leaving now."

As soon as you reach for the door knob, it slams open, colliding the man (and your hand) with the wall.

You wince harshly as you wave it around, profusely blowing on it as if it'd relieve the pain. Satoru's expression turns from confused to concerned very easily.

"Baby? Oh shit, I'm sorry..." He shushes you softly, bringing your hand to the sink to run some cold water over it.

"I won, by the way, Suguru sucks at basketball." Satoru mutters softly, like he's trying to distract you from the throbbing pain in your hand.

You nod gently as the pain slowly subsides. It isn't all the way gone, but it's bearable enough for you not to feel it as much. Satoru notices easily, bringing your hand up to place a kiss on it. "Feelin' better?"

"Yeah... thanks Satoru."

He smiles—it's the smile he only uses with you, it makes your heart giddy— placing a kiss on your forehead as he takes your other (unbruised) hand, leading you outside the bathroom.

Suguru is waiting, plainly dressed in a black turtleneck and black cargo pants, tearing his eyes away from his phone when he notices the two of you.

Satoru takes his bags and your bag, briefly leaving his hand from yours as he slings them over his shoulder. He's quick to reconnect them, putting his signature glasses on his face. "Ready, Suguru?"

Suguru flips him off, stuffing his phone in his pocket and fishing out his car keys. "You two make me homophobic."

"T'aww," Satoru teases, using his elbow to nudge it into Suguru's bicep. "Suguru jealous that he's single? That he won't have the privilege of dating the beautiful, handsome, pretty, attractive, alluring, eye-catching—"

"Oh my God, shut up!"

You laugh softly, thanking Satoru as he opens the door for you, closing it when you're secured inside and quickly going to the seat beside you.

The pain is your hand becomes an after thought as Suguru and Satoru keep bickering over the tiniest things, like the car mist Suguru uses, to how cold it is, and Suguru's lack of a significant other.

You sigh. Why would you pay attention to the pain in your hand when you have your boyfriend to look at?

He's a beautiful man after all, a man that you love from infinity and beyond.

Stars in the sky ☆

@sanjisboyfie

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Not sure if this is a pointless question, but I read your “what if Charlie time travelled from the end of BD2 to the start of Twilight” meta, and I propose a vaguely similar scenario:

The year before Bella comes to live in Forks, Charlie gets into bird watching. Really into bird watching. Turns out there’s a rare species of bird living in his garden, so he sets up high-quality cameras in order to capture images of this bird.

Charlie loves birds so much now.

Bella comes to live with him, all is ok, until the motion sensors on his (well hidden) cameras start going off frequently at night, and Charlie can’t for the life of him figure out why. Fear not, he can slow down the footage he captures! Maybe the bird lives in his roof now, and–

Hmm. That looks suspiciously like Edward Cullen’s face (we’re talking very, very high quality cameras here). Pfft, don’t be ridiculous Charlie, of course it’s no–

Oh, oh yep. It’s Ed. Moving very quickly towards what looks like Bella’s bedroom every night. Instead of denying it, Charlie is 100% convinced he’s right on this (he is).

What does he do?

Anon's referring to this post.

Caveat

I sigh as I write this but anon, sadly, this would never happen. First, Edward enters at night, has low/no body heat, and there weren't any automated lighting systems and if there were he probably would have moved faster or scrammed.

A vampire's natural speed is such he'd be a blip on a camera, likely not captured at all depending on the frame rate, and in dim lighting he'd be barely visible and even if Charlie's gone all out for some reason with infared Edward wouldn't pick up on it without giving off heat.

Edward's more likely to get caught because of Bella's window hinges, which notably squeaked when he first snuck in, but he uh... greased... those...

Edward's getting caught when Bella fesses up (which was never).

What Does He Do?

Alright, Edward gets caught on camera.

I'm going to assume this is before Edward confessed to Bella that he'd been doing this, as he'd been doing this for quite a while before he fessed up to her.

Which means Edward hasn't introduced himself as boyfriend, Charlie has no idea that Bella and Edward interact much if at all, Bella for that matter doesn't know either as she's been sighing from afar and having emotional whiplash from Edward's push and pull technique of acting as if he's very intrigued and then ignoring her for weeks straight the next second.

Charlie at first wonders if he's hallucinating, because what the fuck, this kid is moving crazy fast around their house (he's there for only one frame as the frame rate's too slow to fully catch his movement) and... int he middle of the night like this and then he just leaves at daybreak? What is he, Dracula?

Charlie, not being highly technical (canonically the Swans are not the most compute friendly family/reminiscent of the times when personal computers weren't everywhere yet necessarily) might wonder if he's been hacked by some local who has beef with the Cullens. It's possible, he supposes, he doesn't know how hacking works but this is also something easy to check and put a stop to.

Charlie goes to visit Dr. Cullen, shows him the video, and says, "Hey, can you confirm whether this is happening and get your son to knock it off if it is?" Charlie's not going to press charges, this is stupid kid bullshit (as it just looks like Edward's running around I imagine and I doubt he has cameras that capture Edward actually going into Bella's room), but he needs to stop this.

Carlisle has a talk with Edward in which Edward is mortified, mortified beyond imagining, and tries to explain to Carlisle just what he's doing running around the Swan household at night and getting caught on camera. He tries to explain that he's deeply worried about Bella, she might die in the middle of the night because of spiders, but it... doesn't sound... good...

Edward does, I imagine, come off as an anxious person in love who isn't sure how to handle his feelings/isn't quite mature enough to admit Bella's need for privacy/that Edward can't control every aspect of her life nor should he. I imagine Carlisle and Edward have a good long talk about this, Carlisle thinks everything is resolved, and Edward immediately returns to breaking into the Swan house.

He just destroys Charlie's security system first.

The mystery of who keeps breaking Charlie's cameras (and Charlie does suspect Edward because of this except... how the hell is he doing it?) is resolved to Bella later as canon progresses. She finds it funny and romantic. Silly old dad had no idea a vampire in love with her was breaking into her bedroom.

[bellofthemeadow]

The Road Ahead - ch 1 | Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

Next chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: Now that Frankie is finally home for good, you can start looking to the future

Notes: Welcome everyone! This is a repost from my former blog "mywordhaven" Because of some technical difficulties with my old account, I decided that it would be easier to repost my work with a brand-new blog. It's basically the same chapter as the last one, but I did make some edits (mostly syntax tbh). I will be posting the other two chapters later tomorrow and the fourth chapter should be up on sunday.

I hope that those who were following me on my old blog will join me here and I look forward to meeting newcomers!

At Long Last

You find yourself drowning in the itchiness of the comforter draped across you. Its green, worn fabric scratches your overwhelmingly sensitive skin. Surprisingly, today you welcome this sensation. The uncomfortable feeling anchors your mind to your bed, preventing it from floating away. In this moment, as you struggle to catch your breath, the scratchiness of the duvet reminds you where you are.

Your hands glide slowly across the rough fabric, savouring its familiar prickle. As you trace the worn contours, you recall when you saw that green monstrosity for the first time— It was the day you and Frankie had first moved in together all those years ago, right before his second long deployment. From the moment your eyes landed on it, you despised its discoloured hue as it clashed with your envisioned home's colour scheme. But you had kept silent. Frankie was leaving, and you didn't want your last moments together marred by a pointless argument over a green bedspread, no matter how dreadful it looked.  

Now, ten years, 2 home relocations and a marriage later, that green duvet stubbornly remains an integral part of your bedroom decor, painfully clashing with the soothing blues surrounding it. Cornflower Blue, as the Home Depot employee had labelled it. You had agonized for days on which colour to go with, tirelessly checking Pinterest boards in the hope to find the perfect shade for your bedroom— A place you hoped would be a peaceful haven for Frankie. You spent weeks deliberating between countless swatches until finally settling on the current hue. Still, the horrid green persistently clashes with the blue you lovingly chose. Perhaps sage green would have been wiser, you think. But you had refused to admit defeat to an old, worn duvet and instead, had stubbornly gone with your first idea, horrid green be damned! But now, to your frustration, the bedroom remains an enduring battleground of colours, an ongoing struggle where different shades vie for supremacy in their quest to dominate the mood of the room.

Yet Frankie had never commented on the jarring combination of green and blue or their blatant mismatch. Perhaps you were making a mountain out of Molehill as you always seem to do. After all, your tendency to dramatize insignificant matters had been a subject of teasing within your family for as long as you could remember. Your brother had a habit of remarking on how seriously you took trivial matters. For your entire lives, nicknames like "Miss Prissy" or "Your Majesty" had been some of the less painful monickers thrown your way to highlight your over-sensitiveness. And while your family saw it as innocent sibling teasing, these remarks had a way of leaving you feeling bruised, unable to brush the comments off as easily as everyone expected you to.

Your hands pause above your bare, sweat-dampened chest, shaking your head to dispel the unwelcomed and intrusive thoughts. Instead, you focus on the blissful moment you’ve just shared with your husband. The memory of that bothersome, green eyesore and all its associated baggage swiftly retreats from your mind, vanishing as fleetingly as it arrived.

Finally, you begin to feel like the easy joys of savouring life are within your reach. With Frankie by your side, you start to envision a newfound freedom to engage in playful bickering, loud laughter, and sheer enjoyment of each other. The mundane moments hold an allure like never before, beckoning you to revel in their ordinary beauty. It's a longing for a life that seems quintessentially American, relentlessly depicted on daytime television—an idyllic portrait of a family, complete with devoted parents and their brood of 2.5 children, nestled in a cozy backyard. PTA meetings, a simple 9-to-5, soccer practices after school, and piano lessons on weekends create the repetitive rhythm of this picture-perfect existence. In your vision, the pinnacle of concern revolves around selecting the ideal flowers for the summer flowerbed. While some may deem it mundane, for you, it represents an exquisite slice of paradise.

Your husband Frankie had gone through years of military service, and he deserves nothing less, you think. Your hands still from their exploration as you think on the nightmares, anxiety, and fear that would consume Frankie. Even here with you, it sometimes felt as though he was still back there, never truly able to be completely present. Like on those many nights when Frankie was on temporary leave, he would wake up screaming and trashing in the middle of the night covered in cold sweats. Or when you guys would be out and about, and his eyes would shift with practiced zeal as if he was assessing for possible threats. Never really “turning off”. No amount of sweet reassuring words were ever able to soothe him when he found himself stuck within his own mind. Every time you tried to discuss these concerns with him, your husband would respond with calm reassurances, followed by a tender kiss on your forehead, urging you not to worry about him.

You shake your head, a resolute movement meant to, again, brush away the intrusive thoughts lingering on the periphery, refusing to let them dim this precious moment. You shift your gaze, fixating on the horizon of possibilities that stretches before you. It is a horizon where love acts as a healing balm, gently tending to the myriad wounds etched upon your husband's past. Your heart, though cautiously guarded, brims with a glimmer of hope, eager to embark on this journey together.

However, despite your best efforts, thoughts of your mother insidiously infiltrate your mind. Over the years, you've clashed with her on countless occasions, yet now, as a married woman, you think back on her warning before you got married. The resonating echo of her stern voice lingers in your thoughts, admonishing you to unwaveringly stand by your husband, regardless of the circumstances, and emphasizing that his happiness must always take precedence over everything else. Strangely, she never mentioned the reverse. With Frankie's return, you resolve to be more present, leaving daydreams behind and focusing on him and solely on him.

As you think of Frankie, you can clearly see his body and how it bears the evidence of his service, a map of scars, some worn openly, while others hide beneath his weary flesh. Deep wounds that bleed and pain him more than any bullet ever could. Words alone seem insufficient in the face of everything he has sacrificed. But now, Frankie is finally home, all of this is behind you two. And isn't all this what marriage vows were meant for? In sickness and in health, through the lows and the highs, you pledged to be there. As you remind yourself, supporting your husband doesn't diminish your strength and independence. It's merely an expression of love and partnership, you firmly resolve, even though the words ring somewhat hollow, as a voice in the back of your mind whispers, "But what about you?"

You slowly redirect your attention to the persistent itchiness on your skin. Taking three deep breaths, you allow each inhale and exhale to anchor you firmly into the present. As the air fills your lungs, you feel your shoulders slowly ease from the tension you always seem to put yourself under.

Now that Frankie is here to stay, you want nothing else than to provide the emotional solace and respite he needs to rebuild and find peace within himself. After everything Frankie has endured, you decide that he deserves a life that is predictably dull yet safe and warm. You want to build that life for him.

As your imagination runs rampant with visions of the life you're now free to construct together, Frankie emerges in the doorway. Clad in nothing more than a familiar, well-worn pair of briefs, he exudes an aura that is unmistakably his own—a blend of warmth, comfort, and a sense of home. In that instant, as you gaze at each other, it feels as though every small longing you held during Frankie's absence has converged into this singular moment. Nothing else matters to you right now except being with him.

In Frankie's hands, he carefully balances a tray, on it a tall glass of ice-cold water adorned with glistening condensation. The hunger stirs within you and your gaze falls upon two perfectly crafted PB and J sandwiches, invitingly prepared. It's evident that even now, the precise conditioning instilled by the army remains ingrained in Frankie. The unwavering precision, tidiness, and discipline persist, even amidst post-coital bliss. Sloppily prepared sandwiches? Never on Frankie’s watch.

Fondness envelops your heart, causing it to flutter with an intensity that threatens to burst from your chest. At this moment, a culmination of experiences floods your mind—the countless sleepless nights spent anxiously awaiting a call, the fear that gripped you while scouring the news for any shred of information, and Frankie's inability to share the depths of what he went through all race to the forefront of your mind. Now, as you reminisce about those moments when others would claim that being with Frankie wasn't worth the pain or hardships, a profound sense of satisfaction fills your heart. You're grateful for having ignored their words, as every single challenge and difficulty encountered along the way—the long-distance separations, the emotional uncertainties, and the sacrifices made—has ultimately proven to mean something. A smile mirrors your own overwhelming happiness as Frankie starts to walk toward the bed.

"I thought you'd have an appetite after all that exercise," Frankie says, his voice laced with a playful tone. His eyes, warm like melted chocolate, cradle you in their soft gaze. They speak volumes, no words needed, telling you just how much he cares.

A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you playfully quip, "Guess it doesn't help that we skipped dinner either, huh?"

"I apologize, mi cielo. I suppose I let my excitement get the better of me," Frankie admits, a touch of boyish bashfulness colouring his tone. "After eight long months apart, how could you expect me not to pounce on you, especially when you look so breathtaking?"

With utmost care, Frankie gently places the tray on the tiny side table, taking special care to move aside the book you're currently engrossed in. With the task completed, he turns his gaze towards you, slowly making his way to your side. Your eyes lock, and in an instant, he tenderly captures your mouth with his own. The kiss is unhurried yet filled with an intense passion, a promise of all that is to come, a fulfillment of the multitude of promises you have made to each other. Now, you have all the time in the world to embrace those promises.

As the kiss deepens, Frankie's hands begin to explore your naked body, their touch igniting a fiery desire that resonates deep within you. It engulfs you in a passionate longing that intensifies with each passing second. Frankie's wandering hands halt at your hips, where he gently strokes your sides while deepening the kiss even further. Breaking the kiss, he presses his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, his warm breath mingling with your own. A playful glimmer dance in Frankie’s brown eyes as he firmly grabs your hips, effortlessly flipping you both into the deep plushness of the bed.

A delighted squeal escapes your throat, and you find yourself on top of Frankie, straddling his warm hips. His devilish smile meets your gaze. Like a tidal wave, a rush of excitement cascades through you, electrifying your senses and igniting newfound energy within.

"I thought we were supposed to have dinner," you playfully tease, your hands resting on the firm planes of his pectorals.

Frankie's eyes glisten mischievously as he responds, his voice filled with playful affection, "Don't worry, hermosa. Dinner can wait another minute. Right now, all I want to do is admire you." With a tender touch, he grabs a handful of the fleshy part of your hips, gently massaging your sides. His voice carries on, laced with adoration, "You know, this angle is my favourite. When I see you from above, naked, and sweaty, you look like my very own Amazon. My fierce warrior queen whom I can’t wait to worship." His grip tightens possessively, playfully swatting your behind, causing your flesh to softly jiggle.

You can't help but snort with amusement, firmly grinding down in a slow sensuous movement Frankie exhales a low moan, his eyes closing in pleasure. Yielding to the temptation, you momentarily cease your ministrations and whisper, "Well, last time I checked, librarians weren't renowned for their battle prowess.”

Frankie's smile stretches, his eyes opening and locking with yours, while his hands gently secure your hips. His soft voice echoes sweetly, "Physical prowess is just a fraction of true strength, mi cielo. It's a mindset, a spirit that radiates courage and perseverance. Believe me when I tell you, you possess that strength in a way that surpasses anyone I've ever encountered."

His words envelop you in a comforting embrace that floods your being with warmth. Reflected in his eyes is an unwavering conviction, a faith given to you unlike any you've experienced before. Such belief, one you've never even held for yourself, captivates you. The weight of his words resonates deeply, shaking the core of your being, even as you strive to maintain a facade of nonchalance. But Frankie effortlessly sees through your charade, knowing you better than he knows himself at this point. He slowly pushes his upper body upward and starts peppering your collarbones with tender kisses. You feel your cheeks heating as you shyly avert your gaze, unable to resist the sweetness of his praise and the even sweeter ministration.

A brief moment passes, during which you nibble on your lower lip, contemplating your next words. Finally, you muster the courage to meet Frankie's eyes once more, you push him back down on the mattress and ask, a mischievous glint shining in your eyes, "If I am to be your queen, does that mean you're willing to obey my every command?”

A playful smile dances on Frankie's lips as he replies, "Well, mi cielo, let's just say I'm more than willing to embark on the thrilling adventure of fulfilling your every desire, one command at a time." With those words, Frankie softly grabs your right arm, the very arm that had been holding him down, and he punctuates each word with a tender kiss upon the palm of your hand. As he does so, his eyes gently close, allowing his lips to linger in their affectionate embrace, locked in that sweet moment.

Frankie surrenders to the present, savouring every precious second that slowly passes between the two of you. The ache of longing for you these past months had been insurmountable, a void that only you could fill. Amidst his world engulfed in chaos, pain, and the remanence of a haunting trail of death that seemed eternally imprinted on his very being, your presence at his side has always been the sole beacon of meaning and coherence. The only thing that ever truly mattered to him. Screw everything else; he should have chosen to stay home long ago, before feeling trapped in the abyss he felt he had dug himself into over the years. In an attempt to dispel the encroaching darkness threatening to envelop him, Frankie inhales deeply, pushing away those grim thoughts, before swiftly flipping you over.

Everything else fades away again, and only the two of you remain. As you draw in a deep breath, the air fills your lungs with a trembling intensity, causing a burning sensation. Your chest tightens, not just from the weight of Frankie's presence, but also from the weight of everything that surrounds you, suffocating you in its bittersweet grasp. Tenderly, Frankie gently presses his nose against yours, once, twice, before planting a soft kiss upon its tip.

“My love, I assure you that nothing can ever come between us. There is nothing that could separate me from you. I belong to you for eternity, and as long as I can share my life with you, my dear, it will have been a life worth living, mi cielo.”

Your eyes well up with tears, and with a quiver in your voice, you whisper, "I love you, Frankie."

"Te amo, mi cielo, te amo para siempre," he replies, his words carrying the weight of a vow between you two.

With intertwined fingers and hearts overflowing with love, you gaze into each other's eyes. As you lie there, wrapped in the afterglow of passion, you savour the tranquillity and completeness that permeates the room. You vow to cherish each day, to embrace the ordinary moments that always become extraordinary when you are with Frankie. Together, you will face the world with open hearts, ready to create this future you’ve always yearned for with Frankie. As Frankie peppers kisses down your throat, you smile, and a shuddering breath escapes you. Food can wait you think giddily. Your hands gently glide along the broad expanse of his back, savouring him in all his glorious being. Nothing else matters now, for Frankie is home.

[littlewinter1917]

𝔏𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔏𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI. 🔞 Don’t repost my work anywhere.

"𝔏𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰, ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔥𝔢'𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱."

Words: 31.4k (I don’t know how this happened either!)

Additional Disclaimer: Tumblr won’t let me post the whole story in one, so I’m posting this simultaneously in two parts.

This one is the first part and technically 21.7k.

You can read the second part here.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary: He’s hot, he’s bold, he’s destructive, and despite your friends telling you to stay away from him, you can’t help but keep coming back for more. It’s the same thing for Billy, as he finds himself addicted to your touch and drawn in by the fire in your eyes. But it’s a dangerous game you’re both playing, and just like moths drawn to a flickering flame, someone’s bound to get hurt by the angry blaze burning all around the two of you.

Warnings: Drug and alcohol use. Shotgunning. Reader is quite the ‘maneater’ and uses casual sex in an unhealthy way. Swearing, arguments, daddy issues and minor anger issues, mentions of insecurities and insults. Slut-shaming (not from Billy!), and a fistfight. None-descriptive injuries and scars. Angry, rough sex in a public bathroom. Dirty talk, degradation, facefucking, dacryphilia, spanking, praising, spitplay, and unprotected sex. Billy and the reader both struggle with abandonment issues. Mentions and signs of self-destructive behavior, distress, and unstable home lives (Aka Billy’s past abuse and the reader’s dad being an alcoholic.) Minor jealousy, hurt feelings, angst and some breakdowns. There are mentions of difficult relationships to parental figures and the struggles that come with that, as well as implied past parental abuse, (Physical for Billy; emotional for both of them). But also: Billy & the reader opening up, learning to trust, and finally getting some healing. Fluff and a lot (!!!) of hurt/comfort along the way.

Read the story on AO3 here.

A/N: Parts of the Story and title are inspired by the Lana Del Rey song Happiness is a Butterfly.

I’ve been writing parts of this little beast for a while now, and I’m so glad I finally get to share it! This was initially supposed to be my take on a more toxic!Billy, but I failed that assignment completely. Turns out I just can’t write Billy to be overly mean or manipulative. The reader however is definitely written as a little more complicated and troubled, so please bear that in mind before reading. If topics such as commitment issues, self-objectification, and seeking male validation as well as emotional relief in rather unhealthy ways (in this case: lots of sex with men), upset or trigger you, please don’t continue reading!!

You meet him for the first time during one of your friend’s get-together down by the beach.

You arrived there with your usual lateness, so that the bottles of cheap vodka and liquor had already been passed along multiple times around the small bonfire, leaving most of your friends comfortably buzzed. It’s not like you’d join them in their pointless drinking games anyway, solely sticking to the little joints rolled up somewhere in the deep, dark pockets of your leather jacket. 

It’s Heather who spots you first, throwing one of her hands up in a lazy greeting, before patting the warm sand next to her as an invitation to sit down. 

“Wasn’t sure if you ditched us again or not.” She teases, and you just roll your eyes as a retort. 

“Don’t tempt me.” You huff, but the smile on your face is playful, and Heather simply pokes your side in retaliation until gentle laughter is bubbling out of you like sweet, straw-induced milkshake bubbles on a hot summer’s day.

It’s a soft sound that the wind carries over the wide and open beach, and it’s the first thing about you that grabs his attention, but you don’t know anything about that yet. 

You don’t notice him right away, too occupied with the task of catching up with your friends.

You’ve been going to less of the outings lately, so there’s actually stuff you managed to miss, like the fact that Heather has finally asked out one of the new girls, Robin, and now they have their first date set for Saturday.

It’s exciting, really, and you congratulate your friend with earnest joy, before pulling out one of your little joints. Heather isn’t big on smoking, so you don’t even try offering it to her. She’ll just snatch it from you instead if she feels like taking a drag or two, knowing that you’ll let her without much of a fuss. 

Similar to him, it’s his laughter that draws you in at first. It’s a deep and raspy sound that fills the evening air around you with a certain electricity, and it has you stopping your dreamy gaze towards the darkening dusk sky, as you try to make out the source of the sound.

You spot him sitting almost opposite to you, across the bonfire, next to Argyle, while the two of them are talking rather enthusiastically about something. 

You can’t make out any words, not with the way someone’s music’s playing in the background, accentuated only by the gentle sound of the crackling fire and the booming blend of voices and laughter coming from your friends. 

But he’s pretty. 

Really pretty.

Blue eyes big and bright, hair an endearing mess of curls, and his sun-kissed skin adorned with the faint traces of freckles.

He’s wearing a half-unbuttoned shirt in a deep red color, akin to that of the setting sun that’s currently in the midst of getting swallowed up by the ocean. But unlike usually, you’re barely paying attention to the breathtaking sunset, eyes instead transfixed on something just as beautiful.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Heather chimes up from beside you, following your gaze towards the new guy, before shaking her head, determined.

“That guy is trouble with a capital t and then some,” she whispers, “heard he’s good for a quick fuck, but the only thing bigger than his ego are his anger issues. So, I’d stay as far away from him as possible.”

“But he’s really pretty,” you whisper back, voice hushed but earnest, because, well, he simply is. 

“Yes, okay, but so are plenty of things. So are the warm, flickering flames of the bonfire,” Heather states with a nod towards the burning wood in front of you, “still doesn’t mean you should go run through it. There are things better admired from a distance, and that,” her eyes fixate on the pretty stranger again, “is one of those things.”

You just huff in return, crossing your arms across your chest defensively, before biting,

“And since when did you become such a prude, exactly? What’s wrong with a quick fuck anyway. Didn’t say I wanted to become his docile, little housewife or anything. All I said was that he’s pretty.”

“Yes, a pretty little notch in your bedpost maybe, and then what?”

“Then I find someone else that’s pretty. Come on, Heather, you know the drill, it’s not like it’s anything new.” 

The sigh that leaves Heather’s lips is somewhere between disappointment and defeat.

“It’s your prerogative at the end of the day. If you choose to fuck with him, that’s your call, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

“How bad can he be,” you grumble after another lazy drag from the joint you’re still nursing. 

“Not any worse than you, I hope.” Heather states, and while you know she’s just teasing, there’s also a seriousness swimming in her eyes, one that has your mouth going slightly dry; drier than the hot smoke you keep inhaling, as you wonder what she’s on about. 

“I know how to play with fire, don’t worry about me getting burned.” You whisper after a few beats of silence, turning the joint in your hand absentmindedly as you mull over your friends words in your head. 

“But you know it’s bound to happen, don’t you? You’re going to get hurt at some point in time if you keep this up, this thing that you’re doing.” 

“I’m not doing anything; I’m merely having fun.” 

“Exactly. But just how many people can you burn through before the flames start catching up to you too?”

“You should really stop reading Bukowski or Platt or whoever inspired you with these silly, little fire metaphors, because I’m not having any of it.” You state, before getting up, patting the lingering sand from the little black dress you’re wearing. 

“I’m gonna find myself something to drink,” you mumble, and before one of the other girls can point you halfheartedly towards one of the liquor bottles, you state, “Something non-alcoholic.”

There’s a little beach bar within walking distance, roughly 10 minutes away; but your steps are lazy as you stroll through the small waves that are playing and bumping against the shore, so it takes you a little longer. 

You keep thinking about Heather’s words, as you gaze out towards the seemingly endless sea and the darkening sky above. 

There’s something about the way she said the things she said, that doesn’t quite sit right with you. She’s not normally one to be that serious, and she’s certainly not one to curb your fun adventures, even if they might not be the best of ideas.

Whatever, you think. That guy was really pretty, and you’re rather picky, especially when it comes to guys. Being really good looking is like the only necessary expectation that men have to meet in your books. Yet they hardly deliver, so when someone does catch your eye, you’re intrigued.

You don’t really care about the rest because what for anyways? It’s not like you’d stick around to witness their great personalities.

You’d get a dog if you wanted a fun personality long-term in your life. You certainly don’t need a guy for that.

The woman behind the bar counter is someone you’ve seen around quite a bit. You’re pretty certain that her name’s Jamie, but you’re not a hundred percent sure, so you refrain from calling her that. 

Your eyes flicker over the little signs behind her, as if you don’t already know what you’ll order. It’s only to gain some more time as you mentally go through the words you’re about to say just to make sure that they come out right.

You end up ordering a cherry slushy and a coke, and as you dig through the pockets of your leather jackets for a few coins, you feel a presence slide up right beside you. 

“Didn’t think you’d be the type of girl who goes for a fucking soft drink.” The man’s voice sounds deep and raspy, and almost familiar. 

It’s the stranger from the bonfire, you quickly notice, without looking up, once he leans his arms against the bar counter, the sleeves of his shirt still a deep, ruby-red. 

“Didn’t think you’d be the type of guy who creepily follows girls around.” You retort as you grab your slushy, playing with the straw for a bit before pushing it slowly between your lips and turning around towards the guy, a challenging look on your face.

“I wasn’t following you,” he huffs, but you know a lie when you see one. And that guy’s definitely lying. 

“Sure,” voice dripping with sarcasm, you force your attention back towards the iced drink in your hand, twirling the straw around some more, until Jamie comes back with your coke. 

“There you go,” she states, as she puts the cooled drink down on the counter, “had to dig deep in the fridge for that one. Think we’re out of those for the night now, actually.”

“What a shame,” the guy next to you suddenly chimes in, “I was really craving a soft drink too.” 

You’re not entirely sure if he’s being earnest or if he’s poking fun at you. If it’s the latter, it’s nothing you aren’t used to. Your determination to avoid alcoholic drinks is something most guys love to point out and have a laugh over.

“What, don’t tell me you’re that much of a lightweight, sweetheart.” 

“Clearly you’ve never had a drink with me then.”

“Lighten up, pretty girl, a few beers won’t kill you.” 

“Sure, they won’t, but I might.” You can’t help but let slip in those kind of situations, when guys can’t wrap their pea-sized minds around the fact that not everyone enjoys getting wasted as much as they do. 

Assholes. 

“Guess I’ll have to go for a slushy too then,” the stranger states, before adding, “I’ll have the blueberry one, please.”

You try to hide your surprise at his choice of drink with fake detached boredom; and while he’s busy watching Jamie making his slushy, you take the time to get a better look at him too. 

He’s even prettier up close, lush lashes framing his aquamarine eyes, giving them a softer, dreamier touch. And the freckles on his skin are so detailed now, you could actually start counting them if you wanted to.

But there’s also a slight shadow underneath his left eye, and it takes you a moment to clock it as the faint traces of a bruise. 

Heather’s words swirl around in your mind again. 

Anger issues. 

You wonder what exactly she meant by that. 

“You done staring yet?” The stranger suddenly pulls you out of your thoughts, turning around towards you, a small smirk dancing around on his lips. 

“Maybe,” you shrug your shoulders lightly, masking the embarrassment of getting caught quickly. 

“Name’s Billy, by the way.”

He’s holding out his hand to you, rough yet slender fingers adorned with different silver rings.

You try not to notice how significantly bigger his hand feels in yours; how it almost swallows yours whole, like a predator might swallow its prey, or how his fingers linger around your wrist and pulse point for just a moment longer, before pulling away quickly.

His touch feels electrifying, and you love and hate it at the same time. It’s like you crave it but not without traces of guilt staining the subtle longing.

You try to ignore the pounding of your heart, as you tell him your name – but to your surprise he just gives you a lazy smile. 

“I know.” This time around the startled look on your face is more difficult to hide, and the guy, Billy, quickly follows it up by saying, “Your friends told me all about you.” 

You wonder who exactly he’s talking about. It certainly isn’t going to be Heather, that’s for sure. Maybe Argyle let something slip, or Tommy; that guy can’t keep his mouth shut for the life of him. 

But it’s not like it matters now, anyway.

Not with the way Billy’s eyes wander with something akin to hunger over your frame, until his gaze finds itself transfixed on your cherry-stained lips.

God, you love slushies; and now you’re once more reminded of why. 

You watch Jamie as she’s searching for a straw, and it’s only as the brief silence continues, that you notice there’s some music playing in the background.

It’s ABC’s The Look of Love, and you can’t help but hum along to it softly, tapping the beat with your fingertips gently against the still freezing plastic cup in your hands.

“Fuck, don’t tell me you’re into this new-wavy shit.” Billy looks genuinely appalled, and you just roll your eyes. 

Great. So, he’s one of those guys who unironically think their music taste is so much more superior than everyone else’s. 

“Well, shit, don’t tell me you’re the kind of guy who feels personally victimized by the use of some synthesizers.” You bite back, and to your surprise, there’s a catty grin spreading over Billy‘s face.

“So, what if I am?” He drawls, voice low, and eyes challenging. 

“I don’t think I can fuck a guy who thinks music stopped evolving after the 1970s.” 

“Who said anything about fucking?” 

You give him a look that says, ‘haha very funny,’ but Billy tries to look all doe-eyed and innocent.

It hardly suits him.

Not with the way his eyes keep reflecting his intentions that his lips have yet to form into an actual sentence. 

He wants you. 

He wants you badly, and you hate the small spark of proudness that lights up somewhere deep within your chest at the realization, the confirmation; the simple achievement of being desirable to yet another man. 

You know somewhere even deeper within you, that this isn’t healthy. That your body shouldn’t get into that kind of euphoric overdrive at the sight of even the smallest, positive acknowledgement and approval of a guy you deem pretty.

Or any guy for that matter, but it’s only the pretty ones you decide to take home. 

Well, not even that is true, now that you think of it. You never actually take people home. That just feels too personal, too vulnerable. The sex usually happens in spaces private enough to not get caught, yet also impersonal enough to make your attentions of a no-strings-attached-fuck pretty clear. 

“So, where are we going next?” Billy’s rough voice pulls you out of your thoughts again, and by now, he’s nursing his frozen, neon blue drink, too. 

“We?” You question, eyebrows raised, but it’s just for show. Most of your acts are these days; especially the ones you keep up around men. 

“You wanna go back to your friends?” he offers.

“Why? Do you have something else in mind?” You inquire because you know that he doesn’t actually want to walk back to the bonfire. 

Not when the public bathroom’s right here. 

“Don’t know,” Billy shrugs nonchalantly, “just don’t really want to share my slushy with the rest of the crowd, so maybe we can settle down over there for now?” 

Right. Sure, you think. His reasoning certainly is shit, but you let that slide, and instead all that Billy gets is a sweet smile. 

“Okay.” 

You follow Billy to the abandoned spot he’s been pointing at. It’s close enough to the ocean that you can still dip your feet into the saltwater if you’d like, while still being vacant of any undesired beach visitors.

The two of you plop down unceremoniously into the sand, and the soft breeze that’s blowing feels nice on your skin. 

By now the sun has completely vanished from the horizon, hiding somewhere below the calm surface of the sea. Its last and only trace is the small stripe of orange that keeps bleeding into the deeper blue above. It’s almost as if the sky’s getting drained, losing its color and vibrancy to the creeping and growing night.

You look up to see a few shiny stars slowly starting to poke through the vanishing daytime veil, and there’s a comfort in that. 

A comfort that’s hard to explain, but a comfort, nevertheless. 

“So, are you from around here?” Billy’s voice suddenly breaks through the silence.

“Something like that.” You respond, eyes still fixed on a spot high above you. It’s only when you repeat his question back to him that your gaze wanders over towards the pretty boy. 

“Something like that.” He echoes your words, but there’s a teasing smile playing on his lips, and you huff. 

Stop being so fucking cute, you think. 

“Haven’t seen you around before,” you wonder aloud instead, and for a brief moment, you think you see Billy’s smile waver. 

“Yeah, I, uh, I moved back here only recently,” he mumbles, while burying his hands into the sand, “but I’m initially from here,” he quickly adds, “California born and raised.” 

“I see.” You say, because you’re unsure of what else to throw his way. You might not be a fucking psychology major, but even you can see that he seems slightly uncomfortable by the current talking topic. 

