#and she would be looking at the window living in her own world minding her own business

[anniebeemine]

Count Your Luck- s.r.

a/n: I was thinking about this post for days before I finally sat down to write this. Thank you to @frankiebirds for making the initial post.

warnings: Roommate Spencer, reader insert, slightly illegal activities, mentions of stripping, brief mention of violence, littlest part about a man being creepy

word count: 12.2k words

“This is due at the end of the month?” Spencer asked, his voice tight as he stared at the bill in his hands. The number printed at the bottom was enough to make his heart stop.

The woman behind the counter nodded, her expression softening into one of pity. “Yeah, sugar. By the end of the month.” He could see the sympathy in her eyes, the way she looked at him like he was just a kid in over his head. Because he was.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat tighten. He knew she was trying to be kind, but it only made him feel worse. He tried to focus on the task at hand, not on the gnawing realization that he would never be able to scrape together this much money in time. Even if he asked for an extension, it would just push the problem down the road, leaving him trapped in a vicious cycle of bills and deadlines.

He glanced over at the doorway to the common area of the facility, where his mother sat by the window, staring out at the garden. She looked peaceful there, a faint smile playing on her lips as sunlight filtered through the glass. She was safe here, comfortable—at least, as comfortable as she could be, given her condition. Her episodes were fewer and farther between now, the staff attentive and compassionate, but the care she needed came at a steep price.

Spencer’s stomach twisted as he thought about the guilt that had plagued him since the day he’d signed the papers to have her committed. It was the right thing to do—he knew that—but it didn’t make it any easier. His mother needed help he couldn’t give her. The facility was the best option, but it was also the most expensive.

He turned back to the woman at the counter, his voice hoarse. “Is there... any way to lower the cost? Maybe work out a payment plan?”

She shook her head, her pity deepening. “I’m afraid we already have you on the lowest rate we can offer. I wish I had better news for you, sweetheart.”

Spencer nodded, his heart sinking. “I understand,” he said quietly, folding the bill and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

He stepped outside into the cold winter air, exhaling a shaky breath. His mind raced as he walked, the weight of his responsibilities bearing down on him. He was barely 18, still trying to figure out how to navigate the world on his own, and now this. 

As he made his way to the bus stop, he thought about his own situation. He had just begun his winter semester, juggling an intense class schedule, and he’d recently signed a lease for an apartment with a roommate he’d never even met. They were matched by the apartment manager, both desperate to fill their spaces. He hadn’t even had a chance to settle in yet, let alone get to know the person he’d be living with for the next year.

Spencer wrapped his coat tighter around himself, the wind biting at his skin. The idea of asking his roommate for help crossed his mind, but he dismissed it almost as quickly as it came. They were probably in the same boat, scraping by just to cover rent and tuition. And what would he even say? ‘Hi, I’m Spencer, nice to meet you—by the way, do you have a couple thousand dollars lying around?’

No. This was his burden to bear.

When he arrived at his apartment later that evening, the place was dark and quiet. His new roommate hadn’t moved in yet, and the silence was almost suffocating. He dropped his bag by the door and sank onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The enormity of everything pressed down on him—the bills, the coursework, his mother’s care, the future stretching out ahead of him, uncertain and terrifying.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He had to keep it together. There was no other option.

The next day, Spencer dragged his feet to class, exhaustion gnawing at him. The morning sun hadn’t done much to wake him up, and his mind still buzzed from the constant worry. His mother, the bills, his studies—it was all too much. As the professor droned on about advanced quantum mechanics, Spencer tried to focus, but his brain kept slipping back to his mother, her care facility, and the mounting cost of it all.

When class finally let out, he practically ran to his on-campus job in the cafeteria. It wasn’t glamorous, not by a long shot. He worked in the dish room, scrubbing and rinsing plates, silverware, and trays, running them through the industrial sanitizing machine. The smell was stomach-churning, a mix of stale food, wet sponges, and industrial soap. It clung to him no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, but it was money—money he needed desperately.

As he started the sanitizing machine, Spencer did the math in his head. If he worked enough hours, he might be able to pay this month's bills by Christmas. He counted his paycheck before he even received it, trying to figure out how much more he needed to make ends meet. His stomach twisted. Even though he could breeze through most of his homework, he couldn’t take on another job without spreading himself too thin. His body was already showing signs of the strain—exhaustion, hunger, stress-induced headaches.

Leaning against the machine, Spencer felt the weight of everything press down on him. His mind started spiraling, thoughts racing about deadlines and debts, his mother’s well-being, and the pressure of school. It was only when the machine beeped that he snapped back to reality. With a heavy sigh, he pulled the trays from the machine and got back to work.

Later, he rushed to his next class, sliding in two minutes late. His jeans were soaked at the hems from the dish room floor, and his fingers were wrinkled and sore. But he sat down, doing his best to settle in for the lecture. He couldn’t afford to fall behind, no matter how overwhelmed he felt.

By the time he made it back to his apartment that evening, he was dead on his feet. The hallway leading to his door was a maze of plain boxes, stacked haphazardly against the walls. Spencer’s brows furrowed as he carefully weaved through them. Standing in the middle of it all was a woman, her arms wrapped around a small, white dog that shivered and barked at Spencer as he approached.

"Tootsie, hush," the woman muttered, silencing the dog. The air around her smelled of expensive perfume—too strong, especially after a day in the dishroom.

Spencer gave her a tight-lipped smile, feeling out of place, then noticed his apartment door was open. Before he could ask what was going on, a tall man, about his age, stepped out of the doorway, nearly bumping into him.

"Uh, sorry," Spencer said, awkwardly shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. "I’m Spencer. I live here."

The man gave him a once-over before offering a quick nod. "Ricky. I’m just helping my sister move in."

Spencer blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "Your sister?"

Ricky nodded in the direction of the woman with the dog. "Yeah. Y/N. She’s, uh... she's the one moving in."

As if realizing that his sister would be living with another man, Ricky puffed out his chest slightly, standing a little taller, his posture becoming subtly defensive. Spencer didn’t miss the shift, but he also wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t a threat, but Ricky clearly wanted to make sure he knew where things stood.

Y/N approached, flashing a warm smile as she juggled the dog in one arm and extended her hand toward Spencer. "Hi, I’m Y/N. I guess we’re going to be roommates."

Spencer waved, unsure if he should shake her hand while she held the squirming dog. "Nice to meet you."

The interaction was awkward, but Y/N’s friendliness helped ease the tension a little. Spencer glanced back at Ricky, who still looked a bit uneasy. "How are you finding the apartment so far?" he asked, trying to make small talk.

"It’s fine," Ricky replied shortly, still sizing Spencer up. "But, uh, Y/N’s the one living here, not me."

Spencer nodded, feeling the tension ease slightly. "Got it. Well... welcome, I guess."

Y/N grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks. It’s a bit chaotic right now, but I think we’ll settle in soon."

Spencer smiled back, though his mind was already racing with thoughts about the new roommate dynamic, the bills, and how this new chapter was going to unfold.

Spencer excused himself to shower, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. "I’ll let you guys finish up," he mumbled, giving a small, awkward wave as he stepped past Ricky and Y/N. His feet dragged as he made his way to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. The soft click of the lock felt like the only solid thing in a day that had otherwise spun wildly out of control.

He leaned against the door for a moment, taking in a deep breath. The tension in his shoulders felt like it had seeped into his bones. The exhaustion from class, work, and now the unexpected change in his living situation pressed down on him. His mind buzzed, running through endless calculations—his budget, the bills, his studies—and now the added complication of a new roommate he hadn’t planned for.

Spencer peeled off his soaked jeans and grimy shirt, tossing them into the laundry bin before heading into the small bathroom. The hot water felt like a temporary escape, but even that couldn’t fully wash away the day. He let the water beat down on his tired muscles, trying to clear his mind, but all he could think about was how much more complicated things had become.

The shower didn’t last long. After dressing in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Spencer collapsed onto his bed. He thought about picking up one of his textbooks, catching up on some reading, but the thought of focusing on anything academic felt impossible at that moment. His mind was a knot of worry and fatigue.

Lying back against the pillows, he stared up at the ceiling, trying to push the thoughts away. But they persisted, swirling around like a storm he couldn’t escape. Outside his room, he could hear the faint sounds of boxes being moved and hushed conversations between Ricky and Y/N. The light shuffling of cardboard against the floor, the occasional frustrated hiss from Ricky about where things should go, and Y/N’s soothing tone filled the apartment. They weren’t loud, but it was just enough to keep Spencer’s mind awake, hovering on the edge of sleep but never quite tipping over.

He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but the unfamiliarity of the sounds and the day’s stress made it impossible. His thoughts jumped from one thing to the next—his mom, the medical bills, his winter semester, and now, this new roommate who came with a brother that seemed more than ready to take on a protective role.

As the night wore on, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like everything was slipping out of his control. He was used to having everything carefully managed, but now, with his mother’s care weighing heavily on him, and the added pressure of keeping up with his studies, this new shift in his living arrangements made him feel like he was teetering on the edge.

Eventually, as the shuffling in the apartment faded and the apartment quieted down, Spencer found himself drifting into a restless sleep. But even then, his dreams were filled with fragmented images of bills piling up, his mother’s vacant stare in the facility, and the growing distance between him and the life he wanted to lead.

Tomorrow, he thought vaguely as sleep finally overtook him. He’d deal with everything tomorrow.

The next morning, Spencer woke to the faint sounds of movement from the living room. When he emerged from his room, still groggy, he found Y/N already up, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a pile of shirts. Her hair was pulled back, and the soft morning light filtered in through the windows, casting long shadows over the mess of boxes still scattered around.

"Sorry if I was too loud last night," she said without looking up, her voice light but carrying a hint of apology.

Spencer, grabbing a bowl of cereal, shrugged. "It's fine," he replied, offering a small smile she probably didn’t see. The clatter of his spoon against the bowl filled the quiet air as he sat at the small kitchen table, his mind already racing with the day ahead. There were the usual things to stress over—his classes, his job, the bills—never-ending responsibilities that seemed to pile on like the dirty dishes he'd scrubbed the night before. But now, at least half the rent was covered. That thought brought a slight sense of relief. One less thing to worry about, at least for now.

The January weather in Las Vegas was brisk, cooler than most people expected from a desert city. A chill crept in through the windows, and Spencer made a mental note to grab his jacket on the way out. The mornings were deceptively cold this time of year, even if the afternoons warmed up. Y/N hummed quietly to herself as she continued folding clothes, and Spencer, despite his usual social awkwardness, found himself oddly comfortable with the silence that hung between them.

"I'm heading out," he muttered after finishing his cereal, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. Y/N looked up and gave a quick wave as he headed for the door.

"Good luck with your classes," she said, and for a moment, Spencer hesitated, feeling something like gratitude bloom unexpectedly in his chest.

He gave a quick goodbye and left the apartment, stepping into the crisp morning air. The sky was a pale blue, the sun just beginning to rise above the skyline. He hopped on his bike and pedaled toward the science building, the cold wind biting at his face. It was going to be a long day—hours spent in and out of labs, followed by an exam he had to ace if he wanted to keep his GPA where it needed to be.

By the time evening rolled around, Spencer found himself standing at the bus stop, waiting to catch the bus to his second job. His fingers, still slightly wrinkled from handling lab equipment all day, fidgeted as he checked the schedule. The bus to the restaurant was pulling up, but another one—Bus 47, heading directly to the casinos—caught his eye.

He hated the valet job. The tips were terrible, the hours long, and it always felt like he was wasting time when he could be studying or working on something that actually mattered. The idea hit him all at once, and before he could think twice, Spencer made a split-second decision. He ignored his usual bus and boarded the one bound for the strip instead. His heart pounded in his chest as he sat down, clutching the strap of his satchel tightly.

The strip was as garish and glamorous as always, lights flashing and the distant sound of slot machines filling the air. Spencer stepped off the bus, feeling out of place among the well-dressed crowd. People in sleek suits and elegant dresses strolled through the casino floor, sipping on overpriced drinks. He glanced down at himself—jeans, a hoodie, his worn satchel slung over his shoulder—and felt like an outsider.

But he didn’t stop. He kept walking, weaving through the bustling casino, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind, the one that kept telling him this was a bad idea.

The sinister thought crept up slowly, and Spencer found himself trying to shove it down. Counting cards—it wasn’t exactly illegal, but it was frowned upon. And for someone like him, it wouldn’t be difficult. He knew the math, the probabilities, the strategies. It would be easy. Too easy. He tried to push the idea away, but it lingered, gnawing at him, tempting him. After all, wasn’t this a way to fix everything? To take control for once, to stop worrying about bills, about rent, about his mother’s care?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he walked up to the cashier and traded in his emergency cash for chips. His hand shook slightly as he held the stack, heart pounding louder than ever. He found a blackjack table near the back, away from the main crowd, and sat down. Spencer stared at the green felt, his mind calculating the odds before the dealer even shuffled the cards.

He took a deep breath and placed his first bet, knowing full well there was no turning back now.

Spencer’s leg bounced the entire bus ride back. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since he left the casino, and now, sitting there with a small mountain of cash stuffed in his backpack, he felt more jittery than ever. He was too shaky to ride his bike the rest of the way, so he walked, clutching the bag tightly against his chest. Every step felt surreal. What had he done?

By the time he made it home, the hallway was dark and quiet. He fumbled with his keys, his hands trembling, and slipped inside the apartment as quietly as he could. Y/N’s door was closed, the light from beneath faint, and the thought of anyone seeing him right now—of anyone knowing what he had just done—made his stomach twist. He hurried to his room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at his backpack as if it were something dangerous. Then, with a shaky breath, Spencer sat down on the edge of his bed and unzipped the bag. Inside, wrapped haphazardly in his hoodie, was the cash. More money than he had ever seen in one place, let alone had in his possession. His fingers were trembling as he pulled it out, the stack thicker than he’d expected.

He counted it out slowly, each bill feeling heavier than the last. His eyes stung with tears as he finished, the reality of it hitting him like a wave. It was enough. Enough to pay his mother’s bill at the hospital, enough for groceries for the week, maybe even enough to put a little aside for rent. It was more money than he had ever made at his jobs. But it wasn’t the kind of money that came without a cost.

Spencer sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His head dropped into his hands, and for a moment, he let the guilt, the shame, and the overwhelming relief swirl together into a confusing mess. He had cheated. He had counted cards, used his mind to exploit the system, and won. And though it wasn’t illegal, it felt wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be that person. 

But what else could he do? His mother needed him. The bills needed to be paid. 

He sniffed again, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll take it to the bank in the morning,” he whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it all more manageable, more real.

Carefully, Spencer stacked the bills into a neat pile and placed them inside an old shoebox he pulled from his closet. He slid it onto the top shelf, hiding it behind some books and clothes. Then he stood there for a moment, staring at the closet door, willing himself to feel better.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he felt hollow, a pit forming in his stomach as he sat down on the bed again, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders. His mother was safe, for now, but Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that he had crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.

February had rolled in cold and uninviting, the chill in the air matching the unease still settled in Spencer’s gut. He hadn’t set foot in the casino since mid-January, but the memory of it still gnawed at him, like a dark, heavy weight that wouldn’t lift. Every time he let himself think about it too long, his stomach twisted into painful knots. He hated what he had done, hated even more that he had felt so desperate. The envelope of guilt sat unopened in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

His boss at the valet job had not been pleased with his abrupt absence, but after some tense words, Spencer had been given a second chance. The job was exhausting—long hours of running back and forth, parking expensive cars he’d never be able to afford, all while wearing shoes that pinched his feet. But it was money, and that was all that mattered. Between his classes, his job in the cafeteria, and the valet shifts, Spencer felt like he was running on fumes. He could feel the toll it was taking on him physically and mentally. His grades, thankfully, were still holding steady, but every night, he collapsed into bed, bone-tired and drained.

He didn’t know how Y/N did it. He heard her every night, just after they’d bid each other a quick goodnight. It was a brief exchange—him in the kitchen, her walking through the apartment. By the time he heard the water running from her shower, Spencer was usually halfway asleep, already slipping into that heavy, dreamless rest that only exhaustion could bring.

But then, like clockwork, he would hear the creaking floorboards in the hallway, the soft shuffle of her feet as the front door opened and closed around 9:30 p.m. every night. He never asked where she went. It wasn’t his business, and he had enough to deal with. Still, there was something unsettling about it—how she returned just before dawn, the soft creak of her door waking him briefly before he drifted back off. By the time Spencer left for his classes in the morning, Y/N would already be up, her own schedule just as busy, if not more so. It made him slightly worried, but again, he had no space left in his mind to think about it too much. 

His days were a blur of lab work, lectures, and dishwashing shifts, a seemingly endless cycle that left little room for anything else. But whenever he could, he visited his mother. Nearly every day after classes, he made the trek to the facility, spending whatever time he could with her. She was doing well—comfortable in her surroundings, though her episodes were still frequent enough to remind him why she needed the care. He wished he could be there more, but someone had to pay for the doctors and nurses who cared for her when he couldn’t. That was his burden to bear.

He would never forget the look of surprise on the billing woman’s face when he handed over the cashier’s check. Spencer had barely been able to make eye contact with her, the shame of how he’d acquired the money still burning deep in his chest. But the feeling of seeing the bold red stamp reading “PAID” across his mother’s bill was enough to loosen the tight coil inside him, if only for a moment. 

Still, he knew this peace was temporary. The next bill was always just around the corner, and the weight of it was never far from his mind. Spencer’s life was a balancing act—one misstep, and the entire thing could come crashing down. But for now, at least for a little while, the scales were even.

By April, things had changed for Spencer in ways he hadn’t fully expected. The weight of the bills had shifted into something more manageable, though the method by which he achieved it wasn’t exactly moral. February and March had been paid off the same way as January—quick trips to the casinos, a few nights of heart-pounding card counting, and the cash had come flooding in. It was easier now. The shame of the first time had dulled into something distant, almost numb. Sure, he knew it wasn't illegal, but rather a gray area he tiptoed into, but it was working. He had never felt better, at least financially. 

With the extra money, he’d been able to quit the valet job, cutting back on his time in the dishroom, and it felt like a massive relief. But the adrenaline rush that came from counting cards, from walking away with thick wads of cash, was hard to ignore. He knew he wasn’t being careful enough. He’d already been banned from two casinos, the pit bosses noticing his near perfect streaks. Maybe he could have been slicker, lost more games to throw them off. But that thrill—it was hard to fake losing when his mind was calculating every move to win.

Still, despite his newfound financial freedom, Spencer couldn’t help but notice the toll it was taking on him. Not the gambling, not directly. But everything else. The rush of cash had bought him more time, more freedom, but it also brought a lingering sense of dread. He had to keep doing it to maintain the lifestyle he had now. And that part of him that prided himself on being better, being honest—it was shrinking, buried under the weight of necessity.

Y/N seemed tired. They’d spent a few rare evenings together over the last couple of months, bonding over their mutual exhaustion, both swamped by their studies. Those were moments Spencer cherished. When he wasn’t thinking about his next trip to the casino or how to avoid getting caught, he found himself wondering about her. Child psychology, she’d told him one night, across campus from where he spent most of his time. He’d learned more about her in those brief conversations than he had in the months prior.

She worked as a secretary, she’d mentioned, spending her lunch breaks catching up on classwork and staying late at the office to make up for time lost during the day. Spencer had always known Y/N was busy, but hearing about her schedule made him realize just how much she was shouldering. It was no wonder she was always tired. He admired her for it—her perseverance, the way she was pushing through her own struggles without complaint. But part of him was worried. She looked drained most days, and he had seen the bags under her eyes getting darker with each passing week.

He was worried for her, but Spencer was also grappling with something else—a growing realization of what he had done to himself. This life, this cycle of stress, had become his norm. He had stumbled into a situation that gave him fleeting moments of relief, but the guilt was never far behind. How had he, someone so logical, so meticulous, let things spiral out of control like this?

As April wore on, Spencer found it harder and harder to reconcile the person he was becoming. He hated the lies, the sneaking off to casinos, the constant paranoia of getting caught. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up, but he also couldn’t see a way out. The bills would keep coming, and he needed to keep paying.

By mid-May, Spencer had been banned from his fifth casino. He'd seen it coming, of course. The way the pit bosses eyed him, how the dealers seemed too aware of his every move. It was a familiar pattern now, a mix of adrenaline and dread that built up until it all came crashing down. As he walked down the strip, waiting for the bus, he debated slipping into another new place, starting the cycle all over again. His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. 

Y/N’s name lit up the screen.

"Hey, Spencer," her voice was shaky, breathy. He froze in place. Something was off.

"Are you busy?" she asked.

Spencer scanned the street, spotting a nearby taxi. His heart quickened, and he felt the familiar swell of concern.

"No," he said. "Is everything alright?"

There was a strained chuckle on the other end of the line, but it wasn’t convincing. “Yeah, I just… I shouldn't have called. You sound busy.”

He furrowed his brows, his voice softening. “Are you sure? I’m not doing anything. Do you need me to come get you?”

There was a pause. He could almost hear her swallow, hear the lump in her throat as she answered, "Yes. I'm at a bar. Flynn’s."

"I’ll be there soon."

When Spencer arrived, the first thing he noticed was the look on her face. The worry in her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together. The second thing that hit him was her outfit—she wasn’t dressed for a night out, wearing boxy sweats and gripping a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She looked out of place, vulnerable. Spencer stood outside, waving until she spotted him through the window. Relief washed over her features, though her posture remained stiff as she stepped out of the bar.

The night was still, the moon high above them as they began walking. Neither of them said anything for a while, the silence stretching but not uncomfortable. Spencer kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye, trying to piece together what had happened, why she had called him. The streetlights cast long shadows over the sidewalk, and Y/N’s grip on her duffel bag never loosened.

“Thanks for coming,” she finally broke the silence, her voice small. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “I was already out. You didn’t wake me, and even if you had—it doesn’t matter. You can always call me.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "I appreciate it," she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the pavement in front of them.

Spencer wanted to ask, to push, but he held back. He figured if she wanted to talk about it, she would. And for now, just being there for her was enough. The weight of her exhaustion, her unease, hung between them like a thick fog. Spencer wasn’t sure how to break it, so he stayed close by her side, making sure she knew he wasn’t going anywhere. 

The rest of the walk was quiet, the city alive around them but somehow distant, a blur of neon lights and distant voices. Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than just a bad night, but for now, he wouldn’t push. When they finally reached their apartment building, Y/N stopped at the door, exhaling deeply.

“Thanks, again,” she said, a little stronger this time.

Spencer gave her a reassuring nod. “Anytime.”

By June, the semester was finally over, and Spencer felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Without classes, he had more time to focus on two things: earning money and spending time with his mother. He visited her as often as possible, only leaving when he absolutely had to—whether for work or when the nurses firmly but kindly reminded him that visiting hours were over. 

He spent hours by her bedside, reading to her from medical journals or simply sitting in silence, watching her sleep peacefully in her room. The guilt of putting her there still lingered, but there was comfort in knowing she was safe. The nurses were kind, and although his mother had a few episodes here and there, overall, she seemed calmer. Spencer found himself staying later and later each time, as if his presence could stave off her illness just a little longer.

But even with his deep love for her, Spencer couldn't deny the other pull in his life—the casinos. He visited again, more subtle this time. He had learned from his earlier mistakes, easing his way into games without drawing attention. It was riskier now, with a reputation at some of the places, but Spencer was good at covering his tracks. Counting cards wasn’t difficult for him; if anything, it was almost too easy. 

In the span of just a few weeks, Spencer had tucked away a small nest egg of cash in his room, hidden carefully in a shoebox in the back of his closet. It was a safety net, meant for emergencies or to help cover his mother's bills when he fell short. 

At first, it had been all about necessity, but slowly, he felt his self-control loosening. He was winning more often than not, and it felt good. He started spending a little more on himself—things he had gone without for far too long. 

He treated himself to a new satchel, a sleek, brown leather bag that replaced the worn-out one he'd carried for years. He bought new shoes, sturdy and comfortable for his long walks to class or visits to his mom. He even scheduled a few doctor’s appointments, something he hadn’t done in a while. A new prescription for his glasses, and a splurge on contact lenses. It was all practical, he told himself, but it was hard to deny the small thrill he got from being able to afford it without guilt.

As for Y/N, she hadn't called him again since that night in May. Spencer had been concerned, at first, but then reasoned that she was likely dealing with her own busy life. He had tried to bring it up once, about a week after their walk home, while they were sharing dinner in the dining room. 

They had been laughing over one of Spencer’s stories—an encounter with a particularly rude valet customer who didn’t appreciate Spencer’s encyclopedic knowledge of vehicle makes and models.

“You know,” Spencer began, stirring his pasta, “I’ve been meaning to ask… what were you doing at that bar that night?”

He asked it gently, hoping not to push too hard. But the moment the question left his lips, he noticed the way Y/N’s eyes dimmed. Her smile faded just a little, and she shrugged, her focus shifting to her food.

“Bad date,” she said quickly, her tone dismissive.

Spencer hesitated, watching her closely, but decided to leave it at that. Y/N clearly didn’t want to elaborate, and he had enough of his own worries without prying into hers. They had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, an unspoken understanding. Spencer could sense that something was off, but he respected her space. Besides, he had enough going on with his mother, his finances, and his new balancing act between work and, now, self-indulgence.

The summer stretched out before him, a mix of freedom and burden, and Spencer was still unsure which one would win.