“What else do you do, when you’re not engaging in the worst music taste ever?” 

The question actually manages to make you laugh, because you didn’t expect it at all. 

“For a guy who hasn’t told me anything about his music taste yet, you sure like talking a lot of shit, don’t you?” 

“It’s because my music taste’s the best, sweetheart.” 

“Like hell it is.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

“I’d rather not.” 

The soft smiles you two exchange feel misplaced. You’re not normally in such a playful mood, and the smiles you grant the men you talk to rarely feel this genuine. 

But for some reason, you’re a little more intrigued by this guy than you normally are by the men you hook-up with; and for the next half hour you two continue talking avidly.

The topics span from the superior Pop Rocks flavor to the latest W.A.S.P album, which Billy seems genuinely surprised by when you bring it up. 

“So, you’re telling me you have both, a good and a bad music taste? How’s that even possible?” He jokes, and it made you stick your tongue out towards him playfully.

It’s a gesture Billy mirrors back at you quickly, and it has you laughing more. 

“Ew, your tongue.” You point out in between soft giggles.

“What’s wrong with my tongue? Billy questions slightly concerned.

“It’s all blue, dumbass! You look like you went down on Smurfette and suffered collateral damage while doing so.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I guess I did, but I didn’t expect you to have such a filthy mouth on you.” 

You’d be surprised how much filthier that mouth can get, you think quietly to yourself, but he’ll probably find that out soon enough.

After the slushies there’s a joint and a few regular cigarettes shared between you two.

At some point, you feel like your senses are heightened, and you swear you can taste the saltwater of the ocean with every gentle inhale of air, tangy on your tongue.

Without really thinking, you find yourself getting up again, and with only a few steps your feet are buried deeply in the waves, that are still lapping gently up against the shore.

“What are you doing?” Billy questions, eyes sparkling with amusement and curiosity as he watches you twirl around in the shallow water. 

“What does it look like?” 

“A matting dance, perhaps?” 

“Oh, that’s just you wishful thinking, pretty boy.” 

Billy’s smile widens at your words, as he continues to watch you with fond eyes. He tries to forget the warnings Tommy gave him earlier, about how he should stay far, far away from you, if he treasured his heart at all.

Good thing he doesn’t, Billy thinks.

But he’s also rather confident that Tommy has just been trash-talking anyway.

There’s no way you’re quite the serial heartbreaker he painted you out to be.

No fucking way.

From somewhere along the beach there’s suddenly loud music being played, and it takes Billy only a brief moment to identify the opening riff as that of Crosby, Stills & Nash’s Dark Star. He watches with awe as you continue to swirl around to it, singing the lyrics softly into the darker growing summer night.

When his gaze finds yours, there’s something in your eyes that makes Billy feel defenseless; bare, almost. Like you just took one deep look into his soul, and he’s not sure if you liked what you saw.

He subconsciously plays with the buttons on his shirt, reminded of the ugly insecurities that hide underneath in plain sight, and he’s so lost in thought for a moment, that he finds himself caught off guard when you let yourself fall into the warm sand next to him again, moving closer until you’re almost sitting in his lap. 

“Dance with me, Billy.” You whisper, tugging on his hand playfully, and he groans. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Just one song, please?”

You give him your best puppy eyes, and most convincing pout. 

“Oh, pretty please, Billy!”

“What’s in it for me, sweetheart?” Billy mumbles, voice slightly suggestive. 

“What, like dancing with me isn’t enough of an incentive? That’s so rude, Billy. So rude.” You mumble, while your hand keeps tugging on his sleeve. It’s endearing, really; your childlike determination and stubbornness to get him to move.

“I don’t think I’m high enough yet to dance to some fucking folk-shit.”

The little offended huff that leaves your lips has Billy smiling slightly.

God, you’re even more adorable when you’re high.

“You’re so mean, Billy.” You pout, but at the same time you curl up more into him, and Billy decides to lift you onto his lap unceremoniously, arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Yeah, am I being a little too mean for your liking, sweet girl?” He mocks with fake concern, his knuckles brushing over your cheek gently. 

“Uh-huh.”

 You decide to bury your face into the crook of his neck, and he has to stifle the urge to coo at your cuteness. 

“Just one,” you whisper, “just one dance, Billy.”

Billy pretends to ponder your words, like he’s actually considering it.

He is not.

“Maybe after we shared another smoke, hm?” He proposes, and the way you quickly raise your head out of your current hiding spot and your eyes light up, makes him actually feel a little soft.

He shifts you slightly on his lap while digging for his zippo as well as for another joint, and you lean your head against his chest as you watch him light it. 

“You wanna shotgun?” He offers with a whisper, and you nod your head eagerly.

“Alright.” He murmurs, while you prop your head up against his shoulder, gazing up at him intensely as he takes the first hit. 

You watch him inhale deeply, watch the way his chest rises; the way the joint’s end glimmers between his lips, the way his eyes flutter shut for the briefest of moments.

When he opens them again, they’re quick to find yours, before his hand comes up to the back of your neck, gripping and guiding you towards him until your faces almost touch. 

You feel his fingers move from your neck to your jaw, holding you closer as his thumb presses up against your lips, and you part them instinctively.

He leans in, to an almost kiss, before blowing the smoke into your mouth. Without really thinking, you inhale deeply, feeling the shared smoke burn and tingle in your lungs.

Billy watches you with dreamy eyes, fingers still brushing against your jaw and cheek gently, even as you exhale. 

“Good girl,” he praises, voice rough and low, but when he goes to take another drag, you stop him softly.

“My turn.” You whisper while slipping your fingers into his, taking the joint.

“Hey, what-“

But you’re already breathing in deeply with the joint tugged securely between your lips, and all that Billy can do is watch in awe. 

Unlike him, you don’t close your eyes. Instead, you keep them locked with his almost the whole time through. Shifting on his lap slightly, you try and find a more comfortable position, and Billy can barely contain the small groan that’s bubbling up in his chest.

Fuck, you’re the devil, he thinks.

At this point you could ask him to dance to anything, really, and he would probably comply.

Then, without a warning, your hand finds its way into his curls, tugging lightly and pulling him incredibly closer again, and he feels his breath hitch at the action. But his mouth is quickly otherwise occupied when you press your lips against his softly.

And he’s eager, so fucking eager to swallow up the smoke you let drip out of your mouth into his. You both moan when he bucks his hips up slightly into yours, as you grind down onto him just as softly.

After his exhale, his lips find yours instinctively again, and he cradles your face as you deepen the kiss; nibbling on his lower lip playfully, and Billy feels like he’s going to transcend into heaven. 

Shotgunning has certainly never felt quite this good, and he doubts it ever will again. 

But then, suddenly, you’re up and out of his lap again, joint still secured tightly between your lips.

“You still owe me a dance, Billy.” The previous fire is back in your eyes, and Billy throws his head back with a groan.

“God, you’re the worst.” He states, but all you give him is a triumphant smile. 

“A dance, Billy.” 

“I don’t remember promising you one.”

“Well, then you should start promising and deliver.” 

“And what if I don’t?” 

“Then I’ll just have to find someone else. And trust me, I will.” 

Billy contemplates you for a moment, head tilted to the side, and you hate how adorable he looks. 

By now, the song that’s currently being blasted from who-knows-where is a different one, and Billy tries to figure out who the artist is.

“Are those the Bee Gees?” He questions, disgust clear in his voice. 

“Almost. It’s Andy Gibb.” 

When the frown between Billy’s brows doesn’t fade, you explain, “He’s like their younger brother, I think?” 

Billy continues to gaze up at you as you sway to the melody, voice soft in the summer night breeze, as you sing: “We leave immediately after dark, where the lights start fading, sweet and low…” 

There’s something hypnotizing in the way you move, and Billy feels like he could spend eternity just watching you dance underneath the waning moon that decided to rise and wander across the midnight blue ocean.

“Billy,” you drawl, looking at him expectantly, and he huffs. 

“Can I not just enjoy the show?” 

You consider his words for a moment.

“Fine, I guess the next song should do too. You’ll simply have to dance with me once this song’s finished, okay?” 

Billy cannot believe the words he’s about to let slip past his lips, and he wishes he could block his own ears off just to keep himself from having to hear it too. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll dance with you to the next song. I promise.” 

Pleased with his answer, you continue to lose yourself in the music, and Billy finds himself completely and absolutely enchanted by it.

So much so, in fact, that he doesn’t even realize you’ve been hogging his joint this whole time. 

When the current song is fading out, Billy's nervously anticipating what the next tune will be. 

Please be Metallica. Please be Metallica. Please be- 

It is in fact, not Metallica.

It’s a song he doesn’t recognize at all, until the artists start singing, and he’s fairly certain it’s America. Ugh! Just his luck for it to be a rather slow song too. 

But you don’t let that deter you. In fact, you look rather pleased at the selected song that’s now softly floating through the salty air around you. 

You reach out your hand towards Billy after taking a few steps towards him and with an overdramatic huff, he takes it reluctantly. 

♪ Runaway, boy have you seen a girl like an angel, runnin’ in the night. 

She’s run away, boy if you see her… ♫

In hindsight the lyrics seem like some really bad foreshadowing to Billy, but at the moment there’s hardly anything on his mind, other than you. 

“I don’t normally-“ He starts, unsure of how to even begin dancing to some tune whose beat seems more akin to the heartbeat of a snail.

“It’s fine, just-“ You show him how to best hold your hands, and where to place them if he wants to hold you tighter.

You twirl around playfully, lifting his hand up into the air as you do so; and Billy can’t help but smile wide at your shenanigans, and the way you swing carefree in the wind, before pulling him closer again, hands coming up around his neck. 

You however try not to notice how out of character this feels for you. Because, while you’re no stranger to dancing with people on sweaty and overheated dancefloors, this currently feels a lot more intimate and vulnerable.

And for the breath of a moment, you think that this is what it must be like to not fear connection as much as you do.

If you were less fucked, less of a burden, less difficult to love, you might even deserve it at some point in time.

But not tonight.

Not in the foreseeable future you’ve laid out for yourself.

And certainly not with Billy.

You lean your head against his shoulder, as he sways you both to the music, and for a guy who was rather adamant about not knowing how to dance less than two minutes ago, he’s surprisingly good at it.

Dumbass. 

When the song stops and a new one starts, neither one of you is inclined to pull away. Instead, you take the moment to gaze in each other’s eyes, and you feel a shiver run down your spine like lightning.

You want to kiss him, badly. 

Want to feel his lips all over your body if you're honest, just like you want to let your lips wander all over his body too. 

Maybe it’s the drugs talking. 

Please, let it be the drugs talking, you think. 

To your own surprise, it’s Billy who goes for the next move, as he brushes his nose gently against yours, before moving in even closer for a kiss. 

This would be the moment where the fireworks go off in the distance, you think, colorful flames reflecting in the almost black water of the sea.

But instead, there’s an ugly shadow crawling away within you, drowning out any of that. It's an intense anxiety that's fluttering in your stomach, like evil little butterflies gnawing away at your insides.

Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, you think. Maybe you can break the cycle this time. Maybe repeating mistakes isn’t like the worst thing in the world. Maybe things with Billy could be different, maybe-

“For someone with a blade for a tongue you’re awfully quiet.” Billy whispers teasingly, pulling you out of the dark storm brooding within you. It’s only now that you notice that your lips aren’t even moving against each other anymore.

“You know, I just asked you a question.” Billy mumbles against your neck, and you can’t help the wide-eyed look that crosses your face.

“Well, don’t look that surprised, angel. I was just questioning if we should maybe migrate this situation to one a little less public, and a little more physical.”

The realization that drops in your mind seems unusually heavy.

Sex. 

Of course, that’s what you two are here for anyways, right? 

That’s why he’s even putting up with any of this in the first place, right?

That’s been the goal of this exchange from the very start, right?

It certainly had been the only goal for you; at least initially.

You feel foolish for even considering the idea that there might have been more to this situation.

That there might’ve been more to you than just the sex, that Billy wanted to seek out and cherish. 

Foolish, foolish you. 

But sex feels safe, and familiar, and comforting but in a fucked up way. You’ve always used it as a reassuring lifeline for self-validation and as a welcomed distraction from the unpleasant and overwhelming feelings swirling somewhere deep within you almost all of the time. 

And now, with the nervous pounding of your heart in the back of your mind, you need such a distraction more than ever.

You need him to numb the pain, and the voices, and the fear of never, ever being good enough.

You need a distraction, and he’s the perfect one.

So, what’s the worst that can happen?

Nothing worse than what you’re already feeling, you think.

And with that, you give Billy a purposefully shy smile, before stating, “I think I need you to show me what exactly you have in mind…”

Billy smiles like a cat who’s got the cream.

Like a feline predator ready to pounce his prey.

And then, your lips meet in a messy kiss; one that’s more urgent and primal than the previous ones you shared, and you feel him gently move you towards the little, square building; the one with the shower stalls and the changing rooms and bathroom sinks you’ve been fucked against way too many times. 

This feels good, you think.

This feels familiar. 

And so, that’s how you find yourself in one of the public shower stalls, hands pressed against the sand-colored tiles while getting pounded from behind, hard.

Billy’s certainly on a mission to wreck your pussy, as his hands hold on to your hips so tightly you’re sure his fingers are going to leave bruises. It’s not like you mind, though, not at all.

“Fuck, didn’t think you’d have such a tight little cunt.” Billy groans while pistoling in and out of you relentlessly. He’s really putting all of his body strength into it and you’re not sure what will be left of you once he’s done.

You feel incredibly full to a point where it’s almost too much, almost too painful, like he’s going to split you in two and then put you back together; but not before rearranging your guts in the most impossible ways.

“That’s it, take it like the good little slut I know you are, fuck, knew from the very moment I laid my eyes on you that you would take it like this. Easy little bitch.” He curses.

You want to bite something mean back, but with the way he’s hitting that tender, spongy spot inside you, it’s hard to form a snarky reply - or any coherent words for that matter. 

You hate the way that only little broken whimpers leave your lips like helpless pleas and prayers as he keeps pounding into you. You’re completely at his mercy and he’s not giving you any, rutting into you with a rough pace. 

“Billy, Billy.” You sob, little hiccups breaking his name in two, but he just groans as his pace picks up. It’s a sound that’s deep and raspy and primal, and it has you clenching around him involuntary as another whine slips past your lips again. 

“Fuck, listen to you going stupid on my cock. Taking it so well, didn’t even have to prepare you either, could just slide into your wet little pussy. Bet it’s been drooling for me ever since we first started talking, isn’t that right?”

When there’s no immediate answer coming from you, he’s quick to take a fistful of your hair, gripping it tightly and then pulling your head back hard.

“Isn’t that right?” He snarls, voice raised and rough, yet his pounding never wavers.

But the words swirling around on your tongue won’t form into any sensible order, leaving only a gasping moan to slip past your lips as the pain from his unwavering grip on your hair shoots through your skull. 

And you love it.

God, you love it; love how your mind just goes completely blank. It’s like in that moment you don’t quite exist anymore. Not in the way you usually do, not as you lose yourself in the pain and the pleasure that’s being given and taken from you. 

“Fuck, look at you, pretty little fucked out thing, letting me use you like I please in a public shower. Anyone could just walk in here and see us. But you’d probably get off on that too, wouldn’t you?”

You can barely nod your head with the way Billy’s hand is still tangled in your hair, before he’s letting go, curling the hand around your throat instead. You feel him press himself closer to you, nibbling on your earlobe before playfully pulling on it with his teeth.

“Listen here, little slut,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin, “You said you’d take anything I’d give you, so, I’m assuming that offer still stands.”

The faint nod you manage is enough for Billy’s finger to wander once more, gripping your jaw tightly before moving your face slightly in his direction.

You’re unsure of where he’s going with this, and for a brief moment you think he might lean in for a kiss.

He does not.

Instead, his fingers dig into the sides of your cheeks, pressing your mouth open for him.

“Swallow.” He orders, and it’s the only warning you get, before you see his jaw flex, mouth moving closer to yours and then he’s spitting right into yours.

It’s like your mind’s on autopilot because you don’t even have to think about swallowing his spit; you immediately do it, almost instinctively so, and Billy’s breathy groans only deepen.

“Good obedient little girl. Fuck, fuck, don’t think I’ve ever seen someone that eager, jeez.”

He starts leaving messy open-mouthed kisses along your neck and jaw in between dirty praises, and his thrusts increase their pace again, until all you can think about is the way his cock fills you up, over and over again.

Your gasps increase with every quick rut of his hip, pushing himself deeper and deeper, and you can’t help but fuck yourself back on him with little, timid thrusts too.

“Dick’s that good, huh?” Billy observes with a condescending smile when he notices your little movements.

“B-billy,” voice shaky, eyes teary, even you’re unsure what exactly you’re begging for, and the laugh that leaves Billy’s lips is almost cruel.

“What is it, little girl?” 

His hand tightens around your throat again, yet he’s barely applying any real pressure, just gripping it in a possessive way, but that’s enough to have your mind spinning anyway. 

Billy keeps his rhythm, even when the sounds that leave your pretty lips increase. And god, do those sounds drive him absolutely wild. He loves how responsive you are, while simultaneously wearing such a fucked-out and dreamy look on your face like you’re miles away.

Billy thinks he’s about to come when his fingers wander down to lazily rub your clit and even that slight contact makes you spasm around him. 

“I know, I know,” he soothes when your whines are getting louder again, “that’s the little spot that feels real good doesn’t it.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck, and you’re so wet, so wet, baby.”

Billy can’t help but moan at the feeling of your slick that collects around his fingers, dripping out of you and tainting the outside of your pussy sinfully. 

But the movement of his rough fingers on your clit only makes you more vocal, and with the way his dick is pushing itself into you, filling you up in ways previously thought unimaginable, it’s hard not to gasp, and whine, and moan in response.

“Billy, please, please don’t stop.” You hick-up, voice breaking halfway through, and it only makes Billy’s dick twitch inside of you harder.

“Wasn’t planning on it, sweet girl,” Billy groans, “wasn’t planning on stopping until I’ve filled this filthy cunt with everything I have; because you want it, don’t you? Want me to make your pretty little pussy even messier than it already is. Gonna fill you up so good, my cum will be dripping out of you for days.”

You clench around him at the thought, and Billy laughs again as he feels you tightening around his thick length. 

“Of course, you’d like that, cum hungry little bitch, fuck.”

“Feel so full Billy,” you whine in between little gasps. 

“Yeah, well, imagine how much fuller you’ll feel once I had my fill. Once you’re actually full of me.”

And then out of nowhere he grabs one of your hands, pulling it down towards his crotch, where you two are intertwined. 

The angle is a little awkward and you don’t know where this is going exactly, until he wraps your hand around one of his balls.

“Do you feel that, sweet little slut? Feel how full I am?”

And fuck, you do, you really, really do, as Billy’s hand keeps guiding yours, kneading his heavy sack while just rutting into you harder. 

“Fuck, just like that, going to give it to you so good, and do you know what’s going to happen after that?” 

You shake your head, too fucked out and overwhelmed to even form a little ‘no’. 

“Then we’re going to put your slutty little panties back on you, walk back out there to your friends, and then we’ll see how much of an obedient girl you really are, because if you’re really good, you won’t let a drop go to waste. Keep it all in your messy little pussy of yours, where it belongs.” 

God, you have to give it up to this guy, you think. He might actually have an even filthier mouth than you do. But Billy isn’t done with his little speech, only stopping to let his tongue run a messy trail down your neck.

“But if you fail sweetheart, if I push my fingers under your little dress later and feel my cum dripping and running down your lush little thighs, I guess I’ll just have no choice but to fuck it back into you again.” 

That thought almost does it for you and you whine Billy’s name loudly.

“Shit that gets you going, huh? Probably isn’t even a punishment getting stuffed full of my cum and my cock.” 

You’re whines increase again and Billy suddenly stops his assault on your pussy, the hand that’s been previously toying with your clit, leaving, until two of his fingers are tapping against your lips.

“Open up wide for me, sweet thing,” he mumbles with a groan, and without much of a second thought, without really any thought at all, you open your mouth obediently, and Billy’s quick to slip his fingers inside. 

“Love your moans, they make me so hard, but god, you gotta be a bit more quiet.”

“’m trying,” you mumble against his digits, tongue dancing around them. They taste like you, and him, and the cigarettes you shared.

“Know you are, know you’re trying your best, but you’re also a dumb little slut who simply can’t help herself, can you. Cock so good it’s the only thing on your mind, huh?”

You’re not sure if the little moan that slips your lips in agreement can be identified as such, but Billy certainly seems to take it that way.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I can help you stay more quiet, pretty thing. Gonna keep your mouth stuffed the way I stuff your pussy; and it also gives me the opportunity to test your limits here-“

He pushes his fingers into your mouth deeper until you gag around them, and he groans at the feeling. 

“Fuck like that, like that baby, choke on my fingers while your cunt swallows my cock like the good little cocksleeve it is,fuck!”

His grith pushes into you quicker, faster, and with so much desperation now, that you feel the fire within you flare up to an almost explosive height. 

“Come on little bitch, play with your clit for me, while I wreck your pussy and your throat.”

The speed of his fingers that are currently fucking your mouth increases, mirroring the thrusts of his hips, and you find yourself gurgling and spluttering around him, yet Billy’s pace never wavers, if anything your struggles only turn him on more, and he feels himself getting closer too.

But with the way you’re playing with your clit while being stuffed so incredibly full, the pleasure inside you only heightens and you’re hurdling down towards your climax much quicker than Billy does. 

“You can come, baby,” Billy murmurs, “You can come on my cock, pretty thing.”

“Billy,” you sob, lashes thick with tears and lips quivering.

“Billy, I’m gonna-“

“I know, I know, sweet girl. Just let go for me. You’ve done so good already, just let go.” 

Billy’s voice is still rough, but there’s a soothing undertone, one that’s triggering something odd in your brain. Something warm and comforting and weirdly enough, something safe.

“Come on, baby. Be the good little slut I know you want to be. You want me to be proud of you, right? So, cum and cream on my cock, pretty bitch.”

Billy emphasized his words with even harder thrusts, his cockhead kissing your cervix repeatedly, and you know you’ll feel the bruising effects of it for the next few days at the very least. 

“Fucking slut, come now!” He orders, fingers pushing themselves as deep as they can down your throat, and you gag hard. 

But Billy doesn’t pull them out again. Instead, he leaves them there, only the tips of his fingers moving slightly, applying repeated pressure to your throat.

You gurgle his name desperately, and Billy swears he almost comes then and there as he feels both your pussy and throat spasm around him. 

The cry that leaves your lips sounds wet, and messy, and fucked out, as you come hard, back arching and thighs shaking. Your pussy’s griping him like a vice, but Billy fucks you through your high relentlessly, to a point where it’s almost cruel.

“Good girl,” he praises in between rough thrusts.

“Good fucking girl.”

His hips still slap against you with vigor, and you find yourself whining at the increasing overstimulation of it all. The weight of his fingers in your mouth, and his cock in your cunt seem suddenly twice as hard, twice as heavy, and twice as overwhelming. 

Your hips instinctively try to wiggle away from him, but Billy’s not having any of it. 

“Nuh-uh, I know it’s a lot, but you can take it, baby. Gonna let me get my fill too, remember?”

Your whines increase once more at the increasingly uncomfortable feeling, and while you try hard to be good and take it, your hips have a little mind of their own. 

“Stop it, slut!” There’s a sudden harsh slap on your ass that makes you moan out and grip around Billy’s cock even tighter.

“Fuck,” Billy rasps out at the realization “Shit, you’re probably one of those girls who actually enjoy getting slapped around during sex too. Crying because of the pleasure rather than the pain of it all, god, that’s so fucked up. You’re so fucked up, baby, and I love it.” 

The little delirious rambles that leave your mouth after that only spur Billy on more. 

“You gonna let me take it, right?” He whispers, and after the small nod that follows his words, Billy suddenly pushes you forward, shifting his weight slightly to get better leverage, until you’re completely pressed up against the cold tiles of the shower. 

"Pussy can’t run from me that way.” Billy grumbles, before moaning loudly, because this position right here is giving him an even deeper and easier access to your cunt. 

One of his hands is holding your hips in place, as the other one pushes your face against the tiles, cheeks squished against it. 

“Just let me use you, fuck, just like that.” 

He’s pressing himself flat against you, bucking up into you with no way for you to escape it. Not that you’d want to anyways, but there’s something exceptionally dirty about getting used like that. Because right now you don’t serve any other purpose than to make Billy feel good and let him fill you up.

And with the way that you’re currently pressed up against the tiles, you can’t even play with your own clit; left completely at the mercy of Billy, who’s now more concerned with chasing his own high. 

“Fuck, take it! Just fucking take it, stupid fucking whore.”  

The little gasps and squeals that escape your lips with every rut of Billy’s hips are like music to his ears. They’re addicting, the perfect mixture of sweet and filthy, and he can’t get enough.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Dumb little thing just waiting for her fill. Can’t do anything but let me use you. Use you to my liking, fuck.”

He’s getting closer, unimaginably closer, and for the first time his pace actually starts to falter.

He’s bucking into you quicker, more irregularly, and the pants that leave his lips have you clenching around him more.

You can feel his breath hot on your neck, especially since he’s hardly pulling out now, and instead keeps rutting himself deeper inside of you with desperate little thrusts.

“Fuck, gonna cum, gonna cum in your pretty little pussy and you’re gonna take it. Yeah, shit, take it just like that.” 

You feel him twitch inside of you and then he’s coming with a loud and raspy moan.

He’s coming a lot, and you can’t help but whine too, as you feel his warm spurts fill your insides. He’s still rutting up into you softly, coming and twitching and mumbling little ‘take it’s and praises under his breath.

Once he’s completely spent he just stays there for a moment, pressed against you tightly while you’re both trying to catch your breath. 

That’s until Billy slips out of you with a groan, taking a small step back. But without Billy’s body weight pressed securely against you, you find yourself in something akin to a freefall. 

“Oh shit, easy there, baby.” Billy exclaims while rushing back towards you, steading hands coming up to your sides to keep you from buckling over or folding in on yourself.

“Fuck, you’re like Bambi on ice or something,” Billy mumbles when he sees the way your legs are still shaky, and without much of a warning he simply lifts you up, bridal style.

Your mind is just now slowly floating back to its rightful place. Words coming together like small little puzzle pieces that form into thoughts and more complex feelings.

You’ve done it again, you think, but instead of triumph, there’s shame bubbling up in your stomach. And it worsens at the feeling of Billy’s lingering hands around your body, and the way he keeps talking to you gently.

This is not how this usually goes, your brain notes in surprise and something akin to wide-eyed panic. 

Wait, where is this guy taking you? 

“Billy, what-“ You can’t help the small rise in your voice, or the way you try to struggle against him, despite your energy levels being completely drained. 

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay, little girl. You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Billy tries to soothe, but he’s just making it worse.

The softness of his touch and voice feel entirely unfamiliar and unusual – so by default they also feel entirely wrong, because this is so not how this usually goes.

“Shit, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Billy’s voice is still patient and gentle when he puts you down carefully on one of the wooden benches that are provided in the bigger changing room. 

“There you go.” He murmurs, before his hand comes up to your face, thumb brushing over your cheek softly. “You can come back to me baby in your own time, it’s okay.”

There’s a warm and understanding smile on Billy’s lips, and it sends your mind into overdrive, because why is he suddenly nice after being so rough? He got what he wanted so why is he still here?

This is so not what you’re used to. It’s either you leaving right after, or them. 

Lately it’s mostly you, but you don’t normally get fucked that good, so it’s much easier to slip away once the guy’s done. And usually there’s a liberated feeling afterwards, but somehow right now you just feel dirty, and Billy’s gentleness seems entirely out of place. Guys are nice to you before sleeping with you, not afterwards, for god’s sake. 

Billy sees the irritation on your face, but he doesn’t know what’s causing it. Doesn’t know why you’re looking at him wide-eyed, like he’s grown two heads. 

“You can go now, I’m okay.” You mumble, while fidgeting and pulling down parts of your black dress, restless eyes searching the empty room for something.

“Go?” Billy whispers, slightly confused, “Why would I just go?” 

You’re still not meeting his eyes when he looks at you for clarification and something inside of him clicks.

“Oh.”

The little exclaim leaves his lips quietly, and you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by the pitying tone of voice. 

He needs to leave, you think, so you can put yourself back together again. 

You know Billy probably means good, but he’s truly just making things worse. The softness of his touch and voice just has your mind uncoiling further, like a ball of yarn that’s being carelessly played with by a kitten, not knowing about the destruction it causes.

His unsuspected gentleness is making you feel smaller and more vulnerable than you’re used to, and you hate it. You absolutely hate it.

It’s like he’s peeling away at the toughest layers that you’ve got. And how are you supposed to build yourself back up again when he keeps scratching away at your foundations within the fortress of your heart. 

God, he’s not being what you imagined him to be like at all, you notice with a frown. Especially after Heather’s warning words, you expected someone else entirely.

You expected the usual rough sex and hasty departure. That’s all he’s in for anyway. But now, he’s doting over you like you’re precious, and despite still wearing your dress and looking less fucked-out than you did mere minutes ago, you feel incredibly raw and bare. 

More raw and bare than you felt during the filthy sex you two just shared.

Why is he being nice, you think. The men you sleep with normally aren’t, and when they are you’re usually not; slipping out of their bed quickly and brushing away any questions about when they’ll see you again.

So why is he being nice.

“What?”

It’s now Billy’s turn to look at you, wide-eyed, and you realize you must have whispered your last words out loud.

Why is he being nice.

It’s a genuine question that your mind can’t comprehend; trying to come up with a reason why he would – until it finally hits you. 

“We’re not doing this again, you know.”

The whisper falls from your lips with more bite than you intended. 

“What?” 

“We’re not doing this again, so you can leave now, Billy.”

For some reason looking at Billy’s bewildered face just hurts your brain more, or maybe your heart. In moments like this, you’re hardly in tune with everything that’s going on inside of you, so you can’t quite pinpoint the current anxiousness feeling that floats through your body, seemingly unrestrained and unregulated.

You just keep yourself occupied with the task of pulling down your dress, trying to get it to cover you up more.

Your eyes still scan the room, but it’s useless. You can’t make out your panties for the life of you, even though you know they should be lying around here somewhere. 

“Watcha looking for, sweet girl?” Ignoring your previous words, Billy asks the question softly, because your troubled eyes and discomfort are hard to miss.

“Nothing,” you mumble, not looking up, head hung low as you keep fidgeting with the hem of your dress. 

“You can go now, Billy. Just leave, please.”

You don’t notice the pained look that crosses Billy’s face or the helplessness that takes over his body. 

This isn’t how his hookups usually go. He’s no Disney prince by any means, but he’s also not one to leave the girls he sleeps with high and dry, and a complete mess on a public bathroom floor.

Truth be told, that possible image of you stings more than he’d like to admit.

Strangely, it’s less the fact that you’ve fucked other men before and more the idea that you’d find yourself a crying and quivering mess afterwards on the cold tiles inside a public bathroom.

A bathroom in which anyone could just walk into and then take advantage of your situation, Billy thinks with an uncomfortable shudder, especially when you still have vulnerability written all over your features, like you do right now.

So, he’s not just going to leave you here, not when your fingers are still trembling, and your quiet little sniffles still echo through the empty room. 

Billy decides to kneel down, getting more on your level, concerned eyes desperately trying to find yours.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” He whispers, while stifling the urge to touch you; because with the way you reacted earlier while being confined in his arms he doubts that’s a good idea.

“Anything other than leaving, that is.” He hastily adds, and for once you look up at him.

Fucking finally.

But the moment of eye contact is short-lived. You avert your gaze much to quickly again, but at the very least you mumble an incredibly quiet, and timid, “My panties.” 

Of course. Billy almost groans at his stupidity. God, he can be dense sometimes. 

That also explains the endless tugging of your dress; how did he not think of this?

“Okay, okay, don’t worry. Just stay here and take deep breaths while I hunt those panties down!” He gives you a small wink, before mumbling, “I’m not getting called a panty hunter for nothing.”

You watch Billy scan your current room quickly, before rushing into the next one. But you’re still wary of his apparent niceness and supposed worry. 

“Got it!” You hear him exclaim suddenly, but it’s quickly followed by a deflated huff.

“Oh no.” 

He comes back with his jeans in one hand and your black panties in the other, but the expression on his face is apologetic.

“Look, you have every right to hate me now because I might have, uh, I might have killed your panties earlier while trying to help you get them off.”

“Okay,” He sees the way you nod, trying hard to be nonchalant about it, but the shine in your eyes is giving you away. 

That and the slight tremble of your lips. 

“But don’t worry, I have an idea, okay?”

You look up at him with questioning eyes and something akin to hope reflected in them, and Billy actively has to keep himself from reaching his hand out to wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks. 

“The solution is probably not going to be perfect, but it is a solution no less. I’ll just have to leave really quickly to get something, but I promise I’ll be back again in no time okay?”

You nod your head, trying to process his words.

“Okay, good, now, can you promise me something too?” Billy mumbles. He’s kneeling down next to you again, his rough fingers gently caressing your knuckles.

“Promise me you’ll be here when I come back again. It’s just gonna be 5 minutes but I need you to be here, okay. I need you to wait for me, can you promise me that?”

Once again, you nod your head softly, but that’s not enough of a confirmation for Billy.

“Need you to say it.” He whispers, blue eyes looking at you expectingly. 

“I’ll wait, I promise.” Your voice is hushed and tired, but Billy still picks up on it.

“Good girl.” He praises, and without really thinking about it, he leaves a chased kiss on your forehead, before getting up and slipping into his jeans quickly. He’s been wearing his red shirt the whole time, you notice, as you watch him tug it into his denim hastily.

“Be right back, I promise.” He states with a careful smile, and then he’s out of the room with quick strides.

Once he’s left, and it’s just you in the empty building, taking deep breaths suddenly feels a lot easier, and your mind feels less like it’s in a fight or flight situation. But trying to wrap your mind around whatever is currently happening seems still rather difficult.

You don’t normally react that emotional after sex, but in the rare cases that you do, there’s hardly anyone around to witness it, so the way that Billy’s dotting over you feels incredibly foreign, constricting even.

Like you’re being backed into a corner and then smothered to death. 

As you try to stand up, you have to defeatedly witness how your legs are still a little shaky.

‘Like Bambi on ice’, Billy’s words echo in your mind. He sounded so soft when he said it; so endeared, so smitten, so-

Oh no.

You have to leave, you think. You have to leave right now. 

Screw your panties and your promise, you should be out that door immediately.

Wiping your eyes angrily and clenching your fists, you try to summon all the body strength you can muster. But before you can even try to stand up again, there’s a sudden sound coming from the entrance again, one that’s quickly followed by Billy’s voice, and you freeze.

“Hey, you didn’t run like I almost expected you to.“ He states with a little, teasing smile when he makes his way back into the room, and there’s a glimmer of proudness reflected in his eyes. 

“Oh, and I got you this here.“

It’s only then that you notice him holding two pieces of fabric that are now being extended towards you. 

“Billy, what-?“ 

“I know it’s not exactly evening wear, but it should do, right?” 

It’s two pieces of clothing; a white shirt and red swimming trunks.

“It’s going to be a bit of a loose fit, but you’ll probably look way cuter in those than I do.” Billy mumbles, before adding quickly, “Don’t worry, though, I didn’t wear them or anything! Those are just my backup clothes for, uh, you know, being a lifeguard.”