It was a calm night in July when everything caught up to Spencer. He’d been at the blackjack table, calculating odds with his usual precision, when a pair of casino security guards approached him. There was no immediate panic; he thought maybe they were checking IDs or doing a routine sweep. But then they pulled him away from the table, leading him to a back room where the pit boss and a few other staff members waited. The accusation was clear—he’d been caught.

Hours later, Spencer found himself sitting in the back of a squad car, the distant hum of the Las Vegas strip fading into the background. His heart pounded, but not for himself. His mind was on his mother. Locked away, he had no idea what would happen to her if he couldn’t make it back in time. Would the nurses understand? Would she panic without him there? The thought of her being confused and alone gnawed at him more than the fear of his own fate.

At the station, they took his details—name, age, bond amount—and left him in a holding cell. It was a small, cold room, dimly lit by flickering overhead lights. His thoughts raced as he sat on the hard bench, trying to figure out who to call. The shame was overwhelming, like a heavy stone lodged in his chest. He couldn’t call his professors; that would be a disaster. And his mother? No way.

After about an hour of internal debate, he settled on calling Y/N. His finger hovered over her name on his phone screen, anxiety twisting in his gut. Would she even answer? Would she be angry? Disappointed? He didn’t know what to expect.

He pressed the call button, holding his breath as the line rang and rang. No answer. The phone clicked, and he was met with her voicemail. 

Spencer slumped back against the cold wall of the cell, rubbing his hands over his face. He felt worse now, his chest tightening with guilt. He had dragged Y/N into this, into his mess, and now she wasn’t even answering. He was probably interrupting something important. Maybe she was at work, or worse, maybe he had pulled her away from something fun—a rare night out, even.

Another hour passed, his mind continuing to spiral into a web of worry. An officer came by, handing him his phone back.

“Try again,” the officer said, her tone flat.

With shaking fingers, Spencer dialed Y/N’s number once more. This time, she answered on the third ring. The background was filled with muffled music, her voice breathy as she greeted him.

“Hey, Spencer,” she said, sounding out of breath. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

His heart sank. He could hear the noise, the laughter behind her, and instantly regretted calling. He pictured her out with friends, enjoying a rare night off, and here he was ruining it. He almost didn’t want to ask, but he knew he had no other choice.

“Y/N, I… I’m sorry. I got arrested,” he admitted, his voice small. “I—I don’t know who else to call.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Where are you?” she asked softly, and even though he couldn’t see her, he could picture the worry in her eyes.

“I’m at the downtown precinct. They, uh… they’re holding me for-”

He hears a zipper zip on her end. “I’ll be there soon.”

It took nearly an hour for her to show up, and in that time, Spencer could feel the weight of his situation pressing down harder with each passing minute. The fear, the guilt, the helplessness—it was all suffocating. He kept replaying the last few months in his head, wondering how he had let it spiral this far.

When Y/N finally arrived, Spencer felt a mix of shame and relief. She was still in the same sweats he had seen her in earlier that day, but her face was tight with concern. She barely said a word as she walked up to the front desk and counted out $1,000 in mixed bills, sliding the cash toward the woman behind the glass. The whole interaction felt surreal, like he was watching someone else’s life unfold from the outside.

The woman at the desk gave her a bored look before droning, “Someone will call him about the outcome. He’ll have a court date soon.”

Y/N nodded, taking the receipt and turning toward Spencer, who had been standing a few feet back, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. She motioned for him to follow her, and without a word, they stepped out of the police station into the cool night air.

For a long while, neither of them said anything. They just walked, side by side, the weight of the situation hanging heavy between them. Spencer could feel the tension, the unspoken questions bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice cracking with exhaustion. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

Y/N stopped walking, turning to face him. Her eyes softened, though there was still worry etched in her features. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said quietly. “Let’s just get home.”

Spencer nodded, too ashamed to say anything more. They walked the rest of the way in silence, and as they reached the front steps of their apartment building, Spencer couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to dig himself out of this hole.

August was supposed to be the start of a fresh semester, but instead, Spencer found himself sitting in a courtroom, missing his first day of classes. Y/N’s boss had managed to find him a pro bono lawyer, and after hours of waiting and worrying, the relief came in the form of a fine. It wasn’t an insignificant amount, but Spencer had enough in his checking account to cover it. No jail time. No criminal record. Just a bruised ego and a promise to himself that he’d get things back on track. Y/N had saved him, and he didn’t know how to properly thank her.

So, he bought her dinner.

They sat together, a comfortable silence filling the space between stories. Y/N laughed at something he said about an eccentric professor, and for a moment, all the weight of his mistakes felt like it had lifted. Spencer thought about how nice it was to have a friend—a real friend. Someone who didn’t judge him for his faults, who didn’t ask for explanations he couldn’t give. That night, as they cleared away the dishes, he thought about how different his life would be if she hadn’t picked up the phone.

As summer faded into fall, the pressure mounted again. His mother’s care, tuition, bills—everything felt like it was closing in. Despite the warnings he gave himself, Spencer found his way back to the casinos. At first, it was just to make ends meet, but soon he was hooked again. The thrill was intoxicating. His confidence grew, and with it, the risks. He found himself in underground poker games, the stakes higher than anything he had played before. It was dangerous, but he couldn’t help himself. The money was good, and for a while, it felt like he had control.

Until he didn’t.

One night, he left a private game with his pockets full, the air cool against his skin as he walked down a dimly lit street. He was feeling good—too good. But as he neared the end of the block, two men appeared from the shadows. They didn’t say much, just took his money, his watch, and left him with a bruise on his cheek and a burning pain in his stomach from where one of them had punched him.

When he got home, Y/N practically jumped off the couch the moment she saw him. Her eyes widened, and before he could say anything, she was leading him to the couch, gently pushing him down.

"Sit," she said, her voice calm but firm, though her eyes couldn’t hide the worry. A moment later, she returned with two ice packs, pressing one into his hand and placing the other on his cheek.

“What happened?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady.

Spencer winced as he gingerly pressed the ice pack to his stomach. "It’s nothing," he mumbled. "Just ran into the wrong people."

Y/N’s brows furrowed. "Do you want to call the police?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, it’s not worth it. I shouldn’t have been there. It’ll just waste their time."

She didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t press him. Instead, she sat down next to him, her shoulder brushing against his. "You don’t have to keep doing this, Spencer."

He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of her words settle on him. "I know," he whispered, but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if he really did.

By fall, Spencer and Y/N had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Their routines intertwined seamlessly, like two cogs in a well-oiled machine. Despite everything else going on in their lives, they found small moments of joy. In early October, they decided to start decorating for Halloween. Some might say it was too soon, but neither of them cared. Spencer had been the one to suggest it, eager to cling to something fun and lighthearted amidst the constant stress. They spent a weekend hanging fake cobwebs in the windows and placing plastic pumpkins and skeletons around the apartment. Spencer, surprisingly, found himself smiling more than he had in a long time. 

It was a reprieve, even if temporary. The guilt still lingered at the back of his mind, nagging him whenever he returned from the casinos. He had stopped going to the private games—too risky after that one night. But he hadn’t stopped gambling altogether. He couldn’t. Not yet. His final semester was in full swing, and December commencement loomed closer. Graduation meant he wouldn’t have to re-enroll, wouldn’t have to juggle classes and the pressure of supporting his mother. He could finally find a stable job. Something steady that would take care of them both. He told himself it was just a matter of surviving until then. 

But as the weeks went on, the weight of it all began to creep back. Spencer would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, his mind running circles around his choices. Guilt gnawed at him for falling back into old habits. He tossed and turned one night in the middle of October, unable to shake the unease. Y/N had left late again, her car still broken down, and he assumed she was working extra hours to cover the cost of repairs. He figured she’d taken up more shifts at the bar where he’d picked her up that one night. It made sense, though he hadn’t asked. It wasn’t his business, he reminded himself. 

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. She’d been working late a lot more often lately, coming back in the early morning hours, and it worried him. He kept telling himself she was just working hard, like he was. Still, the quiet of the apartment gnawed at him in her absence.

As he lay there, trying to force himself to sleep, the buzzing of his phone cut through the silence. His heart jumped. It was late—who could be calling him? He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his phone. Y/N’s name lit up the screen. He furrowed his brows, a knot forming in his stomach as he sat up in bed.

“Hello?” Spencer answered, his voice low and cautious.

“Spencer…” Y/N’s voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. “I… I need your help.”

The knot tightened in his chest. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

There was a pause on her end, and he could hear the faint hum of traffic in the background. “I’m not far. Just… can you come get me? Please?”

Without hesitation, Spencer threw back the covers and started pulling on a pair of jeans. “Of course. Where are you?”

She gave him the address, and Spencer was out the door within minutes. The streets were dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of streetlights, and his heart raced the entire way. Spencer expected to find himself standing outside Flynn’s again, but this time it was a different bar. His stomach twisted when he realized it wasn’t a bar at all, but a gentleman’s club. The neon lights flickered faintly, casting a garish glow over the entrance. Through the slightly ajar doors, he caught a glimpse of dim lighting, red velvet chairs, and the unmistakable sight of scantily clad women moving between tables. His cheeks flared up instantly, and he fought the urge to turn around and leave.

The bouncer at the door eyed him with a bored expression. “ID,” the man grunted.

Spencer fumbled with his wallet, barely able to focus as he handed over his driver’s license. The bouncer barely glanced at it before stepping aside. “Enjoy yourself.”

Enjoy myself? Spencer thought, feeling sick. This wasn’t his scene. He wasn’t the type to gawk at women in lingerie, no matter how much he understood that it was just a job to them. It still made him uncomfortable. He could already feel his nerves bubbling up as he hesitantly stepped inside, the heavy door closing behind him. The music thumped through the room, loud and rhythmic, and the room was filled with men, most with glazed-over eyes, openly staring at the performers on stage.

His eyes darted around the room, scanning for Y/N. His heart raced faster with each passing moment.

Before he could take another step, a woman with bright red hair, wearing a barely-there outfit, leaned against him, pressing her body too close for comfort. "Looking for a good time?" she purred, her voice smooth and practiced.

Spencer swallowed nervously, his hands stiff at his sides. "Uh, no—actually, I’m, uh, looking for someone. Y/N?"

The redhead’s expression shifted instantly. She straightened, her flirtatious demeanor dropping. "Y/N?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing as if she were assessing him. "What’s your name?"

"Spencer," he answered, confused by her sudden change in tone.

Without another word, she grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward a door behind the bar. Spencer blinked, stumbling slightly as he followed her. The catcalls and whistles from the nearby men echoed as they passed, but he barely registered them.

"Come on," the redhead muttered, leading him through the door and down a short hallway. "She’s back here."

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as they approached a small room near the cooler. When the redhead pushed the door open, he saw Y/N sitting on a metal stool, her knee bouncing wildly. She looked shaken, pale, her hair a mess. As soon as she saw him, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you for coming," she murmured against his chest. He could feel her trembling.

Spencer awkwardly returned the hug, his arms wrapping around her in a comforting gesture. "Of course," he replied softly. "Do you want to head home?"

Y/N nodded, pulling away slightly to meet his eyes. "Are you okay with taking a cab?" she asked, her voice still shaky.

Before Spencer could answer, the redhead piped up again. "Clive’s back," she explained, crossing her arms over her chest. "Y/N doesn’t like to leave alone when he’s here. Usually we have a guy to drive them home, but he's sick."

Spencer frowned, the pieces starting to click in his mind.

Without a second thought, he pulled out his phone. "I’ll call a taxi."

The ride home was quiet. Y/N sat beside him, her eyes staring out the window, while Spencer tried to process everything. He hadn’t expected any of this when she’d called him.

When they got back to the apartment, Y/N immediately started pacing in the living room. Spencer watched her from the doorway, unsure of what to say. He started to retreat toward his bedroom, giving her space, but her voice stopped him.

"Can you stay for a bit?" she asked quietly, her voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

Spencer hesitated but nodded. "Yeah, of course."

They sat in the living room, the silence thick between them until Y/N broke it. "How was your day?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

Spencer blinked, surprised by the question. "Uh, it was... fine. I went to see my mom today."

Y/N stopped pacing, looking over at him. "How is she?"

"She’s... the same," he admitted, feeling the familiar weight settle on his shoulders. "She’s in a home now. Schizophrenia."

Y/N’s expression softened. "I’m sorry."

He shrugged, trying to downplay it. "It’s just... my life."

The room fell into silence again. Spencer wasn’t sure what to say, but before he could think of anything, Y/N spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don’t want to be a stripper." Her words hung in the air, and Spencer felt his heart sink. He looked over at her, watching as she wrung her hands together nervously.

"It’s easy money," she continued, her voice shaky. "But I know you’ll see me differently now."

Spencer’s throat tightened. He shook his head, his voice soft but firm. "Y/N, I don’t see you any differently."

Spencer watched as Y/N exhaled, the tension in her shoulders loosening as his words settled over her. He hadn't realized until now just how much she had been carrying, how deeply she feared judgment. In that moment, he felt an ache—a quiet understanding of how much they'd both hidden from each other.

He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening again, but this time, it wasn’t just from the weight of her confession. His own secrets had been buried for months, festering beneath the surface. Now, with the raw honesty between them, they suddenly felt too heavy to keep to himself. The words he hadn’t meant to share began bubbling up before he could stop them.

“I… I’ve been hiding something too,” he began, his voice so low he wasn’t sure if she heard him at first. When she looked up at him, eyes still soft but curious, he knew he had to say it.

He shifted in his seat, fingers nervously tapping against his knee as he searched for the right way to explain. But the truth was, there wasn’t a ‘right way.’

“Y/N, I—” he started, then hesitated. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the rush of guilt flood his system before the words even left his lips. “I cheat casinos. It’s… it’s not like I’m counting cards—well, I guess I kind of am. But it’s not exactly illegal… more of a morally gray loophole.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t say anything, just listened. He kept going, his words spilling out in a rush, almost as if he needed to explain himself before she could react.

“It’s the only way I can afford my mother’s care,” he admitted, his voice hoarse with emotion. “The medical bills, the home, everything—it’s all so expensive. I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t making enough just working. So I started going to casinos, trying to use what I knew, what I was good at, to make enough money to keep her safe.”

He could feel his pulse in his ears, the blood rushing to his face. He hadn’t planned to tell her. He hadn’t even planned to admit it to himself. But here he was, spilling the truth in one messy, unfiltered confession.

“I know it’s wrong, but I couldn’t watch her suffer. I just… I didn’t want to lose her.”

Silence filled the room. Y/N didn’t look away, didn’t interrupt. She just watched him, her expression unreadable as the weight of his words sank in.

Spencer felt exposed, like a spotlight was shining down on him, illuminating every flaw, every mistake. He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was expecting—anger, disappointment, maybe even disgust. But instead, there was a shift. A quiet understanding settled between them, like they had reached some unspoken agreement.

Y/N slowly moved from where she had been standing and sat down beside him. She didn’t say anything at first, just rested her hand gently on his. Her touch was warm, grounding, and it sent a wave of relief through his chest.

“I get it,” she said softly, her voice filled with empathy rather than judgment. “You’re doing what you think you have to do.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by her response. He had been bracing himself for condemnation, but instead, there was this—a quiet acceptance. She wasn’t condoning what he’d done, but she understood why.

“I don’t see you any differently either, Spencer,” she added, her eyes meeting his. “We’re both just trying to survive.”

Her words hit him hard, the rawness of them resonating deep inside him. They were both tangled in their own struggles, doing what they thought was necessary, even if it blurred the lines of right and wrong. And in that moment, Spencer realized that they weren’t just two people keeping secrets from each other. They were two people trying to navigate a messy, complicated world in the only ways they knew how.

For the first time in months, Spencer didn’t feel so alone.

As the months passed, Spencer and Y/N's connection deepened, their shared confessions forming the foundation for a much stronger bond. Spencer, once hesitant to let anyone get too close, found himself softening in her presence. He kept his phone on all night, ready to answer her calls without a second thought. Y/N seemed to sense that he was always there for her, and the distance that had once separated them as roommates faded into something much more personal.

On quiet nights, when Y/N didn’t have work and Spencer wasn’t pulled into the casino world, they spent hours talking. Spencer even began taking her with him to the casinos, showing her the ropes, teaching her how to gamble with efficiency and precision. He was patient, guiding her through the math and the psychology of it all, explaining his methods for maximizing their chances without raising suspicion. She picked it up quickly, and they even managed to win small amounts together, enough for a celebratory dinner or a couple of drinks afterward. 

Mornings became their time to unwind. They would sit over coffee, the rich aroma filling the small kitchen, and swap dreams and desires. Spencer talked about his future, how after commencement, he was hoping to find something steady so he could finally stop relying on the casinos to support his mother. Y/N shared her own ambitions, but they were less concrete. She wasn’t quite sure what the next step was for her—she just knew that the life she was living wasn’t what she wanted long-term.

Dinner was different—lighter. They laughed over the mishaps of their day, whether it was Spencer recounting an awkward encounter with a professor or Y/N sharing wild stories about strange customers at the bar. The ease between them was palpable, and Spencer realized that he looked forward to those moments just as much as anything else.

As the semester drew to a close, the temperature dropped, and the crisp air signaled the end of fall. Spencer found himself in an odd limbo, stuck between the stress of final exams and the excitement of commencement. One afternoon, he was sitting at the table, filling out a request form to bring his mother to the graduation ceremony. His brow furrowed as he concentrated, not noticing Y/N slip through the front door until she spoke.

“Groceries are put away,” she called from the kitchen, her voice bright. A moment later, she settled onto the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. “So, what do you think about becoming a nanny?”

Spencer glanced up, raising a curious eyebrow. “Me? I’d be terrible with kids.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Not you, Spencer. Me. I was just thinking about it. You know, maybe it’d be a change of pace, something different.”

He pushed the form aside for a moment, turning in his chair to give her his full attention. “I think you should go for it if you’re interested. It’d definitely be a shift from bartending.”

Y/N sighed, leaning her head back on the couch. “Yeah, but I don’t exactly have stellar references…”

Spencer cocked his head, confused by her sudden hesitation. “What do you mean?”

With a small smirk, Y/N lifted the hem of her shirt just slightly, swirling her hips in a playful motion. Spencer blinked for a moment before it clicked, and then he chuckled, the realization dawning on him. “Ah, right. The whole… dancer thing.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Not exactly nanny material, huh?”

Spencer shook his head, still amused. “I don’t think that disqualifies you, Y/N. You’re good with people. You’d be great with kids.”

“You think?” She shifted, her tone lighter now, though still carrying a hint of doubt.

“I know,” he replied confidently. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Give it a shot. It can’t be any worse than some of the jobs you’ve done, right?”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension easing from her shoulders as she let his words sink in. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I will give it a try.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the warmth of their shared space wrapping around them like a blanket. Spencer glanced back down at the form in front of him, his thoughts wandering as he imagined his mother sitting in the audience at his graduation. His life, once filled with uncertainty, now felt like it was finally moving forward. And sitting there, with Y/N across the room, he realized he wasn’t facing it alone anymore.

Commencement day was a blur of emotions for Spencer. He stood in his cap and gown, the weight of his degree finally sinking in as he scanned the audience. His heart swelled when he saw his mother, Diana, sitting near the front, smiling proudly. She’d been well enough to come to the ceremony, and the fact that she was there—present and lucid—made everything feel even more meaningful. Y/N sat next to her, waving at him with a wide grin, and for the first time in a while, Spencer allowed himself to feel like everything was falling into place.

After the ceremony, they all went out to dinner. It was a simple restaurant, nothing extravagant, but the company made it perfect. Diana was animated, more herself than she had been in a long time, and Y/N fit seamlessly into the mix, chatting comfortably with Spencer’s mother as if they had known each other for years. Spencer sat back, watching them, feeling a rare sense of contentment. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to forget the anxieties of the future.

The night carried on, and after dinner, Spencer walked his mother back to her room at the assisted living facility, staying well into the late hours. Diana seemed more at peace than she had been in months, and Spencer clung to that, knowing how fleeting these moments could be. They sat together, her hand in his, as he nervously told her about the job offer he had received from the FBI.

"I don’t know if I’m ready," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s... it’s a lot. I don’t know if I’m the right person for it."

Diana’s eyes, filled with a mother’s wisdom and love, softened as she squeezed his hand gently. “Spencer,” she began, her voice calm and reassuring, “you’ve been preparing for something like this your whole life. You’re brilliant, and you have a good heart. I think you know what the right thing to do is.”

He swallowed hard, looking down at their joined hands. The FBI was something he never imagined for himself. He had attended a career fair weeks ago with Y/N, more for her than for himself. She had been relatively uninterested, wandering through the booths, but Spencer had found himself lingering near the FBI’s table, mesmerized by the thought of working for them. He could picture himself in the field, wearing a bulletproof vest, solving cases that no one else could. The idea had shaken him, and he’d quickly dismissed it at the time. But apparently, Jason Gideon, the FBI agent manning the table, had noticed. He’d taken an interest in Spencer, encouraging him to apply.

“I just… I don’t know if I can do it,” Spencer admitted, his throat tightening again. “What if I fail?”

Diana’s smile was soft, knowing. “You won’t fail. And even if you stumble, you’ll get back up. You’ve always been resilient, Spencer. Don’t let fear stop you from going after what you want.”

Spencer’s eyes met hers, and in that moment, he knew what she was really saying. She was urging him to take the leap, not just for himself but because she believed in him. And maybe—just maybe—that belief was enough to tip the scales.

He sighed, nodding slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Diana chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “That’s because I know my son.”

The conversation lingered in his mind as he walked home that night, the streets quiet under the chilly December sky. By the time he arrived, Y/N was already asleep on the couch, a blanket draped over her. Spencer stood for a moment, watching her in the soft glow of the living room lamp, feeling grateful for the way she had been there for him through everything.

He quietly retreated to his room, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing with thoughts of the future, the weight of the decision in front of him. He could almost hear his mother’s voice urging him forward, telling him not to be afraid.

As Christmas Day rolled around, the apartment felt eerily empty. Most of the furniture was gone, and the decorations were sparse. Spencer was on his way to visit his mother’s facility, a tradition they had every holiday season, when Y/N’s voice called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Spencer, wait!” she called, shaking a small stack of neatly wrapped boxes in her hands.

His heart melted at the sight. He walked over, his smile widening. “Is that my gift?”

Y/N grinned, handing him the boxes. “It sure is.”

Spencer grabbed two boxes from under the small Christmas tree they had left standing in the corner and handed them to her. “And these are yours.”

They settled on the couch, exchanging gifts with the kind of quiet excitement that came from years of friendship.

He tore open the first box, revealing a soft, purple scarf. Spencer laughed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he ran his fingers over the fabric. “A purple scarf?”

Y/N nodded, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “It gets cold in D.C., so I thought I’d give you something for when you get off the plane, Agent.”

The word “Agent” made Spencer’s chest swell with pride, even as he blinked back tears. He opened the next boxes, finding a few sweaters, gloves, and a thicker coat. Practical gifts, but thoughtful nonetheless. They were things he would need for his new life, things that showed how well Y/N knew him.

Y/N, meanwhile, opened her gifts with a bright smile. Inside were a few children’s books, a brand-new lunchbox, a journal, and a manual on nannying. She looked up at Spencer, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“These are perfect,” she whispered, flipping through one of the books. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Spencer chuckled, shrugging modestly. “I wanted to make sure you were prepared for the new job. It’s going to be a big change.”

She smiled at him, the kind of smile that told him how much she appreciated him—not just for the gifts, but for the friendship they had built over the years. “Thank you, Spencer.”

For a moment, they just sat there in the quiet, the weight of the future hanging between them. But it wasn’t heavy, not like before. It felt hopeful. Like they were both ready for whatever came next, even if it meant parting ways for now.

“You’re gonna do great, you know?” Spencer said, his voice soft.

Y/N met his gaze, her smile warm and full of confidence. “So will you, Spencer.”

Spencer’s heart fluttered as he stood at the counter, fidgeting with his fingers. Telling Y/N he wasn’t renewing the lease had been eating at him for days. He finally worked up the courage, watching her closely for a reaction.

“I won’t be renewing the lease next month,” he blurted, his voice slightly shaky. His nerves prickled with unease. He was afraid of leaving her, of this new chapter that would take him away from the apartment they had called home for so long.

Y/N breathed a dramatic sigh over the counter separating them. Spencer blinked, confused by her calm reaction.

“I’m not renewing either,” she said with a nonchalant shrug, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

His heart skipped a beat. “Wait—what?”

She gave him a grin, leaning on the counter. “I found a family to nanny for. A woman who’s a child psychologist, ironically enough. I’m transferring to a different campus next semester to be closer to them.”

Spencer let out a breath, relieved and proud of her. They shared a quick laugh, the tension melting away. For a moment, they just stood there, smiling at each other, their eyes filled with a mix of pride and the unspoken acknowledgment that things were changing—but it was the good kind of change.

The morning sun glinted off the tarmac as Spencer stood beside Y/N in the airport parking lot, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in his chest. The reality of their impending separation felt heavier than the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He glanced at Y/N, who stood next to him, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her jacket, a bittersweet smile on her face.

“I can’t believe this is it,” he said, his voice slightly wobbly. “It feels like we were just decorating for Halloween.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Time flies, doesn’t it? But you’re going to do amazing things, Spencer. I know it.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled out a pen from his jacket pocket and flipped open her address book. With careful strokes, he wrote down his new address in Washington, D.C. The words felt surreal, a tangible representation of how much had changed in such a short time.

“There,” he said, closing the book and handing it back to her. “You have to come visit. You can stay with me, and we’ll explore the city together.”

“Deal.” She looked down at the page, tracing his address with her fingertip as if committing it to memory. “Just don’t forget to send me a postcard or two, okay?”

“Of course,” he promised, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “I’ll even send one from the FBI office.”

Y/N laughed lightly, but there was an edge of sadness in her voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

They stood in silence for a moment, both of them acutely aware of the ticking clock and the finality of the moment. It felt strange to be standing there, knowing they were about to go their separate ways. He would be stepping into a new chapter, and she would be continuing her own journey.

Spencer took a step closer, his heart pounding. “Can I have one last hug?” 

Y/N stepped forward without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him. He breathed in her familiar scent—a comforting blend of lavender and something uniquely her. It felt both reassuring and achingly bittersweet. He held her tight, as if trying to absorb every moment they had shared, every laugh, every worry, and all the late-night talks.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” she murmured into his shoulder, her voice muffled. “I don’t want to hear any stories about you getting into trouble.”

“I promise,” he replied, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “And you take care of yourself too, Y/N. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

With that, they hugged once more, the embrace lingering longer than it should have. It was a goodbye filled with unspoken words, memories, and a strong bond that would remain even across the miles. Finally, they stepped back, both reluctantly breaking the contact.

“Okay, I guess I should go,” Spencer said, glancing over his shoulder at the terminal. 

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, biting her lip as she fought to hold back tears. “I’ll be okay. Just… don’t forget me.”

He reached out, squeezing her hand tightly before letting go. “I could never forget you, Y/N. You’ve been one of the best parts of my life.”

With a final wave, he turned and headed toward the entrance of the airport, glancing back once to see Y/N standing there, her silhouette framed by the bright morning light. He could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and it pulled at his heart.

As he walked through the sliding glass doors, he couldn’t shake the feeling of loss settling in his chest. He reached the lobby, the sounds of the bustling airport swirling around him, but all he could think about was her. He found a spot by the large windows, waiting for his flight, but his gaze remained fixed outside.

It wasn’t until he spotted her car pulling out of the lot that he felt a wave of emotions crash over him. He watched as she drove away, the red taillights disappearing into the distance, and his heart ached. A mix of gratitude and longing filled him as he thought about all the moments they had shared, how she had been his anchor in a storm of chaos.

Spencer pulled out his phone, his fingers hovering over her contact information. He sent her a quick message, a simple “Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you,” before slipping the phone back into his pocket. 

He could feel the weight of her absence already, but deep down, he knew this wasn’t truly the end. Their friendship had weathered so much; he had faith it would withstand the distance. 

As he settled into a seat in the waiting area, his heart brimmed with both hope and sorrow, knowing they were both embarking on new journeys. And as he stared out at the endless sky, he vowed to make the most of this opportunity—both for himself and for Y/N.

[leascorner]

b.b. | With child

Summary: He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours.

Pairing:  Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader

Warnings: angst ('cause I can't write anything else), alluding to sex (no description whatsoever), discussions around pregnancy, pregnancy, mention of alcohol.

Words Count: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Had this in the work for the longest time. I was actually thinking to publish it for his season (#4 I hope!). But we got new stills of Season 3 and it's nearly Valentine's Day so... Enjoy!

“Are you-” you asked when you noticed your sister-in-law had let her glass of wine and her plate untouched.

Your words stayed lost on your tongue, yet Daphne, sat in front of Benedict and next to you, knew exactly what you were about and nodded slightly, tears in her eyes. You let out a small cry of excitement and leant in to hug her. While you wore the most delighted expression, Benedict’s heart sunk a little at the news.

His sister was with child. Again. She was the second women of his family to be expecting this year, while he had yet an exciting news to share himself.

You both had wed a little over than a year and a half ago now and were yet to be blessed with a child. You were doing your best, of course, but none your efforts had been fruitful so far. Benedict did not mind; he had waited his whole life to meet you, he definitely could wait a little bit longer.

He did not mind, or so he thought…

Tonight, he thought life was particularly unfair to him. Every pregnancy announcement was only nourishing this harrowing feeling in his chest. All he could feel was his siblings’ bliss and it made him sick to the stomach. Yes, he was sick with jealousy - and ultimately selfish. He just couldn’t wait to feel your belly growing, to hold your children, to watch them playing around with their cousins, for them to grow older and become adults themselves. Just this simple thought made his very own heart felt extremely heavy.

Politely and quietly, he raised his glass wishing his sister a healthy pregnancy, before drinking away his sorrow.

The ride home that night was particularly quiet.

Silence had never been a thing between the two of you. Benedict was usually the most talkative, telling you about his days, about whatever painting he was going to paint, about that book he had been reading. You would listen, looking back at him with your big bright eyes and a soft smile onto your lips. Other times, he would watch you pacing back and forth in his study while passionately debating about politics. He would be drawing imaginary circles on your soft skin as you were lying in bed, you telling him about another one of your days chaperoning one of his sisters. He would listen to your laugh at one of his jokes. Even your fights would be followed by soft apologies, quiet words, whimpers, and love.

On the contrary, that night, the air was thick with something he couldn’t quite describe, and the coach was wrapped up in dark clouds, a genuine storm in the awakening. Sat on the opposite side, you were looking through the window, your face only light up by the few shines of the full moon. Benedict was so focused on his own thought that he didn’t realize you hadn’t had a word for the rest of the night.

He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours. It only made him angrier at the entire world. Why couldn’t they let you live this as well?

He would have liked to discuss this with you - his regrets, his hope - but he was too afraid you would realize what a failure he was. How disappointed with him you were. How you would hate him for not being able to offer you this. So, he sat back in his seat and watched out of his own window.

When the coach stopped in front of your residence, Benedict got out first, offering his hand to help you getting down the small step like he always did. You smiled at him, thanking him politely, and let go of his hand as soon as your two feet were on the ground. It didn’t mean anything, he tried to reassure himself, you needed both of your hands to grab the tissue of your dress to prevent the hem from getting wet and dirty. Yet, he couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest.

Silently, he followed you inside, hat in his hands, jaw locked. You were welcomed as usual by your housemaid, who got both of your coats and stayed there, in the uncomfortable silence, arms full, waiting for one of you to dismiss her. As you took off your gloves and didn’t dare look at Benedict, he nodded sharply to let her know she could go and watched her somehow disappear in an instant.

Suddenly, it was only the two of you again and it was all too much for him. He couldn’t breathe properly; his chest being crushed by the invisible weight of his sorrow. He couldn’t bare staying with you one more second. He needed to get out of here.

“Good night,” he said firmly, before walking to his study.

Would he have looked back he would have seen you watching him disappear in the corridor. You, all alone in the middle of the hall, arms dangling. He would have seen the frown on your face and the hurt in your eyes. Would he have looked back he would have run back to your side. Instead, he did none of that. He continued marching, head up high, trying to escape his own misery.

You sighed before turning in the opposite direction and to your shared bedroom.

Benedict went to bed less than an hour after you.

He had been haunted by guilt as soon as he had reached his study, sadness evaporating once he had stepped inside the room. Instead of turning back and chasing after you, he had tried to put his head in order. He then had tried painting whatever he was feeling, but he could only stay in front of his white canvas, terrified of laying his brush on the cotton. He had tried writing it, but he couldn’t concentrate enough; his thoughts always drifting to you, alone in your bedroom. He had then settled on having a drink to wait long enough for you to fall asleep before he could go to bed - his other option would have been to sleep in his study if he got too drunk, which he did not.

He had thought long about the whole situation. It wasn’t like you were not trying. Sometimes, even with doing the right things, it didn’t happen. He would need to accept this. And he couldn’t continue being a terrible husband. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anybody’s fault actually. What he knew more than anything though was that he loved you. Whatever would happen, he could not afford to lose you.

He had decided he would come clean tomorrow, but for now, he only wanted to sleep with you by his side.

In the dark of your room, Benedict undressed and lied besides you as silently as possible.

All he could hear was your uneven breathing; whatever dream you were having did not seem to be pleasant. He reached out to your arm, hoping that you could feel his presence through his touch and know he would always be there for you.

It wasn’t until your body was rocked by a hiccup that he understood that you were not having a bad dream, you were crying.

“Y/N?” he asked, lying on his side to face your back.

“I am so sorry,” your voice was only a whisper.

He gently made you roll on your side. Even in the dark, his right hand was able to find your face and his thumb to rub the tears away. Before he could ask what was wrong, you spoke:

“I am so-” You chocked on – yet – another sob and it took you a couple of seconds to even out your breathing so you could speak properly: “So sorry- for not being able to get you- get you what you ever wanted.”

“My love,” he sighed, grabbing the back of your neck to bring you closer. Instinctively, you hide your face in his chest, and he started stroking your hair to try and calm you. “My love, do not ever feel guilty on this.”

“I have tried every tea, every method that is supposed to help,” you cried some more.

It broke his heart to realize the burden on your heart - of course, if he was feeling it, you would have too. He finally understood how selfish he had been, how centred on his own pain he was and so oblivious to yours. It had never been a subject between the two of you, but it was slowly crushing you both.

“My love, this is not your fault.”

“You don’t see the pity in their eyes. You don’t hear them whisper.” You sniffled against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. “We are even blessed Lady Whistletown has not written about us.” He heard the frustration in your voice and the ton of it made him understand how you had tried to suppress the guilt but failed. It pained him that out of all of this, it was you who were the one being charged guilty by everyone - you included. As if you couldn’t imagine it being his own fault. As if you couldn’t imagine it being anyone’s fault but yours.

“Perhaps, I-” he stopped, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “I drink loads of Colin’s stupid tea; I paint with all sorts of chemicals substance. Perhaps, I can’t-”

“Ben, of course, no!”        

“Perhaps we won’t ever-” he confessed, but he couldn’t even say it out loud. It was all too much.

You moved against him, and he felt both of your hands grabbing his face, your forehead resting again his. He felt your hot breath against his skin, and he hugged you tighter, crushing your bones, making sure you were close.

He had you, he kept repeating himself. It was all that mattered. Of course, it was a dear wish of his to see mini versions of yourselves running around, but not at all costs. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice what you both had, right here, right now.

“We are both healthy, it is more than all I could ever wish for.”

“Will this ever be enough for you, though?” you asked so quietly he nearly did not hear you.

Benedict frowned. Was it really what you thought? That he would leave you? That your own self was not enough for him? He had been an even more terrible husband he had thought to lead you thinking this. He had failed you on so many levels.

“I was so absorbed by my own desire of having my own family,” he whispered back like he was telling you a secret, “I never asked if you also desire to have children of your own.”

“Ben, of course, I want your children!”

Benedict wanted to express how grateful he was to have you in his life, but no words came to his mind at that moment. He only reached out to your lips, trying to express how much he loved you.

If he could not tell you, he could still show you…

Hours later, while you were lying in bed, your head on Benedict’s chest, his left hand drawing invisible love words on your back and the other holding you close, he thought that there was nothing else he would like to do than stay with you, like this, forever.

“We should just take some time away from here.”

“What do you mean? The season only began-”

“To hell with worldliness. Some time away, just the two of us.” The sun was slowly peeking through the blinds, its yellow light was painting on your naked skin a glowy spectrum. “I heard South of France is particularly beautiful, this time of the year.”

Your chin on his chest, you looked back at him, eyes bright. He was looking at you the same way you had catch him do a million time: a soft smile on his lips, his eyes filled of this spark, shinning only for you. You didn’t care how beautiful France would be, he was the most beautiful view you had ever laid eyes on.

His hand brushed some hair out of your face, and you grabbed it to kiss his knuckles.

“France, it is then.”

Little did you know, you would be coming back home a few months later, bearing your own little miracle.

One of the many to come.

[beomiracles]

⌞ 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ⌝

DREAM RECALL “You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with such vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.”

wc -> 17k (oopsie daises)

pairings stepbrother!beomgyu x stepsister!reader warnings stepcest, daddy issues, some mommy issues, character death, emo/punk!beomgyu + he has an eyebrow piercing, major asshole!beomgyu, mentions of alcoholism, lots of arguing, angsty as shit but with a happy ending, talks of grief and letting go, smut (again, stepcest), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, softdom!gyu but he's also a menace, guilt ridden sex, unprotected + pullout, handjob + vaginal fingering, some cum eating, use of "sis" both outside and during the smut (I cannot stress this enough), might be teetering on the edge of dubious consent at some points but nothing crazy. dead dove do not eat

#serene adds ✎ I have no clue of how this happened lol. PLEASE read every single warning I am begging you. don't read this if as much as one single tag made you waver. ⎯ aside from like the fact that it's stepcest, I fucking love this whole fic. I'm so proud of it and I would actually cry if someone (who got through it) would be up to share some thoughts :>

“There’s still time to turn back..” You mutter as you lean against the leather of the passenger seat. Listening to the bustling engine slowly dying out as the car comes to a stop. “Come on princess, don’t be like that.” Your dad sighs as he retrieves the key, turning it between his fingers. “You knew that this move was coming and-“ — “Yeah, I did. But not this soon, not now.” You argue, folding your arms across your chest in defiance. “You could’ve at least waited until I was out of college, until I had gotten my own place.” 

More than anything you wished to be able to change your father’s mind, to turn things back to how they were before he met Ms Choi. But that was of course impossible, and now you were paying the price for not getting a room on campus. “But look on the bright side, it’s a mere fifteen minute drive to school, and Beomgyu has his license, I’m sure he could take you someday.” Your dad tries, a small smile on his face. — You grimaced at the name, your chest churning in disgust at the mere thought of sharing a car with that thing. 

A tap to your window makes you turn your head in its direction. There stood Ms Choi, she sends you a small wave and before you know it, your father had climbed out of the vehicle, leaving you to sulk. Their voices are muffled through the thick glass but you can see them enveloping each other in a tender hug, your dad leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. With a small grimace your gaze flickers to the small bracelet around your wrist, its fine silver glinting in the sun and your chest contracts slightly. You supposed you should feel happy for him, it had been a long time since you’d last seen your father so at ease, so in love.  

And it wasn’t like you didn’t like his new girlfriend, no you were quite fond of Ms Choi. She was nice, often bringing freshly baked cookies whenever she came over, remembering your favorite foods as she made them when you visited. Most importantly she made your dad feel things he hadn’t felt since the passing of your mother. — You just couldn’t understand how such a sweet woman had managed to raise such a being of a son. 

Beomgyu was far from anything his mother represented. He was loud, obnoxiously so, his foul mouth going off every other second, spewing his hatred for the world and the people in it. Beomgyu listened to deranged music, the kind that made your ears bleed. He blamed his father for all his problems, not to mention taking his pent up anger out on his sweet mom. — The black charcoal around his eyes represented that of the rotting darkness slowly eating away at his soul, and you wondered if Beomgyu had always been angry. Perhaps he came out like that, you were almost certain that he was a menace even as a small baby. 

You had been to Ms Choi’s house a handful of times. It was a small two story flat, neatly decorated in light and inviting shades and smelled of roses. Had it not been for the first room to the right on the second floor, you would’ve probably loved it there. — The small hallway is familiar as you stumble inside, a heavy suitcase clutched tightly in your grasp. “Oh dear, let me help you with that”, Ms Choi fusses as she reaches for your bag but you merely shake your head, “I’m fine miss, don’t worry”, you assure her. 

She turns to your dad who was carrying at least twice your baggage as he walked up the dainty pathway leading to the house. “Beomgyu ought to come down and be of some assistance”, she murmurs as she throws a glance over her shoulder, her eyes traveling up the staircase by the end of the hall. — “I’m sure we’ll be fine!” You quickly chirp, dreading the thought of having to deal with him so soon. But there was no changing Ms Choi’s mind as she immediately calls out for her nuisance of a son. 

You swallow thickly as an eerie silence follows, your dads girlfriend huffs out a short breath as she fiddles with the jewelry around her neck. “Beomgyu! Come down here!” The nervous edge to her voice was palpable and part of you took pity on the sweet lady for being stuck with such a being in her house, no less as her biological child. 

Soon the floorboards above you creak, the old house immediately giving away the presence of someone else on the top floor. You tried tearing your gaze from the stairs, but it seemed impossible as Beomgyu’s figure emerged. His step is heavy as he drags his feet across the floor, his hair had grown longer since last you’d seen him, and that was over four months ago. You often did your best in avoiding him, thus leading the two of you to meeting less than a dozen times during the two years in which your parents had been pursuing one another. Well to hell with that plan now, you thought. 

“Hi darling, why don’t you say hi to-” — “I know who she is.” He cuts her off, sparing you a mere side glance before his gaze shifts to your dad struggling with the suitcases, a look of distaste on his face. “A-Alright”, Ms Choi clears her throat as she motions toward your father, “why don’t you help bring their stuff inside.” She receives only a small huff from her son as Beomgyu pushes past the two of you to venture outside. You don’t miss the flicker of disappointment on his mother’s face. No matter what he did, she would always cherish and protect him. You couldn’t understand why. — She turns to you with an apologetic smile, “your room is down the hall to the right.” 

The stairs felt eternal as you pulled your suitcase up, intent on not needing any extra hands. And when you finally reach flat ground, you heave a sigh. Though the comforting peace was short-lived as the thumping beat of a heavy bass filled your eardrums, the sound overpowering that of the wheels on your suitcase as you rolled it along the wooden floor. With a frown you near the first door, it was slightly ajar, allowing for the ear piercing music to float out into the small corridor. Already familiar with the layout of the house, you recognized the room as Beomgyu’s, and as the owner in question was currently downstairs, you dared a small peek. 

You can’t remember actually being inside his room, merely passing it in search for the bathroom as the first floor lacked one. And it was unlike anything the rest of the house represented. It was messy and crammed. The once cream white walls were covered in a variety of posters portraying his favorite bands, one of which you guessed to currently be playing through the large speakers by his desk. — His bed looked as if it hadn’t been made in weeks, possibly months and he seemed to be making good use of his floor as an alternate wardrobe. His computer was on as well, the bright light of the screen catching your attention in the otherwise dim room as the curtains drawn prevented much sunlight from reaching through. 

Upon closer inspection your eyes widen as you realize what kind of video was playing. The almost naked woman in the footage emits a pornographic moan and your jaw slacks as you take a couple of steps back in complete disbelief. — The room was like a tainted mark left on an otherwise clean canvas. The black lungs of a smoker, rotten and decaying. The only flaw in an otherwise picture perfect home, and you would’ve probably pitied the poor soul living here had it not been Choi Beomgyu. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

The raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine as you twist on the spot, coming face to face with the inhabitant of the room you’d invaded. Beomgyu lingers in the doorway, your discarded suitcase lazily kicked to the side as his brows furrow, the glinting metal on one of them catching your eye, had he always had that piercing? — You gulp, fists clenching before relaxing again. 

“I uh…I was.. I was looking for my room..” The excuse was petty, and you knew he could tell by the way his lips pulled into a small grimace. “Well this certainly isn’t it.” He spits, taking a charging step forward and you feel yourself immediately faltering back against his desk. — “Out.” He grits, and you could’ve sworn you heard the way his teeth ground together as his jaw flexed.

Not having to be told twice, you quickly slip out of the room, the door being slammed shut on your ass in a mere second. “What a dick”, you mutter, though you supposed it was somewhat deserved as you went in his room without permission. — Your own bedroom, on the other hand, matched the rest of the house. It was small, barely fitting your bed and a study desk, but the window gazing out over the front yard was remarkable. Your fingers graze along the lace curtains as you think of the multiple ways in which you’d be able to decorate the tiny space. Perhaps living here could become somewhat bearable, you thought. 

⸝⸝

No. You quickly found that it would become most unbearable to thrive under this roof. Dinner was awkward. As awkward as it could possibly get. The air was dense, laying on top of your table like a thick blanket, enveloping your party of four in a stale silence. The sounds of silverware scraping against porcelain plates fill the dainty dining room. Every bite felt like a piece of rock sliding down your throat and no matter how hard you trained your gaze to the cut piece of meat in front of you, Beomgyu’s eyes felt like daggers on your skin. Was he still mad about earlier? 

“So, Beomgyu, I hear you’re about to start your senior year as well.” Your father clears his throat, turning to the younger male with a small smile. Beomgyu’s gaze finally shifts away from your near sweating figure and over to your dad as he sends him an almost unnoticeable nod. The statement made your eyebrows raise in surprise, he was a year older than you, shouldn’t he have graduated before summer? — Beomgyu answers your unspoken question in a bored sigh, “failed my last year.” 

“Oh but he’s worked hard to be able to retake his classes this upcoming semester!” His mother suddenly butts in as she places a hand on top of your father’s. You watch their small exchange before your eyes flit over to Beomgyu who looked almost disgusted at the close proximity your parents held. Of course he would be against it, you wondered if there was anything that didn’t make his nose scrunch up in disdain. 

“Then perhaps the two of you can study together?” Ms Choi suddenly exclaims as she looks to you with an expression best described as hopeful. “Your father tells me you do well in school.” — “Of course, my princess is in the top of her class”, your dad boasts as he flashes you a small grin. You sheepishly nod, cheeks reddening at the sudden attention directed your way. “Why, isn’t that an amazing idea, Beom?” His mother cheers to which her son grimaces, “wonderful.” 

You didn’t like Beomgyu. And you thought you had every reason not to. You had never met someone so completely disregarding of other people’s feelings. Someone so selfish and arrogant, someone who took so much for granted. Like his mom. — You supposed you envied him a little. Ms Choi was such a wonderful person, not to mention an amazing mother. You often found yourself reminiscing of what you’d lost when in her presence. But Beomgyu seemed to hold little affection for something you longed so desperately to have. — You remember the evening clearly, the first night you met, two years ago. 

Dinner was awkward even back then. 

You’re sat gathered around the very same table, in the very same seats. Back then you had a small crush on him, on Beomgyu. How could you not? He was everything you weren’t, everything you thought you wanted to be. The expressive t-shirt he wore, a band you didn’t recognize, but you guessed it to be some type of rock. His slightly baggy jeans, decorated with a few simple chains. Dark hair, though it was shorter back then, and of course, the liner around his eyes. It was impossible not to be drawn to him. But he didn’t look at you, not once. 

You helped your dad clear the table whilst Beomgyu accompanied his mom in the kitchen as she prepared dessert. “What do you think of her?” Your father asks with a hopeful smile. You knew that he was nervous about introducing someone new to you, and Ms Choi would be the first woman he’d seen since your mother’s passing. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that your approval weighed like a ton of bricks on your dads shoulders, and you didn’t want to let him down. 

“She seems sweet.” 

He sighs, a relieved sigh. “Do you like her?” You ask, unable to hide the small frown on your face. Your father remains silent for a moment, his hands busying themselves with stacking the plates on top of one another. “I do”, he nods, his face immediately lighting up as he sees your small smile. But before you get another word out, the voice of Ms Choi pierces the quaint house. 

Neither of you move, but the conversation between Beomgyu and his mother was no longer private. “Well if that’s how you really feel, then perhaps you’ll find your father’s place a more suitable living space.” Ms Choi exclaims, her voice is thick, as if on the verge of breaking at any given moment. A brief silence follows her words, and you hold your breath.

“That piece of shit lowlife?” Beomgyu suddenly seethes and his mom quickly interrupts him. “Don’t call him that.” She sounds almost pleading. — Her son chuckles and if you had been able to see him, you would guess that he was shaking his head. “You still let him get away with all the shit he’s done?” — “Oh come on, you know it’s not like that, Beom..” 

“He’s an asshole, mom.” Beomgyu finally states, his voice holds no resentment, in fact it barely holds any emotion at all. “And you, you’re both naive and stupid for thinking he’s anything else.” — Then he re-emerges from the kitchen, not sparing either you or your father as much as a second glance as he heads for the front door, it slams shut behind him, leaving the faint sobs of Ms Choi to echo through the small house. 

Your dad rushes to the kitchen, but you remain frozen in place. His small whispers of reassurance carry out into the dining room as he tries to comfort the crying mess that was his girlfriend. Your eyes flit between the small opening to the kitchen and the hallway; feeling more than conflicted as you gnaw on your bottom lip.

After a few moments of hesitation, you finally come to a decision as you tear yourself from your spot by the since long vacant table. Quietly, you retrace Beomgyu’s last steps and you, too, push the heavy door open. — The cold night air hits your bare arms making you wrap them around yourself as you begin walking down the gravel pathway. You really had no idea of where he might’ve gone, or how you were even supposed to find him. But as you push the squeaking fence gate open, you know that you won’t have to look far. 

Perched on the sidewalk, knees tucked to his chest, Beomgyu leans his chin on top of his folded arms. Drawing in a small breath, you muster up the courage to do what you had come out here for. — He doesn’t say anything as you take a seat beside him, mimicking his actions by pulling your knees to your chest as you wrap your arms around them. You weren’t exactly good at comforting people, but you knew what sadness felt like, it was all you had been able to feel for three months after your mother’s death. 

“You here to fuckin’ lecture me too?” He spits, his gaze is fixed on the asphalt road in front of him. Perhaps Beomgyu’s sadness was different from yours. You shake your head, though you’re unsure if he can even see it. And for a moment, everything is silent. There was a nervous feeling bubbling within your chest, you didn’t know if it was because of your small crush on him or because of the argument you just witnessed between him and his mom. The argument sounded stupid in your ears, and it got you wondering.. 