“You’re a lifeguard?” You inquire, and Billy nods, cheeks tinted slightly red. 

“Yes! I mean i-it’s not all I do, I also work as a mechanic downtown, but the early morning shifts are rather tame here at the beach and money’s tight so…“ He drifts off, hand rubbing some spot on his neck repeatedly. 

“Billy that-that’s nice but I can’t take those.” You state, trying to give the clothes back to him. 

“Why not?” 

“How will you get them back afterwards?” 

“Well, when we see each other again, obviously. You can just drop by at the little lifeguard station tomorrow, or at the next bonfire when-” 

“But Billy, that’s not going to happen.” 

“What?” 

“I’m not- we’re not going to see each other again like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Fucking.” You state, voice somehow colder now.

You take another breath, forcing your voice to come out devoid of any emotions.

“I don’t make the same mistake twice, Billy. So, you can really keep those.”

Standing up with a lot more determination, you push his clothes gently against his chest. Your fingers are still trembling, but you hope he doesn’t notice it.

“Mistake?” Billy whispers, trying to wrap his mind around what’s currently going on. 

“You seem like a good guy, Billy.” Your voice is a lot softer now, almost hushed. “But I’m not going to break my own rules for you. So, take care.” 

Standing up on your tiptoes, you lean in a little closer, until he feels your lush lips pressed against his cheek. It’s only for a split second, but he still feels like he’s being struck by lightning. He can’t move, or react, or do anything other than stand there frozen, for the briefest of moments. 

Yet it’s still long enough for you to slip through the room, out the door, and then you’re gone. 

“Hey, wait-“

When Billy finally manages to turn around, he finds himself calling your name repeatedly, but it’s too late. By the time he’s at the entrance door of the little building, you’re nowhere in sight.

He finds himself cursing as he scans the beach for even the smallest, tiniest signs of you, but it’s no use. Nighttime has rolled around and overtaken absolutely everything by now, and the faint, warm light of the lamps above are hardly any help in beating the surrounding darkness into submission. 

Billy hates how worry bubbles up inside of him; eats his insides alive, and makes him feel completely sick.

Hates how his heart aches slightly.

Fuck, he should have listened to Tommy when he said that he should stay far, far away from you.

He had been quick to notice Billy’s curious gaze earlier, after the new boy had witnessed the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard. 

Your laugh.

“Fuck, don’t even think about it. She’s like the worst little bitch around.” Tommy had stated after taking a big gulp from his beer, but Billy had been unconvinced.

You looked so sweet, so joyful, so kind. He couldn’t keep his eyes from watching you playfight with Heather, as she was tickling you because of some silly comment you made. 

There was something in your eyes, in your laugh, in the movement of your body. 

And he was intrigued. 

“No, dude, believe me. I’ve seen her make grown man cry and shit. She’s like a fucking sex siren or something. You know that song, uh, Maneater?”

Now Tommy’s mumbling the worst rendition of Maneater Billy’s ever heard, and that song’s already complete shit to begin with in his books, so imagine his pain. 

“Uh, yeah, that song definitely sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, well, she is that. Whatever Daryl Oates was singing about, that’s her through and through.”

Billy shakes his head, stifling his urge to correct Tommy on his wrong music trivia. But above all, Billy doesn’t believe a single word coming out of that guy’s mouth.

He didn’t believe it then, and he didn’t believe it when he chatted you up at the bar either, but things slowly started to change when the two of you found yourselves talking down by the beach.

There was something addicting in your little smiles, and laughs, and the challenging fire in your eyes, waiting for him to talk back. There was something in the way you would twirl around light-heartedly, between ocean waves, with no care in the world.

It was in the way you seemed free. 

And it was also in the way that you’d kiss him and subsequently tugged at his heart, uh no, hair, softly. 

And he definitely believed Tommy’s words when he found himself sheeted deep inside of you. He’s never had a pussy feel that good around him, never heard whines that sweet and filthy. Never thought his name could sound so good falling from someone else’s lips.

He was in deep, literally. And he knew that one fuck simply wouldn’t be enough. One night like this certainly wasn’t, and maybe nothing ever would, but he had to see you again, had to at least try to quench his thirst for you; craving your company like a touched starved fool. Addicted to your little laughs, and your moans, and the way you could be saccharine sweet in one moment, and challenging in the next.

Then, unsuspectedly, you ended up almost breaking down on the cold shower floor, and something else kicked up deep inside of him. Something protective and concerned, because behind your carefree attitude was someone, really, really hurt, and he got small glimpses of that.

Glimpses that he could relate to, if he’s being really honest.

Yet unfortunately his tender words and touches had the complete opposite effect on you.

He still doesn’t understands why. Doesn’t understand why your distress would seemingly worsen after he tried to help.

And now you were gone, leaving him with many questions, no answers, and a slightly aching heart. 

Billy hates how he can already hear Tommy’s smug “Told you so.” And he doesn’t want to be faced with that at all. So, going back to the bonfire is a big no for him, until the thought that you could have gone there crosses his mind, and suddenly he’s heading in that direction hastily.

He knows it’s probably wishful thinking, but that doesn’t stop the small spark of hope from blooming up somewhere deep inside his chest, at the mere idea, that maybe, maybe he 'll see you again.

He just wants to make sure you’re okay, and make clear that he didn’t mean to scare you away. Whatever it was that had you this terrified and worried, he’s sure he could find a solution. Find a solution and maybe make you stay.

But once Billy reaches the gathering at the bonfire again, he has to confront the fact that it was all for nothing, cause you’re not there.

The disappointment seems like a cruel way to extinguish the little flames of hope that have been flickering away in his chest, and he feels physically deflated.

Some of your friends are still lingering around, though. He spots Tommy first, who just gives him a pitying glance, when he notices Billy’s restless eyes wander over the current scene, obviously scanning the crowd, looking for someone. Heather’s just giving him a wary side-eye, looking like she’d kill him in his sleep if she could. Not sure what her problem is, Billy thinks.

Unfortunately, he can’t make out Argyle anywhere for the live of him, so he decides to head home for good this time.

Getting black out drunk, trying to forget that this night ever happened might be better achieved at his own little place anyways.

And so, just like you, he leaves hastily into the night, thoughts occupied only by one specific person. 

You don’t go to the next few outings that come up.

Metaphorically speaking, you’re still licking and tending to your wounds.

The last person you want to see is Billy, even when he’s also the only person on your mind.

You don’t know why, or what exactly went wrong during your hook-up with him, that left you in the emotional turmoil you ended up finding yourself in. But somehow you did, and somehow that didn’t scare him away, which is hard to wrap your mind around.

The only sensible answer your brain can come up with, is that he had just been kind to you out of pity, or because he wanted to get on your good side, maybe, just so he could fuck you again.

Or maybe, he’s just one of those guys with a savior complex. 

You fucked your fair share of those; semi-decent guys, who thought that if they tried hard enough, they might be able to domesticate you like a goddamn cat.

As if a stable relationship and some second-hand love, handed down to you in sizes that never fit – always swallowing you whole or feeling to tight – are going to fix your issues. 

Whatever. 

You try not to think about it too much.

Try not to let Billy’s concerned eyes come up in memory too often. Try not to feel the embarrassment of having fallen apart in front of him. Try not to feel anything, really. 

The sex normally helps to negate that particular issue, the numbing pounding of some stranger’s cock the perfect distraction to the emotional storm swirling around inside of you most of the time.

But you’re not even in the mood for that right now.

And so, you find yourself curled up in bed for a couple of days, ignoring the ringing of your phone and the repeated knocks on your door. It’s probably Heather, or Argyle, or god forbid Tommy.

But you ignore them all, turning around in your sheets instead, trying to suppress the memories of Billy.

Trying to suppress the pretty eyes of a certain stranger, who showed you a little sliver of compassion at the worst possible time, and now you fear that this will haunt you forever.

And when you’re not fighting your mind to stop thinking, and feeling, and wishing for Billy to just hold you, you’re taken by a dreamless, void-like, and utterly restless sleep.

It’s roughly two weeks later, when you’re back at the beach, back at the bonfire, and back in some pretty boy’s arms. His name is Jake or Jason or maybe it’s John? You’re not entirely sure, and you don’t really care enough to find out .

You’re giggling softly at one of his jokes, while giving him the most innocent eyes you can muster, but inside of you, something ugly is clawing to get its fix.

And you’re on your way to get it 15 minutes later, when you’re both stumbling towards the building with the empty shower stalls once again. The déjà vu doesn’t hit you immediately, and you’re still laughing at something pretty boy-what’s-his-name said, when your eyes find someone else’s in the distance. 

Billy’s. 

He’s leaning against the bar counter, sipping a can of beer while watching you closely, and suddenly you feel like you’re drowning. 

What is he doing here? You think. It’s a stupid question, and you know that. You have no right to be upset by his presence, and he’s told you he works at the beach too, so he probably lives nearby anyway and-

There are lips now at your neck that serve as a welcomed distraction, and you try not to let it remind you of the last time you stumbled through those doors.

But it’s different this time, and you ignore the shift in your heart when you watch Billy avert his eyes, jaw clenched and hands tightening around his beer can.

Whatever. You don’t care.

The sex ends up being mediocre at best, and you have to edge the guy on repeatedly to get him to roughen you up a bit more; to numb out all of your pain with the quick strokes of his cock. He finishes before you do, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary, and of course he doesn’t even notice. 

A Fool.

A simple, careless fool.

But it’s okay because you’ve gotten your main fix already. The storm brooding within you feels a lot calmer now, and you get to bask in the afterglow of your achievement.

The guy fulfilled his mediocre purpose, yet he’s hesitant to leave you alone. He almost follows you around like a lost puppy, as you smooth out your skirt and walk up to one of the mirrors.

You find yourself having to revert to a few quick lies; promising him that, sure you’ll meet him at the bonfire most definitely again. You just really need some alone-time to fix your smudged make-up in peace. 

The lies fall from your lips perfectly, in promises already broken before they drip from your mouth in the warm light of the setting sun that’s breaking through one of the fogged-up windows. 

As usual, he eats the lies up like a starved dog might eat a treat, and you smile at his eager eyes, and the hopefulness written all over his features.

Stupid little fool, you think, as you watch him leave. He even has the audacity to turn around towards you again with a little wave, and you stifle the urge to roll your eyes. Pathetic, you think while giving him one of your sweetest smiles.

You weren’t lying about wanting to quickly clean yourself up, though. Scrubbing the persistent mascara stains off from both of your cheeks, and applying a new layer of lip gloss.

Once you look less like the mess you feel, you make your way across the beach, only this time into the opposite direction of the bonfire, until you’ve found a spot that looks private enough for your liking. You let yourself sink into the sand with a sigh, and it doesn’t take long for you to nurse another one of your joints while gazing out towards the endless sea.

For the first time since your hook-up with Billy, you actually feel somewhat good again, as a weird peacefulness takes hold of your heart. Some might call it numbness, but you indulge in it, nevertheless – that is until a raspy voice comes up from behind you.

“Didn’t think I’d get to see you again, Cinderella.” 

Billy. 

You hate how your heartrate picks up at the roughness of his voice, of his presence, of his scent. 

“Had hoped I didn’t get to see you again either.” You retort, gaze still stubbornly fixed on the ocean in front of you. 

Billy just huffs, before you hear him sitting down next to you. He’s not as close as he was last time around, keeping some distance between you two. If for your sake, or for his, you’re not sure.

“So, you really meant it when you said you don’t do the same mistake twice, huh?” 

“It’s nothing personal, I just wanna have fun.” 

“Is that what you’re having?” He questions, and despite his simple words, you feel them hit a complicated nerve.

It’s like he’s trying to call your bluff. 

“What is it to you?” You deflect while still refusing to look at him, because you’re not quite sure what will happen if you do. 

“Just curious, really.” 

There’s a moment of silence, safe for the gentle rush of the ocean. It’s an ethereal sound, akin to that of a lullaby, and it somehow reminds you of your mom. 

“Was he worth it?” Billy’s voice calls you out of your thought, and back to the harsh reality again. 

“What?” 

“The guy you slept with, was he worth it?” 

“That’s what you want to know about? Okay.” You mumble more to yourself than anything, and then, after another few beats of silence you ask, “Was he worth what, Billy?” 

That renders the guy next to you silent. 

You two stay like that for a while; quiet, deep in thought, trying to make sense of the other.

Billy wants to ask if you’re alright, but he also doesn’t want to seem like he cares too much, or at all, really. Even though he does. He does care.

Billy tries to think of something that will make you stay. Not for good, but for the moment.

Something that will make you see that he means no harm and comes in peace, even though your hasty departure two weeks ago still stings. So does the fact that you’ve been avoiding him ever since, or having to see you with another guy.

He now truly knows what Tommy was talking about. Knows that this is just a game for you. But he’s vary and unsure of your motives. He doubts however, that you’d tell him if he asked. 

Your mind is currently also in some quiet overdrive, trying to figure out what to say, but coming up empty again.

There are words you thought about saying to him; thoughts you’ve never said out loud to anyone; but Billy’s witnessed you when you were at your smallest and most vulnerable already, and he didn’t run. He didn’t mock you; he didn’t leave.

And while you’re still vary of his motives, because most men you know usually aren’t nice to women out of their kindness in their hearts and their endless empathy for humankind, you secretly hope that Billy might be different.

It’s wishful thinking at its worst, but you thought about giving him an explanation within the last two weeks more times than you want to admit.

This whole situation can’t really spiral down any further, and you’ve let your guards down around him once already. Sure, it was involuntarily, but still; that has to count for something. 

“I didn’t mean to be a bitch.” Your words come out hushed and hasty, but they’re earnest. 

“You need to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you, if I did, that is. I know you meant good, probably, but I don’t need any pity, or help, or saving.”

Billy’s quiet for a moment, as he contemplates your words. He doesn’t try to hide his surprise at your admissions; doesn’t think he could if he tried. 

“I never pitied you, and I never thought you needed saving either, but there’s no shame in needing help from time to time.”

You’re both silent now, letting the words spoken and the words unspoken sit in between you in the warm sand. 

For some reason you want him to stick around, want to get to know him more, but even just that quiet admission seems endlessly scary.

You shouldn’t feel this attached to a guy you barely know and fucked once. 

But unbeknownst to you Billy feels the exact same way, and there are words laying on the tip of his tongue, almost folded neatly into a simple question that he’s too scared to ask.

But then he reminds himself that he doesn’t really have anything to lose. You could just leave regardless of the things that are about to fall from his lips. 

It’s a simple ask and it’s a bit embarrassing how worked up he’s getting over this, but he just tries to tell himself that the worst you can do is laugh and leave; and you might even do that without his proposition.

He repeats the words in his head, trying to make them sound nonchalant. Trying to make them sound like his heart isn’t in it, despite the fact that it’s right there, on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble out and into your lap at the mere sight of you.

“So, what do you say, are you up for another joint and a slushy?”

The words fall out of his mouth, fast and jumbled, and not quite as detached and casual as he’d hoped. Still, you’re not yet on your feet and running away like last time. Instead, there’s surprise swimming in your eyes, but you cover it up quickly with a teasing smile.

“Joint and a slushy? Billy you’re spoiling me.”

You joke lightly, but inside of you is a new storm brewing. Because if you say yes, it’s going to be completely uncharted new territory. 

And you want to say ‘yes’, but there’s the need to bark ‘no’.

Billy can see the dilemma in your eyes, the unsureness, the fear, and maybe, just maybe, some hidden layers of longing.

But maybe he just sees what he wishes to see.

What he wants to see.

The things that are being reflected in his eyes, too.

“Billy, I-“

“I know, you won’t be breaking your rules for me. You’ve already established that previously, remember? But we don’t have to repeat any of that, you know. We can just talk, and smoke and maybe dance to Andy Gibs a bit more.”

The smile on his face is playful, almost nudging, and you can’t help but mirror it, despite the internal battle that’s still taking place within you.

If you do this, a voice warns, this will be your downfall. You’re going to get attached and then you’re going to get hurt. And where’s the fun in that, huh? 

But Billy’s also the most fun you’ve ever had in the guys you’ve hooked up with, and so, throwing all your apprehensions and cautions into the windy sea, you watch them drown, hoping dearly that their ghosts and warnings won’t come back to haunt you later.

“Fuck it, why not.” You mumble, and Billy beams like the distant bar lights that are still shining strong.

“You want your usual order, then?”

Things develop from there in a rather unusual way, and with the passing weeks you start to actually consider Billy somewhat of a friend. Kind of. Almost. Unexpectedly so.

At first, you two just start to hang out more during the beachy get-togethers; sneaking away to get high and on each other’s nerves. Though Heather doesn’t quite believe you when you say you two are just talking – you don’t really blame her, you wouldn’t believe it either, if you didn’t bear witness to it every other night.

But it really is just talks.

Talks, and joints, and slushies, and lazy gazes into the night sky, and sometimes, if you’re particularly brave, prolonged ones into each other’s eyes.

But you try not to think about the meaning of those too often. 

Billy’s also turned out to be quite opinionated, not that you’re surprised by that discovery; but it definitely serves as inspiration for a lot of arguments, bickering, and disbelieving gasps when the other person says something particularly offensive.

Like when you told Billy that the best Queen album is obviously A Day at the Races, and he audibly scoffed, because how dare you? The only right and acceptable answer is News of the World, and you’d have to be musically on the level of a jellyfish to think differently.

“God, you’re so lucky you’re pretty and fun, otherwise I would most certainly revalue our friendship right now.” Billy had said in that moment, before passing the joint back to you, just as you watched him exhale the smoke into the starry night.

You tried really hard not to think about that night when you were on the receiving end of that smoke, inhaling it instead of the fresh august air.

But Billy keeps true to his promise to not try any ‘funny business’, and you haven’t fucked since that one night almost a month ago.

There’re still men you hook up with, of course. After all, that kind of an itch doesn’t just go away, but it’s a little less frequent now, since on most bonfire nights you seek out Billy’s company instead.

It’s weird, because you haven’t been this close to another person; haven’t felt this close to another person, in a long time. In forever maybe.

But you try not to think about that either; brushing it all away like Heather’s worried glances when she watches you two vanish from the crowds, to go somewhere more ‘private’.

It’s none of her business anyways, you tell yourself, and all of her repeated warnings just continue to fall on deaf ears.

It’s not like you don’t appreciate Heather, or the friendship you two share, but you do think she’s got it all wrong when it comes to Billy.

Because Billy is, as far as you’re concerned, none of the things she kept warning you about. During your weeks on the beach, you’ve never seen him get angry or violent.

Heated maybe, sometimes, but never terrifyingly so. And at this point you wonder if you and Heather are even talking about the same guy at all, really.

But you get your first glimpses of what she might have been talking about a few weeks later at some guys house party.

You’d arrived there in your usual late fashion, and initially you didn’t even think Billy would show up, because those kind of parties aren’t quite his scene. There’s new wave music being blasted from some rather expensive stereo, and that alone would be a reason for Billy to turn around and leave again quickly, huffing and puffing complains about the beyond questionable music choices. 

You would know. You’ve witnessed it by now at least a couple of times. After all, trying to get Billy to stay at a small house party while Adam and the Ants was playing in the background turned out to be quite the challenge just a few days ago. 

So, you didn’t think he would show up to this party either. Or if he did he would have left again immediately, especially with the way that this currently is the third Spandau Ballet song that’s rumbling through the speakers.

It’s To Cut a Long Story Short, and you’ve been looking for Heather ever since it started, cause it’s normally a tune you both quite enjoy dancing to. 

There are some loud voices coming from the kitchen, and knowing Heather, you instinctively move towards the apparent commotion.

She’s the life of the party in both, the best and the worst ways, but instead of your best friend you find something completely different in the kitchen.

It’s a fight. 

It’s a fight, and it must have just started recently because there’s hardly anyone rushing in to break it apart yet.

There’s too many people around for you to see who it is, or what it’s about, but you can certainly hear the grunting, and the punches, and the way a low growl of a familiar voice drawls, “You wanna say that again, fucker?! Come on, say it again!” The silence that follows is deafening and the rough voice huffs, “That’s what I thought you little bitch!”

And it takes a second to hit you fully, but when it does, it hits you hard, almost as hard as the last punch that had the crowd murmuring little surprised ohh‘s and ahh‘s. 

It’s Billy. 

Your assumption turned realization only solidifies when people start whispering once they notice your presence, and you feel like they’re in on something that you’re not. 

But you don’t let that deter you as you try to push past all the people to get to the man your heart keeps worrying about with every added harsh sound, and the rustling of clothes as two shapes wrestle on the kitchen floor.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Somebody finally says it.

It’s a tall dude with glasses who’s stepping out of the crowd, but neither Billy nor the other guy seem to care.

Still, that man’s words are enough for other people to try stepping in too, halfhearted hands gripping Billy to get him off the guy he’s been towering over, raining punches down repeatedly. 

But as soon as he’s up, and the other guy is also semi-stable on his feet, there’s a bloody grin spreading across the stranger’s face before spitting, “Looks like your whore even came to your rescue.”

The nod in your direction is unmistakable, and Billy’s eyes flicker over to you only briefly before he’s pouncing on the guy again, and this time the sound of the heavy punch that follows rings in your ears for a lot longer.

They’re back on the floor again quickly but not without the sound of glass breaking and you shiver, panic bubbling up inside of you.

“Don’t. Fucking. Call. Her. That.”

The words are each accentuated with the sound of unmistakable hits, and now people are more desperate to break the two apart.

There end up being three guys that have to restrain Billy, and two guys who try to keep the other culprit both in line and somewhat steady on his feet.

Yet it’s hardly working, as Billy keeps struggling, trying to jump the other man again, and you can see how the guys holding him back are quite literally at their limit.

You finally manage to squeeze past the last few people in front of you, making your way up to Billy. You don’t really think as you step in, moving into his eyesight and coming up before him.

You call his name repeatedly, but at first he seems like he’s so lost in his rage, that he doesn’t even register you.

It’s almost as if he’s in some kind of trance, chest heaving with quick breaths, and his eyes still blazing daggers at the guy who looks a lot worse for wear. It’s not like Billy got out of the fight unharmed though, his knuckles are bloody and split, you can’t help but notice with a frown, and there’s a deep cut on one of his cheekbones that looks more than a little painful.

His lips are also bleeding and there are bruises already forming around his temple too.

Still, he looks a lot better than the other guy, who can barely keep himself upright at this point. 

“Billy.” Your voice is as soft as the apprehensive touch of your fingers that come to rest on the upper part of his chest.

You can feel his thundering heart underneath your fingertips, rumbling away beneath his warm skin.

“Billy, stop.” You whisper, voice gentle, but the urgency in your eyes is hard to miss.

You instinctively cup his cheeks, mindful of the cuts and bruises, but you need him to look at you – need him to come back to you from whatever plane he’s still on.

You’re not sure if it’s your voice or the careful touch that makes him break free from whatever spell he’s been under. But when he finally does, the sigh of relief that leaves your heart is almost audible, as his eyes trail back to yours. 

“Hey, Cinderella.” His voice is low and rough, and you wince at both, the way the cut on his lip moves with each word, and how he’s very clearly intoxicated, breath stained with the smell of alcohol and weed. 

“Billy,” your voice is deflated, almost disappointed, and it wipes the growing smirk right off his face.

He looks almost a little hurt, like he didn’t expect your reaction to be that.

“You’re mad at me?” He mumbles, voice toying between a question and a statement. 

“Let’s just get out of here.” You offer, ignoring his previous words, and taking one of his hands instead, fingers intertwining, before tugging on it gently. 

“Okay?” You question, eyes searching Billy’s for an answer.

Billy huffs while puffing out his chest, but he’s calmed down enough now to follow you without much fuss as you make a beeline for one of the bathrooms. 

Once you two arrive at your destination, you’re quick to lock the door behind you, after making Billy sit down on the closed toilet seat. 

With your back turned, and a little space between you, you take a shaky breath to steady yourself, the emotions inside of you still running wild, before turning around, heat simmering in your eyes.

“What the fuck was that about?” You bite, and Billy looks like a kicked puppy for a brief second before turning defensive. 

“What?”

He can’t believe the tone of your voice after what he’s done for you, and the furious look in your eyes has him sobering up quite a bit.

“You heard me just right, Hargrove.”

Looking at him expectantly, you wait for an answer, your left foot tapping irregular beats on the white bathroom tiles impatiently. 

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Billy huffs, “he fucking deserved it, and I’m not going to apologize for something I actually still stand behind!”

“I’m not asking you to apologize, I’m asking you to explain it to me.” You shoot back, and Billy crosses his arms, anger rising in his eyes now as well.

How dare you make him the culprit of the night, like he’s the bad guy and not the man who- 

“You weren’t there.” Billy defends himself, his heated gaze turning towards his bloody knuckles. “He said some really nasty shit about you, and I was not about to let him get away with that, alright?”

“What kind of shit?” You question, and Billy’s eyes turn somewhat softer when they take in your form again. 

“Don’t make me repeat the things he said, Cinderella,” he whispers, “but it was completely uncalled for, called you a slut and every degrading thing under the sun he could fucking think of.” 

You sigh, because this is nothing new to you, but apparently the same can’t be said for Billy. 

“Billy,” you mumble, voice gentler now and tinted with some understanding, “guys call me that all the time, okay?”

“What, and you just let them?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m there to witness it most of the time, and it’s not like they’re entirely wrong either. I’m not exactly known to be the personification of virgin Mary, now am I?”

“Yeah, well, maybe not, but that still doesn’t give that shithead the right to be judgmental about it! Who is he to question the choices you make anyway? And what was I supposed to do, just listen and laugh?” 

There’s a quietness taking over the room for the first time tonight, except for the loud music that’s still booming through the apartment, drifting into the space between you.

“I care about you, alright. And I’m not going to let him walk all over you, even if it’s just with some fucking words. You’re my friend, so, sorry for giving a shit.”

Billy tries to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s mostly hurt swimming in his eyes when he gazes back up at you, and something inside of you shifts. 

“Billy,” you whisper, because the growing realization that he might have actually done this for you, rather than himself, settles in your mind slowly.

“You actually picked this fight for me?” Your voice is so hushed, it might as well be nothing but hot air leaving your mouth right now.

“Well, who else would I pick a fucking fight for?”

“I thought,” you mumble, feet shuffling nervously on white tiles, “I thought you just picked the fight for your ego.”

“What?”

“Well, you know. The guy probably said something about how you’re seemingly with me, a slut, and the implication of what exactly that says about you is what drove you over the edge.”

“Wait, you think I got my knuckles bloody because some prick thinks I might be settling for 'damaged goods'? Is that why you’re so angry? You think I broke that guy’s nose over some stupid ego shit?”

“I’m sure you broke a guys nose for less before.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Huh, doesn’t sound like nothing to me. If you have something to say just say it.”

Billy’s voice drops dangerously low before huffing, “Come on, you weren’t that quiet when I fucked you stupid, so don’t go all docile on me now.”

“I’m not.”

“Right.”

“Right, and fuck you.”

“Oh, Getting the big guns out now, are we?”

“Fuck off Billy, I’m not gonna pick a fight with you.”

“Weird, could have fooled me.”

You two are standing awfully close by now, with Billy having jumped up from his seat a while ago, eyes angry, and chest heaving. 

“You can’t blame me for thinking this is just the usual shit.”

“What usual shit?”

There’s a heavy sigh that’s leaving your lips, but instead of an answer your hands come up to Billy’s shoulders again, pushing him back towards the toilet seat. 

“I don’t want to have this discussion right now. It doesn’t matter anyway. What’s done is done. Just don’t pick a fight like that again, okay? It’s not worth it, getting hurt like this.”

It’s not worth it getting hurt for me, you think. 

But Billy huffs, far from ready to let this go yet, but admitting defeat once he sees the tired look in your eyes. 

As he’s settled down again, you quickly go through the bathroom cabins, searching for something. 

“Watcha looking for?” Billy’s voice seems less on edge now, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“A fucking first aid kit, most responsible adults have something akin to that in their bathroom or kitchen space.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, what do you want me to say to that, Billy?”

There’s the hint smile playing on your lips as Billy huffs with fake offense, and when you look back at your friend he’s mirroring your little smile, blue eyes bright and fixed on you with a steadiness that makes your heart sway. 

Shaking your head to get the lingering thoughts and feelings out, you try to focus back on the task at hand, until you finally find what you’ve been looking for all along. 

“Ha! Got it! I fucking new it; see!”

You hold up the little box proudly, and Billy can’t help but think that you look utterly adorable while doing so. 

“You gonna nurse me back to health, yeah?”

“You rather want to get this shit infected, Hargrove?”

Billy just mumbles a quiet, “It’s not that bad.” But he still makes space for you to stand in between his legs while you put down the box carefully on the bathroom sink beside you. 

And as your eyes come back to rest on Billy, taking in the toll of his injuries, the unpleasant feeling of guilt keeps rising in your chest, manifesting as an ugly lump in your throat. 

He got hurt because of you, you think, and you can’t help but feel like this is all your fault.

It’s not surprising that people talk, not when it’s so out of character for you to hang out with a guy more than once; and you’re sure something similar can be said for Billy, too. So, of course, people get ideas, convinced that they know exactly what’s going on. 

However, you don’t really care, and you foolishly assumed that Billy wouldn’t either, but apparently he does care; even if it’s just a little bit.

“Listen, I-“

You’re not sure how you should phrase the next words that threaten to tumble out of your mouth, without admitting that you also care quite a bit about Billy.

Without admitting that you were scared for his safety just minutes ago.

“I, uh, appreciate what you did, Billy, but please don’t do something like this again, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Your voice is mumbled, almost as if your words are stumbling over each other, because each one wants to move past your lips first and all at once. 

Your hand brushes against his cheeks softly, before tilting his head up, so you can look at him better. 

“I care about you too, Billy. And there are things worth getting hurt over but some guy calling me a slut isn’t one of them, I promise.”

His blue eyes keep softening with each admission, and both of his hands come up to your hips carefully, if to steady you or himself, you don’t know; but the gentle caress of his thumb over the smooth, silky dress you’re currently wearing does have a comforting notion, even if it’s a slightly foreign one. 

“I wasn’t really thinking,” Billy whispers, “but I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to look out for you. And I don’t wanna promise you that this will never happen again because…”

Billy doesn’t finish the sentence; he doesn’t have to; you already know what he’s implying.

He can’t promise you no more physical fights without the fear of breaking it again. 

Can’t promise it because he’s just as reactionary as you, and anger is a default setting that’s hard to curb and even harder to swallow down.

“It’s enough for me Billy if you just try. Try not to pick those fights again for me, okay?” 

“Got it, Cinderella.” Billy teases, voice a little lighter, and the smile you two exchange has your heart fluttering in your chest rapidly. 

Traitor. 

As you pick out the necessary tools to mend Billy’s cuts and bruises, the guy in question watches you with emotions unsaid swirling around in his chest. His heart like thunder, illuminated up by the mere sight of you like lightning in a darkened sky.

He wants to pull you into his lap and kiss the worried frown right off your face, but he knows he can’t; knows he shouldn’t. Yet it doesn’t make the longing reaching out in his chest any less intense. 

“Okay, this is going to sting, I’m afraid.“

Your voice calls Billy back to the current moment, and his head spins from the mere compassion swimming in your eyes, as they come to rest on his injuries again.

“‘S Alright,” he mumbles, unsure of where to look or how to feel. 

You dab the small cloth soaked in disinfectant on the smaller cuts first, and Billy tries not to notice how out of character this feels for him. How foreign it feels to have someone take care of him like that, tending to his wounds with such utterly gentle touches and hushed little soothing whispers. 

He’s also not used to being witnessed like this - not after his father’s beatings and not after the physical fights he would get himself into as a way to cope; to feel something or nothing at all. 

Sometimes, once in a blue moon, his little sister Max would give him a helping hand, when his fingers wouldn’t stop shaking and the cuts wouldn’t stop bleeding and the mess in the bathroom was too much to take care of all by himself.

But even then there were walls build up, tall and strong, between him and the little redhead. Walls that no sibling bond could ever break through, or at least not the dysfunctional sibling bond they were cursed with.

And Billy hated to be witnessed like that - a broken and bloody and teary-eyed mess. Vulnerable, and raw, and everything he didn’t want his little sister to see him as.

Yet even in those situations he craved the comfort, the help, the signs, and the illusions of somebody caring enough to take care of him. 

And he always hated himself the most for that. 

But now, he’s finds himself here with you in some stranger’s bathroom, as you clean his wounds with a tenderness that has Billy feeling beyond choked up.

There’s a lump the size of the earth stuck in his throat as he tries not to drown in the overwhelming feelings of it all.

As he tries hard to fight the tears back that threaten to spill with every added crumb of gentleness that you grant him, completely clueless to its significance, or the way it makes his head and heart turn around themselves.

But like usually, the fight against his tears is the hardest fight of all; one he just can’t seem to win, try as he might. 

Unfortunately, you notice his watery eyes immediately, and it makes you halt in your movements for the briefest of moments. 

“I know, I know,” you whisper soothingly, “this cut must sting a lot, but I’m almost done here, Billy.”

And that’s it, something inside Billy breaks, and he tries shutting his eyes quick and tightly as not to let anything slip out; not a tear and not a shard of vulnerability - but it’s too late. 

He’s crying again.

“Oh, Billy, no.”

The worry in your voice only makes Billy cry harder as he shakes his head vigorously, trying to get you to back off. 

“What’s wrong, Billy?”

Your hand coming up to his cheek is soft and careful, as you try to get him to look at you fully. 

His eyes are still pressed closely together, but that doesn’t stop the tears from running down his freckled cheeks.

At first you think that he’s more hurt than he initially led on - at least physically speaking, but when you ask him about it he just shakes his head once more.

“’m fine,” he mumbles, “‘s just a lot.” 

You, on the other hand, are unsure of what he’s talking about, or what you should be doing now exactly. You don’t want to overstep any boundaries, but you also want to help him, in any way you can.

You doubt however, that if you’d ask him about what he needs, he’d give you an honest answer. So, you do the only sensible thing you can think of; hugging him closely.

At first, Billy goes completely stiff as you curl up on his lap unceremoniously, before guiding his face into the crook of your neck, words hushed, and soothing. 

You keep holding him, promising him to not let go, and at one point Billy’s arms come around you tightly, too, clinging to you like a lost and exhausted swimmer might cling to a lifeline. 

“Shh, Billy, it’s alright. It’s alright, you can cry it out, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” 

Your understanding words only make him cry harder, but you assume that this is just what he needs right now; or at least you hope it is.

One of your hands keeps playing with the curls on the back of his neck, fingers tracing patterns on the sliver of skin that’s exposed between his hair and the collar of his shirt.

You can still feel his shoulders shake; hear his muffled sniffles and sobs that break through the otherwise quietness of the bathroom space. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when his crying starts quieting down, and the first words that leave Billy’s lips are an embarrassed, “I’m sorry,” which you shoot down immediately. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, and you almost think you can feel Billy shiver.

“You’ve seen me cry, I’ve seen you cry, guess we’re even now, Billy.”

There’s a choked laugh coming from the man in question, before he mumbles, “Guess we’re both a little fucked up, huh?”

“I don’t think that there’s anything fucked up about you crying, Billy.”

“You would if you knew why.”

“You wanna talk about it then?” 

But Billy just shakes his head, fluffy curls tickling the side of your face, as he’s still hiding away in the nape of your neck. 

“I’d rather not.” 

“Do you still want me to treat the rest of your cuts and bruises?” 

The little nod that follows is only faint, but since it’s directly against your skin, you manage to pick it up easily. 

“Just one more minute, okay?” 

His voice sounds timid when the question falls from his lips, and all you can do is pull him even closer, before giving him a little nod of your own.

“Of course. We can stay like this as long as you need.”

That’s impossible, Billy thinks, because there’s no way you’d let him stay in your arms for eternity - but he likes the idea, the illusion, that you might care enough about him to take care of him like that.

After the events of the party, there’s something between you two that shifted; something that made you two grow even closer and tighter.

Maybe it really is the fact that you’ve both witnessed the other breaking down and crying; maybe it’s the vulnerability of it all or something else entirely.

Either way, the two of you are almost completely inseparable at any outing now, and you even start hanging out outside of parties and beach gatherings.

Billy takes you out to eat every Friday night, and you start bringing him breakfast at least two times a week to his early morning lifeguard shifts, when the sun is only slowly starting to break through the veil of the night.

You two usually sit there next to each other, on the old, wooden steps of the tiny lifeguard house, sharing smokes and donuts and little memories while the sun rises up.

The part-time job you’ve recently started at a local diner certainly helps with keeping the breakfast choices somewhat diverse, and the way Billy’s eyes light up each time makes it even more worth it.

There’s still the occasional party, still the occasional fight that Billy finds himself in the middle of, but just like your hook-ups, they become rarer with the passing of time.

There’s a slow rhythm that’s being established between you, but you both try hard not to notice, let alone acknowledge it. 

And while the growing closeness feels foreign and a little intimidating, you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t become a little addicted to it, too.

Because this closeness with Billy is a closeness you’ve never shared with anyone before. But as of recently, you’ve been getting the growing feeling that this isn’t enough; that you need more than that. That you want more than that. 

And it’s getting harder and harder to mask the quick beating of your heart around him, or the longing gazes, or the urges to kiss him again; pulling him closer and never letting go. 

“We’re just friends,” you keep telling Heather, whenever she calls you out on this thing you share with Billy, but the words start tasting more and more cruel in your mouth.

There’s a bitterness to it that no amount of weed, or drinks or sex can cover.

At first, you think that this storm brewing inside of you is something nobody else would notice. After all, telling lies isn’t a foreign language to you, but during one particular late summer night, Billy surprisingly calls you out on it. 

You two have been browsing the isles of the tiny supermarket right by the shore for a while now, looking for some midnight snacks to bring down to the beach.

It’s almost an unspoken tradition at this point, to let the weekends fade out with some smokes and snacks while lying in the warm sand cuddled next to each other.

Billy wrapping his arm around your side is what pulls you out of your thoughts again. You’ve been staring at some strawberry-shaped gummy bears for the last few minutes, though, even you yourself are unsure as to why. 

“What’s going on, Cinderella? You’re not normally one to struggle with making decisions.” You know Billy’s just teasing but the smile on your face still feels forced, uncomfortably so. 

“Just thinking.” You dismiss Billy’s worried gaze, fingers brushing against the gummy bear package before changing your mind again and letting it go. 

“If you want them, I can get them for you; my treat.” Billy jokes, but your hardly smiling. 

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll just take the usual.” 

“You sure?” 

The answer you throw his way gets lost in the distance between you two, as you simply walk up to the cashier; but then again, Billy thinks, maybe you didn’t say anything at all, your action speaking for itself instead.

He can’t help but notice how your behavior has been a little off for most of the night, yet he doesn’t really know why. He hasn’t been in any fights for the last few days, so there’s no reason for you to be mad at him.

Besides, you’re not one to hold grudges. Instead, you tend to tell him when you’re upset right in the moment, rather than letting the anger simmer.

It’s an upside to being a bit more reactionary, he supposes. 

Still, worry bubbles up inside of him, because even the mere thought of you pulling away, or worse, leaving him for good absolutely terrifies him.

He isn’t even in a position to call you his right now, but the lack of your company would at the very least leave a hole the size of the sun in his heart; he’s sure of that. 

Billy’s convinced that he needs to talk to you, so, of course, he’s going to grab a few more beers from the fridge, assuming that he’ll need them, either before you talk or afterwards.

He’s about to join you at the counter, when something inside of him pauses, and without really thinking, he grabs a pack of the strawberry gummies you’ve been staring at earlier.

He’s unsure as to why, but what harm is there in getting one more snack?

When the two of you walk side by side to the beach, Billy watches you carefully. Even in the harsh light of the streetlamps, you look ethereal, he thinks.

You’re still laughing at his jokes, but there’s something in your eyes that feels distant. Like your miles away, and Billy doesn’t know how to follow you there, or how to bring you back to him again. 

For the rest of the walk, he tries to think of a way to ask you if you’re alright, without you getting defensive. But he can’t think of anything that wouldn’t trigger your fight-or-flight response.

And he knows first-hand just how strong your flight response can be.

So, no thank you to that.

You, however, feel like you’re on fire, and Billy’s company is nothing but gasoline to your blazing longing.

A longing you have to hide, to dismiss, to never acknowledge in the slightest.

And it’s been getting harder and harder on a regular day, and almost beyond impossible on those days were he’s right there with you, like he is right now. 

There’s an awkwardness settling in between you two, as you continue to walk through the sand to your regular hang out spot.

That is, until Billy’s voice suddenly breaks through the quietness of the night, disturbing the stillness taking shape all around you and the gentle whispers of the ocean. 

“First one in the waves wins!”

You hear him drop his backpack and jacket into the sand more than you see it, and for a small second you’re entrenched as you watch him run up to the ocean, before mirroring his actions, letting go of your little purse and running right after him. 

The water is a bit cooler than you expected it to be, but it’s still a welcomed distraction to the incurable heat you feel whenever Billy’s near.

Once you find yourself back by his side, he’s quick to wrap his arms around you, as he spins you around playfully. And for the first time tonight, the laughter bubbling out of you is nothing but earnest, and Billy feels his heart sigh in relief at the mere sound of it. 

You might not tell him what’s wrong, but maybe he can at the very least distract you from whatever it is for a small while. Maybe that will make you stay at least a little longer. 

And as you two continue to play fight, tackling and dunking each other in between the soft waves, you feel yourself come back to the moment without the fear of secret feelings getting discovered.

Without feeling like to have to keep up a mask around Billy, just to be safe. 

By the time you two decide to leave the dark water behind again, you’re both still laughing, both still riding that high of each other’s company, both still lost in the secret longing for the other. 

You don’t even really think about the fact that you’re stripping yourself of your clothing in front of Billy, as you shimmy out of your wet dress quickly, and Billy is about to mirror your action, when something inside of him freezes, his hands toying with the hem of his t-shirt.

“What, you’re gonna stay like this?” You gently tease, once you notice that he’s still wearing both - his dripping wet swimming shorts and his shirt, while you’re clad in nothing but your underwear.

Keeping the swimming shorts on, you can understand, but the shirt? Not so much. 

But Billy doesn’t meet your eyes when you call him out on it, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he almost looks shy all of the sudden. But Billy and shy are two words on opposite ends that hardly fit together. 

“You wanna get pneumonia that bad, huh?” 

“Fuck off, I’ll be fine!”

Billy doesn’t say anything more as he lies down, eyes drifting to the seemingly endless September night sky. 

For a while, neither one of you says anything. The rumble of the waves with its unspoken secrets is the only sound filling the space between you two. 

Time passes, but you can’t say how much, the endless lullaby of the ocean a bad indicator of time passed, and time left.

At some point, Billy’s nursing a beer again, while you’re nursing a joint, and when you offer your rolled-up little friend to Billy, he almost offers you his beer in return, before he remembers that you don’t drink, like at all, and a particular question comes up for air in his mind.

It’s a question that’s been swirling around in Billy’s mouth, like his tongue in yours when you two first shared kisses.

Kisses he keeps dreaming about both day and night, but that’s not the point.

The point is that he still doesn’t know why you refuse to even glance at the alcoholic drinks that usually get passed around at bars and parties, let alone drink any of them.

And there’s something in Billy that feels a little daring tonight.

Maybe it’s because he’s starting to feel lightheaded; if from your company or the drugs and the beers kicking in, he’s not sure. 

Nevertheless, the question decides to drop from his lips, almost accidentally. 

“Why don’t you ever drink, like, alcoholic stuff?” 

The turn of your head towards him is so incredibly fast, it’s giving yourself a bit of a whiplash.

Part of you is ready to bark at him that that’s none of his goddamn business. That he should just mind his own, and leave you to your own devices. 

But Billy’s question isn’t stained with judgement, the way those questions usually are, but with a sense of curiosity that is so very much Billy. 

“If I tell you why I don’t drink, will you tell me why you’d rather risk a fucking lung infection than be caught with your shirt of?”

Now it’s Billy’s turn to get defensive, as he mumbles, “Fuck, no. Jesus, I was just asking a question.”

“So was I, Billy.” 

“Yeah, well, but this is none of your goddamn business.”

“Wait, but wanting to know why I don’t drink somehow is?”

You kind of have a point, Billy quietly admits to himself. Still, asking you to open up feels a lot more justified than asking him to do the same in return. 

There really must be something in the air tonight, though, because Billy’s seriously considering the trade.

“Fine,” he finally mumbles, “but I swear to god, if your answer is only a ‘I simply don’t like the taste of alcohol, Billy’ I’m not saying a single syllable for the rest of the night, and I’m keeping the gummy bears I bought for you.”

The soft laugh that falls from your lips has him feeling a little more at ease, and he watches you with attentive eyes before something inside of you shifts and you take in a deep breath, almost as if to steady yourself or the words that you’re about to say. 

“Alright, sounds like a deal, I guess.” 

As you take another breath, you can’t help but notice that you’re not as scared as you thought you’d be, and maybe there’s something about this night that makes you a little more daring too, a little more vulnerable, a little less on edge, as you find yourself mumbling into the midnight blue of the universe, “My dad.”

The admission is hushed, and it’s quiet, and it’s dripping with shame. Your voice feels rusty and unfamiliar even to your own ears, like you haven’t used it in centuries, and in some odd way you haven’t.

Not when it comes to your dad, at least.

You watch Billy as he takes your words in, eyebrows furrowed slightly, and you realize that maybe your words weren’t as self-explanatory as you’d hoped.

As they are to you. 

“He’s uh- he just used to drink a lot; you know?” 

There’s a clarity in Billy’s eyes as they wander over to you, or maybe the joint is really hitting in, and you’re imagining things.

Maybe you just want there to be clarity.

Maybe you just want him to understand. 

“You mean, he’s an alcoholic?”

There’s a tenderness in Billy’s voice that feels foreign again. It makes you feel something, but you can’t quite say if it’s positive or negative. You decide that it just is, for now; some weird feeling deep within you.

Brushing that aside, you decide to answer his question with a quickly mumbled, “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Has he, uh- has he ever … hurt you?”

There’s an apprehensiveness in Billy’s voice now too, mirroring yours closely. 

“Not like, physically,“ you whisper after a brief pause, “but emotionally, yes. My whole childhood was a living hell, trying to tip-toe around a volcano that could explode at any moment. Feels like I was trying my whole live to not get burned by the fire he’d spit.” 

There’s a silence filling the space between you two, until you mumble, “Don’t know if that made any sense at all but-“ 

“Yeah, no, no, it does.” Billy whispers, voice the most timid you’ve ever heard it.

“Yeah, I think that does make sense.” 

The relieve that washes over you in shouldn’t feel like a fucking 7 feet tall wave, yet it does anyway.

“Guess my father was the same, kind of. Only difference being that he didn’t need the alcohol for that, and he would… well, you know.” 

“He’d hurt you?”

Billy only manages a faint nod since he doesn’t trust his voice from breaking and failing.

There’s vulnerability and understanding swimming in both of your eyes as you look back at the other, until Billy averts his gaze, opting for staring at the stars instead when he mumbles, “There are scars littered all over my body.”

“From your dad?” 

There’s another quick nod, before he states, “That and a kind of… accident.”

You instinctively take his hand into yours. It’s a small gesture, but you still want him to know you’re there.

“There was this …mall fire, I got caught up in. And now my body looks like a fucking battle ground with no goddamn survivors.” 

“But you survived, Billy.” 

There’s a bitter laugh coming from the guy next to you. 

“I don’t know, did I?”

“Well, you’ve got to, otherwise you wouldn’t be here with me now.”

“Yeah, but for how much longer? How much longer will you stick around before you’ll leave again too. It’s not like you didn’t once already.”

You know Billy doesn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but his words still feel like a slap in the face. 

“That was something different entirely.”

“Was it? Because all I remember is you leaving.” 

“But I’m here now, Billy. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere again.”

“Funny, that’s what my mother used to say too.” 

“What?”

You're caught off guard by his admission, and there’s the brief memory of a pause before he whispers, “You know, I initially came back to California to look for someone.” 

“Someone or something?” You quietly question, because Billy’s voice has been so mumbled, you didn’t quite catch the last word. 

“Both, I suppose, if home is a thing.”

“And have you found it yet?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think that I’ve almost got it, but then again-“

Billy doesn’t know why he’s telling you all of this. But now that he’s started, he doesn’t know how to stop either. 

“She left me all alone with my dad when I was still a kid, but she would occasionally pop up again, just to break her empty promises over and over again. But it was okay, because at least she was still there, you know?”

“Oh, Billy.”

You scoot closer to the teary-eyed man, who looks more like a child right now, as he stares stubbornly into the night sky, lips and fingers unsteady and shaky. 

You decide to unceremoniously roll on top of him, hugging him closely while doing so. 

You don’t say anything; don’t think that there are any words deep enough to express your sorrow or how your heart aches at the thought of kid-Billy being failed by both of his parents. And how that failure still haunts him now; shaped him into existence.

You would know, it’s not like your story is much different.

There’s a reason why you crave male validation like a starved cat might crave some milk.

There’s a reason why seeing women out in public wearing your mom’s hairstyle still makes you feel uneasy.

There’s a reason why opening up feels like knives cutting something deep underneath your skin, and you were never taught how to deal with the rawness of it all.

How to handle vulnerability or love or being taken care of; because nobody ever did or showed you how. 

But now, for the first time, you’re not the only one carrying that kind of a curse, because here’s Billy, with the same scars as yours etched into his heart.

Or at least their shapes look awfully familiar. 

And for the next few hours you to share memories, thoughts, and feelings you’ve never shared with anyone before.

You talk about the misplaced anger of your fathers, and the inactions of your mothers, and your siblings, and the curses of being the oldest one.

The scapegoat.

The test-run they were allowed to fuck up, because they could just try to make it right the second or third time around instead.

And you talk, until Billy’s shirt has completely dried down and the sun’s slowly rising up, and sleep is only a heartbeat away. 

Billy’s heartbeat, to be exact, which also turns out to be the most soothing lullaby you’ve ever listened to, as you curl up closer to the boy you share so many different memories with.

Because what had previously been an unspoken understanding of a distant similarity in both of your characters has turned into so much more. 

You’re one and the same in some fucked up yet comforting way.

And you’ve never felt more at peace.

Never felt more at home.

And suddenly, you realize that the stains of the past tainting your present don’t look quite as fatal when you see Billy wear them too. 

Unfortunately, Tumblr won't let me post all of the story at once, since it'd be too many paragraphs in one post 😅.

Read the rest of the story here.

[tswwwit]

Trick or treat 🎃👻

A bit belated, but take some post-Bill vs Bill stuff I never completed!

Dipper’s hip hits the desk with a painful ‘thunk’, he stumbles - and smacks a palm on the surface to steady himself.

“Shit.” Dipper says, and shuts his eyes. He’s breathing harder than he’d like. 

SIlence.

Dipper swallows. Heart pounding.

He doesn't hear anything beyond his own harsh breathing. He needs to control that.

Dumb. Stupid. He didn’t mean to pull away that fast, or at all, he flinched and he's dumb and now there's a dull pain in his hip. Idiot. 

That Bill’s gone. For good. The doppelganger left this world more beaten up than Dipper’s ever seen a shape demon, courtesy of his own. It’s fine.

Dipper focuses on controlling his breathing. After a second or two, it’s manageable.

He looks up, trying to smile - 

Where Bill is frozen in place. Perfectly still, like a statue. Even his face is like ice, and his eye dully glows.

One of his hands hangs in midair, fingers still half-curled to cup Dipper’s cheek. 

“Sorry,” Dipper blurts, only to instantly realize that isn’t helping, as the last fragment of Bill’s smile vanishes from his face. “...Shit.” 

Apologizing is pointless. It doesn’t change anything. He just needs to - 

Breathe in, and out. Calming down, slowly. Dipper rubs at his eyes. 

Okay. He’s got this. That was just a momentary reaction, out of instinct. Honestly, he’s had way worse treatment from other beings, so. Startling, just for a moment, isn’t a big deal. 

This isn’t that guy. This is his Bill. Who’s different.

 Just… between the face and the hand, moving so fast, together, it. 

He reacted. 

Damn it, Dipper knows better. He should have an instinct for it, there’s a bond right there to check. Stupid, again. He should be better than this, he’s used to surprises.

Bill’s eye darts down to his hand, then up to Dipper’s face. His arm draws back down, slowly. The hand turned palm up, fingers flexing. For a moment, Bill stares at it like he hasn’t seen it before.

Wait, no. Dipper’s fine. Bill can keep going. He shouldn’t - 

In the awkward silence, Dipper realizes there’s a glass on the desk. It’s full of water, shaking around with a clatter. 

He glances down, where his own clenched fist is trembling on the desktop - then jerks his arm back up against his chest, and swears again.

...Bill still hasn’t said anything.

Dipper forces his arms to his sides. He straightens up. Bill’s almost statuesque, now. No sign of a grin, no sign of anger, though Dipper can almost feel it, surging somewhere inside that demon. And he’s not wrong to hold back, except - he absolutely is, and - 

And. 

This sucks. Like, a lot. 

Bill not doing anything is. Okay, Dipper guesses - but him not even saying anything is arguably worse. Any other time, he’d get teased about the flinch. Or Bill would grab at him, just to see it again, pinch his sides or his cheeks, he’d even surge forward like a jumpscare. It always sends Dipper’s heart racing.

Bill hasn’t moved, except to hold his arms stiffly at his sides. His shoulders are tense. 

Heat always radiates off Bill - but now there’s magic there, too. Bill’s holding himself back, in multiple ways. The strain would be invisible to anyone who didn’t know him so well. Dipper can sense the potential for flame, ready to burst - and barely restrained.

And Dipper’s… 

Okay. he had a moment. 

But it was just a moment. He doesn’t want Bill to pull away right now, though that’s technically human-correct. Why did Bill have to pick now, of all times, to remember what’s appropriate. He never cares about that.

If anything, Dipper could actually really use one of those demonically too-tight hugs -  but Bill’s not offering one right now, and that’s really not helping.

He clutches his arm against his chest. He’s not sure what to say.

That interdimensional interloper really threw a wrench into things. Didn’t he. Dipper should have figured. It’s what Bills do. 

Now, they have to… sort all of that out. Good thing he’s used to his own, human side of it.

When Bill won’t do the right thing, someone else has to do it for him.

Dipper takes a breath. Forcing his hand to lie flat against the desk. 

Then he straightens up, surges forward, and tugs his idiot husband into his arms. Bill lets out an ‘oof’ of sound, slightly surprised. 

Dipper squeezes more, just to hear Bill huff out a breath again, and shuts his eyes. 

Yeah. This is better. Bill’s warm and solid, his breathing slow. There’s the thud of the heart, too -  low and present. Dipper shoves his cheek up against that firm chest. He’s very tense in Dipper’s arms, but the twin rhythms of his not-at-all natural organs are good to hear.

It’s nice. It’s normal. Dipper feels some of his own tension bleed away. As far as either of them can be normal anymore, for their respective versions of it - 

Though Bill’s holding his arms up and out. Not hugging back. Dipper squishes him tighter, to no effect. 

In facet. He's very deliberately not touching. 

"Bill," Dipper speaks up, though his voice is muffled against Bill's shirt. He grabs onto said shirt with both hands, balling it up. "If you don't hug me, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Well, if you put it that way," Bill responds as easily as if they’d been bantering this entire time. One of his arms comes around Dipper's waist. Light enough to be barely there. "I dunno, sapling. I kinda wanna see how you’d manage what even that guy couldn’t do."

Dipper huffs out a breath against Bill’s shirt, and feels his husband draw him in close. He holds Dipper in the right way; that just-too-tight way that means Bill’s never going to let him escape.

There’s a steady beat in that chest, though the breathing catches for a second. Bill’s warm and solid, and definitely his Bill. The heart beats in that chest, over and over and over. A constant rhythm. The way he moves is the way of someone who really knows Dipper, and the bond is strong and clear and safe.

Dipper breathes in - god, this version even smells right - and finally relaxes.

That counterfeit wasn’t around long, and he still somehow didn’t fit the…. role. In any of the major senses. This is nicer. Better. More comforting. Though Bill wouldn’t admit that that’s something he wants to do, would rebel against the very idea -  he manages to accomplish it, despite himself. 

One of Bill’s arms stays wrapped around him. The other pats, twice. An awkward gesture, before it slides up and down Dipper’s back. The touch makes him shudder. as the muscles in his back start to unclench.

Bill makes an amused sound, and Dipper swats at him in return. Hell, he’s only human. This, too, might be stupid - but a hug really is making him feel better. 

Body contact is a whole thing, and for all that Bill’s intelligent, eternal, and they’ve been together a while - He still seems surprised at the variety of platonic touch.

So Dipper had a bad time. That was a different guy, and he’s definitely gone. 

He’ll get over it.

It won’t even take very long.

[quixot1sm]

can you. talk about nate hilbertverse

yes GOD this poor guy.

first off: nate is hilbert's little brother- 6 years his junior. he'd always looked up to hilbert as a role model, idolizing him especially after his ascension to hero of ideals. keep in mind that nate was only 10 when bw happened, so his understanding of the situation was surface-level and admittedly naïve. even when hilbert had been hospitalized for his injuries, he'd put on a brave face for nate, so the latter didn't grasp the severity of what happened/was happening.... it wouldn't be until later that the reality of how scary this was would sink in.

freshly 11 yrs old when hilbert left unova, nate was then sent off to aspertia to live with the other half of the family (hilda, rosa, and their mom) so he could enroll in cheren's trainer's school with rosa and earn his permit. the idea was also a way to provide him with a distraction from hilbert's absence since nate was a lonely kid... but anyway, this permit allowed them to participate in the junior division of the pokemon league challenge, meaning if either of them won, they'd be a champion in name only. that didnt happen but i'll get to why in a second.

when he was 12, despite setting out with the intention of collecting gym badges, hugh and nate quickly veered off course when team neo-plasma began showing its face around the region, urging the two of them to give chase in a bid to get some answers out of them. in the process, nate came across and befriended keldeo, and then, upon meeting colress, was dubbed something akin to his protégé.

this of course all came to a head in giant chasm. there... something happened that left nate almost a completely different person. not only had he been told, to his face, that his big brother was gone for good, but his right arm was caught in the line of kyurem's glaciate.

like his brother before him, nate was then hospitalized for a considerable amount of time, and like theyd done for his brother before him, interpol came swooping in make use of nate at his lowest. because, technically, hilbert had been working with them when he disappeared, so they had to take some accountability in his case... and what better way that to employ his little brother, i guess.

before his journey, nate was a sweet, excitable kid, although he struggled with tone. afterwards... it's like he struggles to recognize any emotion at all. he's blunt, does not have time for distractions, he gets unreal tunnel vision and dedicates years working on tying up loose ends regarding hilbert- such as the whereabouts of the dark stone and anything he might have left behind that nate can bring back home... rosa thinks its a pointless obsession and would rather forget about it all, and this resulted in a fight that drove a wedge between the two of them. :(

this was supposed to be a brief summary and its already gotten this long LOL... i had to skip over some details that i'll revisit in other posts later. like n's zorua. theres a lot going on with a lot of the hilbertverse cast and nate is no exception.

some more trivia, though:

reshiram would have accepted him as a hero of truth if he'd agreed to it... but hes very different from n. his pursuit of truth is one devoid of idealism- he has no hope, no optimism, he only wants to get the facts to provide some sense of closure.

his full name is nathaniel tobias black. do not ever call him this

his birthday is may 4

he has two shinies, those being his emboar and his galvantula. lucky bastard

we really dont know what gender his emboar is? most just assume its a male, but it responds to whatever. really it does what it wants. its name is samson and its parents are bianca and hilda's emboars.

his prosthetic arm was designed and built by colress. the guy likes to think of himself as nate's mentor, even though he's one of the main factors behind why nate's even going through what he is in the first place...

and finally, although it's currently only 3 songs long, heres his playlist!

[dbnightingale24]

Salt and Vinegar

Andy Barber One Shot

~~

Ya know, these really are supposed to be one shots, idk why I am the way that I am. TECHNICALLY, this is the second half of ‘Menace In The Sheets, Menace In The Sheets’, but I’m just gonna go ahead and call this part 2, because why not? Yes, this is another fucking novel, because I have no sense of anything at this point in my life. You do get pictures in this one tho, so yay!! I was gonna stop it here, but I’ve been toying around with idea of a part 3...so ya’ll are getting a part 3. I am, as the kids like to say, a sucker. Anywho, buckle up and enjoy another angsty novel by yours truly.

Also, and still very important, SUPPORT SEX WORKERS!!!!

Thanks :) 

Word Count: 29,947 (at least its not 30,000)

Warnings: MINORS DNI!!! SMUT, Very public sex, lying, arguing, drinking, crying, angst, depression, fear, anxiety, fluff, Daddy Kink, manipulation, heartbreak, self hate/anger...ya know, the usual slutty angsty shit I post. 

Song(s) That Inspired This: I’m sorry I’m such a trainwreck of a person. Love me anyway.

Summary: Love is something you never really believed in, but now that you’re deep in it, what do you do when it starts to turn more toxic than healthy?

I do not give consent for any of my works/posts/stores to get posted elsewhere.

~~

“Andy, you constantly say it’s my place, but you come and go as you please, and have your own fucking key,” you sigh, annoyed that you two are having the same argument yet again.

“If no one’s coming over, what’s the issue?”

“I’m sorry, don’t you still go to the fucking club?”

“Y/N-”

“You know what? Fuck it. I don’t fucking care. I’m not doing this with you again. I don’t have the fucking energy and frankly, I just don’t feel like it. You do whatever the fuck you want,” you concede, throwing your hands up as you get off the sofa.

“Baby stop, I’m sorry,” he says softly, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You’re always fucking sorry.”

“I know I am. I don’t want to argue. We always seem to argue.”

“Well, I wonder whose fucking fault that is.”

“Sweetheart.”

“Whatever Andy, let me go.”

“No, I’ve been thinking about you all day and I missed you like crazy. I wanna spend time with you.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna spend time with you.”

“Yes you do,” he chuckles before kissing the hollow of your neck.

“I hate you.”

“I hate me too, Baby.”

“How was work?”

“Long, annoying, pointless.”

“Why do you keep doing it if you’re not happy there?”

“Pays well.”

“No, the shady shit you do on the side pays well.”

“It’s not shady.”

“Then tell Lynne about it.”

“You’re annoying, did you know that?”

“You’re putting it nicely,” you smirk. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I’ll cook tonight, it’s only fair.”

“Oh? What brought this on? Something happen that you don’t wanna tell me about?”

“Stop it. I just feel bad. You’ve made dinner for the last week and I’ve been an asshole. I came over today and started an argument, so let me just make it up to you.”

“All you do is start arguments,” you scoff as you break out of his hold and make your way into the kitchen.

“I’m trying to make nice, babe,” Andy sighs, finally shrugging off his coat.

“Yeah yeah.”

“Did you do anything fun today?”

“I argued with Vivian, again, so that was time consuming,” you shrug as you grab two glasses.

“What’s she mad about now?”

“What isn’t she mad about? She said that it was unfair for me to sell everything without talking to her first.”

“What right does she have to anything?”

“Hence the reason for the argument,” you nod as you pour the both of you a glass of whiskey.

“That’s bullshit. I’m guess your Father had something to say about it?”

“Eh, he still just wants to take me out to lunch. At this point, I could murder someone and he’d just shrug it off because he doesn’t want me mad at him anymore,” you laugh before hoping up and sitting on the counter by the sink. “I’m gonna go and see him next Thursday.”

“Yeah?”

“If it means he’ll leave me alone, I’m more than happy to sit through a meal with him.”

“You don’t see yourself forgiving him any time soon?”

“What for? I have no interest in having a relationship with him. I’ve been fine after all of these years, so there’s no use in fixing what isn’t broken.”

“That’s a fair point,” he mumbles making his way over to you and settling himself between your legs. “You think you wanna move that dinner date to another week though?”

“Hmm? Why?”

“I wanna take you away this weekend.”

“Take me away? We can’t do it another weekend?”

“Well, I bought the tickets this morning so-”

“Tickets? Baby, what did you do?” you groan, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’ve been officially divorced for a month. I wanna celebrate and I wanna celebrate with you only.”

“Where are you taking us, Andy?”

“You’ve been saying how nice it would be to go to Hawaii, so-”

“You didn’t!”

“I did,” Andy laughs as you wrap your legs around him.. “We’ve both had a rough go of it, so I figured 2 weeks away would be good for us.”

“Baby...I-”

“I wanted to do this, it wasn’t too much, and I want you to be happy,” he interrupts before kissing the hollow of your neck.

“Andy I-”

“I know, Sweetheart.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. I love making you happy,” he grins before biting your neck.

“Fuck,” you moan, arching your back and leaning into him a bit more. “I thought you were gonna make dinner.”

“Dinner can wait,” he mumbles against your neck.. “I wanna fill you with something else before I feed you,” he husks as he unbuttons his pants.

“Miss me?”

“So much, baby. Gonna show you just how much,” he groans as he pulls your sweatpants down. “My sweet, sweet girl,” he sighs as he thrusts himself inside of you. “So good and all mine.”

This has become routine for the both of you. You argue, pick petty fights, fuck, and make up. You took Andy up on his offer 2 months ago and its been a heavenly nightmare ever since.

Yeah, Andy spends most of his time with you, but not all of his time. While you barely ever work at the club, he spends a good amount of his free time there. When everything happened with your Mother, Andy did spend all of his time with you and it was heaven. He came home to you, looked after you, helped you focus on what truly mattered, and made sure you never slept alone.

He truly was everything you wanted him to be and more.

But you could see him pulling away more and more as time passed. It’s not like he ever lied to you and magically decided that he was ready for a relationship because you were sad, but that’s what you wanted. That’s what you talked yourself into waiting for.

“Then what’s the point of all this, Andy?! Why did you do this?!” you yelled, storming out of the bedroom after him.

“I don’t know why you’re picking a fight when I never fucking told you that I wanted to be with only you,” he spat as he put his shoes on.

“Ya know what? You’re right. My fucking fault, I thought we were getting somewhere, but that was my mistake. We all have to live with the mistakes Laurie made, which is why we’ll never really be together, right?”

“Y/N-”

“No Andy, you wanna keep fucking around, so keep fucking around! Why should I care? You pay my rent, so what right do I have to complain?” you questioned as you put your own shoes on.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!”

“To work, Andy. You fuck who you want and I fuck who I want, right? We don’t belong to one another, we don’t love each other, and we’re just friends who fuck occasionally, right?”

“Don’t you fucking dare-”

“What? Don’t I fucking dare what, Andy? Do the same shit you do? Earn my fucking paycheck? Fuck someone else? Don’t I dare what? Treat you like you treat me?!”

“Y/N, I swear to God, you walk out that fucking door, I’ll-”

“You’ll fucking what? What will you do, Andy? Cause it’s pretty fucking obvious you’re never gonna let me go, so what the fuck will do? Break my heart and fuck someone else who isn’t me?”

“Sweetheart-”

“I didn’t fucking think so,” you scoffed, taking your jacket off the hook. “You aren’t gonna do shit because you never do anything. You just keep me in limbo because it fucking works for you.”

“Don’t fucking test me, Sweetheart,” he warns as you grab your car keys.

“Go to hell, I’m over this shit,” you spat as you went to reach for the door.

“You think I’m not trying to be better for you?” Andy rasped as he grabbed your wrist, forcing you to spin around and face him. “You don’t think I wanna be better for you?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you want,” you rasped as he pinned you against the door.

“I think I made my intentions pretty fucking clear when I fucked you on the hood of your car two weeks ago,”he growled lowly as he got your jeans undone and down around your ankles. “Remember when I fucked you right outside of the club, for everyone to see?” he questioned as he slid one of his hands down your panties.

“Stop it, Andy” you moaned, loving and hating the pleasurable sensation he caused between your legs.

“In fact, if I remember correctly, the more people that watched, the more you got off.”

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, you did so well that night,” he taunted as he undid his own pants. “You love being my little slut, don’t you?” he mused before forcing your legs around his waist and thrusting himself inside of you.

“Jesus Andy!” you squealed, relishing in the way he always pulled you apart.

“You’re mine, Sweetheart. Don’t ever fucking forget that,” he growled as you clenched around him. “Always so desperate for it rough!”

“I fucking hate you, Andy. I hate you so fucking much!” you mewled, running your hands through his hair as you grind your hips against his.

“Doesn’t feel like you hate me so much when you respond to me so well!”

“You’re such an asshole!”

“Be that as it may,” he grunted as his hold on you got tighter, “you’re still here with me, you’re still waiting for me, and you’re still in just as deep as I am. You belong to me just like I belong to you,” he muttered against your neck before biting and sucking on it.

“Fuck! If you belong to me, stop fucking going there! Fucking...fucking...fuck, I’m so close!” you cried out, your head and your heart in two different places. “Wish I could quit you,” you confessed as you came hard for him.

“I’m so fucking glad you can’t,” he husked as he spilled his seed into you, loosing his balance only a little.

You both stayed that way for a minute, your breathing heavy, as you both slowly came down from your highs.

“I want to do better for you, Y/N,” Andy groaned as he slowly pulled out of you then set you down gently. “I know I’m confusing and hard to make heads or tails of, but I’m trying. I’m really trying, because I do want to be more than just this. I just...I’m still working through some shit.”

“I’m tired of only having part of you, Andy. I deserve better than only being here for your convenience,” you sniffled as you pushed him away from you.

“Sweetheart-”

“Either choose me or don’t, but stop playing hot and cold with me,” you told him gently before making your way back to the bedroom.

He didn’t sleepover that night and you knew he felt bad. Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t go to the club either. He just went back to his place and cried. He left you alone for two days before finally caving and texting you.

Headache: I miss you

It’s so sad how something so simple held so much weight in your heart, but that’s all it took for you to cave and take him back.

You always take him back.

“What do you want for dinner?” Andy pants as he lays his head in the crook of your shoulder.

“To fucking sleep,” you giggle, gaining a small chuckle from him, as you wrap your arms around him. “Salmon? Salmon and broccoli with lemon and butter, like you did last time!” you beam before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Ya know, I am capable of making you other dinners,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, but that’s one of my favorites,” you pout as Andy just scowls and shakes his head, before pulling out of you. And that makes you groan in dissatisfaction.

“None of that, go lay down. I’ll come and get you when dinner is ready.”

“Are you staying over tonight?”

“Yes ma’am. I told you I missed you and I wanna spend as much time with you as I can.”

“You can spend all your time with me, if you want.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I know...I know,” you sigh, hoping off the counter, and softly pushing him aside,before pulling your sweatpants up.

“I’m trying, Y/N. I’m working on it and I truly only want to be with you.”

“If that were enough, you’d only be with me.”

“Y/N-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Andy. I just wanna have a nice night with you,” you smile softly before making your way to the bedroom.