“Why do you hate your father?” Your words ring out in the quiet night air, and somewhere to your left, you feel Beomgyu shift against the concrete sidewalk. You guess he hadn’t expected the question. — “‘Cause he’s a piece of shit.” He huffs, though his voice lacks the spite it held when in discussion with his mom. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you frown. “But he’s still your father, isn’t he?” 

Beomgyu might as well have laughed in your face. He shakes his head, one of his hands ruffling through his dark hair before he lets it fall to his side. “That changes nothing”, he states. You were tempted to disagree, it changed everything, didn’t it? To hate someone, to hate someone so close to you, someone so important.. You don’t think you could ever hate your father. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Perhaps it was a stupid proposal, but in truth, you were at loss for ideas. Beomgyu snorts, his worn out sneakers kicking a few small rocks as he lets them roll out across the street. “You can’t talk to someone like him, and even if I could, I would have nothing to say to him.” — He draws in a sharp breath, holding it for a good moment before he slowly lets it go. “Some people..” he begins, his fingers picking at a few strands of vegetation that had managed to seep through the cracks of the constructed road. “Some people don’t deserve to have kids, some people shouldn’t have them.” 

You’re silent after that, unsure of what to say. He was right, some people were not meant to be parents. You wondered what his dad could have possibly done to warrant such hatred from his only son. It felt wrong to pry, so you didn’t. He would tell you one day, when he was ready, at least you thought so. — “But your mom is–” 

“My mom is stupid.” He spits, his expression suddenly turning sour. You didn't like how Beomgyu spoke about his mother, or how he spoke to her. “She doesn’t understand how fucked up dad is, and she still defends him despite everything he’s done.” — He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowing together as his gaze remains ahead. “She’s truly pathetic.” 

Your chest churned at the statement. And perhaps your relationship with Beomgyu would’ve turned out different, had you not said your next words. But you couldn’t help it, and you didn’t regret it either. “At least you have a mother.” It angered you. It angered you that he treated people so close to him with such hatred. Did he not understand? Not everyone had the privilege of seeing their mom everyday, not everyone got to feel her warm embrace, eat her food, have her kiss your cheek. 

Beomgyu’s hatred was selfish. He was selfish. Because you would have done anything to see your mother one last time. — He turns to you, and for the first time that night, he looks at you. “And that makes you so special?” His gaze narrows down on you, the dark liner around his eyes only makes his expression look twice as gloomy. “You think you’re the only one who’s life is shit just because your mom went and died?” 

His words stung, like salt on a fresh wound, slowly being rubbed in. You fight back the tears that were prickling in the corners of your eyes. You just wanted to help. But you were obviously not very good at comforting people, still, you thought that he might’ve been at least a little understanding. How idiotic of you. Beomgyu rises to his feet, giving the gravel beneath him one final kick as it flies everywhere. 

“Don’t think you know the first thing about me just because you’ve heard me and my mom argue once.” His expression darkens even further in the pale night, and you swallow a small sob. “And don’t for a second think that we have anything in common, or that you have the right to talk to me like that.” He snaps, hands digging into the denim of his jeans, the chains on them rattling as he does. 

“It’s not my fault your mommy died, but let me give you a piece of advice yeah?” He leans down, his face inches from your own and you resist the urge to pull back, instead blinking up at him as a nasty sneer casts over his features. “Get over it.” 

With that, he straightens himself back up, letting out a small scoff as he turns on his heel before venturing down the street. — Beomgyu didn’t come back home that night, Ms Choi told you so, you didn’t know where he went, you didn’t care. From that point on, you hated Choi Beomgyu, you hated everything that was him, everything that reminded you of him. But most of all, you hated anything that made you feel like he had made you feel that night; the night he’d left you on the street to sob in your hands. 

⸝⸝

Your first official night under Ms Choi’s roof felt weird, it didn’t feel at all like home, maybe because it wasn’t, or maybe because you laid in bed with the knowledge that Beomgyu was only a room away. — It was dark, the soft glow of the moon seeping through your lace curtains. You had yet to fully unpack, your small night lamp long forgotten about in one of the boxes downstairs. The room smelled weird too, it didn’t smell like home, like mom. 

Despite it being years since she passed you often found resolve in venturing inside your parents room, the room that smelled the most of her. How you would let the tips of your fingers trail across the smooth bed sheets as you imagined her sleeping form. — The first months after her passing you even found yourself going through her old clothes, trying to keep anything that carried her scent close. But even the house itself held her presence, her laughter echoing off the walls, her soft hum as she prepared dinner, her cheerful voice as she skipped down the stairs. 

This house did not hold a single trace of your mother, she was truly gone. Your dad had moved on, he had fallen in love, he’d stopped being miserable, he no longer cried for his deceased wife in the darkest hours of night. Did that make him a bad person? You wanted to hate him for leaving your mom behind, even though she was technically the one who had left you. You wanted to tell him that he should never love a woman that wasn’t her. But you couldn’t. And you wouldn’t. — Your father was happy now. 

Perhaps Beomgyu had been right that night. Perhaps you should get over it. Perhaps you should’ve gotten over it a long time ago. But you didn’t want to, because getting over it meant letting go, letting go of your mom, and you didn’t want that. She was your mom.

Your fingers instinctively reach for the bracelet around your wrist, fiddling with the silver anxiously. This was your last piece of her, your last line, the string that still connected you to her. — You treasured it dearly yet you couldn’t but feel almost melancholic whenever you turned the jewelry around in your hands, an immense wave of sadness washing over you as the small piece kept reminding you of what you’d lost. 

You shake the tears away, sitting up as you lean against the bed frame. You wouldn’t cry tonight, you wouldn’t allow that. Instead your mind wanders down the hall, down to the room on your left. You wondered what Beomgyu was up to, was he already asleep? Maybe he was feeling restless too.. “What the fuck”, you scoff, shaking your head at the glimpse of sincerity you cast his way. Having already gone through with that mistake once, you would be sure to not make it again. Beomgyu didn’t deserve your sympathy. 

He didn’t deserve anything. 

⸝⸝

The following weeks went by in almost a blur. Your dad and you got settled in quickly, and with the help of Ms Choi, you now had a wildflower blooming by the sill of your window. Not to mention the pink rug you had so carefully picked out as you laid it in the center of your room. — But happiest was probably your father. It was sweet, seeing how giddy he got whenever the new woman in his life was around, you liked watching him fall in love. And without you even realizing it, the small house soon began to feel like home. 

Even you and Beomgyu got along fine, if getting along was what you could call it. You had silently conducted a small routine which was to be strictly followed by the two of you. It helped ensure that you wouldn’t have to run into one another more than absolutely necessary. — First, you always used the bathroom at seven. He was never up by then and you enjoyed having free access to both the shower and toilet as you took your time getting ready for the day. 

Second, your rooms were strictly prohibited areas, under no circumstances were you allowed to step foot inside his personal space, nor was he to do so in yours. That didn’t change the fact that he would continuously blast his ear screeching music so loud that the floorboards thumped in rhythm to the beat. Nor did it change the way you threw your hairbrush against the wall in an attempt to get him to shut up, not that it ever proved successful. 

Third, and perhaps the most important one; you did not know each other outside of home. Senior year in college started about two weeks ago, and within the four confined walls of the school building, you and Beomgyu were nothing but mere strangers. Not that the same couldn’t be said for the way you treated each other back at home. Which leads you on to another unspoken rule, the rule that made your parents believe that you got along just fine. 

You think it was said last rule that made everything come crumbling down one October night. 

“A whole week?” You splutter, your fork slipping from your grasp and hitting the porcelain plate in front of you. Ms Choi makes a small grimace at your blunt shock but quickly masks it with a smile, “yes, me and your father were thinking..” — “Come on princess”, your dad interrupts, leaning forward ever so slightly. “You’re more than old enough to sit the house for a week, besides, we’ve been meaning to get some alone time.” He sends you a look that practically screams, “don’t fuck this up for me, alright?” 

With a small groan you nod, “yeah it’s alright I suppose.” But it wasn’t, in fact it was far from it. This meant that you would have to spend a full seven days, locked up in the same house as Beomgyu, with no one to save you. “Is this what people call dark humor?” You mutter, though not loud enough for anyone to pick up on, at least you thought they couldn’t. Opposite you, Beomgyu’s lip twitches as his tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, his fingers playing with the rings on his hands; clearly not oblivious to your small comment. 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine”, Ms Choi adds in a most lighthearted tone. Your dad slowly nods as his gaze flits between you and Beomgyu, watching as you both turned to shoot him a small smile. 

⸝⸝

“And don’t forget to lock the door, oh and I’ve written down all the emergency numbers on a piece of paper plastered on the fridge, and there’s–” — “Dad, I’m fine.” You take his hands in yours, giving them a light squeeze and your father grins, “right, sorry princess.” He throws a quick glance over his shoulder to where Ms Choi was waiting by the car, having already shared a most quick farwell with her son. 

“Go, I’ll be okay”, you sigh as you urge him toward the door. “Alright, alright, just promise to call if anything happens.” He pleads as he ruffles your already disheveled hair due to the amount of hugs he had insisted on. You give him an affirmative nod as he steps out. “Love you, princess!” Is the last thing he gets out before you close the front door in his face, worried that you might never have him leave if you didn’t. The hallway quickly becomes enveloped in a near deafening silence, the emptiness of the house palpable. But the short-lived peace would soon be disrupted. 

“Fuck, are you fourteen or twenty?” Beomgyu jeers as he leans against the doorframe leading into the living room, arms folded across his torso. He’s dressed in a pair of loose jeans that hung low on his waist, and had it not been for the even baggier t-shirt thrown on his chest, you would’ve probably caught more than a glimpse of his stomach. The piece of jewelry on his eyebrow glints in the faint morning light as he sends you a small frown. 

It was too early for any of his snarky remarks, you thought as you swallowed a deep breath. Just ignore him, don’t bite back, that’s what he wants. But as you watch his conceding smirk practically double in size at your silence, you find yourself unable to hold back. “Well at least I talk to him.” It was a low blow, and you knew it. You didn’t care, for the way his face dropped, if only for a brief moment, made it all worth it. 

Beomgyu was quick to hide his initial surprise as he shifted against the doorframe, his dark eyes narrowing down on you. “It’s hardly like you’ve got anyone else to confide in”, he drawls, and you bite the inside of your cheek at his subtle acknowledgement of the lunches you spent alone in the school cafeteria. Your fists clench, your anger on the verge of slipping past the weakening brims of your control. 

“You think you’re so much better, huh?” Your angered huff is met by a low chuckle but before he gets a reply out, you cut him off. “I’m not the one retaking a whole year of college, I mean, I knew you were stupid, but this exceeds any of my previous assumptions.” The words slipped from your lips without you being able to stop them, and it felt good, really good. Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at the insult thrown his way, the arms over his chest flexing as his body tensed. 

Feeling almost high off of the harsh remarks, you continue. “Let’s not even bring up your mom. You can barely look her in the eyes, you treat her like absolute shit, and at your grown age too.” — It’s his turn to flare up now, his previously stunned expression immediately morphing into a scowl as he charges forward. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about her in front of me.” He seethes, teeth grinding against each other as he reaches you, his fingers wrapping around the collar of your blouse as he shoves you against the wall with a thud. 

For the two years in which you had known Beomgyu, sorry, been acquainted with, you don’t think the two of you had ever as much as even shook hands, much less hugged. But now his face was only inches from yours, burning with so much rage that you thought you might just combust into a pile of ashes on the floor. His chest heaves, and his grip on your shirt is near deadly as he yanks the fabric up, his taller frame looming over your own. 

You scoff, trying to mask the unease that immediately surged within your chest at his close proximity. “See? Can’t even bring your mom up without you throwing a hissy fit", you jeer. — The scowl once on his lips, slowly turns into a sneer, a sly look emerging on his face, like you had just said exactly what he needed to hear, given him the opportunity he’d been searching for. 

His breath is warm on your already hot body as he speaks. “Well it’s not exactly like you’re any better.” You catch his tongue dragging across his bottom lip, as if savouring the moment, his eyes focused solely on the way your once stoic expression fell. “Can’t even mention her without you bursting out into tears.” — You open your mouth to object, your brows furrowing at the accusation but he’s quicker, shamelessly cutting you off to get his point across. “There’s no use in denying it. Don’t you think I’ve heard you? Crying in your room late at night, crying for your dead mommy.”

His gaze snaps to your wrist, hand darting out to grab ahold of it as his thumb slides across the bracelet resting there. “And this? A souvenir of her death? That’s pathetic.” He cocks his head to the side, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. “It’s like a child sleeping with stuffed toys”, he sneers, letting go of you with a small grimace before his grip returns to the collar of your shirt. 

You hated the way your teary eyes almost immediately gave you away, and you fervently tried to blink them away; much to no avail as Beomgyu chuckled. “Did I hit a nerve?” He wonders, voice laced with fabricated pity. It made you sick to your stomach. — “Sorry, princess”, he coos, but nothing about the way he gripped onto your flimsy blouse made for a convincing apology. Your eyes narrow at the familiar nickname and his smirk only widens. “Isn’t that what your daddy would say? Princess?” 

Hearing the name you treasured so dearly coming from his mouth, the word tainted with his hatred and evil, it made you bite the inside of your lip, hard. “What? Don’t like it?” He hums, his fingers on your shirt loosening, if only slightly as he leans even closer. It was easy to make out the details of his face now, the piercing stuck through the skin of his eyebrow, the area slightly red, as if irritated. The dark charcoal around his eyes, you wondered if he slept in it, probably. You will your gaze to stay locked with his, not daring to glance down at his lips. 

“Then what should I call you? Sis? Sister? Little Sister?” He looks almost as if he’s about to burst into laughter and you wanted nothing more than to slap that disgusting smirk from his face. “I’m not your sister.” You state, refusing to ever be perceived in such a way. — Beomgyu let’s his head fall to the side, his brows raising in a flicker of surprise. “But we’re family now, aren’t we?” 

You close your eyes, thinking that maybe if you just pretended that he wasn’t there for an extended period of time, he might actually disappear. But once you reopen them, you find him still watching you, his smirk stretched so wide that he almost appeared uncanny. “You don’t know the first thing about what makes a family.” You let your words linger in the now very thick air, watching with an almost gleeful expression as Beomgyu lets out a small scoff, though leaning back as he lets go of your shirt. 

“Quit trying to act like you’ve got me all figured out.” Is all he says, his voice now eerily calm, a kind of calm that makes your blood run cold. — “Then quit acting like such a terrible person, and maybe people would start seeing you for something else.” You mutter, your words not intended for his ears to catch, but they do. His gaze flickers over your body, pressed against the wall in an attempt to create as much space between the two of you as humanly possible. 

He shakes his head, his lip twitching as he runs a hand through his long hair. “How about you quit trying to act like you know what makes a terrible person.” — His words leave you silenced long enough for him to make his escape as he heads for the staircase. The last thing you see is his dark retreating figure, the sound of him trudging up the steps filling the house. You slump against the wall, letting out a shaky exhale as you let your eyes fall closed, already dreading the week ahead. 

⸝⸝

To your surprise, day one and two went by like usual, with the absence of your father and Ms Choi of course. You and Beomgyu managed to avoid one another just like normal, and whilst you ate dinner downstairs, he always brought his food to his room. Sometimes it was almost as if you were living alone, you had the whole house pretty much to yourself and you often took the opportunity to lounge by the sofa in the living room. 

After your fight two days ago, part of you had thought that things might worsen even further between the two of you. But if anything, you’d seen even less of him than you usually would and you think you could count the interactions you’d shared with him on your fingers. 

Your whole body feels heavy as your head hits the pillow that night. Four more days, you tell yourself. You could do four more days. All you had to do was keep up the role you’d been playing for the past three days. 

And as you lay in bed, you let your thoughts wander, wander to your dad. The two of you engaged in shorter calls every evening. It was a nice distraction from your otherwise plaguing reality. Your father told you about the beach, the ocean and the seashells; he and Ms Choi were staying at a hotel by the seaside for the week, and you felt your heart swell at the excitement in his voice. 

“You’ll have to come with us next time!” He exclaimed, the powerful winds surrounding him made his words come out jagged on the other end of the line. Still, you thought you were able to make out the faint sounds of waves crashing against the shore as he walked along the water. — “I’d be happy to”, you agree, a small grin playing on your lips at the thought of going on vacation with your dad again, it had been so long. 

Soon Ms Choi joins your conversation, you hear them share a quick kiss before her tender voice addresses you. “How’s Beomgyu doing dear?” She wonders and your smile immediately falters at the mention of his name. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say, did she not talk to him, not at all, not once? — In the end, you settle for something for half a lie and half a truth. “He’s doing fine.” 

Your dads girlfriend exhales on the other line as she thanks you. “Are you two getting along well?” Your father asks, a hint of suspicion following his inquiry. Even though Ms Choi was quick to defend her son, your dad still seemed to hold back when it came to him, if only slightly. “We’re doing just fine.” You lied, not wanting to address just how awkward things were and how you most definitely wanted them to return home as soon as possible. You wouldn’t ruin your dads shot at happiness just to soothe your own worries. 

But as night approaches, the faint glow of the moon seeping through your thin curtains, you find yourself unable to sleep. Though this time, it’s not because of your reeling mind, rather a faint noise coming from the room down the hall and to your left. — During your previous nights, the house had been eerily silent, almost deafening as it added to the feeling of you living there alone. And Beomgyu was not one to play music at such an hour, even though he was likely still very much awake. 

With a small frown you sit up, fingers grasping the bed sheets beneath you as you shift on the mattress. It was near impossible to make out any details regarding the noise, only a hushed sequence here and there could be heard and your frown deepens. But your desire for a full night’s sleep quickly overweighs any doubt as you’re reminded of the early morning class you had the following day, and the bed squeaks as you gingerly climb off of it, quietly venturing out into the dark hallway to face whatever awaits you. 

You’re able to locate the source of the sound as soon as you step out into the dark hall, and your throat goes dry as your eyes seize the door leading to Beomgyu’s bedroom. — The floorboards creak under your weight, making you freeze as you listen for a shift in the noise coming from his room, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. 

Carefully you creep forward, a hand on the wall to guide you as you near your target. The closer you get the clearer the noise gets, and for a moment you wondered if he was hurt as deep grunt-like sounds slipped through the crack of the wooden door. What would you even tell him? Biting the inside of your cheek, you shake your head. Just yell at him, cause a scene, do something.

Your fingers are wrapped around the door handle when you suddenly stop, your heart practically leaping out of your chest as a small moan reaches your ears. Stunned, you remain frozen in place as you listen to the ragged breathing of Beomgyu, coming from inside his bedroom and your foggy brain slowly pieces together what he was up to. A wave of disgust washes over you, perhaps even embarrassment at having caught him doing something like that. 

It takes you about half a minute to snap out of your initial shock, eyes darting back down the hall as you plan to make your escape, because there was no way you were going to let him know that you’d heard him. But just as you turn around to head back to safety, a deep groan makes you halt. “Mhhn fuck”, Beomgyu grunts, his voice muffled by the wall separating you but you clearly catch the ragged moan following the curse. 

You thought you could make out something else in the far background, a faint whisper of someone else. He hadn’t brought someone over had he? No, that’s impossible, you would’ve known. And soon the all too familiar and almost theatrical moan of a woman pierces the air.

Teeth latching on to your bottom lip, you stand torn, your brain desperately yelling for you to leave, to forget that any of this ever happened, to not pry further and spare your last bits of sanity. But another part of you, a far more sinister one, keeps your body locked in place, making you unable to move neither forward nor back; forcing you to listen as your Beomgyu gets off to some cheap porn video in his room.

You felt dirty just by hearing him, but the other part of you felt something dangerously close to excitement, your heart thumping unmistakably faster as your gaze flickers back toward his shut door. 

“H-ah..” He breathes and you swallow a gulp, sweat sliding down your forehead at the strange feelings swirling inside of you. Your hands clench at your sides, shivers rippling through your body as you hold your tongue, terrified of making your presence known. — He should be ashamed, not you, you had merely passed by, right? So why did you feel so bashful standing here, right outside his room, in the middle of the night, like some creep. 

“Mhhn fucking hell”, he croaks and you screw your eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the images playing in front of you like that of an old film. Images of him, his head thrown back, his lips slightly parted, lidded eyes and his hand… his hand wrapped around– “Oh my god”, you breathe, bracing yourself against the wall as your head falls forward. You had to get out of here. 

⸝⸝

Disgusting. That’s what he was. Not only a loathsome person but a pervert too. And as you walk down the familiar street, your school bag flung over your shoulder, you think of ways to confront him about his behavior. He was in the wrong here, not you. Besides, your request for him to keep it down at night was reasonable. 

The wooden fence gate feels rough under the tips of your fingers as you push it open, your eyes falling on the quaint house before you. The gravel makes a crunching noise beneath your shoes as you near the front door, the lump in your throat only growing in size. — It was such a pretty house, and to think that something so dark resided within its walls made you sick. Still, you unlock the old door and make your way inside. 

The familiar scent of roses invades your senses almost immediately and you take pride in the comforting smell, allowing yourself to just stay for a moment. You knew that he was home already, having spotted his car on your way back, and it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where he was currently lounging at. — Discarding your bag alongside your shoes, you begin the small journey up the stairs, not planning on prolonging the inevitable conversation. 

The blaring music fills your ears as soon as you reach the top step and you heave a sigh. You could do this, you wouldn’t back down. — The first knock is petty, weak, barely audible over the heavy bass thumping on the other side. You bite your lip, raising your fist once more, this time you give the wood a harsher tap. But still, nothing. You stand there for a moment, listening to the unfamiliar song playing and you wonder why he felt the need to drown himself in music as vile as that. Perhaps it was to quiet the undeniably gruesome thoughts you could only imagine filled his mind. 

“Beomgyu!” You shout his name, knuckles near hurting as they pound the door in front of you. Finally, the loud melody comes to an abrupt halt and you can hear him shuffling about inside his room, the soft padding of footsteps approaching and soon he reveals himself. — He looks the same as he always did, as he always had. Except he looks…different. You think it might have something to do with what you had heard him do the previous night. Because something was different, something was no longer the same. 

“What do you want?” He spits, the words sound almost like an accusation and you watch as his brows furrow, dark gaze narrowing down on you. Suddenly, you feel your composure crumble, the phrases you’d gone over in your head so many times on the way back home suddenly diminishing to nothing as you stand before him. Your lips part, for whatever excuse you could possibly find but Beomgyu beats you to the case. 

“If you’re here to complain about how you miss your daddy then I don’t give a shit.” 

Your mouth closes again, your brows mimicking his frown as you peer up at him. Is that what he thinks of you? Is that how he perceives you? As nothing more but a crybaby who can’t go a day without her father, who sobs herself to sleep in the absence of her mother? — “That’s not why I–” — “Like I said”, he cuts you off, his gaze hardening, “I don’t give a shit.” 

The grimace painting your face is surely unmistakable and your fists clench as you swallow back the insults waiting on your tongue. “Well I do”, you say, masking your otherwise trembling voice with firmness as you maintain the tense eye contact. Beomgyu appears, if not surprised then at least taken aback, his lip twitching as he lets out a short huff. He folds his arms over his chest, covering the print on his black t-shirt, seemingly waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m here to…to ask you..” You find yourself stumbling over your rehearsed lines, mind fumbling for a way to approach the situation without making it awkward for the both of you. Not wanting him to know that you’d heard him but also wanting him to be aware of the fact that you knew exactly what he’d been up to. — “What I want to say is, please keep it down..at…at night, some of us are trying to sleep you know..” 

Carefully you peek up at him, trying your hardest to subtly gauge his reaction. But Beomgyu only hums, his brows raising in play-pretend surprise as he leans against the doorframe. “Keep what down? It’s not exactly like I’m blasting music or anythin’” he muses. You shake your head, “that’s not what I’m asking, I’m asking you to keep it down when…when y-you you know..” 

The smirk slowly etching its way to his lips should’ve told you everything you needed to know. That he was just looking for ways to push you further, to rile you up and get you flustered, but for some reason it didn’t, and you kept going. — “When I what?” He wonders, eyes flickering over your guarded stance as you awkwardly shift in front of him, letting your weight fall on one leg. “Come on, you know what I mean”, you practically whine, not caring about how immature and childish you sounded as you avoided actually uttering the words out loud. 

“When I jack off?” He asks, his tone nonchalant as his hands slide down the pockets of his already low hanging jeans. You meekly nod, gaze dropping to the floor as your cheeks flush with color. “Y-Yeah that…you’re kind of..loud”, you cough, anxiously crossing your arms over your chest as you clear your throat. 

Beomgyu seems to be considering your words for a moment, his attention fixed on something behind you as he quietly hums. But then he leans forward, his face landing almost inches from your own and you can clearly see the smudged liner around his eyes now. “And you’ve got a problem with that?” He tilts his head to the side, studying you expectantly. 

“Come on now, sis”, he drawls and you cringe, hating how the word sounded on his lips. “You can’t possibly tell me that you’re not twice as loud when you touch yourself.” — The statement made your eyes blow wide as your jaw slacked. Feebly you shake your head in an attempt to deny his accusations. “I- No!” You shriek, taking a small step back as your hands wave in objection. “I don’t– I don’t do stuff…stuff like that..” 