“Baby-”

“Let me know when dinner is ready,” you call over your shoulder before closing the door behind you.

You hear the heavy sigh that escapes his lips before the door closes and your heart breaks. You know he’s trying, that fact has never been lost on you. It would be easy to write the whole thing off as him lusting over you, if Andy wasn’t...Andy.

The ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ texts you receive whenever you aren’t with him, the calls you receive when he’s on his lunch break just because he wants to hear your voice, the flowers you get weekly (always a different arrangement of your favorites), the way he holds you close during movies or when it’s time for bed, the soft kisses on your forehead when you two are out in public, when he tells you that you’re the most beautiful woman hes ever seen when you’re in sweats and shoveling ice cream into your mouth like you’ll never get to eat it again...those things and so many more. Andy’s heart and mind are in the right place, but emotionally, he just isn’t there.

And who are you to judge him for that?

It’s not as if you don’t feel stupid, waiting on a brokenhearted grown man to get his shit together, but you also can’t stop. God, the amount of times you’ve tried your hardest and failed miserably is now at an embarrassingly high count, but how can you stop? He’s the only person you’ve ever truly cared for romantically, and took up all the space in your heart. It would be so much easier to walk away and hate him if you felt like he was trying to manipulate your feelings, but you can tell by his actions that he isn’t.

When he tells you that he’s going out for the night, but comes back 10 minutes later, never saying anything but pulling you close instead and resting his head on yours before placing soft kisses into your hair. The fact that he not only introduced you to Jacob, but referred to you as his absolute best friend. The nights he stays over and ignores his phone, focusing only on you and what’s making you happy or sad at the moment. The surprise visits with your favorite food from your favorite places. No, if Andy wanted to manipulate the situation, he easily could and would, because he’s never been one to mince words or lie about what he really wants. Plus, ever since he told you he loves you, he hasn’t hidden a single thing from you, no matter how much it may hurt either of you.

Of course, you suggested you two not seeing each other for a while until he sorted his shit out, but that didn’t go well.

At all.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with the idea,” you sighed, as you both sat in the living room, on your sofa. “You’re already going out and sleeping with-”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” he muttered, refusing to meet your gaze.

“Andy-”

“If you find someone else, that means that this is over, and I don’t want to lose you. You don’t just give your time and attention to just anyone. Hell, I had to fucking pay for it.”

“Wow, didn’t know you planned on being a dick tonight,” you snapped before getting off the sofa and storming into the kitchen.

“You know I’m right, Sweetheart,” he sighed, following right behind you. “If you give someone else your attention, the way you give it to me, that means you’re truly and completely interested and open to the idea of being with them. With me, it’s just something to keep my guard up because you know you’re the only one I-”

“Andy, I know you hear just how selfish you’re being right now.”

“When did I ever say I wasn’t selfish? When hasn’t that been something you haven’t known? Didn’t I just beat the shit out of Tyler last week for not backing off of you?”

“Well, maybe if someone hadn’t lost his temper and fucked me on the roof of my car, Tyler wouldn’t have thought that he’d have a chance to make me his little whore.”

“Don’t.”

“What? Don’t what Andy?”

“You know you aren’t some woman I only go to see to get my fucking rocks off. Where am I right now? Where am I most nights? Here, with you. You’re the only person i want to be with and I’m sorry. I’m sorry because this is my fault, I’m sorry that I’m always sorry, I’m sorry that I keep hurting you, I’m sorry that I can’t just trust you...Y/N, I’m fucking sorry. You know I-”

“I know you what, Andy? Care about me? Love me?” you sobbed, your frustration equally placed between the two of you. “Cause you only told me the one time and then you weren’t even sure if you meant it.”

“Y/N-”

“But it clearly worked, because here I am waiting for you, like a fool. Loving you, like a fool. But we don’t talk about it, right? We never have that talk, and I just...I keep fucking waiting.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I’m tired and I’m going to bed. You do whatever you want. Stay here, go out, go to your own place, whatever. I don’t care,” you sighed as you wiped away your tears before making your way to your bedroom.

Andy stayed with you that night and held you close, and you let him because he’s all you wanted. All of your emotions and thoughts always went back to him, and you were tired of trying to stop them.

When it came to work, you barely ever went in anymore, but Andy made Samantha keep you on payroll. Though you begged him to stop paying you, Andy only agreed to stop when you found a stable job. That would’ve been easy enough if Andy would stop going back and forth with you about the simple jobs you found.

“You can do so much better than waitressing,” Andy sighed as you rolled your eyes.

“I’m good at it, Andy. Bar tending and waitressing are two things I’m really good at, so I’ll make more than enough-”

“Why not be an assistant or secretary? You get benefits and that’s something you’re gonna need.”

“I feel like that’s something you want me to do, so I can work for you.”

“I mean, I really do wanna fuck you on my desk.”

“Andy.”

“You know I love being honest with you,” he shrugged with a devilish smirk.

“I wanna do something I’m comfortable with.”

“Getting out of your comfort zone could be good for you.”

“What are you afraid of, baby?” you questioned, straddling him.

“I’m not-”

“Don’t lie to me, Andy. You should know better by now.”

He let out a heavy sigh as he rested his hands on your hips. “I don’t want you to find someone else.”

“Andy-”

“I know I know,” he muttered “I have no right and it’s up to you to be with and do whatever you want, but I don’t want...you mean everything to me, Y/N. Yeah, I may be a little slow to get to the point, but Jesus, if I could just put into words just how much you actually mean to me,” he chuckled humorlessly.

You dip down and kiss him deeply and wrap your arms around him. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?” you breathed once you two broke apart.

“For now.”

The pain in his voice broke your heart. “Honey-”

“I’m trying, Sweetheart, I promise. The pain is still there and the wound is still fresh. I don’t believe that you’d ever hurt me like that and I know you can’t live your life to make me happy, but I also know that I don’t make any of this easy. I’m positive that there’s someone out there, way more deserving, that will make all of this easier.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged “but they’re not you. As long as we take our time and are up front with each other, we’ll be okay. We can figure this out.”

“You really think so?”

“I really do,” you smiled at him.

“Dinner’s gonna be ready soon,” Andy states softly as he makes his way into your bedroom.

“Okay babe.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.”

“We’ve been having the same argument for weeks, Andy. I’m tired of talking about it. I’m not shutting you out, I’m just coping,” you mope as ‘Real Thing’ by Lights starts playing. “All I do these days is cope,” you mutter.

“I’m gonna stop going,” he responds softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m not gonna say that I’m gonna be here every night, but I’m gonna stop going to the club.”

“Are you gonna stop sleeping around?”

“Yeah, I figure that’s a good place to start,” he scoffs softly “but I’m still not ready to commit or be in a relationship,” he states firmly.

‘Fuck you when you fuck me over’

“However, I am ready to tell you I love you and that I mean it.”

‘But I’ll be here to hold when you call me over’

You’re slow to sit up, but the smile that comes to your face is almost instant. “Say it again.”

He grins “I love you.”

“Again,” you beg as you tackle and wrap your arms around him.

“I love you,” he laughs softly, wrapping his arms around. “I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.

“I think this is a good start,” you smile at him, straddling him.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, cause I love you too, Andy.”

“And that better not change, Sweetheart.”

“I don’t think you could’ve planned this trip at a better time for this trip.”

“Yeah?”

“ This will be good for us,” you smile sweetly.

Andy cups your face in his hands before pulling you close and kissing you deeply. “I love you and I’ll never get tired of telling you that,” he breathes once you two break apart.

“You’re gonna burn dinner,” you giggle against his lips.

“Fuck dinner.”

“I’m hungry!” you groan as he laughs.

“Fine, come with me?”

“Mhm,” you smile at him before giving him another quick kiss and getting off of him.

The entire time you stand with him while he makes dinner, he talks about the plans he has for Hawaii and how early you two are gonna have to get up. As you sit and listen to him go on about everything, you can’t help but get lost in the happiness you feel of him saying the world’s most simple, yet most complicated sentence in the world.

However, there’s still the reality of you dealing with your friends, and none of that is simple.

“So, you’re gonna stay with him?” Allison asks, sitting on her sofa beside you.

“You don’t think I should?”

“Listen, I’m happy he’s not coming to the club anymore, and I’m happy he’s not sleeping around, but...”

“But?”

“You don’t feel the slightest bit bad for Mary?”

“It always come back to Mary,” you scoff, leaning back.

“I know what she did was fucked up, and I know you’re not doing this out of spite, but she’s so hurt and lonely.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“She was your best friend, Y/N,” Allison sighs. “Your childhood best friend-”

“Until she fucked it up.”

“I know, but if you stay with Andy, there’s little to no chance of reconciliation.”

“So, I should put my happiness on hold to make her happy?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying.”

“Ugh, what I’m trying to say is to make sure that he’s worth it. Make sure all of this is worth it. Yeah, he loves you and that’s great, I’m truly happy for you, but Andy does things at his own pace.”

“That’s not fair, Allison. There’s so much more that you don’t know.”

“I know that you’ve cried over him and that’s all I need to know. I’ve never seen you in love with anyone, and while I’m happy to see you this happy and excited, I don’t think you should let your guard down so soon. Yeah, it’s nice to hear sweet things, but pay attention to his actions. They speak the loudest,” she sighs before grabbing her beer and taking a sip of it.

Your heart breaks a little, because you know she doesn’t want you to fall into the same trap that she did with Tyler. “You two get into another argument?”

“Yeah, it was bad. Really fucking bad.”

“How bad is ‘really fucking bad’?”

“I threw a glass at him. Missed his head by half an inch,” she chuckles humorlessly, slouching down further. “When the fuck did I become this person? Why can’t I just leave?”

“Trust me, I’m right there with you,” you mutter, pouring yourself a glass of wine and curling up on the sofa.

“You think about leaving Andy?”

“At least three times a week,” you chuckle.

“I thought-”

“That’s what everyone thinks. I’m not as caught up as everyone thinks. I know they’re flaws, I see the issues, and I have to deal with the heartache. However, no one sees Andy the way I do. No one knows him like I do, and I guess that’s something we have in common, because I don’t let anyone know me like he does. The way he looks at me, the way he holds me, the time he takes to really check on me and make sure that I’m okay...trust me, I have my reasons for staying,” you smirk. “Do you?”

“At this point? I really don’t think so. It’s just better than being alone.”

“You’re not alone, babe. You don’t need him to make you feel normal or worthy. I know none of it is easy, but some one who’s actually worthy of your time and love will want to be better for you. Will do better for you.”

“Is Andy doing that for you?”

“He’s trying to and I’m trying to let him.”

“I guess we’re both idiots.”

“I guess so,” you chuckle leaning into her. “We’re gonna talk about a lot all of this when we’re in Hawaii. The distance from everything and everyone will be good.”

“Please just don’t get sucked up into-”

“I know, hun. I know,” you nod, taking a sip of your wine. “I’m doing the best I can to keep my head above water.”

The days leading up to Hawaii were probably the most stressful days you’ve had in a while, and the only person you really want to talk to, you can’t. You miss your Mother every day and you wish you had her to guide you with all of this shit. She somehow always seemed to know the answer to every question and what to do in every situation. Yeah, she liked Andy, but would she want you to wait for him like you are? Would she want you to risk your happiness for someone who can’t make heads or tails of what he wants? Would she want you to trust your feelings and your heart? Would she want you to trust him?

If only she had more time.

By the time you two are finally on the plane, your head is going a million miles a minute.

“What’s going on with you, Sweetheart?” Andy asks as you both take your seats in first class.

“Just...just adjusting, I guess.”

“You’ve been far away since I told you I love you and about this trip. What’s going on?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now,” you smile softly at him. “I just wanna focus on this trip.”

“You believe me when I tell you that I love you, right?”

“More than you know, we’ve just been through a lot...all of this is a lot,” you chuckle softly. “We’ll talk about it in a few days. Right now, I just wanna  be in the moment with you.”

Andy leans over and kisses you deeply, cupping your face in his hands. “This is gonna be good for us.”

“I think so too,” you nod, before a playful grin tugs at your lips. “You really think you’ll be able to keep your hands to yourself for 11 hours?”

The grin that comes to Andy’s face is dangerous and has you excited in all the ways you shouldn’t be. “Now, when did I ever agree to that?”

Andy is able to keep his hands to himself for all of 2 hours before he’s dragging you into the bathroom and pinning you against the door.

“Fuck baby,” you moan as quietly as you can as thrusts himself inside of you.

“You have no fucking idea how beautiful you look right now,” he rasps as he fucks you against the door.

“We could get caught!”

“That’s half the fun,” he smirks before starting to bite on the most sensitive part of your neck that you love the most, before soothing it with his tongue.

“Baby please!” you beg, wrapping your legs around him tighter, your hands running through his hair.

“Quiet Sweetheart, don’t wanna get us kicked off, do you?” he taunts with a devilish grins as he looks up at you being a wrecked mess above him, only making you clench around him. “That’s right, my sweet girl loves when people watch, how could I forget?”

“Andy,” you mindlessly mumble, feeling both arousal and shame at the memory of him fucking you into oblivion on the hood of your car, out in the open for everyone to see.

“Cause you’re mine, right? I can fuck you anywhere and in front of anyone, can’t I?”

“Fuck...fuck yes!” you mewl, arching your back as your release builds and that knot in your core tightens.

“I wanna watch you explode for me, Baby. Need to fucking see it,” he grunts as he relentlessly fucks into you.

“Fuck!” you cry out as softly as you can, going over that cliff of pure ecstasy and bliss that only he’s capable of sending you over.

“I fucking love you,” Andy rasps, spilling his seed into you.

You both stay there for a moment, trying to come down from your highs, before Andy finally slowly sets you down after pulling out.

“There’s no way no one knows what we did,” you giggle as you clean yourself up.

“They didn’t see anything, so they can’t prove anything,” he shrugs as he gets himself back into his pants.

“Baby-”

“Welcome to the Mile High Club, Sweetheart,” he grins before kissing your lips and making his way out.

You can’t help but laugh and shake your head as you continue to clean yourself up and look yourself over in the mirror. You wait a few more minutes before quickly making your way out and back to your seat, only to find Andy mindlessly flipping through an airplane magazine. You flip him off as you take your seat.

‘You just did,’ he mouths with a coy grin and you can’t help but burst out laughing.

When the stewardess walks by, about 15 minutes later, taking drink orders, neither of you miss the disapproving and irritated look she shoots towards the both of you. The moment she’s out of ear shot, you both burst out laughing.

The rest of the flight goes smooth (with Andy only fingering you once), and you’re almost able to forget. Almost able to forget about all of the complications between you and Andy. How you two got to where you are. It doesn’t help that he makes it so easy to forget when he wants to.

That’s part of why you just can’t walk away.

Even though he does his best to hide it, it’s easy to tell by his actions that he’s genuinely always been a sweet man. He’s thoughtful, funny, caring, loving, and affectionate. So insanely affectionate. You’ve come to the conclusion, that when everything happened with Laurie, that’s when his attitude towards everything changed, and that’s something you can relate to more than you care to express.

It explains why he never let himself get too close to Mary, why he was such an ass to all the girls, why he’s so scared of actually committing to you, and why he works so damn hard to show that he doesn’t care.

He cares about everything entirely too much.

So, that’s how you’re always reasoning with yourself to stay. You see him making effort to tear down walls that he was determined to keep up forever, and you know it takes time. You know how hard it is because you’re doing the same damn thing.

But that’s when the argument between your head and your heart starts.

Shouldn’t that be a reason for you to stay away? For you two to both get your shit together before jumping into anything? No, it’s very obviously not impossible for two broken people to fall in love, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t wait until they have it more together to figure shit out.

However, you shake the thoughts of your head as you both approach the house Andy rented for the both of you.

“Andy,” you gasp, marveling at the large, tropical oasis.

The man spends way too much money on you.

“Is it okay?” he asks and you can tell that he’s genuinely anxious. “I know you like to be far away from the outside world, but not too far. I figure that we’re a good ways away from the-”

He’s cut off by you crashing your lips into his, as you wrap your arms around him. “It’s fucking gorgeous. Thank you, Andy. Thank you so much for everything, I love you,” you smile at him.

“And I love you.”

He gives you the keys before grabbing the bags and you both make your way into the house. You just stand there and look around in pure ‘awe’. The view, high ceilings, the marble bathrooms, the pool...it truly was your own private getaway.

Your heart feels full as you continue to make your way through the house, and you find yourself just wanting to stay there forever. Just you and Andy in your own little perfect getaway. No drama with friends or ex’s, no secrets, no fear, no anxiety, no one else, just each other. Free to love one another without any reservations.

You haven’t even been at the place a full 10 minutes and you’re ready to uproot your whole life just to be with Andy in total and complete happiness.

“Do you really like it?” Andy asks softly, walking up behind and snaking his arms around you in the bedroom.

“I love it.”

“Are you happy?”

“I’m always happy with you, Andy. Even when I’m not.”

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I don’t know, I guess you’re God’s favorite,” you smirk, turning around and facing him while still in his hold. “You know, you’ve been really mean lately, Daddy,” you pout, looking up at him, your eyes innocent but tone seductive.

“I have been, Kitten. I’m sorry,” he practically whines. The look in his eyes changing from love to full blown loving lust.

“Are you really sorry?”

“You know I am.”

“Then get on your knees and show me just how sorry you are,” you demand softly, raising an eyebrow as you stare up at him with innocent eyes.

Andy keeps his heated gaze on you as he gets on his knees and slowly unbuttons your shorts and pulls them down. When he goes to pull down your panties you’re quick to slap his hand away.

“Teeth, Daddy. You know what I like,” you taunt.

Andy’s quick to get his teeth on your panties and pull them down slowly, as you bite your bottom lip and keep your eyes on him.

Yeah, you want Andy in the most desperate way (when don’t you?), but this little act is more for him than you. You know he loves it when you surprise him and take control of the situation. The only thing Andy loves more than controlling you is you controlling him.

“Fuck, that’s it, Daddy,” you moan, lulling your head back a little as you feel his tongue on your clit. He hooks your leg over his shoulder, as you grip his hair tight. “You know exactly what I love!”

Andy only grunts in approval as you grind yourself against him, encouraging his actions, as he slides two fingers into your soaked cunt. The moan that leaves your mouth has him quickening his pace as he adds a third finger and starts sucking on your clit.

“Daddy! I’m so fucking close! I know you can be good for me and bring me off!” you cry out, arching your back as you try and keep your balance.

Andy’s gaze locks on yours as he sucks and lick on your clit like he’s afraid of you forgetting how good only he can make you feel. You can tell that he needs you to know that he’s the only one who can make you happy in any way.

“Shit!” you yell, cumming hard on his fingers as he tries keep you up right. He fucks you through your high before letting your leg down and breaking away from you; your juices glistening on his beard as he pants and looks up at you, waiting for instruction. “Get undressed and on the bed now,” you breathe out, taking your own top off before quickly unfastening your bra.

Andy wastes no time getting undressed before laying back on the bed, desperate to do any and every thing to keep you pleased.

“You really want to make me happy, Daddy?” you question as you crawl on to the bed.

“You know I do,” he husks as he stokes himself.

“When did I say you could touch yourself?” you question as you settle yourself on top of him.

“I’m sorry, Kitten,” he groans, stopping his movements almost instantly.

“I haven’t you under me like this in so long,” you moan, grinding your hips against his.

“Sweetheart...please,” he moans as his hands travel up your body.

“Please what?”

“Please do something,” he begs.

“You can’t cum until I get off, Daddy,” you warn before adjusting yourself so that his tip is at your entrance.

“Fuck!”

“Say you won’t or I won’t fuck you.”

“Shit, I won’t baby,” he husks, his hands gripping the sheets. “Bring yourself off on my cock as many times as you want.”

“You’re so good to me,” you moan as you slide yourself down on his cock. “Shit!”

“You always feel so fucking good, baby!”

“Yeah? You love this tight little cunt?” you whimper as you place your hands on his chest and start to ride him.

“I love everything about you, baby! You’re perfect!”

“Andy-”

“So fucking perfect for me,” he moans as you reach around and start to play with his balls. “Jesus, you know all the things I love, don’t you?”

“I fucking try, Daddy!”

You dip down and kiss him deeply, your hands getting lost in his hair as he wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you in place. When you both break apart, you push yourself up just a little, and you look him in the eyes. The way you love him never feels like enough when you look at him. His eyes are always filled with love and desperation. Desperation for you to stay, forgive him, and just try and figure it out.

Every time Andy’s deep inside of you, you feel his love for you. You know there’s no place he truly wants to be, and that you’re his whole world. You know that with you is exactly where he wants to be.

His breath on your neck as his grip on you tightens is all you can take before you cum hard on his cock, clenching him tight.

“Fuck!” he grunts, never breaking his gaze, but you can tell he’s doing his best to hold on.

“Use me, Daddy,” you breathe, still keeping your pace.

Andy has you on your back almost instantly and starts to love you relentlessly.

“Jesus!”

“You know how much I love it when you take over like that,” Andy grunts, his thrusts rhythmic as he collars your wrists above your head. “I fucking love it when you take what you want from me.”

“Feels too fucking good,”you mewl beneath him, your toes curling from the pleasurable build up in your core.

“I fucking love you, Sweetheart. Everything about you...shit! You’re mine and you’re always gonna be mine!”

“I love you, Andy!”

“Now,” he whispers hotly against your ear “I want you to fucking cum hard for me, baby. I want my cock soaked in it,” he demands, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic.

“Andy!”

“I told you to fucking cum for me, Sweetheart!”

“Fuck!” you cry, balling hands into fists as your orgasm washes over you and the world starts to fade around you.

Andy shouts your name as as his seed spills into you, letting go of your wrists so he can hold himself up and ride out both of your highs. After his final thrust, he collapses on top of you and you quickly wrap your arms around him, as you both just lay and listen to each other’s labored breathing.

“I love you, Andy,” you say after a moment, running your fingers through his soaked hair. “I love you so much.”

“I’m so fucking happy I found you,” he says softly as his finger gently traces up and down your arm. “I don’t wanna lose you, Y/N. I know I don’t always act like it, or make any fucking sense for that matter, but I really want to get over my fears and be with you. Really be with you.”

“We’ll talk about it, Baby. We’ll talk about all of it,” you sigh as he places a kiss on your collar bone.

“I want us to get this right, Sweetheart. I know that none of it has been ideal, but you’re...you’re everything to me.”

“You’re everything to me too, Andy.”

“And I really am sorry for being such an asshole. Especially with everything that’s been going on.”

You can’t stop the mischievous grin that comes to your face. “I almost forgive you.”

“Only almost?” he questions and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“I think you’re gonna have a to do a little bit more to really show me how sorry you are, Daddy,” you giggle.

“Good thing this place is ours for two weeks,” he smirks as he pushes himself up and looks down at you. “I’m gonna spend every moment proving to you just how sorry I am,” he grunts as he starts to move within you again.

Andy spent the rest of the day loving you through and through, in every part of the house that he could, only to finish outside by the pool during the sunset. He made you lay down and rest up while he made dinner for the both of you, and let you choose the movie for dinner. He can’t help but laugh when you choose ‘The Little Mermaid’, but he’s more than happy to watch it with you.

At some point, you two fall asleep, cuddled up close and fingers entwined. Any thoughts of getting things done the next day, went out the window when you woke up to Andy’s head between your legs. How were you supposed to even think about getting anything done when he had you feeling mind numbing pleasure?

“I’m sorry,” he breathes after getting you both off for the third time “I swear I didn’t bring you to Hawaii just to stay inside and make love all day,” he laughs breathlessly. “I just-”

“I know baby,” you smile up at him, running one of your hands through his hair. “I know because I feel the same way too.”

You really do. Yes, you and Andy have had each other hundreds of times, but this is different. Everything feels as it should. It’s just you and him and the outside world is almost nonexistent. There’s no drama, no other women, no jealousy, no anger, no Mary, no Laurie, none of his dickhead friends...it’s just you and him, alone and baring your souls to one another. Everything feels like it should, because everything is as it should be.Yes, you’ve always loved sex with Andy, but this is so much more than sex. It feels like you’re finally home, after such a long and strenuous trip. You never want the feeling to end. You never want to be without him.

“I promise that we’ll actually go out and do things tomorrow,” he laughs softly as you make your way around the kitchen, getting dinner.

“What do ya wanna do?”

“I wanna do whatever makes you happy.”

“What makes you happy?”

“You,” he states simply, smiling at you.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks and quickly turn away to hide the smile that makes its way to your face. “Besides me, what would make you happy?”

“I don’t know. Sit on the beach and watch sunrise, visit local shops, take you dancing-”

“Since when do you like dancing?”

“Since I found out how much you love it.”

“Andy, if you’re trying to make me fall in love with you, it’s already happened.”

“Ha ha,” he smirks, making his way over to you. “I know you love me, but I really do love making you happy. The amount of times I’ve hurt you and made you cry...I hate myself for that, Y/N,” he sighs.

You put down the sauce spoon and turn the stove down to a simmer, before closing the little bit of space between you two and wrap your arms around him. “We’re gonna figure it out, Andy. It’s not like I’m the easiest to love-”

“You’ve never done to me what I’ve done to you, and you never would have.”

“I can still be a bitch, Andy. Don’t paint as me as some perfect human being, cause I’ll never live up to that.”

“You already do for me.”

“Andy-”

“Sweetheart, please understand that I went over the choice of making you my main girl a million times before I actually did it. I knew that what I felt towards you was more than lust and still decided to go ahead with my plan. I was dumb enough to think that I’d get over whatever I felt for you. Why wouldn’t I? The one woman in the club that everyone wanted but could never have. I’d fuck you and get over you, but that’s not what happened at all. I fell in love and tried to pretend I wasn’t. Then, to make matters worse, I tried to control you. Getting angry with you for rightfully being angry with me, because I kept telling myself that I was making the situation crystal clear. I told myself that you were acting just like Mary, even though I knew that was the farthest thing from the truth. What I feel towards you is something I never came close to feeling towards her. I haven’t felt this way about anyone and it terrified it me. It still does. So, I tried to distance myself from you, which proved to be useless. However, in the process of all this, I hurt you. I made you cry, I belittled you, I made you question my intentions, and I pushed you away. I hated myself for it then and I hate myself for it now, but I just couldn’t be vulnerable with you. Not like I am now. I’m still not ready to commit, Y/N. I know it infuriates you because it infuriates me. I want to make you mine. I wanna keep you with me at all times because you really are everything to me, but...being that vulnerable again...I’m just not there yet. So, to compensate for me being the absolute asshole that I am, I just want to make you happy. I want to make you as happy as you make me, because you’re fucking incredible and a better woman than I deserve. If something as simple as taking you to Hawaii, or making dinner, or just watching your favorite movies will make you smile, I’ll do it. I just want you to know that I’m not bullshitting you. This isn’t some sort of terrible joke or something to string you along until I get tired of you. I love you so fucking much and will do any and every thing I can do to make you happy. I promise,” he smiles at you, watery eyed as he wipes away your tears.

“Andy-”

“I know we have a lot to figure out, and most of that is on me, but I really want to figure this out. I want us to make it work. As long as you believe we have a chance, then we really do,” he smiles sincerely.

“Jesus Andy,” you sniffle out, as he chuckles and wraps you in a tight hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, Sweetheart.”

You both eat dinner in a happy and comfortable silence, while watching a serial killer documentary (your choice, not his), as you rest your legs across his lap.

Everything feels right, because Andy feels like home.

When you wake up the next morning, you tell yourself and Andy that you’re determined to spend the day actually doing things. Of course, an hour after you two agreed to that, you made love to him in the shower. Nonetheless, you two eventually got dressed and headed out for the day in the door-less Jeep he rented for you both.

The whole day feels like a dream.

The first stop is lunch on the beach and it’s probably the best lunch you’ve ever had. Both you and Andy spend the entire time laughing and debating the most trivial things, that only you two would care about.

“I’m sorry, did you only watch Lord of The Rings? Have you not read the books?” you laugh before finishing off your papaya and mango smoothie.

“I read the books, smarty pants. I’m just saying that Bilbo could have avoided a lot of drama-”

“If there’s no drama, what’s the point?!” you interrupt as he bursts out laughing. “HAVE YOU NOT READ THE BOOKS?!”

“You know, this God complex of yours is really getting out of hand,” he smirks.

“My God complex? You’re one to talk.”

“I do not have a God complex!”

“Andy, it’s your entire personality.”

“Bullshit!”

“Yeah okay, who fought one of his dickhead lawyer buddies for just grabbing my wrist? Even though we’re not officially together?”

“I think it’s time for us to go,” he mutters, eyeing the waiter as you burst out laughing.

The next stop was the beach and you can tell that’s where he feels the most at home and at peace.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” you ask, making your way back to him as you head back from the water.

“A lot,” he scoffs as you settle yourself next to him. “How’s the water?”

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing-”

“Don’t lie to me,” you warn, now placing yourself directly in front of him. “Talk to me.”

“You’re having a good day.”

“If you’re not having a good day, I’m not having a good day. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I really am happy. I’m just getting ahead of myself.”

“Ahead of yourself with what?”

“It really doesn’t matter, Babe.”

“Andy-”

“I know we have time and that I need to just be here, but I’m so afraid of fucking this up. More than I already have,” he sighs, looking down at the sand as he buries his feet in it.

“Please talk to me, Baby.”

“Why? It’s just a bunch of ‘what ifs’. You don’t need that-”

“Andy, whatever we are, whatever this may be, doesn’t change the fact that I’m very much in love with you. I want to be there for you if I can.”

“Everything is perfect right now. I have no fear of giving myself to you completely, or truly loving you. I’m just scared of...”

“When we get back home.”

“You feel it too?”

“I’ve been doing my best to not think about it,” you laugh humorlessly, taking his hands in yours. “What brought this on?”

“I’m having way too much fun,” he chuckles. “It’s so much easier when we’re away from everyone, isn’t it? Nothing seems to be as scary or as daunting. There’s much less pressure...it’s easier to be happier when you’re just away. I’m always happy with you, but right now? Where we are, how we’re living...I could do this forever with you. I want this with you forever. I don’t know if I’ll be able to be this secure at home.”

“Why?”

“There’s just so much left to deal with. You saw her that night she showed up at your apartment; she keeps fighting for more. At home, I’m reminded of every thing. Jacob’s trial, the whole fucking town turning on me, Laurie cheating on me, then deciding that she just doesn’t want to be with me...the monster I became to deal with all of it...nothing feels good about going home. If I never had to go back, it’d be the best fucking day of my life,” he mutters.

“Well, the divorce is final, you’re out of that house, and Jacob is off at college. The fact that he’s a Barber has me feeling more than confident that he’ll strike out on his own and do just fine, so why stay in Newton if there’s no reason to?”

“Work.”

“Andy, you’re an amazing lawyer. You can find work anywhere, you don’t need to keep working at a place you hate.”

“Then I can’t afford-”

“Don’t. You know how little all of this matters to me. I’ve only ever wanted you and that’s not changing any time soon. I love you for you, not the nice things you can get me. What good is any of this if I don’t have your trust? Your love? Your heart?”

“Fuck, why couldn’t I find you first?”

“I had to get through High School,” you smirk as he starts cracking up.

“You’re amazing, did you know that?”

“So are you, Baby,” you smile before leaning in close and kissing him deeply. “This is gonna be hard for the both of us,” you breathe as you two breakaway “baby steps and patience are what we’re gonna need to make this work.”

“I’m not good with either of those.”

“Neither am I, but I really want to try for the both of us. After all the shit that happened with my parents, I swore I’d never let myself fall for anyone who could complicate my life. Then I met you,” you scoff as Andy chuckles softly. “I am stubborn, I can be mean, I’m unforgiving, and I don’t like compromise. However, when it comes to you, I try my best to fight the urge to throw the towel in, in the name of things being easier, because this is worth fighting for. We’re worth fighting for.”

“You really think so?”

“I know it.”

“What’s it like to be so sure of everything all the time?”

“When I figure that out, I’ll let you know,” you smile with a small giggle.

Andy leans in and kisses you softly while cupping your face. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Andy.”

You both stay there for just a little bit longer before Andy tells you that you need to get going so you’ll be on time for his surprise. When you try to press him on the matter, he simply shakes his head and tells you, you need to work on your patience.

You can’t stop the gasp that leaves your body as Andy pulls up to a lavish restaurant.

“Andy-”

“I don’t wanna hear it. It’s not too much and you do deserve it. You deserve this and much, much more,” he smiles at you as he turns off the Jeep.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. It’ll make you happy and that makes me happy.”

“I’m happy just to have this time with you, Andy. I told you, you don’t need to buy me expensive gifts or take me to fancy places.”

“I know I don’t need to, but I like to do it. I like to do things for you that wouldn’t do for yourself and I love the little gasp that always leaves your mouth. I love the smile that comes to your face. I love you,” he finishes with a smile.

“You’re making my face hurt with all this smiling,” you laugh, turning away from him.

“Good.”

You both walk hand in hand as you make your way inside the building, you leaning in close as Andy quickly gets you two to the elevator. When the doors open and you get off, once again, you’re gasping at the site in front of you.

“There it is,” he chuckles.

“Andy-”

“You love it and I love you.”

“I don’t know how I’m ever gonna make this up to you.”

“The fact you up with me and love me is more than enough,” he smiles sincerely as you’re both led to your seats.

You can barely focus on the menu as you look around the rooftop restaurant, it’s beauty overwhelming to say the least as the sun sets. You’re so caught up in the view you don’t even notice the waiter when he comes over takes your drink order. Luckily, Andy knows you better than you know yourself half the time and orders your Mai Tai for you.

“Andy, this is incredible!” you gush as you take pictures and send them to Allison and Lindsey.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“I love it! You didn’t have to do all of this! I love it so much, I love you!” you beam, scooting closer to him so you can kiss him. “What can I do to make you happy?”

“Just stay with me,” he smiles softly.

“Nope, you gotta tell me something that you want. Something that you want that’ll make you really happy.”

“I have you, there’s nothing more that I want,” he responds coolly before taking a sip of his beer.

“There has to be something.”

“Well, Jacob’s birthday is in two weeks and I’m gonna take him and Sarah out to dinner. I didn’t want to ask you to come along because we’re not officially anything, but I really would like it if you could be there. You both get along so well and I know he’d be happy to see you, and I’d feel better not going alone. I completely understand if you don’t-”

You cut him off by kissing him and pulling him as close as you can. “You are the sweetest man on earth, did you know that?”

“What-”

“Something so simple means the world to you and you’re afraid to ask because you don’t wanna impose? Of course I’ll go with you, Andy. I’d be more than happy too.”

“You sure it’s okay? You going as just my best friend and not my girl friend?”

“Not sure if you’re aware of just how High School you sounded,” you chuckle “but I’m more than happy to go with you.”

“Thank you, I know it’s a lot to ask-”

“It’s not a lot at all. I love you.”

“I love you.”

You both place your orders for dinner before getting lost in conversation about books and music. The music is great, the food is great, and the company is perfect.

You can’t remember the last time you were so happy. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been this happy.

You’re on your third Mai Tai when you hear one of your favorite songs playing and you can’t resist the urge to dance.

“Dance with me!” you beg as you pull on Andy’s arm.

“You know you’re more of a dancer than I am,” he laughs, trying to keep his resolve and staying in place.

“What if one of the other guys here tries to dance with me? You don’t wanna see someone else grinding themselves against me, do you?”

“You’re pure evil, you know that?” he growls before finishing the rest of his drink. “Lets go,” he mutters as you giggle and lead him to the dance floor.