Beomgyu’s smirk widens as he watches your apprehensive response, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Stuff like that?” He repeats, the sentence sickly sweet on his tongue. “You mean you��ve never played with yourself like that? How dull.” — You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling beyond parched as you shake your head once more. Was that so bad? Did that make you so different? You’d never understood the appeal, never felt those feelings, never even had a boyfriend. It shouldn’t matter should it? 

So why did it make Beomgyu look at you like that? Like you had just become something completely different in his eyes, something prized, something desirable. “Really?” He repeats, as if unbelieving of what he was currently hearing. Your quiet “no” is met by an even more menacing smirk as his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek. 

“Why, your daddy must be real’ proud of you then”, he grins and you feel your stomach twist. — “N-No he doesn’t care about stuff like that.” Because why would he? He was your father, sure you were close but some things were better off kept private. But it seemed no matter what you said could make the hungry look in his gaze go away and you felt your heart rate increase tenfold. 

Beomgyu merely scoffs, clearly not buying your truths. “Well then your daddy doesn’t know how much of life his daughter is truly missing out on.” — You frown, straightening your back if only slightly as you regard him with a hint of determination. “I’m not missing out on anything, to be frank, I’m quite happy the way I am right now.” You give a short pause, stopping only to give him a quick one over. “Not that the same can be said for you.” 

It feels good to watch his once smug expression morph into a much more scowl-like one as he lets out a short huff. When he doesn’t say anything, you feel a proud smirk crawling its way to your lips and you barely manage to conceal it as you turn to walk back to your room. — Only when you’ve reached your door, does he speak again, and you’re surprised to find him still lingering by his own doorway. 

“Do happy people cry everyday too, or is that just you?” 

⸝⸝

You’re unable to get his words out of your mind and you spend the majority of the following night mulling over them. “Do happy people cry everyday?” Do they? Was crying necessarily a bad thing? People cry when they’re happy too, people cry for a variety of reasons. Some merely sniffle,  some sob whilst others practically scream. Could happiness really be measured in tears or was that just something he’d said to get on your nerves, to have the last word? 

You lay tossing and turning in bed, your blanket bunching up around your legs before you eventually kicked it off again. — If only your mom was still around, she would be sure to have an answer, for she always did.. You nod to yourself as you mindlessly fiddle with the bracelet around your wrist.

Perhaps you were over analyzing his words, twisting and turning something completely meaningless for hours on end. But it was the only way you’d be able to feel at ease. You had a habit of trying to understand things on a deeper level, knowledge comforted you. It was why you nearly drowned yourself in your studies, why you spent so much time indulging in literature or film. It was your escape. 

Part of you supposed you should have Beomgyu completely figured out by now, with the way you memorized each snarky comment of his. But you never did, it felt like you knew nothing about him yet everything all at once. Maybe your knowledge of him was biased. You’d been quick to snap his picture, to paint a vision of him so sinister that you found it hard to view him any differently. — In your eyes, Beomgyu was a selfish and bad person, a person who did not feel empathy nor compassion for others. And perhaps that was why your theories about him seemed to lead you down the same path each time. 

But you didn't think that you were a close minded person… Was there really something you had missed, something you had overlooked? Was there more to Beomgyu than he let on to? 

You don’t have to ponder much longer for a quiet knock to your door rips you from the deep thoughts previously consuming your mind. With a small flinch you shot up from your bed, crawling back against the headboard as your eyes trained on the entryway to your room. For a moment you think it might be an intruder, but what kind of thief would knock? — Not only knock but proceed to open the door without waiting for a reply. You only knew one person so unthoughtful. 

Beomgyu’s shadow is dark, shielded from the dim luminance of the moon mere feet away from him as he stands in the doorway. One step forward would reveal his face entirely, and you find yourself both longing and dreading for him to move. — Why was he here? You guys made sure to avoid one another diligently so why was he willingly ruining it? 

“I can help you.” 

His voice is low, but he speaks clearly. A crease runs along your forehead as your brows pull into a frown. “Help me?” You repeat, the confusion evident in your tone as you shift against the pillow behind your back. Beomgyu nods, taking a bold step forward which casts an eerie glow across the side of his face. Your gaze flickers from his intense and dark eyes to his lips, pulled into a small smirk and your stomach drops. 

You knew why he was here. Because what other motive could he possibly have? — You had seen the way he treated those around him, you had witnessed the effect he had on his mom as she fell to her knees in tears, the way his words had sliced through you like daggers of a knife, shamelessly cutting your barely healed skin. Beomgyu made things around him die, every touch of his was poison, lethal. And now he had come to kill you too. 

It wasn’t like his sudden change in demeanor was unexpected, you knew that he was capable of breaking things, breaking people. He had just never paid you much attention because he thought you were already broken. The death of your mother slowly eating you away as you cried for her each night. — But you can tell he’s had a change of heart, the way his eyes rake across your body, barely concealed by the flimsy pajamas you wore, untainted, untouched, pure. Ready for him to kill. 

“I don’t need your help.” You try to evade him off, convince him that you were no object of his affection. But it was impossible. Beomgyu shakes his head, slowly approaching your bed before he takes a seat, causing the cushion beneath him to dip slightly. — “You don’t even know what I’m about to offer you”, he muses, fingers trailing up your exposed leg and you quickly withdraw it, stuffing it beneath the blanket. 

“I know that I do not need it”, you bite back, twisting your body as far away from him as possible. He huffs out a short breath, biting the inside of his cheek, seemingly in deep thought. You peer at him through the corner of your eye, lips curling into a small grimace. — “Do you plan on living in the dark forever then?” He finally wonders, his voice a mere murmur and you frown. “I could show you, show you the light”, he hums, fingers drumming against the mattress leisurely. 

You’re unable to hide the scoff you emit before turning back to face him. “You couldn’t find light if it so much as presented itself in front of you.” Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at your words, his hand stilling against the bed as his gaze flickers up to meet yours, an underlying twinge of curiosity lingering behind his otherwise cold and emotionless eyes. —  “No? And why’s that?” 

Your lip twitches, a small grimace of pure disgust threatening to overtake your entire face as you regard him with disdain. “Because something as dark and twisted as you cannot possibly seek light. You repell it.” 

The last sentence rings out in the silent air, and you watch as the intrigue in his eyes becomes put out like that of a dying fire. His expression contorted into the one you knew so well, the cruel one, the one that hurt people. “What, and you think you’re some kind of saint?” He jeers, trying to mask where your words had evidently stung. — Were you a saint? Hardly. But you didn’t hurt the people around you just because you could, just because life had treated you unfairly. That was the difference between you and Beomgyu. 

“You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with so much vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.” 

You remain silent for a moment, watching as he awaits your answer, your next course of action. Was this a bad idea? Probably. You had told yourself over and over that you wouldn’t let yourself get consumed by him, become tainted by his flawed hands. Yet you find yourself reaching for the blanket covering your body, pulling it from your legs as you discard it on the floor. Beomgyu follows the movement with an amused look, an almost wicked one before his smokey eyes snap back to yours. 

“Fine”, you say, adjusting yourself on the bed as you let your hands fall to your sides, “show me.” The simple statement makes his face twist into a look of pure smugness and Beomgyu wastes no time in scooting closer, fingers wrapping around both of your wrists as he positions himself before you. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me”, he murmurs, his lip twitching into a sinister grin as he does. It was almost as if your obliviousness spurred him on, your naivety making his mind reel. 

His breath is warm on your face as he studies you closely, from the way blood rushes beneath your cheeks to your eyelashes fluttering as you try to focus with him so close. “Have you ever kissed someone before?” He asks, the underlying curiosity in his words palpable. You try to think of any occasion in which you might’ve, but after a good moment you shake your head. “Only once…in middle school, a smell peck on the lips..” You admit, albeit a little sheepishly. 

The smirk on his face only widened, exposing his sharp teeth as Beomgyu chuckled. “That doesn’t count”, he states, seemingly pleased with your answer, with your honesty, your trust. Biting your bottom lip, you swallow before nodding slowly. “I’ll show you how to.” He then mumbles, and suddenly his nose is practically grazing yours. You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening as you watch his confident ones. 

Then his lips press against your own, and they’re surprisingly soft. At first he remained still, completely unmoving and you wondered what on god's green earth he was doing. But soon he lets his eyes close, one of his hands letting go of your wrist as he cups your cheek. The small caress makes your eyes widen further and you resist the urge to pull back. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you hesitantly respond to the tentative kiss, letting your eyes flutter shut as well. 

You knew that you shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong, taboo even. He was your step brother.. at least he was bound to be once your parents got married. Guilt roots itself in the pits of your stomach, making it twist and turn uncomfortably as you try to relax in his grip. — He doesn’t push you any further and it takes you by surprise. Instead he lets his lips linger on top of yours, and when he pulls away moments later, a small pecking sound follows it. You watch through lidded eyes as his narrowed gaze studies you, the hand on your cheek moving to your chin. 

“How was it?” He wonders, as if expecting a review of some sort. Your mouth parts but you can’t seem to find the words. How could you describe the shame and the guilt? How could you ever verbalize the way his soft lips had felt on yours, such a thing was impossible. — “It felt weird..” Your hushed whisper echoes out like church bells in your ears and you remain very aware of the way his fingers reside around your chin, locking your face in place. 

Beomgyu lets out a short breath, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down as his gaze catches onto your exposed teeth. “First time always feels weird”, he states and before you get to prepare yourself, he dives right back in, except this time he goes straight for the kill. — You let out a small yelp as he pries your mouth open, immediately slipping his wet tongue inside to slide against yours. You can still taste the minty toothpaste on him and the sensation of something so wet and…alive, in your mouth, makes you cringe. 

You still allow him to kiss you, to push you back against the pillows as his hands roam your body, his poisonous touch spreading across your skin like wildfire. You knew that this was exactly what he wanted, to ruin something so perfectly pure, to take something from you that you could never get back. And for some reason, you let him. — Only when his hand reaches the waistband of your pajama shorts do you stop him, eyes wide as you push him back. 

“Wait.” 

The kiss breaks with a wet sound and a small string of saliva still connects the two of you. Struggling to find a suitable approach to the matter, you let your gaze drop to his chest, heaving a small sigh as you bite your lip. “I…I don’t know if…I mean I haven’t..” Honestly you didn’t even know what you were getting at yourself, you supposed you wanted to prolong the moment, if just a moment longer. 

Beomgyu regards you with an expression you don’t think you’d ever seen on him before; a mixture of both intrigue and desire. “Are you scared?” He wonders and without thinking, you nod. His lips stretch wide, the hand on your shorts moving to your inner thigh as he gives it a light squeeze and you nearly flinch at the touch. “Good”, he huffs, his fingers venturing beneath the fabric of your pajamas as he gauges your reaction closely. 

When he pulls your shorts down, you gingerly try and conceal yourself, your cheeks flushing in all shades of red as your thighs squeeze shut. “Don’t be embarrassed”, he tsk’s, his hands on your knees as he firmly spreads them. — “I’ve seen plenty of pussies before”, he merely shrugs, “yours won’t be any different.” His reassurance didn’t help ease much of your worries as you let him pry your legs open. 

He starts slow, and you’re thankful; his index and middle finger gently rubbing you through the soft cotton of your panties and you resist the urge to hide your face as you squirm against him. — It wasn’t like you’d never touched yourself, because you had…you think. Like any other young teenager you’d experimented a little with your body, but as an inexperienced 15-year old, the results had proved futile. You never had the urge you suppose, you didn’t even know how it was supposed to feel like. But as Beomgyu touches you through your underwear, a strange feeling mingles alongside the guilt and shame in your stomach. 

His eyes are on you, on only you, watching as you bite your bottom lip, your hands fidgeting with the bed sheets as you try to suppress the small noises bubbling in your throat. Not until his fingers find your clit, rubbing it deliberately through your panties, do you let out a small squeak. “Is…Is it supposed to feel like that?” — Beomgyu’s dark gaze shifts from your spread legs and over to your wide stare. He nods, “does it feel good?” 

“Strange..” You quietly whisper, though you made no move to stop him as his index finger hooks around the waistband of your underwear. “Yeah?” He murmurs, taking his time as he slowly pulls the piece of garment from your body, letting it slide along your legs before he discards it on the floor. “You’ll get used to it”, he muses, eyes shifting to your exposed cunt as they visibly darken, “it comes with experience.” 

You had no clue what to expect, what to feel, how to respond. Your whole body felt tense as his cold fingers brushed against your naked skin, inching their way up and suddenly it felt like you were under a microscope, every single part of you being presented under a stark light. Beomgyu on the other hand, seems far more at ease as he lets two of his fingers swipe across your cute folds, teasingly pushing them apart as he slowly rubs you. 

It takes everything in you not to cringe at the weird and damp feeling pooling between your legs, the consistent throb of your cunt and the small cry you emit as he flicks over your clit once more. He sighs, “virgin pussies are my favorite”, his gaze shifts to his already glistening fingers, “they get wet so easily.” — You merely let out a small whimper at his words, thigh involuntarily twitching, the movement immediately catching his eye as his lips curl into a smirk. 

“W-Wait!” You croak as you suddenly feel him prodding against your fluttering hole, your muscles taut as you shift on the bed. Beomgyu stops, hand resting against your core as he studies you with an indifferent expression. “W-Won’t that hurt?” It felt embarrassing to ask, but the thought of him pushing something inside of you…it scared you. — But Beomgyu only shrugs. “It might”, he drawls, his fingers resuming their work on your cunt as he repositions his index one right above the tight rim of muscle, “depends on how bad you want me.” 

Want him? You didn’t know if you wanted him, it wasn’t like you liked him, right? You hated Beomgyu, you’d hated him for two years. You hated how he treated his mother, how he treated you, with such coldness and such little empathy. You hated how he made you cry, how he made you feel small and weak. You hated how he made you feel bad for grieving your own mother. 

But as your gaze shifts to his face, and as you will yourself to look past the cruelty, the darkness, you can still make out the boy you met that night, the one you’d had a small and what you thought was an insignificant crush on. From the black charcoal around his eyes, to the silver jewelry bored into his eyebrow; his black hair, nearly reaching his shoulders now, and his dark eyes, his eyes that both scared and intrigued you. 

You gasp when he without warning pushes his finger past your folds, immediately curling it inside of you, making your back arch off the bed in sheer surprise. Beomgyu’s attention is solely on your flushed face, watching in contentment as you writher under his touch, as you slowly lose yourself. — “O-Oh..” Is all you manage to squeak out between the ragged breaths. It felt weird and uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt, instead the fluttering sensation in your stomach only seemed to grow. 

“Such a greedy pussy”, Beomgyu hums as he feels you pulsate around his finger, “sucking me in like a complete whore.” You shake your head, “I-I’m not..” The words die in your throat as he adds he slides a second digit past your tight rim, making you shriek as he stretches your cunt. 

His touch felt poisonous but you couldn’t find it in you to push him off, to tell him to stop. No matter how many times you told yourself how wrong it was, you couldn’t help but slowly succumb to the darkness that was Beomgyu. Wanting, no needing, more. It was as if he’d introduced you to a most dangerous drug, and you find yourself desperately seeking another fix, a stronger one. 

Your short nails have torn the bright sheets covering the mattress, and your arms tremble as you lock eyes with him. Satisfactory, that was the only way you could describe the expression painting his face. You don’t think you’d ever seen Beomgyu as anything but angry, but this…this was far from it. He looks ready to devour you whole, his brooding eyes fixating on the way your jaw slacked, your saliva coated lips parted and your eyebrows drawn together in such an endearing manner. 

“Feel good?” He wonders, his brow twitching slightly when his thumb presses against your clit, eliciting a high pitched moan from you as you squirm against him. “I’ll take that as a yes”, he drawls and before you know it, his fingers are gone, making a sloppy sound as they withdraw from your cunt. You whine, hips bucking up in an attempt to seek his touch and your cheeks flare up in color. “W-Why did you stop..?” You pathetically wonder, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking that you had possibly done something wrong. 

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he brings his sticky fingers to his face, inhaling your scent before shoving them into his mouth. Your jaw falls open in bewilderment, how could he just do something like that so…casually. — “Come on now princess, we’ve only just gotten started.” 

Even more? 

Your already wide eyes dilate even further, completely forgetting to be angry over the nickname he’d used as his hand dips inside the waistband of his sweats, pulling his hard cock from his briefs. It wasn’t like you were a total prude, you knew what a dick looked like, you just…had never seen one up close. — Beomgyu takes his time as he wraps his fingers around its base, languidly stroking himself as pearly beads of what you could only assume to be precum spilled from the slit on top. 

The thought of having that inside of you makes your throat go dry and you shift uncomfortably on the bed. “Come on now, sis, don’t grow shy on me”, he drawls, stifling a groan as his thumb flicks over his tip. The knot in your stomach returns and you shoot him a glare, “I am not your ‘sis’”, you state through gritted teeth. But Beomgyu only chuckles before leaning forward, his face drawing in close once more. With one hand still on his cock, the other one presses flat against the mattress as he hovers in front of you. 

“Lie down.” 

His sharp command sends a shiver down your spine and you hesitantly comply, awkwardly sliding yourself down between his parted legs until only your head remains perched on the pillow. From this angle, Beomgyu’s long hair falls in front of his face and you resist the urge to reach up and brush it away. Instead your nervous eyes flicker to his cock as he gently taps it against your inner thigh. Your gaze lingers on the way his arousal spills onto your naked skin and suddenly a wave of realization washes over you. 

“Shouldn’t we use a condom?” You whisper, biting the inside of your cheek as your attention flits back to the smug expression on his face. “Why? That takes away half the fun”, he hums, letting his tip part your puffy folds as he nudges it against your throbbing clit. “H-ah b-but isn’t it unsafe?” You whine, unable to keep from grinding against him, desperately seeking his touch. 

Beomgyu lets out an exasperated sigh, reaching a hand up to run through his slightly disheveled hair. “Don’t tell me you’re scared”, he grunts, his fingers clasping around your chin, pulling your face so that it rests inches from his. Your breath is uneven and jagged as you reluctantly meet his gaze, a quiet “no” spilling from your lips. — He grins, tongue dragging across the bottom row of teeth in his mouth, “such a terrible liar.” 

You don’t have time to think, much less act before the head of his cock pushed past the rim of taut muscle as he slid inside your warm cunt, almost immediately groaning at how you wrapped around him so deliciously. — “Fuck, you really are a virgin aren’t you?” He breathes, lips hovering above yours and you weakly nod. The stretch of his thick cock making you go near cross eyed as you grasped at his shoulders. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before and you were sure that Beomgyu enjoyed every second of it. 

He had been the first, the first one to get his hands on you, to spew his poison all over your pure and innocent virgin body, and he would make sure to do so thoroughly. His mouth is on your neck, tongue licking at your skin and you cringe away from the action but he doesn’t falter, lips immediately chasing yours as he keeps you in place. The kiss is rougher than the previous, hungry and disoriented as Beomgyu messily jerks his hips against yours. Your nails dig into the apex of his shoulders and his name echoes through in the pristine bedroom as you moan out in pleasure. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum right away if you keep that up”, he grunts, fingers digging into your cheeks as he withdraws from your lips. Your eyes widen as you feebly try and shake your head, dreading for him to finish inside. But he doesn’t, instead he redirects his focus to your neck, resuming what he’d been doing as his tongue darts out to swipe across its juncture. You squeal when his teeth graze your skin, the hands on his shoulders moving to his dark hair. 

The marks he left on your untouched skin were bound to linger for at least a couple of days, he made sure of that. Reveling in the fact that you’d let him in, let him close, allowed him to take something so precious, something that you had been clinging on to for so long. He would have you, all of you, even if only once, he would be sure to leave an impression. 

And you know that you should feel ashamed, feel guilty, dirty even. But something feels different, something about him, about Beomgyu. It’s not the Beomgyu you loathed, the Beomgyu who’d made you cry, the Beomgyu who made you feel worthless. — None of the anger, the hatred, the fire; none of that lingered right now. And had it not been for his sharp teeth on your skin and his rough pace as his cock rammed into your throbbing cunt, the moment might’ve even been tender. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling building in the pits of your stomach and it had long since overridden the previous shame and guilt. Unsure of what to make of it, you desperately tug on Beomgyu’s hair, eventually making his head raise from your chest with a small frown, the liner around his eyes even more smudged than usual now. — “I’m…I…” your face turns beet red as you stumble over your words, not knowing how to express yourself. 

He licks his already wet lips, his pace momentarily slowing and you whimper at the discomfort soaring through your body. “You close?” He asks, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. You open your mouth only to close it again, nodding sheepishly as your hands twist in his hair. Beomgyu groans as he lets his fingers slide down your stomach, reaching where your bodies connected like one, middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly as he watches you arch against him with a broken moan. 

Your first ever orgasm felt out of this world, your cunt clenching around his cock with such vigor that you thought you might cry, a string of incoherent and high pitched whines ripping from your throat as you pull Beomgyu close, and for the first time, you’re the one initiating the kiss as you slam your lips on his. — He groans into your mouth, letting you slide your tongue against his, albeit a little awkwardly as you had no clue of what you were doing. 

Finally, as your climax comes to an end, you find yourself relaxing against the mattress, the fingers in his hair loosening their grip as you allow yourself to kiss him slowly. — “F-Fuck princess”, he grunts, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before letting go. You respond by eagerly raising your hips to meet his, wincing at how sensitive you felt as his cock twitched inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, wait”, he breaths, tearing himself from you as he swiftly pulls out with a small hiss. 

In your euphoric state, your eyes drift to his hand wrapped around his shaft, quickly jerking himself off as his gaze fixates on your wet cunt. Then he notices you, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he reaches for your wrist, “come here”, he urges as he guides the flat of your hand to wrap around his cock. — Blinking, your attention flits between his expectant face and his heavy dick in your grasp as you contemplate your next move. It wasn’t like you’d ever done something like this before but it looked easy enough when he was doing it. 

With determination you begin to carefully stroke him, biting the inside of your cheek at the squelching sound erupting as his arousal smeared across your fingers. Beomgyu’s hips jerk forward and your movements stutter. — “H-ah, fucking hell d-don’t stop”, he groans, his jaw slacked as his eyes tightly squeezed shut. A quiet “sorry” slips from your lips and your pace returns as you work to get him off. 

“F-Fuck go a bit faster, yeah?” He mutters, his hand joining in on top of yours as he ups the intensity. Merely following his command, you grip him tighter, drawing a strained moan from him as your fingers drag across his tip. — It made you feel oddly powerful, seeing him like this, his otherwise indifferent face completely flushed, and instead of presenting himself with a mean scowl, he looked to be in complete bliss as he let his head fall back. 

A final twitch of his causes hot liquid to spurt from his throbbing cock, the white substance coating both your hand and lower abdomen. He heaves a sigh and you feel him slowly go soft in your hand before you pull it away. Beomgyu runs his fingers through his hair, parting it before letting his arm drop back down, his gaze landing on the mess on your stomach. He tsk’s spreading the sticky fluid across your skin. “What would your daddy think if he saw you like this, hm?” He murmurs, licking his lips before bringing his cum-coated fingers to your face. 

You shake your head, without the waves of pleasure sparking through you, the shame and the guilt suddenly crawled right back. “I- I don’t want to talk about him..” You whine, trying to force the image of your father out of your mind. — “His beautiful princess, completely ruined by something so…what did you say I was? Dark?” 

Without warning he pushes his wet fingers inside your mouth, making you cringe at the salty taste of him. “I bet your daddy would hate you forever”, Beomgyu finally states, watching as you frown, lips closing around the digits in your mouth. — And when he finally withdraws them, you splutter, “my father doesn’t hate me, but yours seem to do.” 

Beomgyu’s jaw twitches, his lips curling up into a small scowl and the desire previously filling the air slowly simmers out. You knew that he wanted you to feel just as miserable as he did. But you wouldn’t let him, you wouldn’t let him get to you like that. — Half expecting an insult thrown your way, you’re surprised when he merely tucks himself back into his sweats, rising from the bed as he regards you with dark eyes. “Fine, keep living with such fantasies and we’ll see just how long it takes for them to get crushed.” 

Without as much as another word, he leaves your room, the door slamming shut behind him as the small house falls under an eerie silence once more. 

⸝⸝

Your parents came home two days later, and though you wanted to say that things had changed between you and Beomgyu after your…night together, it was safe to say that they hadn’t. At least not on his part. You on the other hand, couldn’t get the feeling of his hands off of your body, it was like he’d permanently imprinted himself on your skin. It feels disgusting, and you had spent three hours in the shower the morning after, vigorously trying to scrub the venom from your system. But it never worked, his touch lingered like that of a tattoo, forever sealed onto you. You could never take back what had happened that night. 

For some reason, a small part of you doesn’t want to. 

Beomgyu avoided you, and when he wasn’t avoiding you he was glaring. His dark and piercing eyes followed your every move whenever you were in his field of vision. But there was something else too, a sense of superiority. — He knew that you were constantly dealing with the consequences of that night, he could see the way your mind haunted you with the memories, and he took pride in watching the shame and the guilt practically eat you alive. — He was on top of the world and you were scrambling to even get by. 

So one could easily imagine your surprise when one evening, you found him in a state you never thought you’d ever get to witness. 

It was late, but your small family had yet to eat dinner, and you watched as Ms Choi darted across the kitchen, in full with preparing your meal. You helped her set the table as you laughed at a couple of your dad’s terrible and overused jokes. It had taken a whole of three days for you to be able to look him in the eye after he’d come home, and you still felt terrible whenever you caught him and Ms Choi sharing a kiss; knowing that one tiny slip of your lips could manage to ruin something so perfect. 

You trusted that Beomgyu wouldn’t utter as much as a single breath about what had transpired that night, but you still startled when his mother taps your shoulder, whipping around as you come face to face with her. — “Dear, do you mind fetching Beomgyu, dinner’s almost ready”, she smiled, that warm and comforting smile she so often gave her son, only to receive a mere huff in return. You nod, slowly making your way out of the kitchen as you head for the hallway, dreading having to speak to him, much less in private. 

The steps creak under your weight as you drag yourself up the stairs, drawing out the moment for as long as possible before you inevitably reach his door. With a small sigh, you knock. There’s no music coming from the other side and you frown, what’s up with him? — Another knock, but nothing. You bite the inside of your cheek, a wave of frustration crashing over you at the thought of having to call out for him. 

“Beomgyu?” 

A third knock. You wait for at least a minute but there’s nothing, just silence. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep, still, you should wake him and let him know that dinner was ready, Ms Choi had asked you after all. — Your hand is near trembling as you grasp the handle, twisting it before pushing the door open. Slowly adjusting to the darkness of his room, you peer inside. But to your surprise, he wasn’t there. 

Your footsteps make a thumping sound as you hurry down the stairs. If he wasn’t in his room then…Your gaze flickers toward the dining room and kitchen before settling on the front door. “Did he mention anything about going out?” You call out for Ms Choi and she soon appears in the doorway, a bowl of salad in her hands. “No, is he not in his room?” She wonders, her face quickly falling. 

Noting her worried expression you quickly shake your head as you try and reassure her. “I’m sure he just went for a walk, I’ll go check.” — Your dad’s girlfriend gives a small nod as her gaze, too, flickers toward the door. “Alright..” 

⸝⸝ 

The cool night air hits your face and you mutter a few curses under your breath, scolding yourself for offering to do something like that when the last thing you wanted was to be out in this cold. — As you walk down the graveled path you let out a tired groan, what were you even thinking coming out here? It wasn’t like he was just going to magically appear or something. Fucking asshole, had the nerve to leave without a word and now you had to go looking for him. 

But as you push the small fence gate open and turn out and onto the street, a familiar scene flashes before your eyes. Nostalgia fills your every fiber as your eyes fall on Beomgyu’s figure, perched on the sidewalk as he hugs his knees to his chest, just like he had that night, that night two years ago. — But something was different. That night, the one where you had learned to hate him, it had been a warm night, and Beomgyu had been burning with rage. Today, the air is much colder, and Beomgyu is no longer on fire, instead he’s shivering, his whole body quivering as small sobs escape his soft lips.  

You freeze at the sight, breath catching in your throat as you regard his almost pathetic frame, curling in on itself as his fingers dig into the flesh of his calves. Part of you wants to leave him there, perhaps even make fun of him, it was most tempting to finally get back at him for the way he’d ruined you. — But you weren’t Beomgyu. And you wouldn’t do that. 

Instead you find yourself slowly approaching, and just like that night two years ago, you slide down next to him on the cold pavement. He doesn’t seem to register that you’re there, and you sit in silence for a brief moment before addressing him. — “Beomgyu?” — His head jerks at the quiet whisper of his name, his usually narrowed eyes wide in shock as they flicker over to you. His cheeks are wet, stained with his tears and the liner around his eyes had run down his face in messy streaks. A few strands of hair stick to his forehead and his lip trembles as he sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He croaks, but his voice comes out weak and raspy. His hands wipe at his face, but it only spreads the mess already there even further and he lets out a frustrated groan. — You don’t say anything, because last time you tried to comfort him you only ended up getting hurt. Instead your gaze flits to his discarded phone between the two of you. The screen was broken, likely from him smashing it on the asphalt beneath. You frown as it suddenly comes to life, vibrating against the hard ground. The bright screen illuminates the dim street and your eyes land on the caller-ID. 

“Dad.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t make a move to answer, merely turning his head away as he continues to sob into his arms. “Don’t”, he mutters as he sees you reaching for the device, “he’s drunk.” — You purse your lips but your fingers still clasp around the phone, your thumb swiping to decline the call. Upon being presented with his lockscreen, you can make out at least another fifteen missed ones. Your chest churns at the scene, for whatever reason, you do not know. The bright light vanishes as you power off his phone completely, tossing it to the side as you stretch your legs out in front of you on the pavement. 

It takes him about a minute to lift his head from his arms and his breath is still uneven as he speaks. “What does he want?” — Biting your lip, you gaze ahead, tracing the outlines of each car parked down the street, memorizing their plate numbers. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so you remained silent. Beomgyu shuffles next to you, mimicking your movement of unfolding his legs. “I bet he wants money..” He then adds in a snarky tone, wiping his face once more as he snivels, “money to sponsor his fucking addiction.” 

You throw a quick glance in the direction of his discarded phone. “Why do you still have his number?” It was obvious that he didn’t like his father, so why let him bother him like that. Beomgyu shakes his head solemnly, his fingers twisting against one another as he opens his mouth only to close it again. “Wouldn’t it be better to block him?” — “I can’t.” He suddenly exclaims, turning to you with a small frown. 

Why not? Why let something like that plague you, why not just cut it off, why not just let go? 

It was then you realized that perhaps you and Beomgyu shared a lot more than you’d initially wanted to admit.. Your eyes drop to the bracelet around your wrist, the silver glinting under the moon. — When your attention returns to him, you find him already watching you, his gaze following yours as it resided by the jewelry on your arm. You think he might make another comment about it, but he doesn’t, instead he merely sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“I think..” You begin, your voice a quiet whisper as you stare past him, eyes drifting off into the distance as you let the words roll off your tongue. “I think you’re stuck on what could’ve been rather than what you have.” Beomgyu doesn’t say anything, his gaze mindlessly dropping to his hands in front of him as he bites the inside of his cheek. “What I have”, he mutters with a small frown, clearly not intended for you to hear but you did. 

“You have your mom.” 

He scoffs, already anticipating your next self-victimizing rant about how yours was dead. “My mom is-” 

“A wonderful person.” Your statement catches him off guard and his attention shifts back to your face as he studies you with a look of wariness. “And you would see that if you spared her more than a glare”, you continue as you watch his skeptical expression. — You had never felt anything besides hatred for Beomgyu, and you had been so blinded by your rage that in a way, you had become almost exactly like him. But as you finally take a step back to view him completely, his disheveled frame, his slumped shoulders and runny makeup — pity washes over you, the same pity you had felt on that night two years ago; the night everything went wrong. 

“Stop holding her accountable for his mistakes.” 

You can see the twitch of his face at your words, as if he wanted to refuse them, to lash out on you, but he didn’t. Instead he looks to you with the most sorrowful look you’d ever witnessed on him. — “How do I do that?” He wonders, his voice is thick, laced with his previous tears. Biting your tongue, you hold back from saying what you thought he wasn’t ready to hear but Beomgyu clings to you, his hands wrapping around the fabric of your shirt, his grip near trembling. 

“I miss my mom.” He whispers, his voice breaking as a lonesome droplet falls down his cheek, slicing through the dark smear of charcoal on his face. Your jaw falls open, stunned by the way his resolve so suddenly crumbled. And as you heard the words leave his lips, “i miss my mom”, you could practically feel every single one of his emotions as they washed over him in thunderous waves. — You missed your mom too, you missed her terribly. 

He hiccups, his tears creating a damp spot on the shoulder of your shirt. “H-How do I get her back..?” The question comes out muffled as he grips you tightly. “Please…I want my mom back.” — Your eyes sting and you feel yourself slowly losing your composure as you draw in a ragged breath. With a small push of your hands, you manage to create some distance between the two of you, enough to where you could see his wet face, his glossy eyes and swollen lips. 

“You have to let him go.” 

You reach for his phone, powering it back on. Beomgyu looks hesitant as he wipes his eyes, exhaling shakily when you extend the device to him. “The longer you let him ruin you the more you and those around you will suffer.” — With wobbly fingers he grasps his phone, slowly finding his dad’s contact info. He wavers, thumb hovering above the block button as he bites his bottom lip. 

You don’t know why you felt the need to help him, why you felt like you had to comfort him, reassure him. — “You’ve said it yourself haven’t you? Some people don’t deserve children.” His gaze flickers up to meet yours at the statement, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Don’t let him have that privilege”, you say as you let your hand rest on top of his. 

Beomgyu slowly nods, reluctantly pressing the dreadful button as he erases his father from his life. He purses his lips, breathing out through his nose as he stares at the screen for a minute, as if contemplating his next move. — “He’s gone.” He finally states, the frown on his face only deepening as he swallowed thickly. 

“Sometimes it’s better that way”, you mumble, letting go of his hand as you lean back, your gaze dropping to the bracelet around your wrist. 

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your body as you reach for the small lock, carefully unclasping the piece of sacred jewelry. Beomgyu and you…You weren’t so different, you think. And if he could do something, something like that, then who says you couldn’t? 

His eyes are on you, watching intently as you with shaky hands let the bracelet fall from your skin, feeling oddly empty without it. — It feels light in your hand, and you wondered how something so significant could weigh so little. It made it easier to let go. — Beomgyu lets you grab his wrist, the frown on his face creasing further when you tie the silver around him. 

“Now she’s gone too.” 

You give him a small smile, meeting his wide eyes as they shift from the bracelet around his wrist and your relieved expression. 

It’s without thinking that you lean in, softly pressing your lips against his in a small kiss. But this time you didn’t feel guilty, nor did you feel dirty or ashamed. Instead it felt nice, it felt like closure. Letting your eyes flutter closed, feeling his warm and damp skin against your own, a stark contrast to the cold night surrounding you. Beomgyu lets you kiss him without protest and you feel the faint caress of fingers to your cheek. 

When you pull away he chases after you, only to be stopped by the palm of your hand on his chest as you shake your head. “It’s not like that. You know it too.” Your soft whisper makes his jaw clench, his fingers dropping from your face as they curl into fists. Then he nods, the corner of his lips pulling upwards, “yeah.” 

Gingerly rising to your feet, you dust some off the dirt from your jeans before your attention returns to him, still perched on the sidewalk. — Your outstretched hand is met by the raise of his eyebrow and you roll your eyes, “come on, I think there’s someone who would like to talk to you.” Beomgyu frowns but takes your hand nonetheless as he lets you pull him up. 

You walk like that, hand in hand, and it feels nice. Your heart sinks a little at the thought that it could’ve been like this from the start, had things worked out differently. But as you turn to walk through the small fence gate, and your eyes fall on Ms Choi, anxiously waiting by the front door, you find yourself smiling. And instead of grieving what you could’ve had, you would focus on what you did have. 

Beomgyu audibly swallows next to you as his gaze surveys his mother, and as Ms Choi notices the two of you approaching, her face lights up. — With a final squeeze of his hand, you let him go. It was satisfactory in itself to see him walk up to his mom, letting her wrap her arms around him for the first time in what you could only guess to be years. But they both made it look so natural as they fell into each other’s embrace. And it only confirmed what you had known for so long.

That Beomgyu was and had always been, a mommy’s boy.

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[lesbianrobin]

ok so here is my pitch for my dream buddie catalyst:

eddie and maddie are trapped in some sort of likely-fatal time sensitive situation together (drowning related probably because it's Them) (have they overused it yes is it still thematically appropriate YES) where one person could potentially sacrifice themselves for the other to survive. i want eddie and maddie using their combined experience and ingenuity to survive together and discussing who should be prioritized which means they talk about parenthood and how they both feel they've failed their children by "running," how their lives have been so defined by trauma and they don't want to scar their children any further by leaving them again. of course they're doing everything they can to get out together, but as the situation deteriorates throughout the episode(s) (c'mon something like this could be at LEAST a two-parter) they can't help returning periodically to the world's most morbid debate.

i want buck and chim on the outside both going out of their goddamn minds. they know that eddie and maddie are stuck (wherever), know that they're probably alive, but aren't sure in what condition and if they'll stay that way. rescue operations begin as everybody walks on eggshells around buck and tries to comfort chim, who wants absolutely none of it. time is running out.

eddie says that he couldn't possibly let maddie sacrifice herself for him and look buck and chim in the eye afterwards. maddie says that she couldn't do that either. she says that at least jee-yun would still have her father, and eddie says that christopher would still have buck. maddie says that of course none of them would just abandon christopher if something were to happen to him but—

and eddie cuts her off and says it's in my will. if i die, christopher will have buck. buck will have christopher.

they just look at each other for a weighted moment. maddie makes a decision. she says ...i meant it, you know. that i couldn't let you die down here (wherever here is i don't KNOW okay i'm not here to think up convoluted emergencies i'm here for drama) and look my baby brother in the eye knowing that i could have changed it. eddie says i know, okay, but it's different, you're his sister, and maddie says, yeah, but you're his... and she pauses. and eddie says what? best friend? partner? that doesn't—

and maddie says you're his. eddie, you're his.

and eddie... i want to see something slot into place. i want to watch him understand as maddie spills everything she's been suspecting since the day that buck came out to her and maybe since before she and eddie even met. maddie says you know, when i first came to california, you were all he talked about? you're still all he talks about. you and christopher. you're his. i couldn't... eddie, you're out of your mind if you really don't think that losing you would break him just as much as losing me. he would forgive us both, because he's buck, but i couldn't... i'm no saint, eddie, i want to survive. i don't want my daughter to grow up without me. but i can't do that to him. i don't know if he'd survive it. even if he did, the guilt would eat me alive.

meanwhile. buck is barely holding on to his sanity as rescue efforts are underway and time is running out. chimney is keeping it together as best he can but there isn't much that he and buck can do. he can't let himself fall apart because buck is already a stiff breeze away from clawing his own skin off and somebody has to keep their cool. something goes wrong—suddenly, their short amount of time has gotten shorter, and they may only have enough of a window to get one out before it's too late for the other. buck, who has been ranting and arguing and screaming this whole time... is silent. he is silent, and he stares straight ahead at nothing in particular, and we know that no matter which way the scales tip, his soul will be destroyed all the same.

eddie regards maddie for a moment. grief, heartbreak, anger, all flicker over him, but what settles is determination. he says that neither of them are going to leave again. that they'll survive together, or not at all, or leave it to the universe to decide.

of course they make it out. by the skin of their teeth, they make it out, working together, clawing their way back to life and love and possibility. maddie makes it out first, and eddie sees buck as she falls into chim's waiting arms. he watches as buck sees his sister, and reaches out to take her hand with trembling fingers and white knuckles, but there is no relief, no happiness in his red-rimmed eyes. just a deep, unspeakable grief, until his eyes slide past maddie and meet eddie's.

finally: relief. and then he is in buck's arms, a perfect parallel to chim and maddie, and we see eddie's face over buck's shoulder, and we know. he is in love, and buck is in love, and eddie knows, and he sinks into his partner's embrace with joy and acceptance.

after that, who knows? maybe a grand confession. a moment of quiet understanding. a passionate post-rescue kiss. a chaste, tender kiss in some kitchen or other. maybe eddie panics later, or maybe he's found peace for once. maybe buck has realized something and he makes the first move. maybe it happens immediately. maybe it takes a while, takes discussions about how it'll affect work and christopher and whether it's worth risking all that they have for all that they want.

and maybe they'll ask whether it's even a risk at all.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - FIX YOU

A/N: Guys, it's happening! It's here! Old man Logan story for you! I don't know if you'll like it. This is what I always imagined after seeing "Logan" movie. I am a sucker for happy endings, I guess. Let me know what you think. I tried my best.

Pairing: Old man Logan Howlett x Mutant! female reader

Warning: angst, some fluff, nudity, extremely light smut

Words: 6800+

Important notes: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine | Inaccurate information from the movie. I just wanted to write my own thing, so just be aware of that.

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - FIX YOU (OLD MAN LOGAN) 

Shitty year. Shitty life. The only thing that eased the pain and his thoughts was the booze. He was able to get drunk. Fucking finally. No one stopped him from the liquid poison. Why would they? No one was alive. Everyone was dead, under the daisies. Sniffing them with their skeletons. All thanks to Charles. Now, that old senile fuck wouldn’t die no matter what. Fucking telepath. 

Logan threw another empty bottle on the dusty ground, snarling as he limped back to the driver’s seat of the limo. His phone had been ringing for some time now. It meant another job for him. He took a minute to collect himself to look at the notification. He hoped to call it a day. That dream died sooner than his appetite for alcohol.

One passenger, long ass drive around El Paso. Fucking rich people that don’t know what to do with their money, he thought. Last night, he drove a bunch of drunk chicks from a bachelorette party, showing him their tits. At least some fun, nice round things to look at. Tonight, it wouldn’t be as entertaining.

Touching the screen, he accepted the offer and put the phone into a holder. His eyes found another empty bottle on the passenger’s seat. Logan threw it out the window. He drove off the side road and headed to pick up the next customer. He hoped it would be someone calm. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with drunks and skanks. 

God he wished the day would end soon -  well, night. He was tired, hungry and was already in need of booze to ease his mind and pain. This life sucked. Ever since Charles managed to kill everyone over a year ago, living in this world has been a nightmare. Instinctively, he patted the spot on his jacket where he carried an adamantium bullet. Logan kept it with him, to end his life once he felt like it wasn’t worth living anymore. 

When he came to the pick-up spot, he frowned. There was one person, as expected. He pictured a guy standing there, like the one he drove to a hotel a week ago. This was a woman. She was dressed in all black, with a big black hat and massive sunglasses. Snobby girl using daddy’s money, he thought. Besides, who the fuck wears sunglasses in the evening?

Logan was ready to leave the limo and open the door for her. However, the woman was faster. She got inside on her own. At least she was capable of doing that. 

He drove away, heading to… wait, where were they headed? He grabbed his phone to look at the final destination. There was none. He noticed a note: Please drive around the city. Fuck, he wasn’t going to do that. He wanted to go back home. 

Logan rolled down the partition, mouth open to ask the question. But he was met with the woman sitting right behind him as if she was waiting for him to address her. Something inside told him to be careful. Goose bumps ran through his devastated body. 

“Where to, miss?” was all he asked. 

Her head turned to the side. Logan noticed the shape of her lips covered in crimson-red lipstick. To him, they reminded him of someone. His mind went instantly back to the days when everyone was alive. There was one person he missed the most. She used to wear a colour like that on her lips. God, he hated thinking about her. It was too painful.

“Just keep driving,” the woman replied. 

That voice. Holy fuck, how sweet and familiar it was. The booze was playing tricks on him, he was sure of it. No, she was dead. Everyone was dead. Charles killed almost all X-men with his seizure-inducted psychic attack. 

He took a deep breath to calm down. When a familiar scent hit his nostrils, he squinted at the woman. What the fuck was this? This was just some mind game of his brain. “That’s not how things work, miss.” 

She chuckled and took off her sunglasses. When her eyes met his, Logan jumped on the brakes and the limo halted abruptly. One hand rested on the steering wheel while the rest of his body turned around to look better into her face. What the fuck was happening?

“Hey, Logan,” the woman said his name. It sounded like the most beautiful melody that hit his ears.

“Y/N?” he whispered her name. 

The cars behind them started to honk aggressively. The limo was in their way, slowing the traffic down. It wasn’t wise to stand in the middle of the street. Logan cursed and started to drive again, his eyes watching Y/N through the rear-view mirror like a hawk. He feared that one blink later she’d be gone. 

He drove them to a silent street, where he knew they’d be alone, without anyone snooping around. The shock was replaced by anger and betrayal. How the fuck was she alive after everything that happened? 

Logan parked the car, his body turned back to face her. She should be glad there was the fucking partition separating them. His emotions were running wild. He’d be able to grab her by the neck and choke the truth out of her. “Fucking sing, right now woman. How the fuck are you alive?” 

“You sure this is safe?” she pointed at the outside. 

“Fuck, talk!” he raised his voice at her. “You’re supposed to be dead. How the fuck are you alive? Explain yourself before I do something I’ll regret for the rest of my miserable life.” Logan was fuming. It was like a wicked mind game. 

“I don’t know.”

He laughed. What a pathetic reply. “I should believe that?” 

Huffing, she moved to the door and stepped out of the limo. Logan got out a second later, limping towards her as fast as he could. With a painful grunt, he took the claws out of his right hand and grabbed her by the top of her long jacket. He pressed her against the vehicle. 

Y/N’s eyes locked with his. There wasn’t a hint of fear inside her. She remained calm. She expected this reaction, the distrust. Anyone would react this way. 

Her breathing was slow, even. “I can explain everything.” 

“You have one fucking minute,” he snarled.

“I’m gonna need more than that,” she said. 

He cursed under his nose. Logan let her go and stepped back to breathe. He was spiralling. Was this happening? This was a hallucination, he was sure of it. None of it was real. “Fuck, fuck! I mourned you. You’re supposed to be fucking dead like the rest of them!” He coughed.

It was painful to see him like this. One year could do a lot of damage - physical and mental. The man she once knew was broken and bruised. Carefully, her hand lifted to his face. She pressed the palm on his grey-brown beard-covered cheek. “Logan,” she said his name. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened.” 

“Shut up.” 

“So many lost, dead because of what Charles’s power did,” she continued. “I’m really sorry about this.”

As she was about to retract her hand, he grabbed her with his left one and pressed his lips on top of it. He inhaled her scent, felt the soft skin with his lips. Logan needed to be sure she was real and not just a figment of his imagination. “How?” he grunted. “How is this possible? I mourned you, Y/N,” he repeated.

She nodded, understanding. “There is a lot to discuss,” she said. “We need to go somewhere where we can talk. That’s why I wanted you to drive around. Standing here, where anyone can see us is dangerous.” 

Logan let her go. He huffed and wiped his face with a hand. The claws on the right hand were long gone. “Get in the car,” he ordered. “I know a place.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Y/N sat on the passenger’s seat and Logan drove them away. Both of them made sure there weren’t any suspicious vehicles following them. El Paso was a big city, lightened up with many lights like Vegas. The city woke up for the night as the temperatures got acceptable to humans. 

“Is anyone else alive?” Logan asked after a while. His voice got softer. He was able to process the initial shock.

“No,” she shook her head. “Everyone’s dead. I should have been dead too.” 

“How come you are not?” 

She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. “I think my mutation saved me. It got enhanced with Charles’s psychic attack, or what the hell that was. My mutation was always a protective one. I believe it helped me survive and regenerate. As if that whole situation unlocked something new inside me.” 

“Shit,” he gasped. “Is that even possible?”

She shrugged. “I recall something that Charles taught back at the school. High-stress situations can unlock mutant powers. Usually, it happens to teens and children. But, it’s not rare for mutant adults to have their mutation enhanced by stress, which can potentially bring out more powers.” 

Y/N reached into her boot and took out a pocket knife. As Logan stopped the limo at the red light, she showed him her forearm. “Look.” With one precise move, she cut her skin. Some blood dripped down her arm and onto her clothes. Next, it was sealed with a white light. The skin was nice and clean as if she never cut herself. 

Shit, she could regenerate now. It made sense she survived. “Damn. That didn’t happen before,” Logan commented. He thought back to the days when they were at the mutant school. She could get hurt like anyone else. Bleed like any mortal. “Just… tell me why did you decide to show up now? Why not when you woke up after that incident?” 

Logan drove them to the parking lot inside a building. It was big enough for the limo to fit through the driveway. Once he parked on the second level, he turned the gas off. 

“I didn’t know where you were or who was left alive,” she said. 

“A year, Y/N,” he glared at her. Logan’s eyes were red. He had bags under them, signalling the lack of sleep, the tiredness. “What the hell were you doing during that time?” 

The silence inside the car got heavy. This was a question she knew he’d ask. It was time to tell him everything that happened. 

Y/N turned her body to face him. Her eyes found his shaky hands. “I remember… the pain. A lot of it. My head was about to explode. There was a ringing sound in my ears. The ground was shaking. I could see our friends, the students, on the ground, yelling and gasping for air.

Then it was followed by darkness. When I woke up, I was in a morgue. There were so many of us, lying on cold tables. I was the only one alive. They were all dead.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. “I went through all the tables, saw all the dead faces of our friends and family.” 

Her voice broke. It was too painful to talk about what she went through when she woke up. How fast the world changed. Her hands trembled. “I went through all bodies,” she sobbed. “I saw all the lifeless faces. I cried my eyes out and mourned them. In the end, I realised two people were missing - you and Charles.” 

Logan’s expression softened. He was consumed by his anger and confusion. She came back to his life when he thought she was dead. He should consider it a blessing. A light came back into his dark life. Now, he learnt that her second chance at life was a complete disaster. Pain and death. 

“It took me some time to start again, trust the people around me. Afterwards, I started to look for you. I knew, deep inside, that you were alive somewhere. I made a plan, created a safe place for us once I’d find you. It took me half a year to get an intel that you were alive, here in El Paso.” 

Logan’s hand reached her face and wiped away the tears that ran down her cheeks. After all this time, he still had a soft spot for her. He always did. 

“It wasn’t easy to get here,” she continued. “Luckily, I had people from the past who owed me a couple of favours. I collected information about you. It was easy to discover you got Charles with you. I got intel about his state or how you’ve been trying to get meds for him. When possible, I’d arrange for extra medication for him.”