Andy doesn’t have to do much as you press your back against his chest and grind yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you get lost in the music.

“Careful Sweetheart,” he warns with a gentle husk “you know how much I love it when you dance like this on me in public.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m doing it,” you moan, loving the feel of his hands gripping your waist tighter.

“Nothing but trouble.”

“And you love it,” you smirk as you twist your neck slightly and kiss his cheek.

As Andy’s hands travel up your body, you do your best to ignore the lyrics (they’re hitting way too close to home) and just focus on all the pleasure you’re feeling. However, when the chorus hits, you find yourself focusing on it more than you’d like.

‘You know I want you baby, you know I do

I’ll give you my heart and the rest is up to you

You ain’t no good for me, I know it’s true

But you don’t have to be’

As the words roll around in your head, you turn yourself in Andy’s arms and kiss him deeply.

You don’t want to think about anything, you just want Andy.

‘I do it for the thrill, for the rush

I do it for the pain, for your touch

Will I OD when it’s too much?

If I survive, maybe you’re the one.’

Andy’s hold on you is tight as he deepens the kiss and you feel your excitement build. You feel the stares of a few people, but you couldn’t care less. All that matters is Andy and how he’s making you feel.

“Need you now, Kitten,” he husks as you two break apart.

“Then have me,” you mumble as you look up into his loving gaze.

In no time at all, Andy’s dragged you to the men’s bathroom has you pinned against the door of a bathroom stall.

“Fuck!” you cry out, gripping your legs around him tighter as he thrusts himself into you.

“Tried to be romantic and wait until we got back, but you just had to keep pushing.”

“Andy!”

“That perfect little ass grinding against my cock, shit! How the fuck am I supposed to control myself?”

“Never want you to, baby. You can have me whenever you want me. I’m all yours,” you moan, lulling your head back as places wet and desperate kisses all over your neck.

“Jesus, Y/N! I can never get enough of you!”

“Wanna hear you fucking say it, Andy! Need to hear you say it,” you whine pathetically as your hands grip the door.

“I fucking love you, baby,” he moans as you clench around him.

“Shit!”

“Such a good girl,” he grins as you arch your back against the door. “You take this cock so well!”

“Andy please! I’m so...I’m so fucking close!”

“You know what I want from you, Sweetheart,” he taunts as he grips your hips tight, his thrusts coming faster, harder, and more erratic.

“Yes, yes, YES!” you cry out, cumming hard for him, one of your hands gripping his shoulder as you dig your nails into it.

“Fuck Sweetheart!” he exclaims, shooting his load into you.

You both stay that was for a moment trying to come down from your highs.

“I think it’s time we head back,” Andy laughs softly as he lets you down slowly.

“Mhm, I think so too.”

“I hope you’re not tired, because I’m about to keep you up all night.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” you grin mischievously.

You both quickly make your way back out and Andy’s quick to settle the bill. The entire ride down the elevator, you two can’t keep your hands off of each other.

That’s when an idea pops into your head.

“How good of a driver do you think you are?” you question as you take your panties off.

“Pretty fuckin’ good,” he smirks as he starts the engine.

“Wanna show me just how good you are?”

“Sweetheart-”

“I don’t wanna wait, Daddy. Want you to love me right here and right now,” you moan as you straddle him.

“Nothing but trouble,” he husks as you undo the button on his shorts and work them off of him. “And if someone sees?”

“They’re welcome,” you shrug as you start to stroke him.

“Fucking firecracker,” he groans as you bite and suck on his neck.

“Just keep your eyes on the road and enjoy the ride, Daddy,” you moan as you sink yourself down onto him.

“Fuck Y/N!” he moans as he pulls off.

You do your best to keep your head to the side of him as he drives, but Andy makes you look at him every time you two come to a stop light. You’ve never seen him so desperate and it makes you feral.

“So fucking close!” you whine into his ear, your nails digging into his shoulder.

“You better not fucking cum until we get home!” he demands, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Andy!”

“You wanted to be a little slut and now you have to deal with the consequences of your actions. Cum before we get home and you’re gonna be sorry!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cry, trying to fight off your release. “I don’t think I can, baby!”

“We’re almost there, Sweetheart”

“You feel too fucking good, Andy! You always feel too...fuck!” you cry out, cumming hard on his cock.

“Oh Sweetheart, you don’t know just how much punishment you’re in for tonight,” he chuckles darkly as he pulls up to the house.

“I almost made it!”

“Almost doesn’t count.”

“Andy-”

“I don’t wanna hear it. Get that sexy little ass inside that house and wait for instructions.”

“Can I at least suck you clean?”

“No, because bad girls don’t get rewarded.”

“Please Daddy?”

“In the house, now,” he demands with a strained voice and you can tell that he’s doing all he can to keep together.

Andy shows no mercy when he finally gets in the house and gets his hands on you. He ties to you to the bed and settles a vibrator between your legs, telling you that you need to learn how to control yourself.

After the cumming for the 4th time, you’re so desperate and pathetic for him.

“Andy please!” you cry out as you try to recover from your high.

“The next time I tell you to fucking wait, will you?”

“Andy, I swear to God that I’ll do anything that you say. I will be such a good girl, I fucking promise.”

“You’re a dirty little liar” he chuckles as he unties you “but I need to be deep inside you,’ he mumbles as he gets on the bed. “I need to feel how much you love me.”

“I’m all yours,” you smile up at him as your hand traces over his broad chest. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Angel,” he groans as he thrusts himself inside of you.

Andy loves you until the sunrise, picking every position he knows you love and that will send you into a mind shattering orgasm time after time. You don’t even remember falling asleep, but when you wake up, a small smile comes to your face, remembering all the love you and Andy made the night before, the promises made, and the love that was felt.

You slowly and quietly sneak out of bed, not wanting to disturb Andy, putting on his boxers and AC/DC shirt, before sneaking into the backyard and taking a seat by the pool. As you soak your feet, you think back to the night that Laurie showed up to your apartment, unannounced and unwelcome.

“You have no right to be here!” Andy shouted as he steps in front of you. “We’re divorced and there’s no-”

“You’re really housing a whore,” Laurie laughed incredulously as she looked you over. “You really left me for her?”

“She’s more of a woman than you’ll ever be!”

“Yet you still defend me when Jacob thinks I don’t care?”

“He’s our son, Laurie. Whatever I feel towards you, shouldn’t reflect the way he treats you. Don’t take it as a fucking term of endearment.”

“This isn’t gonna last, Andy. She’s young and you’re just looking for a good time-”

“It’s time for you to go, you’ve worn out your welcome,” you bit as you stepped in front of Andy, not liking how angry and frustrated he was getting.

“You think you know him? Understand him? You’ve heard about a few arguments and-”

“I know enough to know that he deserves better than you. Maybe I am just a notch in his belt on his way to something better, but that’s still better than him attaching himself to someone who clearly has her own interest at heart.”

“He’s never gonna make it work with you.”

“Well, here’s to hoping you’re wrong,” you snipped. “You need to go. Now,” you warned, not wanting to show any weakness as she holds your glare.

She looked as if she’s about to say something, before huffing and leaving.

“Are you okay?” you asked almost instantly when the door closed.

“Y/N-”

“Are you okay?” you repeated, making your way over to him.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did. She was making you uncomfortable and unhappy. I wasn’t gonna let her talk to you.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Are you okay, Andy?”

“I have you. I’m perfect,” he smiles softly.

You replay that moment over and over in your head, trying to tell yourself that everything between you and Andy is genuine. It would be so much easier to write this all off as lust if you didn’t know Andy the way you do. If you didn’t know his love language. Sure, you and him have mind blowing sex (that’s how all of this got started), but they’re moments when you can see just how much he genuinely cares for you. The late night drives with the windows down and music blasting, the both of you singing at the top of your lungs. Game night, movie night, when he holds you when you randomly start crying over your Mother and how much you miss her, when he joins you in your dance parties that you have in your room so you don’t disturb him, the fact that he still thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re in sweats and shoveling Ben and Jerry’s down your throat, the way he indulges in sappy black and white romance movies...

The way he loves you.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re terrified of going back home too. There’s a big part of you that believes that Andy won’t be able to be the same guy he is now when you both return, and that has your heart breaking. Because what happens if he isn’t? Do you stay and make excuses? Do you walk away and move on? Do you beg him to be better because you know he can be? Do you just hate him?

As all of these questions and more roll around in your head, you don’t even notice the tears that start to fall.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Sweetheart?” Andy asks softly, causing you to jump, as he takes a seat next to you.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” you sniffle softly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“I always wake up when you get out of bed. When you didn’t come back after 5 minutes, I knew you were up for the day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s so fucking stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Baby, talk to me.”

“I just love you so much, Andy. God, I hate how much I love you and how stupid it makes me, but I don’t want it to change. I don’t want us to change. Jesus, of all the times to have a breakdown,” you laugh humorlessly.

“What happened, Sweetheart?”

“I just keep thinking about what will happen when we go back home and I really don’t fucking want to.”

“Y/N-”

“I want to be with you, Andy. I’ve never wanted anything so bad, but I’m terrified. I tried to tell myself that it’s just the sex and I can walk away any time I want, but that’s been bullshit from the start. Then, I told myself I stayed because I like being taken care of. It’s been so long and I’ve worked hard, but when I really think about it, we take care of each other. Yeah, you pay my rent, but I hold you when you cry, I cook for you, I sit and listen when you vent, I hold you when you’re overwhelmed....I do all of that and more, and it’s not because you pay for a place for me to live. I’d do all of the things I do for you now whether or not you paid for a single fucking thing. Why? Because I love you. Whether its the smart choice or not, I fucking love you with every thing I have in me. I’ve never loved anyone like this and I’m scared, because what happens if we can’t make this work? What happens if I’m not enough? What happens if you decide you truly don’t want a relationship?”

“Sweetheart-”

“This is all so fucking stupid. I’m so sorry,” you sob, wiping your eyes.

“Stop that, this isn’t stupid at all and I want you to talk to me. I want to know how you feel.”

“I’m being dramatic.”

“No you aren’t. I told you yesterday that I’m afraid that I’m gonna fuck this up. When I could lie to myself and tell myself this was just sex, it was fine. We’re so much farther than that now and I truly want to give you the world. I want to be the man you deserve. The man you need. I’m never going to be worthy of your love, but I’m trying and I promise to always try. Don’t feel stupid for having a rational fear. A fear you have because of me.”

“Andy-”

“You don’t need to say it isn’t my fault, because we both know it is,” he sighs, pulling you onto his lap. “Listen, like you said, we’re gonna figure this out, but we have to take it step by step. Don’t bottle up your feelings and hide them, cause that’s not gonna get us far. I want to know how you’re feeling, where you’re at with all of this, and what you’re afraid of. I tell you everything and you tell me everything, deal?”

All you do is nod softly.

“Oh my sweet girl,” Andy mutters into your hair before kissing it. “My sweet sweet girl, how I love you so.”

For the rest of the trip, you both try to focus on the enjoying the time you have together. That doesn’t mean neither one of you don’t have your fair share of breakdowns, but you’re both quicker to come back from them. The rest of the trip is filled with adventures, late night movies, love making, trying to new foods and drinks, learning as much about the island as you can, and site seeing. You’re both happy, carefree, content, and for a moment you really think you two have a shot in hell.

“I don’t wanna go back tomorrow,” you sigh, laying your head on Andy’s bare chest, making little circles on it with your finger.

“Me neither, Sweetheart. This has been heaven. Lets just extend the trip,” he chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“If only. I could stay here with you forever. Just like this,” you smile up at him, taking in his gorgeous facial features. You chuckle at the little bits of gray in his beard and he cocks an eyebrow. “You’re 42nd birthday is next month.”

“You watch your filthy little mouth,” he groans as burst out laughing. “How am I 42 already?”

“It’s better than the alternative.”

“I suppose your right,” he mutters, laying back on the grass. “You don’t make me feel 42.”

“That’s because you’re a big dumb teenager,” he tease as he chuckles. “What do you wanna do?”

“Well, I know the guys wanna go out, but I’d really rather not bring you around them.”

“What? Ashamed of me?”

“Guess how funny that isn’t?”

“I’m just saying,” you shrug, suddenly feeling very insecure and small. “It’s not like they don’t know how we met, and you all run with an entirely different crowd-”

“Hey, stop it right now,” he chides softly, propping himself up on his shoulders as you sit up. “How could you even think that? Yeah, we met at a Gentlemen’s Club, but who the fuck cares? If you think I should be ashamed of you because you work there, then you should be ashamed of me for being the guy who went there all the time. Don’t ever belittle yourself, especially over myself asshole friends,” he states as he takes your face in his hands. “I’m so fucking happy you love me and I could never be ashamed of you. If anything, I don’t want you around my friends because I’m ashamed of them. The way they’ve spoken to you...I wanna keep you as far from them as possible. I kinda just want us to do something. I’d love to include Jacob, but he’s away at school, so something simple and fun would be perfect. Just you and me,” he smiles as he strokes your cheek softly.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” you smirk as you settle yourself in his lap. “I love you.”

“I love you...hey, would you wanna live here?” he questions as he tenses a little.

“Hmm?”

“Would you wanna live here, with me?”

“What are you getting at, Andy?”

“If we’re able to make this work, if I can get my shit together, would you wanna live here? In this house with me?”

You can’t stop yourself from lunging forward and kissing him deeply as he chuckles softy, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as possible. “You really want that with me?” you ask breathlessly.

“In about 2 years time, I’ll have more than enough to take care of you-”

“Andy, you don’t have to-”

“I want to, Sweetheart. I’ll always want to take care of you. You can work if you really want to, but know that you don’t have to if you don’t want to. You’ll never need or want for anything.”

“How’d I get so lucky?”

“Guess you’re God’s favorite,” he smirks before pulling you close for another kiss.

You both spend the rest of the day rolling around in the grass, making plans, and making love before deciding that you both need to pack before going to bed. That night Andy holds you close, as if he’s afraid you won’t be there in the morning, and peppers soft kisses all over your neck and shoulder, silently telling you ‘I love you so much’ before you both drift off to sleep.

During the ride back the next day, you know he can sense the dread hanging in the air, but all he does is rub the back of your hand reassuringly as he drives you both to the airport. They’re no spontaneous sexcapades on during the flight home, just exchanged glances and small smiles. You want to believe you two can make it work. You feel like you two have already been through so much that there isn’t anything you two can’t handle together.

But you also know Andy and his anxiety.

“Do you want me to stay over tonight?” Andy asks once he pulls up to your apartment.

“Do you want to?”

“You know I do...”

“But?”

“I just need a few days to reset, that’s all,” he promises softly.

You force down the lump in your throat before smiling weakly and nodding. “I guess I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Hey, I meant everything I said in Hawaii. I’m going to do my best to get my shit together. It’s just that we’re back home now and I need to wrap my head around a few things. I’m not changing my mind or taking back anything that I said. Just give me a few days, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Sweetheart, I love you,” he sighs sincerely. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Andy. More than you know,” you smile softly before taking his face in your hands and kissing him deeply. “I’ll see you in a few days,” you all but mumble before getting out of the car and getting your bags out of his backseat.

You hear his heavy sigh and you know he feels bad, but you have to trust that he knows what he’s doing, even if you’re completely in the dark about it. The moment you get into your bedroom, you drop your bags and get into before bursting out into tears. You don’t even know why you’re reacting this way. He’s not saying he wants to go back to the way things were, but you thought you two had made enough improvement for him at least want to spend more time with you.

‘He said he just needs a few days, Y/N. You’ve gotta stop over thinking things or you’ll drive the both of you crazy,’ you mentally tell yourself as you try to calm down.

The first two days are hell and you can’t remember the last time you felt so alone. Maybe when you’re Mother died, but that was a completely different type of pain. It doesn’t help that you can’t put off your lunch date with your Father any longer.

“Hey Baby Doll,” he smiles up at you as you take a seat at the table of the restaurant he’s chosen.

“Father.”

“You can’t even pretend to be a little excited to see me?”

“Well, since all of the shit you pulled with Mom, I promised myself that I would never lie. So no,” you smile as the waiter comes and asks for your drink order. “A Jack and Coke, please,” you smile with a slight nod before he walks away.

“It’s 1pm, Baby Doll.”

“I’m gonna need it to get through this.”

“You hate me that much?”

“I don’t hate you, I just want nothing to do with you. God, why do you even want to do this? You didn’t give two shits about me or Mom until she got sick, and now-”

“That’s not true. I love you so much-”

“Not enough for you stick around and be a better husband or Father. Not enough to encourage Vivian to make things right with Mom sooner.”

“Things were complicated, Y/N,” he sighs as you roll your eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand because I hurt you. I hurt you and your Mother-”

“There’s nothing to understand! You’re a fucking liar and a cheater at the end of the day. That’s really all there is. I’m the one who had to hear her cry for you over and over again, praying to God for you to come back-”

“I thought that’s what I wanted, Honey. I couldn’t see myself being a good husband or Father so i just ended up leaving. Almost as soon as I left, I regretted it, but how could I come back? There was nothing I could do to make it right by any of you, so I forced myself to stay away. Then when Vivian still made the effort to have me in her life, I was too much of a coward to tell her not to be angry with your Mother. Having one of you was better than having none of you. Then, when she got sick, I...I wanted to be there for her. For you.”

“We didn’t need you, it’s not like you paid for anything or helped take care of her at all.”

“Yeah, you need no help from me at all,” he scoffs as your drinks arrive. “Your sister told me all about your job.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter before taking a sip of your drink and looking up at the waiter. “Please keep them coming,” you smile and he just offers a sympathetic nod before walking away.”Tread lightly.”

“You may hate me, but I still have a right to disapprove,”

“I don’t give a fuck about your approval, in case that hasn’t seemed to come across your mind yet.”

“You’re still my child-”

“No, I’m a grown ass woman. You lost the right to tell me how to live my life when you walked out the fucking door.”

“No parent wants their child sleeping with other people for money.”

“1. No parent just fucking walks out on their kid unless they’re a complete and total dickhead. 2. I’m not sleeping with them, I guess Tweedle-Dee decided to leave that part out.”

“She said there’s one guy-”

“One guy and it’s not like that. It’s...complicated,” you sigh before finishing off your drink. “It’s complicated and I don’t wanna talk about it. At least not with you.”

“Does he love you? Do you trust him?”

“What part of ‘I don’t wanna talk about it with you’ did you not get?”

“You need to make sure that he truly wants and loves you. You met him at this place you work at? I’m assuming he’s older than you, am I right?” Your silence has him scoffing as the waiter brings you another drink. “I thought so.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know enough.”

“You don’t know that the last day Mom was alive, he spent the whole day with us because it made her happy. You don’t know that he was the one who woke me up the next day to tell me the news and when I couldn’t get myself together, he was the one to call everyone and set everything up. You don’t know that hes been there for me every day since. You don’t know shit so stop acting like you do.”

“If he’s so damn great, why wasn’t he at the funeral?”

“He was at the funeral. Unlike your little wife, he didn’t wanna make a spectacle of himself.”

“He could’ve at least been by your side at the repast.”

“Just because you didn’t see him, doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.”

“Why the secrecy?”

“Cause it’s no one’s fucking business!” you snap. You’re not a fan of the disproving scowl your Father gives you before shaking his head. “What?”

“He’s someone important, isn’t he? Someone who can’t be seen with a person that does what you do.”

“Why would you-”

“Vivian told me where you work and I know the crowd that frequents there. A bunch of shady assholes, who have a lot of power and a lot of money.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Baby Doll-”

“We’re done talking about this,” you state firmly.

Your Father lets out a mournful sigh before downing all of his drink. “I’m the last person to tell you how to live your life or what decisions to make, but I really do hope that I’m wrong about this man. I know you don’t believe me when I say it, but I really do want you to be happy. I want you to find a man that’s good for you and good to you. No matter what, I will always love you and I’ll always try to be there for you. Whether you want me to be or not,” he finishes sincerely with a sad and soft smile.

“Well, as wonderful as that is to hear, I’m fine and you and your little minion need to stay out of business that doesn’t concern either one of you.”

“Are we ever gonna get to a point where you and I have some sort of a relationship?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh mumble before picking up your drink and taking a sip. “I just don’t know.”

The rest of the lunch is spent in silence and against your better judgment (and the fact that you’re insanely stubborn), you take yourself home. The minute you’re back inside your still empty apartment, you kick off your jeans and fish your phone out of your back pocket.

Still no text or call from Andy.

However, there are two texts from Vivian.

Devil Child: Dad told me you refused to let him drive you home. Please let me know when you’re home safe.

Devil Child: I know you hate me, but please answer me.

You shake your head and chuckle humorlessly before responding.

Y/N: Hey, you know what isn’t a good idea? Telling the one person I can’t stand more than you about my job. Leave me alone and stay out of it.

Devil Child: He’s our Father, Y/N. He has a right to know.

Y/N: Do you think before you speak? He doesn’t have a right to shit. NEITHER OF YOU have a right to anything.

Devil Child: We’re all each other have at this point, Y/N. You can’t keep hating us.

Y/N: Just because I want nothing to with you, doesn’t mean I hate you. I just have no need or desire to bullshit around with you.

Devil Child: Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.

Y/N: Yeah and I don’t care.

You toss your phone on your nightstand before pulling off your shirt and pulling on one of Andy’s ‘Boston University’ sweatshirts and getting under the covers.

You hate this. You hate being so dependent on someone who’s still having such a hard time trusting you. This isn’t you. You’ve never let anyone have control over your feelings like this, and you promised yourself that you never would, but here you are. In bed, crying over a brokenhearted grown man and waiting for him to make the next move for the both of you.

It’s not like you ever put up much of a fight about it.

“Jesus Andy, don’t start this shit again,” you muttered as you got dressed. “Your jealousy is out of control and for fucking what?”

“Sweetheart-”

“Seriously Andy, what’s the fucking reason for it? No other man can look at me, but you can still sleep with whatever woman you here? What fucking sense does that make? How is that fair?”

“Is there someone else here you wanna sleep with?”

“How the fuck is that what you just took away from what I just said?! You know what? Fuck you, I’m not doing this with you tonight. Go get buried in someone else’s cunt and call me when your temper tantrum is over,” you bit, grabbing your bag and leaving the room.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” he questioned angrily, walking after you.

“Why do you need to know?”

“Don’t play this game with me tonight,” he warned hotly, following you into the elevator.

“Play what game? The game you play with me literally every fucking day? ‘Will he or won’t he come home to me? Will or won’t he fuck someone else?’ Those games?” you questioned with a humorless laugh. “It fucking hurts to think that you possibly couldn’t be the only one, right?”

“Y/N-”

“Ya know what? Maybe I’ll go to a club and bring a guy home with me. Better yet, maybe I’ll just find someone here to fuck,” you shrugged as you both got off of the elevator. “It’s not like we both don’t know how much all the guys here wanna fuck me. Maybe they can take me off your hands for a while,” you scoffed, finally turning to face him. His fists were balled and you could tell that he was using all of his energy to not lose it on you. “Now you have a slight idea of how I feel, Andy. Fucking hurts doesn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes as his just softened a bit.

“I’m going home, Andy. I’m over this shit and I’m over you,” you huffed before storming out.

You made it to the front of your car, before you felt Andy hand on your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

“What fuck-” was all you were able to get out before his lips crashed against yours. His arms snaked around your waist and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck.

God, you two were so fucking toxic.

“Andy,” you breathed out as you two broke apart.

“Over me? Oh Sweetheart, you’ll never be over me, just like I’ll never be over you,” he husked as one of his hands traveled up your skirt.

“Fuck!”

“You know what it is? You know what I really think is pissing you off?” he continued to taunt as he ripped your panties off. “I think it’s because you want me to show everyone just how addicted we are to one another.”

“Don’t,” you warned pathetically. “Fuck!” you moaned as he started to finger you.

“You sure you don’t wanna give em a show? The way this tight little cunt is responding to me, it seems like you want everyone to see just how addicted I am to you. How much I’ll never be able to quit you,” whispered hotly against your ear before licking the shell of it.

Your hands were moving faster than your brain. The emotional and vulnerable parts of you were completely drowning out the logical and rational parts of you. You were undoing his pants as fast as you could and whined in protest when he removed his fingers, but he was quick to grip your ass and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist as he hoisted you up.

You lulled your head back and moaned in pleasure as you felt him thrust himself inside of you.

‘Guess the secret’s out now,’ you thought to yourself as your back hit the hood of your car and Andy starts thrusting into you relentlessly.

“You know why I get jealous, Sweetheart,” he grunted, not slowing up at all, finally meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I fucking hate you, Andy,” you moaned, tears brimming in your eyes from the pleasure you were feeling, and the pain in your heart.

“I know you do, Sweetheart. And you have every right to.”

It’s not like you could be mad at him for the position you found yourself in. You were all too willing to let him fuck you in front of everyone, because you were just as sick and stupid as he was. You wanted the girls to see how much he desired and worshiped you, just like he wanted to guys to see how desperate and in love you were with him. You both wanted everyone to see just how much you two belonged to one another.

Andy didn’t give a single fuck about his career and you didn’t give a shit about what your friends and coworkers would think of you. All that mattered was each other and proving a point. Even without saying the dreaded phrase, you two made it known just how truly, stupidly, deeply, and madly in love you were with one another.

“Andy...Andy!” you mewled, clawing at his back, as he started biting and sucking on your neck. You felt your toes curl inside your shoes and you knew you weren’t gonna last long.

“Yeah Sweetheart? That close for me already?” he smirked looking down at you at you.

“Too fucking good! I can’t...I can’t...shit!”

“Give it to me, Sweetheart. You know what Daddy wants,” he husked, as his grip on your waist got tighter in the most painfully pleasurable way.

“Fuck!” you cried out, cumming hard for him, your brain feeling foggy from your euphoric high.

“Such a good girl for me,” he grunted before pulling out and getting on his knees.

“What-Andy!” you whimpered as you felt his tongue on your clit. “Oh my God!”

You tried to close your legs, but he wasn’t having it. He used one hand to push one of your legs to the side, while using three of his fingers on his other hand to fuck you. The only thing Andy let you do was hold on for the ride. You gripped his hair tight as you were grinding yourself against him, your brain completely too fucked out to allow anything other than moans and cries to leave your lips. All Andy did was grunt in approval as he continued his assault between your legs, and you knew he wasn’t gonna stop until you were a complete puddle on the hood of your car.

“Gonna...gonna cum! Fuck!” you cried out, your orgasm washing over you hard, as your body went limp.

Andy stayed on his knees, cleaning up the mess you made for him, as you tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened. Why were you two so toxic? Why couldn’t either of you just make a decision and fucking stick with it? Why the fuck did you have to fall in love with him? Why couldn’t you stop?

“You okay, baby?” Andy asked softly, slowly pulling you out of your thoughts, as he peppered kisses up and down your neck.

“People...people saw,” was all you could think to say, still too fucked out to really put a real thought together.

“That was the point, Sweetheart. Don’t want there to be anymore fucking confusion for anyone anymore.”

“You didn’t cum.”

“Oh, I’m gonna when we get back home,” he smirked, helping you sit up right.

You said nothing as you tried to regain your balance, picking up your bag and fishing out your car keys. “You’re driving home,” was all you said before making your way to the passenger side.

That weekend, you and Andy stayed hold up in your apartment, making love and arguing. Never reaching a resolution but still never quitting each other.

From that day on, guys stopped approaching you and women stopped approaching you. Hell, half of them asked you if it was okay for them to fuck him.

At the time, it felt like a win, like you two were headed in the right now, but as you sit in your bed, you keep being at war with yourself. Why does he need so much time? Why hadn’t you two just just stayed in Hawaii. You call out of work for the next two days and just settle in, allowing yourself until you fall asleep.

By the middle of the next day, you’ve hit the drinking part of your depression.

You would have thought hearing the door open and close would have made you happy, but you’re just numb.

“Sweetheart?” Andy calls from the kitchen, throwing his keys down on the counter top.

“What?” you counter, taking a sip of your whiskey, still flipping through channels for something to barely pay attention to.

You hear him sigh before he slowly makes his way to the bedroom door. “Sam told me you called out for the next few days. What’s going on?”

“Didn’t wanna risk seeing you go off with one of the other girls.”

“Sweetheart, I told you I’m done with that.”

“Yeah well, you’ve radio silent since we got back, so maybe something changed. Maybe you found someone younger-”

“Y/N, that’s not fair and it’s a low blow,” he quickly interrupts, and you can tell you’ve really hurt him.

You sigh before throwing down the remote and finally turning your attention to him. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened? I knew you’d be upset, but I didn’t think you’d get this mad at me.”

“I had lunch with my Father and fucking Vivian told him about what I do for a living, and you came up. Not by name, but he’s aware of how we met.”

“You listened to your Father of all-”

“You haven’t said a thing to me since you dropped me off here,” you quickly defend, getting irritated with his annoyance.

“I told you, I just needed some time to sort shit out.”

“When don’t you?”

“Y/N-”

“Are you staying over tonight?” you interrupt, not wanting to ruin the buzz you have.

“Do you want me to?”

“When don’t I want you to?”

“Come here, Angel,” he smiles softly.

You’re slow to get up and make your way over to him, but the minute his arms wrap around your waist, you wrap your legs around his and your arms around his neck.

You’re finally home.

“I missed you,” he whispers softly before pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Did you really?”

“There wasn’t a second that I wasn’t thinking about you.”

“I love you, Andy.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

“Are you finally ready to really be together?”

“I’m getting there, I swear. I just needed time to re-think everything and get myself away from...those thoughts. Hawaii was perfect, you’re perfect, and I love you more than I can express.”

“Andy-”

“I know, I’ve asked for so much more than I deserve. I keep asking for more than I deserve. Please, just a little bit more patience,” he begs softly.

“I’m hungry,” you respond softly, not wanting to make yourself any more upset.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Have you showered today?”

“No.”

“Lets shower first then I’ll order something.”

“I can pay for my own food.”

“Don’t start. I want to do this.”

“You wanna be everything but commit to me.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was mean.”

“I deserved it.”

“You said we’re gonna shower-”

“Not in the way you think, Angel,” he chuckles, his hold on you tightening a little as he starts to make his way towards the bathroom.

“Why not?” you groan, as chuckles a little harder.

“1. You’re drunk-”

“I’m buzzed, not drunk.”

“Fine, you’re buzzed. 2. We can’t keep fucking to keep from arguing, it’s not healthy.”

“Nothing about us is healthy,” you shrug as he gently sets you down.

“I want that to change, Y/N,” he says with all sincerity as he turns the water on. “If we’re gonna do this, really do this, then things can’t keep being as turbulent as they are. It’s not lost on me that it’s more my fault than yours, but still. I want this to be a real relationship, Angel. I want to be the man you deserve.”

You can’t stop the stupid smile that spreads across your face.

“What?” he laughs.

“You love me!” you squeal, running in place a little.

“It’s about time it clicked for you,” he laughs as he checks the water. “I think it’s ready.”

You’re both out of your clothes almost instantly and quickly make your way into the shower. A small smile comes to your faces as the water hits your skin; Andy’s always been the best at paying attention to what you love.

Andy lathers up your soap on your loofah before slowly spreading it around your shoulders, while kissing from your forehead to your cheek.

“I love you,” he whispers softly as he slowly gets to his knees, lathering up the rest of you.

“Andy, you don’t have to.”

“Just let me,” he begs softly.

It’s funny to you, how a simple gesture can make your heart light up for him. He takes his time lathering you up all over before placing you directly under the shower head. You take your time, letting the water wash away all of the soap, pain, and heartache you’ve been feeling over the last few days.

Andy cups your face in his hands as he steps under the shower with you, kissing you deeply as you wrap your arms around.

Finally, everything feels as it should.

You finally feel like you two are truly on the track you’re meant to be on. You both spend that night cuddled up on the couch, watching an ‘The Office’ marathon until you both fall asleep.

When you awake the next morning, it’s to the feeling of him placing small kisses up and down your cheek, telling you that he’ll see you after work.

“Stay home,” you whine, turning over and pulling his arm close to you.

“I wish I could,” he chuckles softly. “I promise I’ll be back tonight though. I love you.”

“I love you.”

For the first two weeks, that’s how everything went. There was barely ever a time when he wasn’t with you. The only time he stays at his own place is when he stays late for work and even then, he talks himself into coming over because he doesn’t wanna be without you.

The love making is 10x’s more amazing, there’s more trust, understanding, love, and openness. Andy’s more vocal about his fears which makes it easier for you to be more vocal about your frustrations. He more open with you which makes it easier for you to figure out what he actually needs instead of just what he wants. Yeah, you two have your little arguments from time to time, but (in a way) it makes it that much easier to pursue the relationship you two want, and it feels like a dream.

Yes, everything is picture perfect until Jacob’s birthday dinner.

“You both came,” Jacob beams, wrapping his arms around Andy first before hugging you just as tight.

“It’s nice to see you both again,” Sarah smiles shyly, waving a little.

“It’s good to see you again too,” you smile, wrapping her in a hug just as tight as you gave Jacob moments ago. “We should head inside,” you smile at Jacob who frowns in response. “Ah shit, what’s wrong?”

“So...” Jacob starts softly “Mom’s inside.”

“Jacob!” Andy groans as you grab his hand to try and soothe the irritation you both feel. “You should’ve-”

“I know, but I wanted to see you. I wanted to see all of you,” he smiles towards you. “She said she’ll be on her best behavior.”

“How many glasses of wine ago was that?” Andy questions, looking into the restaurant; spotting his ex-wife filling her glass with what’s left of the wine bottle.

“Maybe 4?” Jacob shrugs, following his Father’s gaze. “Listen, I know that her resentment on all of us is my-”

“Don’t you dare,” Andy quickly interrupts. “Her resentment is on her. You were rightfully proven innocent, and my secrets were mine to keep. She made her choices and now she has to deal with them. Don’t blame yourself for one second, Bud,” Andy smiles reassuringly at Jacob, taking his side profile in his hand. “It’s your birthday and we’re gonna have a great time no matter what.”

“Dad, if you want to-”

“I wanna stick to the plan, Jacob,” Andy smiles reassuringly at his son.

So, you all put on your brave faces and made your way inside, as you do your best to drown out your insecurities as Laurie and Andy embrace in a brief hug. However, the look on his face tells you that it means more to him than he wants to admit.

He misses her and that breaks your heart.

You do your best to ignore the pain you feel by downing drinks and making small talks with Sarah. You’re perfectly fine until Laurie decides to question your relationship with Andy.

“I really didn’t think he’d bring you tonight,” Laurie scoffs towards you before finishing off her 6th glass of wine. “How’d you talk him into it with your job?”

“I know how much she and Jacob get along, so I wanted her here. No more and no less,” Andy snaps, keeping his eyes on the lit candle in front of him.

“What’s your job?” Jacob mindlessly asks, digging into his plate of chicken penne vodka.

“I waitress,” you quickly clarify, grabbing your own glass of whiskey and almost downing it.

“I don’t see what’s so wrong with waitressing, Mom. Sarah waitresses,” Jacob defends as his gaze lands back on his Mother.

“She just doesn’t seem like the type of woman he’d fall for,” Laurie smiles innocently, before shoveling angel hair pasta into her mouth. “Ignore me.”

“I’m really happy you came, Y/N. My dad is always in a better mood when you’re around,” Jacob smiles sweetly towards you.

You know he means well but you can tell that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

“How long have you two been together?” Laurie presses as you see Andy’s grip tighten on his fork from the corner of your eye.

“We’re just hanging out.”

“You mean, having fun?”

“He means that we’re falling in love and having fun while figuring it out,” you practically snap as Andy clears his throat.