Logan sighed. “That was you?” 

She nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t always possible. I tried my best to help you while I prepared for the whole plan I made.” 

He huffed. “Shit, I appreciate it, darlin’.” 

Y/N smiled at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. I’m sorry I couldn’t…” 

“That’s okay-”

She grabbed his hand. Her fingers trailed the scars on it. They hid under the sleeves of his black jacket. “Do you… Do you know what’s happening to you?” she had to ask. “I can see you’ve changed, Logan.” 

“I’m an old man now,” he said. “I’m in constant pain, healing slowly but not fully. It’s clear I finally have my expiration date. I’ve been alive for almost 200 years. I’ve been through a lot of shit, good and bad.” 

“So,” she cleared her throat. “You feel like it’s your time to go?”

“I didn’t have a reason to live,” Logan admitted. He couldn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on the front window, watching the outside. “The X-men dead, no school, no mutants. I ended up taking care of Charles, who doesn’t want to die,” he grunted, frustrated. He smashed his hands against the steering wheel. 

Logan left the car abruptly. He needed to breathe, to move around and calm down. Charles once gave him a second chance at life. He welcomed him into the mutant school. Now, Logan wanted him to finally die. It was too much responsibility. And he was exhausted.

Y/N appeared before him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Logan,” she whispered his name. Her mouth opened to say some reassuring words when he pressed her against the limo. His big hands grabbed her by her face and pressed his lips to hers. 

It’s been a year since he last kissed her. She used to be his anchor, the love of his life. It got destroyed when everyone died - when he thought she died. And now, being here with her a year later, the need was back. Their lips moved in sync in a hungry kiss filled with sorrow. His tongue demanded entrance for further exploration. 

Y/N grabbed him by the white button-up. She missed his kisses, his touch. However, it felt different. The time apart made it feel a bit foreign and sad. Her heart wanted to explode.

Logan pushed away, breathing heavily. “Sorry,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“It’s okay,” Y/N quickly found his shoulders. “It’s been a fucked up year.” 

He pulled her into his arms, hiding her in a tight embrace. “With you here, back in my life, it changes everything,” he admitted. 

There was a short silence before Y/N told him something he didn’t know. “I know what’s happening to you, Logan.” 

They looked at each other. His brow lifted. “What?” His arms remained on her waist.

“It’s the adamantium,” she said. “It’s poisoning you, slowing down your healing factor and killing you.” 

“How do you know?”

She told him the story of how her trusted friend from the past was able to get to Logan’s blood sample from the time when he agreed to get the adamantium. They ran some tests and even got their hands on some of his bloody clothes from a few months back when he got shot by some men in a parking lot.

“With his help, we were able to do a full analysis and figure out that the adamantium would attack your cells more with time. It’s a toxic substance released from the metal that is killing you from the inside. It’s a whole complex situation. But,” she sighed, “he was able to figure it all out.” 

He huffed. “Well, there you go, darlin’. My time is running out. Fast.”

“What if…” she whispered. “What if there was a way to heal you? Would you want that?” 

This time, they parted away to have a better look at each other. “That’s a difficult one, Y/N. I know things won’t be the same as they were a year ago.”

The sadness appeared in her eyes and he noticed. “Oh…”

“I know things are so fucked up. No more mutants are being born. If there are any left, which I highly doubt, they are all hiding.” 

“You,” she started. “You wouldn’t want me back?” Y/N had to ask. She needed to know to move on. After everything, her heart belonged to him. 

Logan closed his eyes and thought about his reply. “I will want you until the day I die. And that’s the thing. My days are coming to an end. Look what happened to me. I’m an old fuck, who could be your fucking grandfather now.” 

“I still love you,” she said looking away. “I don’t care about any of it. You are my Logan. The one who protected me, helped me grow and made me a better person. Fuck, there was always a gigantic age gap between us. Do you think, just because you have grey hair and scars, will make me love you less?” 

Logan shook his head in disbelief. “I always knew you were too good for me. Even now, you’ve been helping me while I had no idea you were alive. Shit. Such an angel in disguise.” 

Y/N swallowed hard. A lump formed in her throat. “I have an antidote for you,” she blurted out. “If you want it. If you want a better life… with me.” She knew damn well how selfish and stupid it sounded. 

“Antidote?” 

She nodded. “I know, it’s crazy. I know you have no reason to trust me after being separated for a year, while you believed I was dead.” Her hands started to shake. The desperation was evident. She wanted him, needed him back in her life. “It’s up to you, Logan. I have it. If you want it.” 

His phone started to ring. Logan’s eyes moved to the car, seeing the phone still in the holder vibrating. It had to be Caliban. “Shit, I need to head back home.” 

Y/N’s heart dropped. Was this the end of it all? He didn’t want the antidote. He didn’t want her or another chance at life. “I understand.” 

Logan reached for her hand. “You are coming with me, darlin’. We are not done with this conversation. I am not fucking done with you.” He brought the hand to his lips and kissed it. “Get in the car.” 

“Logan-”

“No,” he shook his head. “You’re coming with me. Don’t you dare jump to conclusions, Y/N. We have a lot to discuss. And believe me, I’m not fucking letting you go.” 

A warm smile appeared on her face. “Okay.”

“I just fucking hope you don’t have to leave now.”

“No,” she smiled at him. “I’m staying. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep you safe, I swear on my life. I’ll get you out of here. Like I said, I already have a plan.” 

Logan helped her get inside the vehicle. He drove them out of El Paso to a place he now called home. It wasn’t much, but it was a place where they could hide and survive. It was located near the US/Mexican borders, in the middle of a dusty nowhere. 

Y/N watched his face the whole drive. She could see how he squinted, frowned out of nowhere. The smile that was on his face turned into a painful scowl. He was in pain. It was a moment like this when she wished she could heal other people with a simple touch. That’s not how her mutation worked. 

When they arrived at an old abandoned smelting plant, the air was warm. Dust and dry land hit her nostrils once she got out of the limo. 

“One more thing,” Logan said and coughed. “We have another mutant here. His name is Caliban.” 

She frowned at him. Everyone knew Caliban. “If I were you, I’d kill him for what he had done in the past. Fucker used to help Transigen for a long time, tracking mutants for them. You were too kind to take him in.”

Logan huffed. He reached his hand towards her. She approached him, taking his hand into his. He got her inside the rusty old building. Together, they walked into a section that could be called ‘the kitchen’. 

Y/N’s eyes wandered around, seeing all the empty bottles of alcohol. Old long rags hung from the walls. It was like a workroom. The smell of steel and ore. At least this was a safe place where they could sleep and eat. 

“Logan?” Y/N turned to the sound to meet Caliban. She noticed how his eyes widened when they landed on her. “Shit, you are alive.” 

“So are you,” she glared at him. 

He took a sniff, frowning. “If I had known you’re alive, I’d have smelt you. I would have known about your presence. Something is different about you. I can’t smell the mutation on you.” 

“Maybe it’s your own mutation weakening,” she growled at him. 

“Mind your own fucking business,” Logan glared at Caliban. 

“Don’t you find it odd that she’s alive?” he raised his voice, finger pointing at the woman. “How is that fucking possible? How come she doesn’t smell like one of us?” 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Caliban. Also, I don’t care if you don’t trust me, because I certainly don’t trust you.” 

Logan’s lips turned into a smirk. He took off his black jacket and threw it on the wooden table. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up. There were scars over his forearms, even old bullet wounds that didn’t properly heal. He could feel her eyes on them. 

“Come on, darlin’. I’ll take you to see Charles.” 

Y/N made a face while looking at the albino mutant. With Logan, they left the kitchen area and headed to the back door. He took her into a different section of the lot, through a crooked door. The inside of the space was dark until Logan turned on a small light. 

A movement came out of an old bed. “Who’s there?” Charles’s voice echoed around. 

“I brought you, someone,” said Logan. “Someone you know very well. It might lift your spirits.” 

Y/N had to smile when she heard Logan’s softer, calmer voice. Her hand gently brushed against his lower back when she walked closer to the old man. Her legs stopped at the edge of the bed where she saw a very old Charles Xavier with white longer hair and a stubble. 

“Professor,” her voice was a mere whisper. 

His eyes found her, eyeing her face and hair to the clothes and hands. He lost his breath for a moment. As if a ghost was standing in front of him. “Y/N?” he gasped. “Is that you?” 

She nodded, smiling. “Yeah, Professor. It’s me.” 

“How?”

Her lips opened, ready to tell him to read her mind. She immediately halted. Y/N knew his powers were not what they used to be. “My mutation saved me,” she gave him the simplest answer. “It evolved, like you taught us back at the school.” 

Professor’s eyes moved from her to the man standing in the back. “You did at least something right,” he said to Logan. “You became such a disappointment. At least this-” 

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. “Professor,” she scolded him. She never imagined these words escaping Professor’s lips. 

She turned to Logan. He had a plastic case in his hands. Then he handed two pills to Charles. “Take them, now,” he said gruffly. “Come on.”

Charles did as told, swallowing the pills and sticking out his tongue at Logan like a child. 

“We’ll let you rest,” Y/N said, smiling weakly at the old man. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.” 

“You are staying?” he asked. He received a simple nod from her and it made him smile. 

Logan brought her to a room with one bed. There were several empty bottles of liquor, cigar butts and other shit. It was spacious, smelled like alcohol, cigars and Logan. This was all he had. At least some privacy, a place to sleep. Those days of living in luxury were long gone. 

He turned on the light. It was yellow, illuminating the place enough for them to see. “You can take the bed,” he said, breaking her thoughtfulness. 

Y/N glared at them. “And where will you sleep?” 

He opened and closed his mouth. There were many options, including the damn limo. But he wished to sleep next to her like they used to before as a couple. Logan huffed. 

“You know, you look very handsome in those formal clothes,” she said. “Sexy, dare I say.” 

“Those were the days when I was,” he scoffed. “Now, I’m basically a fossil.” 

Y/N slowly took off her long jacket. She put her hand into her pocket, feeling the glass vial. Her hand let loose and draped the piece of clothing over a chair - or something that looked like it. The hat was long forgotten in the back seats of the limo. Then, she approached him, carefully resting her hands on his chest. When he didn’t move, she gently unbuttoned the white shirt for him. 

“Y/N,” he sighed her name. 

“Will you let me do this?” she asked, her voice soft and sweet. “Will you let me show you, that in my eyes you are still the handsome man I still love?” 

She helped him take off the button-up and let it fall on the dirty ground. “Fuck,” his breath hitched. “Darlin’.” 

Her hands moved up, gently stroking the skin on his neck until she reached his bearded face. “The beard suits you. Miss the mutton chops, though,” the left side of her lips curled up. 

Logan couldn’t resist. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. One, two and then his tongue asked permission to enter to which she obliged. His big hands slid down her back to her ass, taking a handful of it. “I missed you,” he admitted between the kisses. 

“Missed you too,” she nodded. When their lips disconnected, she grabbed him by the white tank top he wore and dragged it out of his pants. Y/N helped him get rid of it. She could sense the hesitation from him. 

Once it was off, her hands gently stroked his hard chest. Her fingers delicately brushed all the scars that littered his still muscular body. The regeneration was barely working. There was a day-old wound. Someone fucking shot him a day ago and the wasn’t there to protect him. Without thinking, Y/N pressed her lips on his left pectoral, right above his nipple and a scar he had there. 

“Why are you doing this?”

Her hands slipped to the belt of his pants. “To show you that I love you the way you are,” she admitted. “That I want you no matter what.” 

Logan stopped her by grabbing her wrists and pressing them back to his chest. He didn’t let her go. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“I…” she closed her eyes and pressed her ear against his beating heart. The sound soothed her. It was a sign he was here and alive. “I want to show you, that I do want you whether you are old or young. I want you to know, that even if you don’t want the antidote, I’m here with you until…” her voice broke. The thought of him dying was terrifying. 

“The antidote,” he sighed. Honestly, he forgot about it. The conversation before was short.

“It’s okay if you don’t want it…”

Logan helped her sit on the bed. Their knees touched. His big hands held her smaller ones. He remained close to her. “I need you to tell me more about it. All I know is that you have it and it has to do something with the adamantium poisoning my body.” 

“All I know is this: The antidote will stop the poisoning and stop the dying process. A friend of mine was able to make a new element that successfully fought the molecules of the adamantium. Many outcomes may happen once you take the antidote. There is only a 1% chance of side effects. Hell, even less than that.” 

“What are some of the outcomes?” he asked. 

“Either it’ll only cure you and stop the ageing and dying process. Or the regenerating factor will kick in and heal the scars and wounds littering your body,” she named a few. 

Logan shook his head. “So, no matter what, I’ll be stuck in this old body.” He winced when a wave of pain hit his body. His hand reached for the first bottle he found, drinking the alcohol like a lemonade. 

“Sexy old body,” she grinned at him. “Would it matter?” she raised her brows. “You’ll be strong again. No more pain. No more booze as painkillers.” Y/N reached for the bottle and took it away from his hands. “I’m here, with you, Logan. You don’t have to do this alone.” 

The next words he said were something he’d never imagined he would say to anyone. “I’m scared, Y/N. There is this fear inside of me that life will suck for another two hundred years. And now, here, with you, I fear that I’m gonna lose you again. It was painful the first time. I’m not gonna be able to do it again.” 

Carefully, she climbed onto his lap. He put her hands on her waist while Y/N buried her fingers into his hair. “That’s how I feel now. I feel I’m going to lose you just when I was able to get to you.” She then brushed the tired skin under his eyes with a thumb. “I don’t want to lose you, but I will if you won’t take the antidote. Fuck, I want to be so selfish and convince you to take it. However, the choice is yours.” 

Hot tears spilt from her eyes. The choked sobs made Logan clench his heart. He knew his girl would never force him even when she wanted to. She was never selfish. It was his choice. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling her sweet scent. Damn, she smelled better than he remembered. 

“I want to sleep on that,” he said. “I’m so fucking tired. I should take a shower.” 

She tilted her head and smiled suggestively at him. “How about we take it together?” she asked, voice innocent and sweet. 

“Hm, you really wanna get inside my pants,” he laughed which made him cough. 

Y/N glared at him. “You make me look like a perv,” she said. 

“Who was undressing me minutes ago?”

“Who let me and didn’t stop me at the beginning?” she asked back. 

Logan patted her ass cheeks. “Come on, darlin’. I’ll show you the hole I shower in. At least we’ll save some water.” 

They got off the bed. First, Logan walked to an old wardrobe where he took out a simple t-shirt and some boxers he rarely used. He handed them to Y/N. “Something to wear afterwards,” he said. 

Like Logan said, it was a hole where he usually showered. It was big enough for two, even three people at the same time. It had hot and cold water. He had a soap and a shower gel. Hell, he had a spare towel, a smaller one, for Y/N. 

He leaned against a washbasin when his eyes locked on Y/N’s body. He watched her like a hawk as she undressed from her all-black attire. Over a year had passed since he saw her like this - exposed to his hungry eyes. She was right there, showing him her gorgeous body. No shame, no need to cover herself up. Only a gentle smile tugged at her lips. 

Y/N called him in. She put her body under the warm stream of water. This time it was her turn to watch him undress from the pants. And, like before, he didn’t wear any underwear. Her eyes were met with his semi-hard member. 

More scars littered his thick thighs. Mostly slashes from knives. And yet, he was still beautiful. A sexy man who had her heart for a very long time. 

His lips pressed into the back of her neck once he stepped inside the shower. His strong arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her back to his chest. 

Logan’s hands caressed her body. He felt every curve, exploring her as if it was for the first time. Her body was soft and warm. When one of the hands brushed up through her navel to the left breast, he squeezed it and then moved up and wrapped it around her neck. “So pretty, all mine.” 

They couldn’t resist each other. Logan had her pressed against a cold wall in no time, slowly filling her up with his cock. He enjoyed every push, every clench. He muttered sweet nothings into her ear as she moaned his name. Slow, sexy and filled with love. No, he wasn't fucking her like in the past - hard, rough. This was lovemaking. Emotions played the main role here. 

After the shower, and a long soft make-out session, they returned to the old bed. Logan put her body over his. Like this, they could sleep on the bed until the very morning. Or at least Y/N did. 

Logan kept thinking most of the night about the person in his arms. Some higher force brought them back together. In the past, he lost everyone he loved. When Y/N came into his life, he hesitated to let her in. That woman swallowed his heart and made him feel things he never knew were possible. When he lost her again, and the rest of his X-men family, he was ready to end it all and die. Not anymore.

“Baby?” 

This was the first time Logan used this pet name since reuniting. Y/N’s eyes opened immediately, her head tilting up at Logan. Was something happening? “Everything okay?” she asked. 

Logan brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes were small, tired. But they sparkled when he looked closer. “I’ll take the antidote.”

“Really?” 

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I have you now. I have something worth living. I thought about your survival and your mutation. Shit, you can heal now, Y/N. It’s giving me hope that I’ll be able to spend many more years with you.” 

Y/N climbed up his body to press her lips onto his. It was a sweet, short peck. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to force you or anything. This is purely your choice.” 

He grabbed her face into his hands, staring into her eyes. “I love you,” he said. “Let’s do this now.” 

“Oh, okay!”

While she went into her jacket to get the antidote and an injection, Logan sat up and cracked his fingers. His hands were shaking. A painful groan escaped his throat when he felt another wave of pain. He longed to take a bottle that called his name and drink it in one go. 

Logan’s red, tired eyes rather moved to the sweet ass of his woman. The view was nice, distracting. A smile formed behind his thick beard as he memorised it. 

Y/N got back to the bed and prepared the blue liquid. “One more thing,” she sighed. “We don’t know whether the healing process will be painful or not. I’ll be with you the entire time.” 

“I’ll manage. I’ve been through a lot of shit. It’s not gonna be painful as the damn application of adamantium into my bones. Or the feeling when I thought I lost you.” He stretched his left arm, showing her the big vein popping out. 

She took a deep breath through her nose and lowered the needle to his skin until it penetrated it. She injected the antidote into the vein and took the needle out. The tiny wound instantly closed. 

Logan’s breathing sped up. He frowned, gasped for air and grunted. He was in a lot of pain. The effect started fast. Y/N dropped the empty injection on the ground. She jumped up, grabbing Logan by his wide shoulders. “Breathe,” she told him. His body was hot, sweating. “Logan, breathe.” 

A scream erupted from his throat. His fists clenched, eyes closed shut. It was evident the pain was unbearable. The roaring brought Caliban into his room. His mutant eyes wide as he watched Logan rolling on the bed in excruciating pain. 

“What the fuck have you done to him?” he shouted at Y/N. 

She didn’t know what to do or what to say. “Wait!” she yelled at Caliban, raising a hand not to intervene. 

That’s when she noticed that every wound, every ugly scar started to disappear, leaving the skin nice and smooth. It was working. She felt some relief inside her soul. 

Logan’s chest was heaving. Grunts and snarls came out of his mouth. Luckily, the shouting was done. He was calming down. All those voices and pain turned into heavy breathing. 

“Logan?” Y/N appeared above him. She scanned his face and moved downwards his body to his rising and falling chest. 

“Holy shit,” he gasped. “Did it work?” 

Caliban appeared above him. “What the hell? How is this possible?” 

“Yes, it did,” Y/N smiled. 

Logan’s body healed. Every wound, scar or pain he felt minutes ago was gone. Even his eyes looked brighter. The redness was gone as well as the dark bags under them. 

He lifted his body from the bed and found Y/N’s face. Both hands pressed to her cheeks and then moved down her neck. “Fuck, you look so damn beautiful. I can fucking see. My vision was fucked. I had to wear reading glasses.” 

“Hey,” Caliban reminded them he was present in the room. “What have you done to him?” 

“I cured him,” she said. 

“How’s that possible?”

“I have my ways,” she replied, eyes never leaving Logan’s face. A smile played on her lips. She couldn’t stop staring into his pretty face. Well, he was handsome even before she gave him the antidote. “How do you feel?” 

Logan pressed a kiss to her lips, hugging her body as he pulled her into his lap. He was never fond of PDA, but now, he didn’t give a shit about it. If it made Caliban uncomfortable, good. At least that fucker would leave his room and give them some privacy.

The kiss ended. “I feel reborn. I don’t feel any pain. I can see clearly. Like a goddamn miracle.” Logan put her down on the bed next to him and walked to a mirror he had in the room. “Fuck!” he gasped. He stared at his reflection. 

He kept searching for the scars on his shoulders and his face. Or the one over his ribs. There was nothing. What remained was the grey-brown short hair or the thick beard. His fingers touched every part of his face, just to be sure it wasn’t an illusion.

“At least I don’t have to watch the puss on his knuckles,” Caliban commented. “By the way, it’s time to give Charles his medication. Since you are all cheerful and healthy, it’s your turn. I had a rough night,” he said grumpily. 

Logan glared at the mutant. “Fine.” 

Once Caliban was out of the room, Y/N walked to Logan. He wrapped his right arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Thank you, darlin’.” 

“Anything for you. Now, it’s time to move to the rest of my plan,” she said. “I have a safe place for us. It’s gonna be a long drive to Canada, but everything is set and ready. And by us, I also included Charles. We need to take care of him. He once welcomed us to the mutant school. It’s our turn to do the same.” 

He shook his head in disbelief. “Always the one with a plan. What about Caliban?” 

“Sorry, not included,” she said. “He did a lot of shit in his life. I can arrange some supplies for him once we leave, but that’s it.” 

“When do we leave?” 

“As soon as we can. Let’s give Charles his meds, pack everything you need and leave,” said Y/N. 

Logan took a deep breath. “Come here,” he whispered. He needed to kiss her. It was like sealing a deal with Y/N, that this was the new beginning, a new chance to have a better life. Was this finally his happy ending? 

[sunflowerwinds]

first night traditions | e.w

summary: back for your third summer in a row, you reconnect with your friends you hadn’t seen for a whole year, including one ellie williams. seeing her again brings back the silly crush you developed on her the first summer. you promised yourself that this summer would be different but your heart is betraying you.

pairing: ellie wiliams x fem!reader

contains: fluff, tension between ellie and abby, characters from a different au (steve & robin from stranger things), probably inaccurate depictions of summer camp because i’ve never been, maybe flirty!ellie :)

word count: 4.1K

a/n: i literally couldn’t think of any other name for extra characters. stranger things had been heavy on my mind even though 90% of the cast and production team are so insanely problematic. fuck the duffer brothers. but i am so so excited for yall to see what i have for this. a day late posting i apologize but i hope you guys enjoy <33

under the summer stars masterlist

For the past two summers, you’ve been a camp counselor at Little Explorers Summer Camp. As irritating as the summer heat made you, being able to spend a month in this little paradise with the sweetest kids in the world made the burning UV rays worth it. You pulled into the parking lot, watching your friends from previous summers lining up beside you. You sent a text to your dads to let them know you’d arrived safely at the campsite.

As you adjust your minimal amount of makeup, you hear a knock on your window causing you to jump slightly and turn down your music that you had been listening to on the 3 hour drive. You turn your head and gasp in excitement as your good friend and fellow counselor, Jesse, tugs open your door.

“Oh my god, Jesse!” You chuckle as you step out of your driver's seat to wrap your arms around his neck.

He chuckled against your temple as he wrapped his arms around you, patting your back.

“Holy shit! Have you been working out? You nearly choked me out just now.” Jesse joked as he pulled back from your embrace.

You put your arm up to flex playfully, nodding with a cheeky smirk.

“Prepping for this summer, you know?” You shrugged your shoulders before looking over his shoulder to see a familiar blonde head making her way over.

“I think we should really put that to the test,” the blonde folded her own muscular forearms over her chest.

You make your way over to her to give her a tight hug as you had missed her presence dearly. Abby had become a close friend of yours after your first summer as a counselor being a year older than you and having more experience than you did.

“Abs, I missed you,” you laugh softly as she gives you a squeeze, slightly lifting you off the ground.

“I missed you too. Ready to deal with whiny kids and minimal air conditioning for a month?” Abby grinned from ear to ear as she pulled away, patting your shoulder.

“Oh, nothing but excitement and not at all fear,” you give her a thumbs up before you turn to see Jesse opening up your trunk to grab your suitcase.

You thank him as he breezes past you with your two suitcases, watching him walk down the gravel road to the counselors cabin. Abby mumbles ‘show off’ as Jesse lunges with your suitcases on either shoulder causing you to chuckle. The sun beat down on your exposed neck, beads of sweat already trickling down your back and centering on your upper lip.

You and Abby get to talking as you shut your car door, double locking it as you had the tendency to forget to lock your car. Abby explained to you how she had been excelling as a personal trainer back home, loving the differences she makes in people's lives. You were a barista at your campus when you weren't here at the campsite.

As you both walk up to the camp main office cabin, you notice a few other familiar faces. Dina, another fierce friend of yours, and Joel, one of the only mature adults in charge, both leaning against the old wooden railing with bright smiles.

“Well, who are those sexy ladies?” Dina shouts, cupping her palms over her mouth.

The sound caused the birds in the trees to scatter, you flinching at fluttering and squawking above you. You shake your head with a blush from not only the heat but her words.

“Dina,” Joel says warningly.

“What? The kids aren’t here yet.” Dina rolled her eyes playfully before making her way towards the two of you.

She threw each of her arms around your necks to pull you both into a quick but sweet hug.

“You’re one to talk. Hello? Your hair is growing and have you been doing squats?” You check her out as you admire her figure.