“Mom, you said you wouldn’t do this tonight,” Jacob grumbles, throwing down his fork.

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t see how this is ever gonna work,” she laughs incredulously. “What are you? 22? 23? You know her looks are gonna fade, Andy. She’s either gonna get too old or the money is gonna dry up, but no matter what, she’s gonna leave you!”

“I think that’s enough now,” you warn, not liking how anxious Andy is getting. “You know don’t know anything about anything, so I suggest you quit while you’re ahead.”

“Oh, I know more than you think. I know Andy. He’s never gonna commit to you because he’s still in love with me. You thought your little trip to Hawaii would change things?”

“That’s enough, Laurie,” Andy warns, his anger starting to show itself.

“The hell it is! You can’t even bring yourself to call her your girlfriend! What is this? High School?”

“Laurie, it’s Jacob’s birthday!” you snap, slamming your hand down on the table, causing everyone to jump. “Whatever issues you have with me, for whatever reason, this is neither the time or place to settle it. So, I suggest you stop drinking and focus on the food in front of you. If you’re incapable of doing that, I suggest you leave.”

“You think you can-”

“I just did. You’re unhappiness is your own doing. I’m not going to sit here and let you belittle me because you couldn’t decide on what you wanted. Andy loved you, you messed it up, and now he’s trying to move on. That’s it. Your little outburst isn’t going to change anything, so I suggest you shut the fuck up about it or head home,” you finish, eyebrow cocked as you clench your firsts.

Laurie looks from you to Andy before finishing her drink, grabbing her purse, and storming out.

“Jesus,” Andy mutters, throwing down his fork. “She shouldn’t be driving. Let me get her a service.”

“Dad-”

“I’ll be right back, Buddy. Everything is fine,” he smiles reassuringly at his son before running after Laurie.

“I’m so sorry-”

“It’s fine, Jacob,” you smile weakly. “It was bound to happen at some point. It’s fine.”

You and Andy do you your best to salvage what’s left of the night, but the damage is done. When all is said and done, you all awkwardly say goodnight to one another and you and Andy start on the trip home.

“I’m so sorry about that, Angel-”

“Please don’t apologize for her actions. You can’t control-”

“I should’ve known better,” he sighs as you two come to a stop light.

You look at his demeanor and notice how hard he’s gripping the wheel. You know her words got to him, but you aren’t sure just how much.

“What’s wrong, Andy?”

“After all that-”

“Don’t. I know you too well, so please don’t.”

“I don’t wanna argue with you too.”

“Then talk to me. We’ve been doing so good.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t start shutting me out. It only gets us right back to where we started,” you beg. His silence only sets your nerves off, so you start pressing. “While you were away from me, did you see her?”

“Can we please not do this?”

“So you did,” you scoff, looking out the widow. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot!”

“I swear, nothing happened. We just talked.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t wanna make you upset!”

“You’re not that fucking stupid, Andy! You had to know she’d bring it up at some point! Whether it was tonight or 6 Christmas’ later, she was bound to bring it up!”

“Listen, we had dinner, talked, cried, argued, and that was that. Yes, I told her that I still love and think about her, but I also told her that it’s time for me to let her go. I can’t be with you and still hold on to her. I told her that I’m happy with you, I love you, and that I’m moving on. She said she’d respect that and wished me all the best.”

“Yeah, cause that’s going so fucking well.”

“Sweetheart, what do you want from me? I’m being honest with you!”

“No, you being honest with me would’ve been you telling me all of shit when you first came home!”

“Yeah, because you were in such a good mood to hear it.”

“Fuck you!”

“What? What can I do to fix this? To make you happy? You wanna go away again? You want a-”

“Don’t fucking try to buy my forgiveness!” you snap. “What else do I need to do to show you that I don’t want your fucking money?!”

“You were all too happy to take it when I met you, and you enjoyed it plenty when we went to Hawaii,” he mutters, pulling up to your apartment and turning off the engine.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, I swear to Christ,” you mumble, wiping away the few tears that you accidentally let slip. “You know what? Don’t do a single fucking thing for me anymore! Don’t pay my rent, don’t take me out, don’t-”

“Sweetheart stop it. I didn’t mean it-”

“No, go fuck yourself, Andy! I’m not doing this shit all over again! I’m not her! I didn’t fucking hurt you!”

“Can we please just-”

“No! I don’t wanna see you! I don’t wanna be with you! How fucking stupid am I?! I keep doing this dance with you and I’m fucking tired of it! Tired of you!” you scream before getting out of the car and slamming the door shut. “I’m done!”

“Don’t,” he warns, getting and slamming the door shut behind. “Don’t you dare fucking say that!”

“I mean it, Andy! I’m over all this shit! I’m so fucking terrible? I’m some fucking leach?! Then don’t fucking be with me! Go be with Laurie or Mary! I don’t give a shit!” you yell as you get inside the complex.

You can feel the stares of your neighbors as you furiously push the ‘Up’ button for the elevator, but you don’t care. You’ve had enough and you deserve better. As you you step inside the elevator, your tears start to come harder as the pain in your heart becomes more and more evident. But you need to do this.

You need to quit Andy.

“You think you can just walk out on me?” Andy questions darkly, slipping into the elevator right before the door closes.

“Stop it, Andy. We’re done. Whatever the fuck this is, it’s done!”

“We’re not ever done, Sweetheart,” he states as he presses your back against the wall. “You think you can just throw us away? You think my love is something you can just get away from?” he questions before kissing the hollow part of your neck.

“Don’t,” you moan softly.

“We argue, Angel, One of the many things we’re good at,” he husks as he hoists you up, your legs doing what they always and wrapping themselves around him tight. “I said some things I didn’t mean and I’m sorry. So fucking sorry,” he promises before biting your neck.

“Andy stop it,” you whimper pathetically, hating how easily you’re giving in to him.

“Don’t ever say that again, you got that, Sweetheart?” he roughly asks as the elevator arrives at your floor.

“I’m not doing this with you again!”

“Oh yes you are.”

Andy has your clothes off and bent over the counter almost as soon as you two get into the apartment, fucking all of his frustration and anger into you from behind.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Angel,” he grunts, his grip on your tight. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I fucking hate you, I swear to God,” you moan, clawing at the counter top, loving the roughness of every thrust.

“Stop saying that, you know you don’t. Stop it, please...please don’t say it!”

“Andy-”

“You are every thing to me, Sweetheart. Everything...shit!”

“I fucking hate that I love you! Wish I could...wish I could quit you,” you moan, your release building fast. “Love you so much!”

“Let go for me, Baby! Please!”

“Fuck!” you cry out, your knees almost giving out as you get lost in the pleasure of your release washes over you. “Fill me up, Andy! I need it! Need to feel close to you!”

“Fuck Angel!” Andy grunts, his seed spilling into you as he tries to ride out both of your highs.

You both stay there for a moments, trying to come down from your highs while also trying to handle all of the emotions you both are feeling. You’re so tired of giving into him so easily, but you love him so much. The one person who makes you the happiest also makes you feel the worst.

“I know...I know keep saying I’m sorry and then doing the same shit. I swear I don’t mean it, it’s just...my initial reaction is to just to defend myself.”

“I don’t know how else to show you that I don’t want to hurt you, Andy. I just want to love. All I’ve ever wanted since this became something more is love you and care for you. I can’t do what you don’t let me.”

“I know,” he groans as he pulls out before turning you to face him. “I know that I’m the reason-”

“You keep saying that you know, but you keep doing the same shit, Andy. I can’t keep doing this with you. I love you too much and it hurts too much. I know how badly she hurt you, but I’m not her. You know me well enough to know that I would never do that.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Something’s gotta change or I have to walk away,” you sniffle out. “I’m not your punching bag, Andy.”

You softly push him away from you and slowly make your way to the bedroom. The minute you’re under the covers you just let out all of the tears you’ve been holding in.

Why can’t all of this be simpler?

Andy comes to bed a few minutes later and holds you close, and you’re all too happy to cuddle up to him. Yeah, you’re angry with him, but Andy is still your home. Even when he’s the cause of your pain, he’s still all you want.

“I don’t know why I can’t get my shit together, Sweetheart. I know I’m an asshole and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. I just wanna lay here with you.”

“Whatever you want,” he whispers softly before kissing the top of your head. “Whatever you want.”

Neither one of you says anything, but you can tell that you know there’s a change, and not for the better.

Andy pulls his regular “stay away” routine that he has after every argument you two have, the only difference this time?

You’re not trying to reel him back in.

Soon enough, the arguments become more constant, he’s staying over less, and the love making is more desperate than loving.

“When were you gonna tell me you put your two weeks in?” Andy asks, storming inside your apartment.

“Oh, look who’s here,” you mutter from the sofa.

“Y/N-”

“I told you that I want another job, Andy.”

“I thought you’d at least tell me before you did it!”

“Well, maybe I would have if you were ever here,” you shrug, still not meeting his angry gaze. “I’m not fucking arguing about this, Andy. I don’t want to be there and you keep saying that you don’t want me there-”

“Yeah, but I wanna take care of you-”

“No, you wanna control me.”

“You know that’s not true!”

“Is that something I know? Feels an awful lot like control when you try and persuade me to fucking work for you.”

“Sweetheart-”

“It’s late and I’m tired. Do whatever the fuck you want, I’m going to bed.”

“We’re not even gonna talk about this?”

“Oh, I thought we did? Or does it not count because you’re not getting your way?” you question, finally meeting his gaze as you turn off the TV. You can see all the worry, stress, guilt, and pain that he feels, but it’s become more common than not for you two to hurt one another. “That’s what I thought. Goodnight, Andy,” you sigh before getting up and making your way to your bedroom.

You know it’s the beginning of the end, but you can’t bring yourself to leave him. You keep hoping that there’s a way for you two to get back to where you were, but as arguments become louder and nights become lonelier, you’re almost completely out of hope.

However, there’s one last hope: his birthday.

“Happy Birthday!” you laugh as soon as Andy answers the phone.

“Thank you, baby,” he laughs softly. “I love you.”

“And I love you! What time do you think you’ll be heading over?”

“Oh, actually, the guys are taking me out.”

“Wait...what?”

“Yeah, they’re taking me indoor golfing or something. I’ll come by after.”

“Oh...okay then,” you say softly, biting hard on your bottom lip to hide the disappointment. You feel the tears brimming in your eyes, but you refuse to cry while on the phone with him. “Well, have fun then,” you all but mumble before hanging up.

You all but crumple to the ground as the tears start to flow freely. He knows you two had planned to spend the afternoon together, and you were planning on surprising him with go-kart tickets, because he’s been saying for weeks how he wishes he had more time, because he really wants to go. You’ve made his favorite meal and got his favorite ice cream cake. He went out of his way to hurt you this time, and you’re now more sure than ever, that you two won’t ever find your way back.

You throw out his cake and leave his made plate on the table.

You open a bottle of whiskey and take a seat on the sofa, deciding that you’re done. You’ve had enough and you’re not gonna stay around for him to hurt you any longer.

When you hear the door open at 11, you roll your eyes and keep them glued to the TV. You hear him sigh and you’re guessing that hes either seen the cake in the trash or the food on the table.

Whatever it is, you don’t care and you hope he feels like shit. You hope he’s having the worst birthday ever.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me-”

“You’re the one who said, in Hawaii, that you wanted us to spend your birthday together. That was your fucking request.”

“Y/N-”

“So I, like a fucking idiot, spend the day making you your favorite food, getting your favorite fucking cake, ready to surprise you with fucking go-kart tickets, just for you to blow me off. However, I guess that it shouldn’t have been a surprise since that seems to be the only thing you’re capable of these days.”

“That’s not true and you know it!”

“I hope you’re not here for birthday sex, because I’m a little too drunk for that,” you scoff before finishing off your drink.

“Don’t.”

“Well, what the fuck do you want, Andy? It’s obviously not to spend time with me.”

“Of course I want to spend-”

“No, because if you truly wanted to, you would have invited me out with you.”

“You know why I couldn’t,” he scowls, leaning against the table.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” you snap, finally turning your attention to him.

“You know exactly what it means.”

You can feel your heart breaking but you can’t drop it. “You said you aren’t ashamed of me.”

“I’m not, but just because I’m not doesn’t mean I can just bring you around. They all know how we met, what you used to do.”

“I’ve only ever slept with you!”

“Be that as it may-”

“I would never do that to you, Andy. Never say something like that!”

“Well, it’s not my fault you love me more than I love you,” he shrugs, but the look on his face tells you that he instantly regrets it.

“Get out!” you shout at him, finally getting off of the sofa and storming over to him.

“Y/N-”

“GET OUT!” you scream, tears flowing freely as you start to shove him.

“Baby, please just-”

“Get out, get out, GET OUT!” you scream, your hands furiously hitting him in the chest repeatedly.

Andy sighs in defeat before slowly turning around and leaving. The minute the door closes, you sink the floor and start crying uncontrollably. You love him more than he loves you? What the fuck are you even doing anymore? Why haven’t cut yourself free of him?

Because you’re a fool in love. That’s why.

You cry until you fall asleep, wanting nothing than to just talk to your Mother. You want nothing more for her to hug you tight and tell you that’ll all be okay, but like everything else in your life, what you love and crave the most, you can‘t have.

Andy waits three days before finally texting you.

My Beautiful Disaster: I know you hate me and you have every right, but please come by my office today. I wanna take you out to lunch and talk things out. I really want to work this out. I was so wrong and out of line. Please, just meet me and we’ll figure all this shit out.

You laid in bed and read the text over and over again. He’s always sorry, always trying to make it up to you, always saying what you want to hear but never actually following through.

Well, not this time. Not anymore.

You get out of bed and go through your drawers until you find one of the skimpy lingerie Andy bought for you when you two first started seeing each other. You curl your hair and apply your makeup perfectly. You put on the lacy skinny black heels he loves and look yourself over in the mirror. You need to make sure you look perfect. You grab his ratty old trench coat before grabbing your car keys and making your way out and start on your way to his job.

When you finally get there, you take a deep breath as you shut off your car. A million thoughts running through your head as you try to build up the courage to do what needs to be done.

‘It’s now or never, babe,’ you tell yourself mentally.

When you get out of the car, you make the sure the coat is tight and secure around you before making your way up the steps and inside the large and intimidating building. When you ask the receptionist for directions to Andy’s office, you don’t miss the way she looks you over, and you can feel the eyes of what feels like one hundred men on you.

‘Focus on the task at hand,’ you remind yourself.

You quickly make your way to his office and take a deep breath before knocking on his door.

“Come in,” he states softly, sounding distracted by something.

You push down the lump in your throat blink back tears before opening the door then quickly closing it behind you.

“What’s up...Sweetheart?” Andy questions, eyebrow cocked as he looks over you, his eye settling on your heels. “What’s...”

“I figured we’d just jump straight to it,” you shrug before opening the trench coat.

“W..what-”

“This is what you really want, right? To fuck me? To keep fucking me? So, lets just do it. You don’t even have to pay me for it now.”

“Y/N-”

“No Andy. You always apologize then do the same shit. I always fucking believe you, because I’m a fucking moron, and then you do the same fucking thing. But as long as you’re a good fuck, I guess I should be grateful, right? I always let you in my fucking pussy, and my fucking heart, and you just abuse the love I have for you. So, instead of you telling me shit I wanna hear, lets just jump to the part you love the most. Besides, you said it the other night; all your little buddies know exactly how we met and what I used to do. I’m your little slut, right? Your little money loving slut?”

“Sweetheart, please-”

“No. I don’t wanna hear it anymore. You don’t have to lie to me anymore. Just fuck me and get it over with. As per usual, take what you want from me and then toss me aside.”

“That’s not what I want at all,” he sobs softly. “You know I love you. I just-”

“There’s always a fucking excuse! I don’t want to cry anymore, I don’t wanna feel my heart break anymore, and I don’t wanna keep hoping for you to change. For you to love me as much as I love you. So, lets just go back to what this has always been. Sex. If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you hold me afterwards so you can feel like we actually have something special.”

“If you’ll just hear me out-”

“I’m tired of hearing you out,” you sniffle, wiping away tears. “I’m tired of believing in you, I’m tired of taking you back, I’m tired of you always making an excuse as to why you can’t just fucking be with me...I’m tired of all of it. So, if you’re not gonna fuck me, I’m gonna be going.”

“Please-”

“Bye Andy,” you sob before opening his office door and storming out, not even bothering to close the coat.

By the time you get back to your car, you’re a blubbering mess. The hardest part is about to happen, but you know that if you don’t take the next step, you’ll never be free of him.

When you get back to your apartment, you pack all of your things (and a few of Andy’s sweaters), before grabbing a pen and paper and leaving him a note. You take one final look around before placing the key to the apartment on top of the note you left for him on the kitchen counter.

It’s time for you to say goodbye to Andy for good.

Andy’s P.O.V.

How could be so stupid? How the fuck could I have said that? You love me more than I love you? That’s probably the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever told. What is it that always makes me treat you like shit? I know for a fact that there’s nothing you’d ever do to hurt me, and I just keep pushing. Pushing you to do what I want, away, towards anger...I keep fucking this up and I really fucking wish I could figure out why.

Why couldn’t I just tell you that I saw Laurie? It truly meant nothing, I just needed some fucking closure.

That night was so fucking terrible, but I’d do it all over again if it meant I could feel the sense of freedom I felt when I left the restaurant that night.

“I’m really happy to see you, Andy,” Laurie beamed at me as I took a seat across from her.

“You look good,” I smiled awkwardly. They’re so many emotions running through my mind, of course they all go back to Y/N, but I need to get through this if I want us to have any real chance.  “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Well, you said you wanted to talk-”

“I don’t wanna be rude, but I’m gonna stop you right there. I don’t want to get your hopes up and make you think we have a chance at working things out. This isn’t that at all.”

“Oh,” is all she said and for just a moment, I felt like an asshole. Then I remember my reason for doing all of this.

Y/N.

“I want to start off by apologizing to you. The last few years of our marriage was a shit show to say the least, and me being an asshole didn’t help a fucking thing.”

“It’s not like I didn’t push you to it.”

“I shouldn’t have acted out like that. I was angry, hurt, and I just wanted to hurt you. However, no matter what happened between us, you’re still Jacob’s mother and I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I let my pain bleed all over every thing and turn me into someone I don’t like. Someone I don’t recognize. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she smiled softly as the waiter approached to take our drink order.

There was a time that smile meant everything to me and I’d be lying if I said it breaks my heart with how little it means to me now.

“So, if we’re not here to talk about trying again, I’m guessing we’re to talk about her,” Laurie sighed, sitting back a little after the waiter walked off.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Andy. That I’m happy for you? That I want the best for you?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to say, Laurie. I didn’t do this to us. I fought hard as hell to save our marriage and you decided you didn’t want it anymore. I couldn’t change your mind so I lashed out. In doing so, I met Y/N and Laurie...I love her. I fucking love her so much and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Andy-”

“I still love you, Laurie. A part of me probably always will, but I can’t ever be with you again. Not after everything we’ve been through, but I wanna try with her. I want to really try,” I practically mumbled as the waiter came back with our drinks. I’m not surprised that neither of us wants a thing to drink; wanting to be as numb as possible.

“She’s just a mouth keep your cock warm, Andy. You think you love her-”

“Don’t,” I scoffed. “Don’t belittle her when you don’t know a thing about her. She is funny, smart as a fucking whip, compassionate, thoughtful, an amazing cook, loving, hard working, loyal...she’s amazing, Laurie. Jacob loves her-”

“Great.”

“I had to move on at some point and you know that.”

“I really didn’t want you to.”

“I tried to make it work with you, Laurie. I really did,” a smiled weakly, my eyes watering just a little. “We had a good run though. No one can say we didn’t have our moment in the sun.”

“We really did,” she sniffled out as wiped her eyes. “So, what made you realize that you’re really in love with this...woman.”

“I’ve known for a while, but I’ve been too afraid to commit. Then we went to Hawaii-”

“That was supposed to be our trip.”

“We were supposed to have a lot of things, babe.”

“Yeah, my bad, I fucked that up,” she chuckled humorlessly. “Anyway, you two went to Hawaii...”

“It was just perfect. The small gestures overwhelmed her and the biggest ones had her hugging me for hours. We danced, we went on adventures, we had deep and personal talks, we stayed up to watch the sunrise...what I’m about to say, I’m not saying to hurt you, but she’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Yeah, I know I look like a dirty old man, but it’s nothing to do with how old she is. If anything, that’s just a bonus. Someone like her loving someone as fucked as me...it’s unreal. She’s perfect and I’m losing her because I’m afraid. I wanted to have this dinner...I need closure, Laurie. I can’t move forward with her if I don’t have closure with you.”

“Andy-”

“Laurie, I want us to be okay, maybe even be friends, but I can’t keep feeling like my happiness is destroying you. Yeah, in the beginning, I did wanna hurt you like you hurt me, but now...I just wanna be happy again. I wanna be happy with her and not feel like it’s crushing you.”

“I guess I kinda owe you, don’t I?” she sobbed, weak smile on her face.

If only she knew how much it was tearing me apart to do this to her.

“I can....I can be nice to her,” she sniffled. “Like her? That’s not gonna happen any time soon, but I can be nice. If it lasts, I can come around to the idea of being friendly with her at some point. She makes you happy and she makes Jacob happy, so I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“Thank you, Laurie.”

The rest of the night was filled with planning and crying, trying to be civil, and coming to the conclusion that we truly are better apart than together at this point. When all was said and done, we said our goodbyes and wished each other the best before heading off.

I had planned to tell you that night, but when I got to your place and saw that you were already drunk and upset, how was I supposed to say anything? Yeah, a smarter man would have. A better man would have, but I’m neither of those things. So, instead, I just hold you tell you that I love you and I want to commit.

I tell you I love you and want to commit, and then don’t fucking do it.

Instead of being the man I wanted to be, I was a coward and ran and hid from you the moment we got into a huge argument over my fucking ex-wife.

Why the fuck did her words have to get to me? Why is this so hard for me? Why can’t I just take the fucking leap? You’re probably more terrified than I am, but you’re still waiting and hoping for me to be a better person. I keep fucking failing you and I wish I could stop.

I want to stop.

Every time I think I’m ready to commit, I remember the time I caught Laurie cheating in the home we made, in the house I bought, and chicken out. It’s easier for me to be an asshole than for me to be a boyfriend. I hear myself when we argue and I know that I’m being a complete asshole, but I’m just fucking scared and so wounded. I know I can be and do better for you, but I’ve been resorting to being a complete dickhead for so long, it’s the first thing I resort to and once I’m in the mindset, I can’t get out of it.

However, seeing you like I did today. Crying, truly believing that all I want from you is sex...what have I done to us? How was I a big enough fool to not chase after you?

Jesus, I’m such a fucking idiot.

I’m not gonna keep being this guy though. I’ll show you, and everyone else, that you’re the only one for me. You’re perfect for me and I’m decent enough for you. Things are gonna be different from here on out.

I’m gonna commit and make you the happiest woman on earth. A life without you is a life I don’t wanna live, and I hate that its taken me this long to figure it out.

“Sweetheart?” I call as soon as I unlock the apartment door. “Sweetheart, I’m finally fucking ready! I know I have a lifetime to prove...” I stop as I see the an apartment key on the kitchen counter. “No,” I whisper to myself. “She didn’t.”

I slowly make my way to the counter top, barely able to keep my balance as I hunch over the counter.

This isn’t happening. I didn’t fuck up this bad.

‘My dearest Andy,

I love you. I love you more than I love life itself. You’re the center of my universe and the reason I smile. The first thought I have in the morning and the last thought I have at night. Basically, you’re everything to me...but, I’m not everything to you. I don’t doubt that you tried, because I could see you making the effort, but in the end...it’s just not enough. I can’t keep waiting for you, Andy. I saw the picture of us on your desk and I know...I know just how much I mean to you. I know I don’t love you more than you love me, but you still said it. The words still ring as clear as day in my head. I can’t keep being the person you attack when you’re scared. I didn’t do this to you. I didn’t do this to us, and if I’m honest, I just don’t have the strength and patience anymore. I know a lot of this is on me, because I kept making excuses for you, kept coming back, and kept pretending things didn’t hurt as much as they did. You told me that I need to communicate with you and I didn’t. Anyway, I’m just dragging this out I guess...I paid the bill for this month and next month...I gotta go, baby. I can’t keep doing this with you...I just can’t. I keep saying that, but it’s true. If only you fucking knew. Please take care of yourself, I love you so much. I’m gonna miss the hell out of you and Jacob. I did take a few of your sweaters, but you probably won’t notice or miss them. Treat the next woman better, okay? Treat her the way you wanted to treat me. I truly believe we’re soulmates, we just found each other at the wrong time. Ain’t life a bitch?

All my love in this life and the next,

Y/N’

I can’t stop reading the note as I slowly sink down to the ground. You’re gone? No, you can’t be. This is just a fucking warning to get me to act right. One that I deserve. However, the fact that all traces of you are gone, has reality hitting me too hard.

You’re gone. Really fucking gone.

What the fuck have I done?

**

Andy’s been calling and texting you non-stop for the last 2 weeks, and its taken all the strength you have in you to not respond. You’ve never felt more alone in your life. Thank God for Allison, because she’s been letting you stay at her place, rent free, since you left the apartment Andy got for you as you try and figure it all out. It helps that she finally dumped Tyler, so now there’s more space for you two to just sit and wallow.

Lindsey comes over almost daily to check on the both you, giving Allison rides to work when she’s too out of it to drive, and while it is a godsend, you just wanna be left alone.

You’ve applied to a few restaurants, but your heart isn’t in anything. You just want to sulk for a bit and lick your wounds. There isn’t a day that goes by that you’re not thinking about Andy and how he’s doing. You wonder if he’s eating regularly, drinking enough water, keeping up with his exercises, sleeping enough (he’s a terrible sleeper when his anxiety is high), and if he’s getting his work done to the best of his ability.

Both Allison and Lindsey assure you that he hasn’t been at the club, but you don’t want to think about that. You don’t even let yourself think about the possibility of him being with someone else. Your main focus as of late has been to just get out of bed and at least eat once again.

“You have to get out of the house, babe,” Allison sighs as she gets in beside you.

“I just the ground to swallow me whole.”

“It’s not always gonna feel like this.”

“I love him so much and I know-”

“You deserve better, babe.”

“I don’t want better, I just want Andy.”

“Hun...oh, who the fuck is that?” Allison mutters before getting up to see who’s at the front door. “What are you doing here?” she snaps and you can’t tell whose her so mad so fast. “How did you even get my address?...I’m gonna kill Sam!”

Andy.

“It doesn’t matter that you want to see her, because she doesn’t wanna see you...I don’t care what you think! You need to leave!”

As her anger rises, and you assume Andy refuses to leave, you sigh in defeat before forcing yourself out of bed. You slide your feet into your favorite black fuzzy slippers before pulling one of Andy’s old college sweatshirts on.

Your new constant outfit.

“I’ll handle it, Allison,” you mumble, standing behind her.

“Y/N, you don’t owe him-”

“I need to do this. I can’t keep moping around your house and I need to set things straight. Hiding in your house clearly isn’t getting me anywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

“Can’t feel any worse than I do now,” you shrug, fiddling with your fingers.

Allison sighs in defeat and takes a step back. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

You keep your gaze on your feet as you make your way out onto the porch and close the door slightly behind you. You don’t even wanna think about how much of a mess you look right now. Your hair is in a messy bun, your eyes look like they’ve gone grocery shopping with all the bags underneath them, and you can’t remember the last time you weren’t crying.

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t Andy. Just don’t,” you sniffle.

There’s no way you’re gonna last long without crying.

“Please don’t make this any harder than it already is for us.”

“I’m ready now, Sweetheart. For real this time, I’m ready for any and every thing with you! I didn’t mean any of what I said that night-”

“Andy stop!” you start to cry. “You always say you don’t mean the cruel things you say, but you continue to say them! There’s no excuse for the way you’ve treated me and I’ve done nothing to deserve them! Jesus, you’re entire my world and this ids destroying me! I tried so many times to show you just how much I love you, that I would never hurt you, that I would never do what she did! I stayed when everyone else told me to leave you! I defended you when everyone called you a flaming pile of shit! I did all of this in hopes of finally getting to be with you, but what did I get instead? Lonely nights and a broken heart! You know what makes this worse? Half the shit I wanna be mad at you for, I can’t! You never lied to me about how you were feeling, you always said you didn’t know if you’d ever be ready for a relationship, and you told me time and time again that fear wins every single fucking time. But I was hopeful...so fucking hopeful,” you sob, wiping your eyes.

“I’m ready now,” he cries. “Losing you...I’m ready, Y/N. We can take this at whatever pace you want, but please just-”

“It’s just too little too late,” you sniffle, mustering up all the courage you have to finally look up and meet his mournful gaze. God, this is tearing you apart. “Please don’t call me anymore. Don’t call me. Don’t try and see me...I need to...we need to let one another go.”

“You don’t-”

“Yes I do, Andy. I mean it no matter how much it pains me. We can’t keep doing this toxic little dance. The highs are amazing, but lows are hell and I just don’t have the strength for it anymore. I don’t want to keep trying to be perfect for you, just so you can make me feel like I’m some shameful secret.

“I’m the one who isn’t perfect for you.”

“You were everything I wanted and more. It just took too long for you to see it,” you sob, using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe your eyes,

“Y/N,” Andy begs, taking hold of your wrist softly “if you could just please-”

“I love you, Andy. I love you more than you’ll ever know. Please take care of yourself.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I’ve gotta go, baby. I’ve gotta move on and so do you,” you smile weakly. You pull him close and kiss him softly on the lips. “I’m gonna miss you,” is all you say before turning and stepping into the house then instantly closing the door behind you.

You can’t hear anything Allison is saying as she rushes to your side and wraps you in a tight hug. All you can hear and feel is your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces all over again. You want nothing more than to open the door and tell Andy you don’t mean it. You wanna tell him that you’ll take him back and be with him like you’ve been longing for.

You just want Andy.

As you cry into Allison’s shoulder, you keep telling yourself mentally that you made the right choice. That it’ll stop hurting after a while and you’ll love again. However, with the pain that you’re feeling, you can’t believe any of what you’re thinking. What if you only ever get one real love in this life?

What if you just closed the door on yours?

~~

taglist: @whxre4cevans​, @fuckingbye​, @maroonsunrise83​, @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​, @autumnrose40​, @emerald-evans​

[postal-ech]

God dammit I have become obsessed with Lisa the Painful and more specifically its fandom's ability to make the HARDEST and WILDEST songs available.

I swear to god its like finding a treasure trove of this shit, its akin to finding Undertale's fan OST...thing, I dunno the technical name for it but its like its whole own genre

Like, take for example the works from Maddie Doktor, who has a few tracks in the fan game Lisa the Pointless: Downtown Mechanic (essentially a swap AU of Lisa the Pointless for the undertaleheads out there) You want some hard ass tunes? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQjuDd58U1Y Want some real ETHEREAL TYPE SHIT? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIi--DYVwrs WANT A FUCKING TRACK THAT SOUNDS LIKE HOMIE IS FIGHTING IN SOME MARTIAL ARTS FILM??? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nc-CQ_6acjA

I SWEAR TO GOD its like CRACK, and she's not the only one up-and-coming in the Lisa fandom

My favorite artist has to be Cane B, who does these weird and wild remixes alongside original soundtracks for example, there's their version of 1000 faces of rage from Painful's definitive edition that just go SO HARD https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5x9CrCOILGk or their more original tracks for a project called Lisa the Joyful: Growing Pains https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFpdTnN2rvw

Another one who has been lost to time, save for a working archive out there on discord is one legendary AdmiralHippie/SpaceHippie, who I mentioned in a previous post covering Space Station 13. His work is mostly known within the fan work Lisa the Vegaful, though he has a lot of original tracks that work just as well in a fan work If anyone is interested, I'd recommend looking up the working archive of his music, or looking DO BE AWARE THOUGH, As far as I am aware, SpaceHippie/AdmiralHippie has requested that his original works be pulled from existing fan games/not to be used, given an incident where he had wiped his youtube channel alongside his existing library from youtube, so I will not post the files of his OST out on here to respect his wishes, but I still highly recommend giving them a listen and if ya do see him out there, give him some well wishes.

A third one to keep an eye out on is another up-and-comer who posts more hip-hop-esque mixes, goes by the name of Broken Sword on youtube. His work, at least as far as I'm aware, will be showing up in Vegaful's Sample Update, which looks to update the original Lisa: The Vegaful fan game to add more animations, and act as replacements for AdmiralHippie's tracks. So far he has two albums of lisa fan music out, with the second one being posted a week ago around the time of this post. DEFINITELY give him a look when you can https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ygwXrKdNmvQ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t94ntyYm6dQ

There are so many more artists out there that produce some TOP TIER shit for Lisa if you ask me, from Taitoki with his work on Lisa: The Pointless and its up-coming Monster Update (ONE SPRITE A DAY, BABY!!!), ChaCos, who's work extends into the fan-mod of Pointless known as Scholar of the Wilbur Sin (SOTWS), Baursach of Lisa: The Timeless/Lisa: The Fool fame alongside the creator of the Timeless fan game Torrington (Who had put out his own album not too long ago, GIVE IT A LISTEN, ITS HIGH QUALITY SHIT)

God I can go on and on, but the point of this Hyperfixation post is to highlight some SINCERE TALENT in this fandom, and its genuinely what keeps me as invested into Lisa as much as the official thing, and ESPECIALLY given what we've gotten out of Definitive Edition as is with Austin Jorgensen/Widdly 2 Diddly's work on the OST. Its again like rediscovering Undertale and Deltarune's weird but FASCINATINGLY GOOD underground fan genre out there

[bonefall]

What all the posts are about the FIRST BOOK. I haven’t read dotc but I thought that you were at least on the second or third book. How is it already gross??? How do the writers even manage that already???

To follow this up, what scenes or characters have you actually liked so far?

I WAS ONLY ON SUN TRAIL UNTIL TODAY. All of those posts were JUST Sun Trail.

Some stuff I do unironically enjoy;

Moon Shadow. He's such a loser, it's really funny.

The extra bits of culture we got about the Tribe are enjoyable, like their burial rituals. I wish there was more of it.

Jagged Peak is really cute, when he's little he kinda reminds me of Squirrelpaw! I like how self assured and rash he is.

I do like Wind Runner, I like how rough she is at first and how she warms up over time.

Bumble!! I like how Gray Wing underestimates her and she keeps showing him up. She doesn't get accosted because she doesn't threaten anyone's hunting, she makes friends fast, she seems like she's too chunky to climb but is better at it than he is. It's a shame what's inevitably coming, she's such a delight :(

I think Clear Sky's early appearances are fun set up, I would enjoy how it establishes him as controlling without being villainous, if it was Actually building up to a no-redemption villain arc.

There's also the occasional scene of general problem solving, like the eagle plan and the birth of tunneling, which I'm always fond of.

Aside from my legitimate, important issues with the problematic elements of the narrative itself, I think my biggest problem with this book on a technical level is the amount of "Quicktime Events." There's an insane amount of moments where predators spawn quickly with no buildup, and the characters have to hide or run around aimlessly. It gets old fast.

But in terms of real problems, I can't get over how cruel and pointless the deaths of Bright Stream and Storm were... it's worse than I remembered.

[cadybear420]

Cadybear's Reviews- The Haunting of Braidwood Manor

Welcome to the second official Cadybear's Reviews post! Today I'll be talking about The Haunting of Braidwood Manor, which I have ranked on the "Gold Tier" at 8 stars out of a possible 10.

I’ve played this about 4 times. Mainly because I needed the diamonds and this one is 6 chapters, so it’s easy mining. Nevertheless, I quite enjoyed this one. 

The story was pretty linear, but it was interesting and compelling with memorable characters, and it works fairly well as creepy paranormal horror. And a few points do even make me want to cry. However, I do have two nitpicks. Like, how did MC make the connection between her brother’s death and Braidwood Manor? Unless I missed something even after playing the story 4 times, it felt very out-of-nowhere and unexplained. And how come Eleanor is the only one that can be brought back to life but not the rest of the Waverly siblings? That’s not fair at all. But for the most part, those are pretty minor issues. 

It’s also kinda neat that we have a story where the main LI is female while the male LI is sidelined. Actually, I wouldn’t even say Victor is sidelined– he’s straight up a total non-character. I mean, I’m not a fan of sidelining LIs at all, but considering how so many books have treated female LIs now, this one is at least a rare change of pace. And I say this as someone who is very wlm. And I say “wlm” and not “straight” because quite simply, I don’t think I’m really straight. And Eleanor Waverly is one of many female Choices characters who I can thank for helping me realize that. Seriously, it’s super adorable how she’s supposed to be this cold stoic ghost, but then gets really blushy and flustered when you flirt with her. 

Though, as much as I appreciate the sapphic ghost romance taking the full spotlight… this book is rather pointlessly genderlocked. And probably the first ever Choices book that I would deem as such*. I mean, all you’d really need to change is the dialogue in that one set of choice options when Clarissa asks for help writing her letter. 

In the canon version, Clarissa assumes you know how to write letters to guys, and you get an option to say you’re actually into girls, and then she says how she’s cool with it and she considers sapphism very sophisticated if you choose said option. For a playthrough where you’ve chosen a male MC, she could maybe assume that you’d know what guys like to hear from girls, you could get an option to say you’re actually into guys, and she’d say it’s very sophisticated if you choose said option. Easy as that.

And as far as I’m concerned, Eleanor is only canon sapphic and not lesbian (but do correct me if I’m wrong). THOBM, I am sad that you are the start of the pointless genderlocking trend /jk

*Technically ROE is the first Choices book I could consider pointlessly genderlocked, but I’m a little more uncertain on that because there’s a handful of scenes that would need tricky coding changes such as the bachelorette party/girls night scenes. Or even before that is TFS, but I’m also a bit dubious about calling it pointlessly genderlocked because Kaitlyn is a lesbian and has a whole arc revolving around her coming out about it to her parents– but people have said that aside from Kaitlyn, the story and MC are very gender neutral, so do with that what you will. There’s also LH, but I’ll say my thoughts on its genderlocking in its own review.

So it didn’t have anything that really wowed me, but it’s still a great story that holds a very special place in my heart.

[la-principessa-nuova]

I need someone in my life other than my family. Right now the only people in my life outside of transactional relationships like coworkers (I have had actual friends at work before, but not now) are my siblings, who I talk to most weeks, and my parents, who I vary between seeing a few times a week and daily.

But outside of them I have nobody, which makes me feel very dependent on them for emotional support, even though they’re not good at that. And the truth is most of the stress in my life is from them, and the rest is from things I need to unlearn from dealing with them.

Strap in for another long rambly venting post.

For whatever reason, my parents are extremely judgy and I’m only starting to realize the ludicrous extent of it now. In preparation for coming out, to make it less jarring, I started showing my hand a little (I mean that as a playing cards metaphor, not literally) and trying to allow femininity wherever it didn’t cross the line into presenting femininely.

But the thing is, my parents’ line for what I’m allowed to be is a perfect trace around what I’d been. I started off so simply by just wearing a shirt with some bright colors. It wasn’t even anything out of the ordinary, like I see men wearing shirts like this any day I go out in public, but they absolutely freaked out about it.

Like I walk in and immediately get the comments where someone says something looks bad without saying it looks bad, so i do the normal thing of explaining it as I’m trying to wear more color and that I knew they’d be surprised by it but basically politely asking them to get over it and move on. So any reasonable person would think, “OK, I told this person I don’t like their shirt. I can move on.” But they didn’t.

My mom then proceeded to refuse to drop the topic the whole time I was there and keep trying to explain why it’s objectively bad and trying to reason that her opinion was fact, but my dad just gets in this bad mood where he’s grumpy about it and any time I say something to him he makes a joke or comment about the shirt before responding.

So after a bit of waiting for them to get over it, I went home and cried.

So then a couple months later I’m now privately wearing a more feminine pair of glasses I prefer but wearing my old pair when I leave home so my parents don’t see the new ones. But I’m getting sick of my old ones because they feel more masculine to me now (even though both pairs are technically labeled as gender neutral) and because honestly the style is about 15 years out of date at this point.

Side note: I just went to look up something about my glasses and on the manufacturer’s website, they’re listed as women’s glasses, but on the site I bought them from, they’re listed as gender neutral and have a photo of a male model wearing them. Either way, I think gendering of glasses is pointless and I’m only even looking into it now because I’m trying to be technically right for when I argue with my parents that I have the right to wear the glasses I like.

The only thing explicitly feminine about my new glasses is that they’re rose gold colored, and even then only fading into rose gold on the sides and a bit of the front, with the rest being normal gold colored, so after a while I decided I wanted to just get a second pair in the regular gold color and start wearing those instead.

So today they arrived and I was very excited, but I was going to see my mom at an event in public and didn’t want to have to deal with her reaction during the event, so I didn’t wear them until afterwards, when I went to my parents’ house. Again, I anticipated some initial comments. After the last time I even anticipated some hostility, but they were just blatantly rude on a level I don’t understand. Like I couldn’t even believe they were like that because if I was ever like that to somebody in front of them they would yell at me for it.

Once again, my mom tried to explain why she’s not liking them as an objective truth, but my dad was even worse, just repeatedly talking about how he didn’t like them. This time, I pushed back and said basically, “OK, I figured you wouldn’t like them, but I do, so you can stop saying it,” and even in response to that, after saying how he just can’t help but point out the truth, he continued repeating himself about how he just doesn’t like them.

Like, sure, if he really does not have the self-control to not say when he doesn’t like something, fine. Whatever. I can deal with him saying it once. But if someone has explicitly told you they’ve heard your opinion and please stop saying it over and over because it’s hurtful and saying it again is just bullying at this point, it is bad enough to argue that it isn’t bullying, but to keep saying it? IT’S A PAIR OF GLASSES, and they’re on MY FACE.

I found myself in the situation I often find myself in when I have a bad dream where my dad is being a jerk, where I just want to scream back in his face and swear and let out all the anger I have towards when he acts like this. In the dreams I always do it and it feels so good, but in real life, I think of the consequences.

I wanted to shout in his face that he can take his opinions and fuck off, go home, and block his number. But I had just taken the first bite of my burger so instead I said if that’s how he’s going to be, I was going to finish my burger and go home and he can deal with \<family issue he asked me for help with recently that was absolutely asking too much\>, and it didn’t have the same punch behind it.

And I left out the worst part. Lately my dad keeps looking at me with this look like he’s worried and disappointed about something. I’ve been wondering if either he saw something and found out I’m trans or is starting to suspect it from the things I’ve done to stop limiting myself to the tiny box they’ve put me in.

In response to my glasses, after telling me they looked like they’re for girls and me explaining that they’re gender neutral just like all my previous glasses, he looked me dead in the eye and asked, “Are you gay and not telling me?” Not the usual “If you’re gay, you can tell us,” or the preferable, “If you’re gay, we don’t have a problem with it.” It was “Are you gay and not telling me?” with a face like he was interrogating me about something I’d done wrong.

In the confusion after that question and me acting offended by it rather than answering and my mom chiming in that it’s not an appropriate thing to say to someone in response to their glasses, I managed to avoid answering, and managed to just brush it off as him being mean about my glasses when he asked again (exactly the same wording).

Ignoring how NOT OK all of it is, and I was after this for a moment, I want to unpack why this question is so difficult for me in particular. As a closeted trans lesbian who has trouble lying especially to my parents, this is a very difficult question to be asked for many reasons:

If I say yes, the implication is that I am a man who likes men, which is just completely wrong.

If I say no, I’m lying, which is completely the right thing to do, but especially in the shock of the moment I can’t handle.

If I explain the actual truth, I have to come out as trans, which is especially difficult when my dad fully buys into the transphobic conspiracies, and on top of that doesn’t even remotely understand any of it to begin with, because even before this recent push of extra transphobia, back when he tried to be accepting, he got confused and would ask things like, “Trans woman? Does that mean boys dressed as girls or girls dressed as boys?”

The fact that the question is always gay and not trans makes me wonder why they always say it that way. Because even when there’s implied acceptance in the question, it’s still acceptance of being a gay man. Which is less of a technicality than you might think, because their acceptance of gay people is way further along than their acceptance of trans people. So it makes me wonder are they thinking trans in their head but saying gay so they don’t promise acceptance they can’t give but can ask the question? Or is the idea of me being trans so unthinkable that they see me being feminine and wonder if I’m gay? Or do they still think trans is a type of gay?

It’s hard to open up to people who have historically been so judgy of me, and especially when they’re in the middle of judging me.

It’s hard to open up about this stuff in general because my whole life I’ve avoided talking about my romantic feelings and gender IRL at all as a result of being conditioned from a young age that if I mention a crush on a girl I will be teased for it (and in my dad’s case sometimes within earshot of a girl that I consider a friend and he started teasing me about when I mentioned she exists, starting when i was too young to even like people yet anyway), and being rewarded for being more masculine and teased for being more feminine.

It just makes me want to cut off all contact when they do things like this, because every day I spend so much effort trying to live up to their expectations and so much effort trying to unlearn that these expectations because they’re overly harsh compared to what most people think (e.g. never wear any pants other than jeans, khakis, khaki shorts, or swim trunks), and on top of that I have to mask my gender and mask my neurotype, and it’s just too much to keep up with, and if they weren’t in my life, I could just deal with the issues that are actually issues.

It’s also just like, if this is their reaction to new glasses, what are they going to say when I come out?

I don’t know if that’s the end of this rant or not, but I’m falling asleep typing now so I guess that’s it.

[gaykarstaagforever]

The 1990s comics "Rob Liefeld Revolution", along with the speculation boom that created AND immediately destroyed it, produced a lot of poorly-aged comic book jank. We know this.

What many of us do not know is that it also inspired a similar sea-change in that market that is always eager to rip off whatever is currently making the most money: Christian book stores.

Which brings us to Eternal Studios 1993 Archangels: The Saga.

(Just a note: this ENTIRE book is printed on slippy magazine-cover paper. I took these pictures in a room barely lit by a distant lightbulb and STILL couldn't get rid of the glare. Never before have I worked so hard on something so utterly pointless, and I post comics content on Tumblr dot com. God bless my phone for doing its best to make any of these even bearable.)

This "saga" apparently lastest exactly 9 issues, before the company, Eternal Studios of Houston, Texas (because of course) went bust. Or so I assume. I haven't found any information on them online, and I Googled for way longer than I'm willing to admit.

Archangels: The Short Saga is the story of a group of men who are given metal armor and vague superpowers by God to fight demons, or something. This is just the first issue and I've never seen any of the others, and this is just the origin story of one of the guys, so I don't know. And I won't be finding out, because a) the Internet doesn't know what this is, and 2) any of the physical copies of these cost between $30 and $60 online. Because Evangelical Christianity is an eternal grift, ever since it was started by an unemployed man who claimed to be a wizard, but then suspiciously didn't use any of his powers to stop himself from getting tortured to death. And then his 12 unemployed friends decided they REALLY didn't want to go back to work.

This comic fits well into the religion invented by those people, in that whatever their God is doing here, it doesn't make a lot of sense. He already has an army of angels who battle demons. Why does He need to empower human men to do it, too?

The art here is...well. Given the era, it is fine. It is a step above the typical Liefeld, in that basic human anatomy is understood and replicated. The most distracting thing is the mid-90s digital coloring, which absolutely loves that lensflare.

See?

Also, and I want to be clear here, "good" and "bad" assessments of art are, to me, vaguely technical determinations. Like, art can be good, but a book can still be stupid and boring. Conversely, art can be bad, but can still be used in a way that is rad as hell:

And if the 90s - in comics, and in general - are notable for one thing besides Nirvana and Friends, it is how radical to the MAX everything was. We were not doing subtle nuance in 1993.

I got this book as a gift in like 1997 (it is a 1996 "second printing"), and I loved these splash pages. I was about 5 years into comics at that point, but with limited access in my area and under the yoke of the Assemblies of God church, so this was edgy and cool to me at 15. I had many bad Christian comics at that time, and this wasn't one of them. So kudos on that...?

It isn't even badly written. It is vaguely preachy, but specifically about how drunk driving is bad, and I'm not about to argue that point, even if you're only saying that because JESUS.

The blue-and-orange metal suit man from the above screamy splash page becomes that because he is the shotgun passenger in this car (I think). He gets killed in this crash, and the Angel of Death harvests all the souls except his, because God needs him to be Metal Angel Superman. Because of...protests? And gang crime?

Evangelical Christians who live in the suburbs conceive of evil as exactly two things, icky hippie protests and urban gang violence. This was true in 1993, and is true now.

They also only know about "wild parties" from tracts Jack Chick published in the 1960s. Note how these cool 90s young people are smoking cigars and drinking brandy from Old Fashioned glasses.

Overall, as an intro to a series, this is fine. Weird metal He-Men are fighting the Devil in the name of God, and there have certainly been worse ideas, and worse introductions to them. But it also hardly encourages anyone to want more of whatever this is. Like, it's an American Evangelical Christian comic: even if there ARE any fight scenes, everything will end with some speech about how Jesus is better than pills and gangs, and some brawny white man in a polo shirt will do the Sinner's Prayer, then probably marry his best (blonde) girl. They all have one note, even if they're playing that note during the heady days of the 90s comics wasteland.

There is exactly one short video on YouTube about this book, and the guy is way too generous. Have you ever read this? Are you, along with me and that guy, one of the 10 people who remember this comic?

Those ten people include the three guys who made it.

God, that fucking slippy paper.

Paying premium prices for this shit is probably why they went bust.

[mistbow]

Love Umbrella

It’s still technically Spring, but it’s almost Summer soon (about one month until early Summer, at the time of writing this post). And when Summer comes, it’s gonna be tsuyu (梅雨) or rainy season where samidare (五月雨) falls. So it’s too early to talk about this, because the “5th month” referred to in the word is not May (yet I see a lot of people mistranslated it as “May shower” despite of that, and this spurred this post anyway lol), but the fifth month in Wareki (和暦), which means sometime in June this year, but hey. You don’t need any particular reason to talk about something, after all.

But anyway. You see, the [Japanese] official hub for Tales is Tales Channel+, and they have this fun little corner for members where they can do various activities, such as trivia quizzes, matching cards minigame, and public opinion poll, and we’re gonna talk about the last one specifically here. Basically, every month they hold two polls (each for first half and second half of the month) where you can participate, in which the subject/question and options are decided by the official side (so you can’t enter your own answer).

For the first half of June 2022 (yes, it was barely a year ago), the question was: “梅雨の時期、相会傘が似合いそうな2人は？” which I would translate as “During the rainy season, which pair would look good under a shared umbrella (相会傘, ai ai gasa)?” (and I know this might seem oddly random to some, but I will explain the cultural context right after this).

The results were:

Cress & Mint: 31.9% of the votes

Sorey & Mikleo: 26.4% of the votes

Lloyd & Colette: 12.4% of the votes

Before I begin to explain the cultural context, I would like to say that among all the options they gave, Sorey and Mikleo are the only one that is not M/F, yet they finished at 2nd place.

“Shared umbrella” is a really crude translation of “ai ai gasa” (“相合傘”) because it absolutely doesn’t retain the romantic implications of the phrase. Anyone remotely familiar with the Japanese language knows that “love” in Japanese is “ai” (“愛”), so 相合傘 can also sound like 愛・愛・傘. It’s seen as a romantic gesture for two people to share an umbrella. Aside from this, “相合” is also more than just “sharing”—it’s when two people do things together, being equals.

(Source)

Now I hope it’s obvious enough why “shared umbrella” has become an image for two people being in love in Japan.

It’s still crazy to me that the official side even considered Sorey and Mikleo as an option here, the only same-sex option, and they managed to be 2nd place, just below the OG Tales hero/heroine pair (Cress and Mint, good for them!), and winning against another pair of childhood sweethearts (Lloyd and Colette, also good for them!). Congratulations for all three, lol.

I admit, I don’t like it when Sorey and Mikleo are reduced to just romance only and I don’t even mean this in a “romantic love is shallow (at best) or icky (at worst)” (I even believe that romantic love can become one of the most beautiful, purest things ever to exist in this world) but more that since they’re meant to be a symbol of humans-seraphim coexistence, I believe they can’t be limited to just one label. They’re family, they’re best friends, they’re rivals, they’re Shepherd and Sub Lord, they’re partners, they’re the right and the left, they’re the physical and the spiritual, they’re two halves of one whole... their bond encompasses every one of those and even more. They are there to show the limitless possibilities of what a human and a seraph can be when together, so trying to say what they are exactly is kind of pointless to me. But still. I don’t deny things like this lol, I’m a チョロい person after all.

[coolbeansbuddyofmine]

Helurrrr

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

yasmeanie <3,

well, i'll get to it then. the rainbow is answered so i'll just do the other two! i will /try/ to be concise but again, no promises.

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

considering who's asked this question, i suppose the fun answer would be vibes. and i guess that encapsulates what is the most important part to me---the mood, the tone, the themes they just need to feel right to me. i personally enjoy writing more emotional, character study-esque, introspective fics which is partially from my literature background in literary analyses. don't get me wrong, plot and characters and world-building is fun and all, but i think the emotional crux of the fic is most important to me which is why my tags are less technical or setting-based, and more like 'angst' or 'hurt/comfort' which tends to deal with the emotional gravitas of the work.

i think part of this is done through figurative language, so language is important to me. i think, first and foremost, i'm a poet and that translates to my prose and my fics, which tend to be more poetic, metaphorical filled with grandeur; purple prose if you will.

so yay emotions!

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

oh fun!

so i have adhd and ive been working on multiple projects at once (as per usual, typical coolbeans honestly)

and here are the final chapters of my two favorite unfinished multichaps currently (with blurbs!)

so this is chapter 8 of the office au i've been writing for f4! i'm pretty far through but im still sorting out some plot details and trying to find time to write it all!

so this is my uber-fave (and only) fiery priest fic that im hella obsessed with right now and i'm soooo close to finishing chapter 4 i just need to power through for a couple hours and i should be done.

as for my up and coming work(s), i have lots of fun things !

this is for my despised beloves strangers again the show i cant get enough and it ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it. i want to give my baby hara the justice she deserves bc everyone in that show did her dirty and i will redeem her myself so be it. i said fuck canon and redid the ending as i deserve to

this is lawschool fic bc i saw something on pinterest and was inspired. it's all fluff pointless romance really.

this one i've had in my reserves since december when i watched the show and i WAS obsessed bc my man yim siwan needs to portray more green flag cuties but i also wanted horny daebeom

these two are what i like to call my sister fics. they're the folklore and evermore if you will. the sidecouple angst in two different flavours. if you've read beware the villainess, the first is like where she finally manages to get him freed, a post canon work, and the second as the title states, is canon divergence and still angsty but more adultier flavoured. more hurt.

i love love yona and yohan from beware the villainess this is them in case u dont know they are my favorite grumpy saintess queen x sunshine wizard simp

i've been really into manhwas since early last year (honestly if u follow me dedicatedly anywhere on social media, you'd probably already know this) and i have some i want to write for!

love,

rosey posey <3 (coolbeans/ro)

link to the original post if anyone else wants to ask me more! i'm finally back (proper) for the better i think <3 ask me more things im currently accepting prompts <3 !!!

[unboundpower]

You and Me - CH 4

I didn't proofread this because I wanted to finish & post it asap since it's overdue, so sorry in advance if you find any weirdly-structured sentences or redundant word usages. The general gist of the chapter should be "perceivable" either way. Maybe in the future I'll go back, do revisions and update this. I'll add an addendum if I do.

No matter if it was scorching or freezing, he couldn’t abandon his daily task of looking after the Son family farm. Its matriarch would destroy his eardrums with her yelling if she even had a slight suspicion he was shirking his duties. Though, the Saiyan definitely did want to certain days…

Toiling away wasn’t the issue, but the fact that he was stepping in the same old footsteps figuratively and literally of a particular man never ceased in glaring at him. He often had to remind himself that he was doing it for the sake of Chi Chi and…he supposed their youngest son, even if boredom and at worst frustration begun to eat away at his thoughts.

Then again, when weren’t they plaguing him? Vegito couldn’t recall the last time he felt any significant enjoyment at any point, after his battle against that twisted Kai. Yet, he couldn’t in good conscious say that he had fun during that time. Zamasu wasn’t even all that tough, and the weight of what was at stake was too distracting anyway.

A gust of chilling wind blew past, stirring his bangs and taking the man out of his daydreams. Looking up, he noticed that the grey clouds had bunched up together even more, further darkening the sky and casting a rather gloomy atmosphere. If it was any colder, he could believe it would start snowing in the next few seconds. He still found it best to quit for today; the soil had enough management and new seeds had long since been planted. He wasn’t in much of a mood to stick around.

In the large shed standing some distance away from the fields, the tools were re-stored by Vegito and he made sure to lock the structure when he was done. He made the mistake of forgetting and leaving without doing so, regardless of how pointless he believed it was to begin with. Up on this mountain miles away from any civilization, it was only the Son family living here. The only visitors they got were wild animals, and unless a bunch of boars suddenly thought to start their own farm, it wasn’t like there was the possibility of their equipment getting stolen.

Vegito knew better than to argue with Chi Chi though. It was always a waste of time and energy in the end.

The area became a distant blur as he rose into the air and flew off. His destination was West City, or rather, the outskirts of it. There, hidden within the mountainous forest terrain, was a small capsule house that was the closest thing he could call home.

He technically shouldn’t even have it, but Bulma was always the sort to rant and rave when things weren’t going her way…or people didn’t bend to her whims. Vegito was very annoyed when she threw a box of capsules at him during a verbal dispute between them sometime ago, but seeing as she never took them back or even asked for them, why would he look a gift horse in the mouth? A sheltered place with a bed sure beat sleeping on the ground, in a cave, or in a tree.

Entering the house and shutting the door behind him, Vegito entered his bedroom, briefly stopping to stare discontentedly at his dirtied visage in the mirror on his dresser. The stomach-turning feeling of humiliation surfacing caused him to quickly turn away, and his brown tail to whip about behind him. Pushing it down, he focused on cleaning himself up. After being out in the cold, a hot shower sounded pleasant.

~

Around 30 minutes later, Vegito crashed onto the living room couch, freshly groomed and clothed in casual wear. Lying back and taking a moment to breathe in, the silence of the compact room dawned on him. This time, he didn’t care enough to turn on the TV and put it onto a random channel he never watched. But, typically when he was left entirely alone to his thoughts, they surely took advantage of the opportunity.

First, his perpetual sense of boredom shone far more brightly now. The memories of events long gone played in the shadows of his mind. What he wouldn’t give to find someone he could fight against, someone powerful who would challenge him, but…there was literally no one on the planet who could.

Something that would be as equally engaging was he getting to train with the universe’s Angel once more, but that wasn’t a possibility right now. Whis and the Destroyer God he babysat haven’t visited the planet in over a month. Bulma had a device she could use to contact him, but she either didn’t feel like doing it or misplaced it, so he couldn’t rely on her.

Vegito was left to try and improve on his own, be it through exercise or image training sessions, but neither could ever compare to true combat. His Saiyan blood longed for it, the thrill that never let him down…alas, all he could do was deal with it. Some days, it was ok. Others…he could swear his sanity was slowly crumbling away.

Unconsciously, his fingers were tapping erratically against the couch. In seconds, it was like the silence deafened his ears. Was he imagining it, or were his ears truly ringing…?

He shook his head, and sharply sat up. Vegito reached for the TV remote-

*bzzzz*

-and froze. On the coffee table, his phone vibrated before stopping. It took a moment to set in, but he realized he must have received a text message. A rarity. Picking it up, he unlocked the device and searched for that messaging app he needed to open.

[ Amita > Hey. What are you up to right now? ]

A noise of confusion rumbled from his throat, and he stared at the screen with a furrowed brow. Recognition settled across his features in the next instant, as he recalled the name and the face attached to it. Her…Amita. His memories came together to show what had occurred between them a day ago. She had asked for his number…for some reason. Right.

And, he gave it to her. For some reason. He still didn’t have a decisive answer as to why. Even so, he used a finger to slowly tap a reply to send. He wasn’t used to sending texts, just answering calls…

[ > Nothing. Sitting around, bored ]

Autocorrection made the grammar intelligible. He waited, but another text came just as he blinked.

[ Amita > Do you want to meet up at a café? Hang out for a while? ]

He blinked. A rather sudden request, but…he couldn’t think of a reason to say no. Plus, his curiosity of the woman has now resurged. If they were to hang out, then maybe they could have a chat.

[ > Sounds better than what I’m doing. Which café? ]

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It normally was a pain that he had to, should he choose to not use his capsule car, descend from the sky to walk places in public. Flying was so much faster than sticking to a sidewalk and waiting for traffic signals to allow passage, but on this occasion he felt a little thankful for it. It gave him some time to get his bearings in order.

Vegito stepped over a crosswalk, intently looking out beyond the crowd of passersby to locate the café Amita informed him of. It was apparently a calm place that normally didn’t have customers flooding it, and the cheap menu had quality food to offer. Sounded decent enough to him. He never liked being in a closed off space, surrounded by a bunch of strangers.

He also didn’t have that much cash on hand to spend on anything that wasn’t groceries. And even that was pushing it.

The Saiyan made sure to watch the street corners, and did finally spot the sign Amita described to him. Loosening the scarf around his face, he used his free hand to pull one of the double doors of the establishment open, and eagerly soaked in the warmth that rolled across his skin. Surveying the tables and booths, he saw that there was indeed hardly any customers around. Most of the café was empty, allowing him to easily spot who he was supposed to meet up with.

She was sitting alone at a booth towards the back, leaned back and gazing out of a window at the street. Vegito wasn’t sure when she got there or how long she’s been waiting, but it’d be best to not keep her waiting. He was curious exactly why she wanted to see him; he’s been curious…

“Hello sir. What would you like?” The cashier greeted him with a cheerful smile as he approached. Vegito took a moment to look over the pastries and other baked goods displayed in the long glass case next to the counter, registering in the moment that he wasn’t actually too hungry. It wouldn’t hurt to grab a few things to snack on at least.

“I’ll have…two blueberry muffins.” A glance at the chalkboard menu presented behind the cashier revealed the drinks available. “And some hot chocolate.” It was even colder outside compared to this morning, and though he could flare his ki to easily warm himself, he had the hunch doing that in public wouldn’t be wise. So, a warm beverage was the next best thing. He didn’t care much for tea, and disliked coffee.

“Sounds good! Would you like a topping for the hot chocolate? Whipped cream, marshmallows…?”

“Nah.”

“Ok. I’ll get everything together for you in just a moment…” The woman assembled his order within the next minute, placing a sealed cup and two wrapped muffins before him. “That’ll be 450 zeni.”

It was a good thing he remembered to grab his wallet before he left. Reaching down into his left pocket, Vegito opened it and paused for a second to count out the amount.

“Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy.”

Turning away from the counter with his purchase in tow, he walked towards Amita’s booth. She was still staring out of the window, and now that he was closer, he could make out the half-lidded expression she maintained. Because of that, and her lopsided frown, she looked awfully….

Melancholic? Vegito raised a brow, but she turned towards him upon surely hearing his footsteps growing in volume, and that air about her was swiftly gone. While he didn’t quite know what to make of it, it was such a meager thing that wasn’t his business anyway, so he saw no point in calling attention to it.

“Thanks for the invite. This place doesn’t seem bad.” He slid onto the cushion seat facing opposite of her, and laid his items on the table. He could see that she had ordered a cinnamon roll and a beverage for herself. Directing his gaze back up, both of their eyes met in direct contact. Amita blinked rapidly and turned her face away towards the table.

“No problem. This is the only café I ever bother with.” She responded before taking a sip of her drink. Despite the fact that she was definitely staring at him just now, he was amused by the show of shyness on her part. Then again, in the past few encounters they’ve had, Amita had already given off the impression of not being the sociable kind of person.

Which just further made her seeming interest in HIM all the more confusing. In spite of that, he was only encouraged to get some semblance of an answer. He couldn’t turn down a challenge…but first, to make the atmosphere less awkward. The warrior wasn’t a master of small talk, but he could try it at least.

“What drink did you get?”

“…Hot cocoa. I don’t like coffee.” She rotated her cup to slush the liquid around. A half chuckle blew from him.

“Same. It’s way better than coffee.” They found a shared interest, and so soon at that. A promising start, if nothing else. A beat of silence passed.

“So, why did you want to talk to me more?”

She said something like that, as her reasoning for wanting his number. He watched her look back at him, somewhat stunned like he had flashed a bright light. For as much as she didn’t emote with her face overall, her golden brown eyes surely were very expressive.

“You’re…interesting. There’s a lot of things about you that make me curious.”

“Oh? Well, I’m not surprised. I am pretty fascinating.” Vegito smirked, though it was obstructed by the muffin he rose to his mouth so he could take a bite. Naturally, the Saiyan took any opportunity to fluff himself up.

Amita’s lips twitched, and amusement slipped onto her countenance. He chewed and swallowed his food before speaking up again.

“What’s making you curious of me?”

“…For starters, how strong you are.”

That brought him a pause, which only lasted for the blink of an eye. He detected an underlying meaning in her words, and saw fit to draw it out.

“What can I say? I do like working out. You’ve never seen a muscular guy before?”

“It’s not like that. I know you’re strong. Way stronger than the average person at least.”

Ah. Things just got more interesting.

Vegito chuckled. He had an idea where this was going, but he would still play dumb. “You say that with a lot of certainty. What makes you so sure?”

Now, she seemed to hesitate. Amita’s lips twisted once more, and her arms moved to rest over one another on the portion of the table in front of her. Whatever she was thinking about, it was like she was debating on how to go about forming her next sentence. When she did, her voice was lowered.

“My third eye. You remember I have it, right?”

“Yeah.” He took a swig of his drink. It would’ve been a bit hard for him to forget since it surprised him. He questioned how relevant it was to the current topic at hand though. “What about it?”

“I don’t know the science behind it, but I have this…special kind of vision with it. It lets me see the ki of living things.”

THIS made his eyes widen.

“You know what ki is?”

“Yes. It was taught to me back home, when I was kid.” Amita lifted her hands to part the puffy bangs covering her forehead, just enough so the eye could be exposed and open comfortably. The golden iris of it matched his gaze. What a development this was! It wasn’t everyday…or ever really, that he came across someone who had deeper knowledge of the body’s inner workings. Someone who appeared more or less ordinary on the surface. His own interest was steadily climbing up slopes.

“You’re suppressing it, but I can tell that you have a lot of power just because of how…dense your ki is.”

She could even tell that he was hiding his power? What a call out. Unknowingly to the man, his head tilted. If she gauged his level of strength back at that quick moment when the wind made her hair uncover her third eye, it was no wonder that she was keen on learning more. At this point, he discarded the innocent façade.

“That’s a neat skill of yours. And you’re right, I am suppressing it. I assume you can sense ki too?”

“Yeah.” She closed the special optic and recovered it with her bangs. “It was a part of the lessons. Sat through a lot of those…”

“Well well…” Vegito sat up straighter. “Meeting someone new who’s familiar with ki control definitely wasn’t something I predicted, but, here we are.”

The atmosphere had changed, into something Vegito couldn’t quite pinpoint. Suddenly, it felt like he’s known Amita for longer than he realistically has. Being so used to what Earthlings would label the extraordinary or flat-out unbelievable, yet getting to talk about it so casually with her despite the fact they were still mostly strangers…maybe that was it. They had another shared interest, except this one was far more personal to him because it was so inextricably a part of his life – his existence – as a fighter. One could say it was a part of his identity itself. And, he could talk about it with someone who wasn’t associated with them…?

“A lot of people on this planet are ignorant, yeah. But me? Not so much.” Amita remarked, eating more of her cinnamon roll. “I know all about being able to fly using ki, and using ki attacks too. In case you were wondering.”

“Heh…I should probably be surprised, but I’m not.” That invoked more questions to mentally spiral about. Vegito finished one of his muffins, chewing the mash on one side of his mouth so he could speak more clearly.

“Do you practice martial arts, by chance?”

“I used to. Kind of still do.” She winced. “I fell out of it years ago for…reasons, and haven’t gotten fully back into it. Lacking the passion and whatnot.”

“I see.”

There was a story there, but it wasn’t his place to ask about it.

“What about you?” She hunched forwards in a lax manner.

“You could say I am. A martial artist, I mean. Though, I’ve deviated from the standard path of one…”

“Let me guess. Got too powerful to stick to the mundane ways?”

“…That’s one way of putting it.” Vegito snorted. There were so many details to this topic that they could stack up and rival a mountain in height, but he couldn’t begin to fathom how to voice any of them to her. She probably wouldn’t even believe him anyway. Certainly not right now.

“Did you used to have a sensei?”

“Sort of-”

Vegito’s words were trapped in his throat as a small object in his right pocket vibrated. It didn’t stop, so he pulled it out and saw on the screen that he was receiving an incoming call.

From…oh, great.

“Hold on. I should answer this…”

Amita observed in quiet puzzlement as he tapped the green answer button and held the smartphone up to his ear. He spoke at a lower volume, and couldn’t stop a frown from twisting his features.

“What do you want?”

“How dare YOU sound annoyed! You were supposed to be here an hour ago!” Bulma’s voice on the other end was its usual shrill that grated against his brain. He hoped Amita couldn’t hear her.

“For what?”

“Oh, so I guess you’re forgetting your own promises now? Are we that unimportant to you, Mr. Big-Shot Warrior?” He could easily picture the sneer she must’ve had on her face. As strong as the temptation to hang up the phone was, he knew it would only bite him in the ass later.

“Here, I’ll remind you. We have a lot of new heavy machinery that needs to get moved, and you said you’d help out this morning.”

Vegito squinted. He frankly did not remember making any kind of “promise” like that, and this could be a manipulation ploy from her just to get him to do it, but he could have truthfully forgotten. Either way, he ironically wasn’t in the mood to put up a fight. Bulma had the special power of utilizing little effort to make him feel indescribably fatigued in seconds.

“Fine. Whatever. I’m on my way now.”

“Good-”

He didn’t wait to see if she had anything else to say, as he immediately tapped the red button to end the call. During their conversation, Amita had resumed sipping her beverage and eating her roll.

“Did something happen?”

“No. Nothing…important. But I need to go.”

“Oh.” The sound was neutral and her expression didn’t change, but the unmistakable light of disappointment bled into her eyes. “Ok.”

His frowned deepened, yet he gathered his things and stood up.

“Sorry. I’ll talk to you again, soon.”

“Alright.” That made her perk up more, but he didn’t stick around any longer. However, he…honestly wanted to. As Vegito walked out of the café, guzzling the rest of his drink and shoving his last muffin into his coat pocket to eat sometime later, he had to resist the urge to turn and look back at her.

He liked talking to Amita. And, he without a doubt planned on following through with his word and contacting her in the near future.