“My genetics blessed me.” Dina insisted with a bright smile.

The three of you were all sharing conversation as you walked up the steps, giving Joel friendly smiles and ‘hello’s. You peeked inside the cabin to see Jesse talking to the one person you were ashamedly the most excited to see. There she stood in a black tight wife pleaser, arms crossed in front of her chest as she nodded to whatever Jesse was rambling about. She even stopped her conversation with the man to walk up to you to give you the tightest hug, her toned arms wrapping around your frame.

Ellies’ sigh brushed against your temple, like she was relieved to see you. After all these summers, no one ever exchanged numbers so you yearned for her presence at the beginning of the month of June. Your dads already gave you a million pep talks but you told them your crush on Ellie was no more. Your heart betrayed your mindset as it fluttered at her grip on you, melting into the embrace without even realizing.

That is until Jesse spoke up.

“Jesus, Ellie, you guys are going to have a whole month together.”

This caused you to flip him off behind Ellie’s back. Ellie, sadly, pulled away regardless but didn’t let Jesse’s comment go unpunished and gave him a punch to his shoulder. He simply winced and rubbed the skin, shaking his head at the auburn haired girl.

“You’re just jealous because I’m her favorite,” Ellie snipped with a confident smile.

You couldn’t even lie as it wasn’t far off. It made you over think how you act around her. Have you made it obvious these past two summers how much you favored her?

“So are you guys excited for tonight?” Dina pipped in, raising her thick eyebrows as she glanced at everyone.

Every summer for as long as this camp has been active, all of the counselors take a night to go for a late night swim and a beautiful campfire to take the time to mentally and emotionally prepare for the next month.

The children come on Monday. It was Saturday so they had all of Sunday to prepare everything for the kids.

“Oh hell yeah. Dina and I are going to sneak into the dining hall to grab everything for the s’mores. What cabin did everyone get assigned to this year?” Jesse spoke up, grabbing the clipboard with everyone’s cabin and the amount of campers everyone had.

You glance at Ellie to motion to the clipboard. She grabbed your arm to tug you towards Jesse’s figure, peaking over at the highlighted names.

“Shit, Els, our cabins are right next to each other this year. T-Rex’s and Daisy’s.” You beam at her as you run your finger down the list.

“Finally. It’s been, like, three years and we’re right next door to one another.” Ellie looked over at you with just as much excitement in her sage green eyes.

You couldn’t help but match her excitement as you recalled the past two summers where the cabins you were assigned to were tens of feet away and you weren't able to see each other until lunch time or late at night. The cabins next to each other were usually teamed up to do activities with the kids together. More time to spend with Ellie.

Platonically and BFF-like, of course.

“Wait, Joel, where’s Steve and Robin?” You question the elder man as he walked through the screen door with a large box in his arms.

“Ah, those two will be here much later.” He paused to set down the box near a desk. “They missed a few exits and called ahead to let me know.”

You nod to yourself. Steve and Robin were like ying-yang twins. The brunette pretty boy and the freckled girl were the definition of platonic soulmates. It freaked you out how well they got along.

“Well until then, let’s all unpack our shit in our counselors cabins.” Jesse spoke up, grabbing one of his suitcases.

You agree and go to grab your suitcase when Abby and Ellie speak up.

“I can help—“

“Hey, no, I got it.”

You froze at the two of them reaching for your travel cases, looking in between the two of them.

“Guys, I can carry them myself,” you shake your head with a soft laugh but neither of the girls were having it.

“It’s like a mile walk to the Daisy cabin. I’m right next door. I can help,” Ellie emphasized, looking at Abby with a tight-lipped grin.

“A mile is not that far, Ellie. I really have no problem doing it.” Abby chuckled in Ellie’s face, grabbing the handle tightly to your carry-on suitcase with your toiletries.

Dina and Jesse exchange looks with you before silently maneuvering around the three of you to carry their own suitcases to their assigned cabins. Was there a weird tension between the two or was it just you?

“Okay! How about you both carry something? There. Problem solved.” You speak up, placing a hand on Ellie’s shoulder and turning to face Abby.

The two were driving causing your shoulders to set in a hunch at the strange encounter. The girls agreed on that before leaving the main cabin to yours. Abby’s biceps flexed as she carried the heavier suitcase with ease as Ellie rolled her eyes behind her, telling you to follow behind them so you could get settled in.

Reluctant already to walk in the shaded heat, you give Joel one more forced grin. He muttered ‘good luck’ before returning to his own tasks with what you swore was a teasing grin.

The walk to the cabin wasn’t as irritating as you were expecting as Ellie and Abby were right: you would’ve been complaining a lot more if you had a suitcase in each hand along with your carry on. The heat was causing your baby hairs to stick to your forehead, huffing in annoyance but keeping your snarky words to yourself as you arrived with the two very helpful girls.

Ellie kicked open the door, a soft grunt leaving her lips as she placed the suitcase she was holding next to your counselor bed. Abby did the same, stretching her palm in and out from the tight grip. You sigh as you lean against the doorway, feeling the cool A/C hit your face.

“See? Teamwork guys,” you give them both thumbs up. They looked back at you with panting chests but smiled at your words nonetheless. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit. Thank you, Els. Thanks, Abby.”

You give the girls a side hug — Ellie’s a little tighter than the blondes. Abby gave Ellie a look once over before leaving the cabin to have you and Ellie be on your own. Once the door shut, Ellie turned to you with a soft sigh. She placed her hands on her hips as she looked around at the cutesy decor that was floral themed. You took notice of how homey the bunk-beds felt in comparison to all of the other ones.

Sure, they were just as adorable but this one felt right. Or maybe it was the fact that a certain auburn haired girl was making you feel more at ease than ever.

“This is a cute little cabin. It suits you,” Ellie walked over to trace the mural of sunflowers with the campsite name in a beautiful cursive font.

“Right? It’s perfect. I mean, the Mushroom and Grizzly cabins were adorable but this feels a lot better for some reason.” You glance over at Ellie’s inked arm, sucking in a deep breath.

Ellie hummed in agreement, looking back over at you. You fiddled with your random bracelets, giving her the least awkward smile you could muster. She reciprocated the gesture right back and tilted her head to the left.

“I should probably head over next door to get all of my shit unpacked,” Ellie huffed out, walking over to you to be merely inches away from your face.

“I thought you were just going to annoy me for a little longer but if you wanna go, Els.” You tease, scrunching your nose at her.

She scoffed and leaned in, narrowing her eyes. “You love it when I annoy you.”

And how easily you could kiss me right now if you were willing, you thought.

“I guess I do since I keep you around,” you shrug your shoulders.

Ellie’s eyes poured into yours as she took a step back. Her hand reached at one of the ends of your braids, twirling it around her pointer finger. You watched her carefully as her smile slowly grew.

“You’re not sick of me yet?” She questioned, still messing with your hair.

Not in the slightest, your brain echoes.

“We’ll see. I’ll get back to you when the month is over.” You chuckle as she releases the dutch braid from her fingertips.

Ellie muttered ‘fair enough’ under her breath as she nodded to herself, a smile creeping on her lips. You watch her take a moment to glance around the cabin once over before inching towards the door.

“I’ll see you in a bit, okay? Campfire and then late night swimming.” Ellie pointed one finger at you expectantly.

“I know, Els. I’ll see you,” you give her one more nod.

“Wear something cute for the swim,” was the last thing she said before opening and shutting the door behind her.

You watched her now more blurred figure through the screen over the windows, waiting for her to leave before letting out a long sigh you weren't aware you were holding.

It was going to be a long month.

After unpacking for what felt like centuries, you had everything in their correct places and were able to peacefully make your way to the campsite. All of the beds were made, your counselor door had your name in dry-erase along with the rules for the camp opposite of the door.

And maybe you took into consideration what Ellie said about the cute outfit and threw on a pair of brown cargo shorts and a loose white tee. You only brought three pairs of shoes so you landed on your black and white Reebok Club C’s. What’s underneath was also taken into consideration.

As you were shutting the door behind you, you turned around to see Dina standing right in front of you with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised. You scoot back as she had scared you with her silent presence.

“Hey D, everything okay?” You tilt your head at her as you make your way down the steps.

“What the hell was that with Abby and Ellie earlier?” She trailed behind you, speeding up her steps to walk beside you.

You glance at Dina as you recall how intense hours before were between your other two friends; one whom you felt more deeply for.

“I really have no idea. It was… freaky but hey, I got out of carrying my luggage.” You joke and Dina nods along with a weak chuckle.

“Yeah, that is true but I don’t know. Ellie and Abby have always been neck in neck for some reason. They get along enough to be cordial but those two can get on each other’s nerves fast.” Dina explained to you.

You never really noticed it before. You assumed it was because if you weren’t trying to make sure the children were pulling or cutting each other’s hair, bullying one another or making sure their bladders were in check. Along with your flourishing and embarrassing school-girl crush on Ellie blinding you.

“Why?” You question as the two of you were approaching the campfire that was sparkling and crackling under the setting sun.

“I really have no idea, babe but what I do know is that you’re not being any less obvious with your crush on Ellie.” Dina nudged you as she jerked her head to Ellie who was watching Joel pulling at the strings of his acoustic guitar, a bottle of Coke dangling from her long fingers.

The green eyed girl had a small smile on her pink lips as she watched the father figure in her life sing lowly with the tune. Her effortless beauty to you was always captivating. Maybe Dina was right.

“My crush is extremely under control,” you lie straight through your teeth.

“Suppressing it and not confessing is not having it under control,” Dina stated with a sigh, shaking her head.

“Okay, enough talking about it. Plus, I’m trying to move on, D.” You lower your voice once you approach the group of familiar faces.

Dina pressed her lips into a thin line as she respected your wishes. What you told her was half true. Yes, you did want this crush to wither away in the wind but you didn’t actually have someone else to fixate on.

”Robbie, hey!” Dina approaches Robin, giving her a quick hug.

Robin rested her chin on her shoulder with a soft chuckle, reciprocating the motion. You make your way over to Steve who was chugging a lime Gatorade. Everyone was wearing a mix of tank top and tees with either jean or cargo shorts with athletic sneakers. Steve, being the manwhore he was, had on 5 inch inseam jean shorts. He looked like he stepped out of a 1987 slasher movie.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you tease as you stare at his head of gorgeous hair.

Steve rolled his eyes playfully before wrapping his free arm around your waist from where you were standing quickly. You hear Ellie and Joel snort at your statement as Steve shakes his head at their laughter.

“What’s up, Bubbles?” He grinned up at you.

Now the entirety of the camp erupted into giggles at his nickname for you. Last summer, the children in your cabin pranked you with the help of Jesse and Steve. The idiots got all 12 kids an extra large bubble gun and doused you in soapy bubbles right after getting out of the shower. You swore half of them just went up your nose and in your mouth. The HD photo of you is hanging in the main office for everyone to see.

“Alright, alright, enough. You guys are asses.” Ellie spoke up but she covered her mouth to hide her own laughter.

You sit down next to Abby and point across the fire at the auburn haired girl.

“You better keep one eye open at night.” You shake your head, allowing the warmth of the fire and the soft tunes of Joel’s guitar put you at ease.

Everyone else ‘ooh’d’ and ‘damn’d’ at your words as Ellie merely shook her head. She didn’t believe you were going to really do anything to her. That is until the blonde sitting next to you threw her muscular arm over your shoulders, tugging you into her side.

“I’ll help you prank Williams. Let me know before we go on our weekly trips to town.” Abby whispered into your ear which caused weird shivers to trickle down your spine.

You send her a small smile with a soft ‘thanks’.

Before you knew it, everyone was sharing how their past year has been since the previous summer. The sticks were passed around with the huge marshmellows at the end, everyone roasting them to a slight crisp. This camp had been a second home to you and these people had become like family. You found out that Robin had finally made a move on that girl she had been cruising on for the past year and had a date with her when she got back from camp which everyone drank to. You pressed your melting marshmellow in between two graham crackers, a small amount of chocolate between the two as you weren’t the biggest chocolate fanatic.

Ellie was almost pressured into playing the guitar tonight but she insisted she saved it for the kids.

Just when you were trying to get over her she said something as sweet as that. God, you hated her. After everyone had inhaled their s’mores, a series of sighs and complaints about how hot it was trickled down the line of counselors.

“Screw it. It’s time for that late night swim.” Robin stated, standing up on her high-top Converse covered feet.

Even though the sun had been set for almost two hours now, you were still warm all over. The cool lake would be heavenly. Everyone except for Joel got up from their seats on the logs, making their way over to the lake.

“Y’all be safe now. Ev’rybody knows what to do when you’re done swimming right?”

They were scattered ‘yes’s’ and ‘got it, Dad’. In a sense, Joel was like a father figure to you all since each and every one of you viewed him as such; comforting and an older man.

Once he gave you guys the ‘okay’, the group took off in a sprint to the bridge overseeing the lake. You let out a loud laugh as you watched Steve trip over his shorts as he kicked the denim off. Everyone had left their clothes and shoes on the small wooden pier, each of you plopping in one by one.

You set your shorts aside hanging on the rail along with your shirt and shoes. You tried to ignore the negative thoughts about Ellie seeing your body in just your underwear; a pair of hipster panties and a bralette because you couldn’t stand wired bras.

”Come on! The water feels amazing,” you hear Robin shout.

You saw Dina shoving Steve’s head into the water with joyous laughter. Jesse, Robin and Abby will peacefully swim around in the dark water. The only source of light being the singular lamp post at the end of the pier and the moonbeams bouncing off the still water.

Then you see a familiar head of wet auburn hair pop up at the end of the wooden ledge.

“Don’t make me get out of this water and push you in,” Ellie warned but her smile showed she was only teasing.

You flip her off before motioning for her to back away from the pier.

“Move your head, Els. I don’t wanna risk accidentally kicking you in the face when I jump in.” You give her a pointed look.

“I could get a badass black eye though,” she raised a hand to push back her wet hair out of her face, giving you more of a view of her stupidly perfect side profile.

“No, seriously. I don’t want to hurt you. Please move.”

Ellie muttered an ‘alright, sorry’ before swimming backwards so that she was now in the little group, all eyes on you. You took a few large steps back, the rough wood tickling underneath your bare feet. You heard a few shouts of encouragement come from Ellie and Abby’s mouths.

Within minutes, you were sprinting off the pier into the deep water. The borderline freezing lake engulfed your body entirely. When your head popped back up above the water, everyone was cheering you on for the jump. You were shivering a bit until Ellie came up behind you, placing her palms on either one of your shoulders. The warmth of her hands eased your goosebumps that raised on your skin.

“So you did wear something cute for tonight,” Ellie said lowly, the cockiest and most stupid grin on her face.

At first, you thought she meant the clothes that were hanging off the pier but no, she meant the underwear that was now clinging to your body. Your cheeks flushed at her words, moving your falling bra strap back onto your shoulder.

“This is what was at the top of my suitcase.” You state before splashing her face with the water, leaning in closer so that you were inches apart. “Not everything is about you, Ellie.”

Ellie spat out what water got in her mouth before shaking her head as she smacked her lips against her teeth. It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.

“I missed you,” was all she said.

No sarcastic comment back. It sounded so genuine and maybe you felt bad for talking to her in that manner. You had to if you were ever going to move on from this fantasy world of Ellie liking you back.

“Well, I’m here now. I missed you more, Els.”

Ellie shook her head. “You can ask Joel. He’ll embarrass me with how much I was talking about how excited I was to see you again.”

Don’t, you shouted at your rapid beating heart. She misses me as a friend.

“I don’t think I have to ask. He loves embarrassing you enough on his own,” you reply with a shrug of your shoulders, kicking your legs through the thick water to keep yourself afloat.

Ellie chuckled as she agreed.

“Well, anyway, I can’t wait to have fun with you again. ”

You nod mindlessly, completely enamored with how soft and gentle her eyes looked under the minimal light as she spoke to you. You whispered, “me too.”

You were so screwed.

tag list: @abbyshands @ih8chickentenders @elliesprettygirl @justhereforinspopics @be3flow3r @hearts4joongie @plutolovesyou @bready101

[narumi-gens]

dreams aventurine x f!reader

18+ minors/blank/ageless blogs dni, 2.1 spoilers, pregnancy/parenthood

aventurine has never thought of himself as a man who dreams of the future, not beyond a certain point. but there's something about you that makes him doubt himself.

because when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, he can't help himself. he thinks about what would happen if he didn't pull out and cum across your ass, your tits, or your stomach, painting your skin in white spurts like he usually does. he thinks about what would happen if he buried himself deep enough for you to feel him in your throat and spilled himself inside of you for once.

what if he didn't climb off of you as soon as he caught his breath. he thinks about what it would be like if he instead stayed there even as he softened, cradled between your thighs, while your arms wrapped around his trembling form to hold him close, your fingers gently running through his sweaty strands, your touch alone doing more to calm his mind than an orgasm ever could.

there are times when he allows himself to imagine beyond even that, but only in his weakest moments when he decides to spend the night, always under the pretense of the late hour, or the bad weather, or how comfortable the bed he bought you is. it's a pretense that you see through, but never challenge him on as you know that doing so would make him leave.

it's only once he's sure that you're deep asleep and he can turn his unguarded gaze to your features in the dark that he dares to let his mind wander beyond the bounds he normally sets. he imagines your stomach swelling as the months pass, of your hand grabbing his to press his palm to your belly to feel the fluttering of new life from within.

he imagines a small bundle pressed to your bare chest, skin-to-skin. you're crying, but so is the newly born infant that you hold so dear. so is he. sometimes, the sunlight shines through the windows of the hospital room, and other times the rain is deafening against the glass.

likewise, sometimes when the baby in your arms opens their eyes to take in the world for the first time, their color mirrors yours. but more often than not, it's his own pink and blue irises looking back at him, promising a life of good luck.

he imagines the feeling of a small palm pressed flat against his own much bigger one, as a young, tiny voice stumbles over the words he tries to guide them through.

he pictures the smile on your face, both adoring and soft, as you watch with tear-filled eyes as he teaches your child the blessing of their people.

as long as you are alive, the blood of the avgin will never run dry.

no matter how many years have passed since he was taken from sigonia in chains, he'll never forget his sister's final words to him. but when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, they feel like more than just a memory.

it feels like she's speaking to him across the years, to him now, trying to guide him towards this single future with you instead of any of the infinite other futures he bets everything on.

maybe, if he chose to listen to her, there could be another avgin for gaiathra to bless. maybe, if he ever chose to give in to his weakness, to your warmth, to your softness, to your love, the avgin wouldn't have to live and die with him.

[parkerslatte]

Incompatible | Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/N Archeron was a human living in the land of the fae. For her own protection, the Inner Circle keeps her in Velaris, safe and protected. One day, Azriel invites her to a meeting after seeing her close into herself more and more. There she meets the one who flips her whole life upside down.

A/N: This is a request from @talesofadragon , thank you so much for sending it in, it definitely helped with my writers block :) also this will have a second part and possibly a third so keep an eye on for those soon!

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Y/N Archeron remembered the day she returned to the house her two younger sisters lived in and found it completely destroyed. It had only been three months since she had last visited as making the journey across the human lands was a tiring one that Y/N did not make very often. Far from the village her sisters lived in, Y/N lived mostly alone with a large stretch of farmlands and woodlands. The closest neighbour to her was nearly a mile down the road. But Y/N liked that, she liked the peace living on the farm brought her. 

After she moved when she was freshly eighteen, Y/N sent most of her earnings to her family and lived off of the bare minimum. But she was happy, probably happier than she had been in a while. 

Now years on from that, at twenty-eight, Y/N continued to sit at the table in the town house and watched the world go by. She tried to concentrate on her book or anything else but she couldn’t, her mind was elsewhere. It always was this past year. Occasionally someone would walk by but Y/N made no effort to make conversation. All she wanted to do was leave the damned house. 

Y/N was only a human living in the land of the fae. When she first arrived, she was happy. She was back with her sisters and she was in a new place to explore. At first, Rhys allowed her to walk the streets of Velaris, browsing the shops and market stalls. Soon that transitioned to her needing an escort wherever she went and very soon after that, it turned into Y/N being locked up in whatever house everyone decided that week. Today was the town house. She knew that her family were only looking out for her and only wanted to protect her. After all, Y/N was not immortal. She was not fae. She could bruise easily, was far weaker than anyone else around her. 

Y/N sighed yet again and threw the book in her hands to the floor. She didn’t understand why she was here anymore. Y/N knew that she was of no use to anyone around her, she felt more like an inconvenience if anything. They should have just taken her back to her own damned farm.

“Hey,” Azriel said, approaching the eldest Archeron. “I came to check on you.”

“Of your own free will or because you were forced to?” Y/N snapped back. She instantly felt guilty. Since she was brought to Velaris, Azriel had been nothing but kind to her. They all had but he was the only one who had gone out of his way to talk with her everyday. Her sisters had stopped doing that when they had either begun their own families or had gone travelling. 

“My own free will if you really want to know,” Azriel said and sat down in the chair next to hers. He glanced down at the book on the floor. “Did the book really deserve that?”

“It probably deserved a lot more than that,” Y/N said, bringing her legs up onto the chair. She looked back out of the window.

Azriel sighed. “Y/N, look, I know that you don’t want to be here–”

“What gave you that impression?” Y/N interrupted.

Azriel simply ignored her. “But you are safe here.”

“I could have been safe at my farm,” Y/N said. “There was no need to bring me here. Feyre and Nesta are both busy with their families to sit with me anymore. Elain is busy travelling the continent with Lucien. I don’t have any friends here–”

“I am your friend, Y/N,” Azriel interrupted her. “And all we are trying to do is protect you. The whole of Prythian knows that there is another Archeron sister and they all know that you are human. If anyone were to get to you, it would put you as well as your sisters in danger. Because you know that they would do anything to get you back safe.”

Y/N sighed. “I know but this is not a life, Azriel. All I do is sit indoors and waste away. I am not even allowed to go outside anymore. Whenever there is a meeting happening, I am sent away to the furthest possible room. I feel like a prisoner, Azriel. You may not see it, but it is how I feel.”

Azriel sighed and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Y/N said. 

“To a meeting,” Azriel answers. 

Y/N huffed and turned back to the window. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “Have fun.”

Y/N expected to hear Azriel’s retreating footsteps but she didn’t. Slowly she turned her head and found him standing there, his hand outstretched. 

“What?” Y/N asked.

“Are you coming or not?” Azriel asked. 

Hope lit up Y/N’s heart. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly,” Azriel said. 

Y/N stood up and threw her arms around the shadowsinger, nearly knocking him off balance. “What will the others say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azriel said. “If they say anything, let me deal with it.”

“Thank you!” Y/N exclaimed, pulling back from Azriel.

Azriel chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet. You are going to hate it once you realise how boring these meetings are.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N said as Azriel began to lead her to the meeting hall. “As long as I can actually be involved in something, I’ll find entertainment in anything.”

As soon as Azriel opened the door to the meeting hall, all eyes were on her. Y/N didn’t shrink away, she lifted her chin and looked around proudly. There weren’t many in the room at all, in fact there was only one new face amongst everyone else. Y/N studied him and, upon inspection, decided that he was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. His copper hair sat neatly on top of his head, a singular strand falling across his forehead. His fashion sense was immaculate and Y/N wanted to study the embroidery on his jacket up close. 

As Y/N moved her gaze back to the man’s face, she found him looking at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. Y/N gave him a small smile. 

A chair scraped across the floor, drawing Y/N’s attention away. 

“Azriel, what is she doing here?” Rhys asked, his voice low and deadly as he spoke to Azriel.

“I thought she could sit in on a meeting,” Azriel shrugged, pulling out a chair for Y/N. One directly across from the handsome man. “You and everyone else made Y/N read books on fae politics, so I thought she could see a political meeting in person.”

Rhys tried to remain calm but Y/N could easily see the anger and tension slipping through the cracks. 

Cassian was the next to speak up. “Az is right Rhys. Y/N must learn about all of this at some point. And there’s nothing like the present.”

Rhys’s gaze hardened on Cassian before he turned back to face Y/N. He offered her a small, barely there smile. “Very well.”

The stares of her two sisters burned into Y/N as she looked down at the table. Y/N hadn’t seen Feyre and Nesta in at least three weeks, but Y/N had to admit that by fae standards, three weeks was not a long time. But to Y/N it was, especially when there was barely anything she could do to pass the time. 

The chair next to Y/N scraped across the floor and Azriel sat down next to her. Y/N turned her head to look at him.

Thank you, she mouthed. 

Azriel gave her a small nod before he turned his attention to Rhys as he began to speak up. Y/N had to admit to herself that she did not find any of what Rhys was saying particularly interesting, but she still felt glad to finally be included in something. 

The meeting felt like it had drawled on forever and Y/N had learnt to block everyone out. Though, if Y/N had to admit to herself, whenever the man with copper hair spoke, she found herself tuning into the conversation just to hear his voice. Not only was he the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on, his voice was the most beautiful she had ever heard. Y/N wasn’t sure if one could fall in love with the sound of someone’s voice but she already had. 

Y/N shuffled in her chair and finally looked up from where she was looking at the small crack in the table. Her back ached from her lack of movement and the uncomfortable seat she had found herself in. The sun outside had begun to go down, casting the room in a faint orange glow. The expression on Y/N’s face saddened as she looked at the sunset. All she wanted to do was go outside and bask in the sun on her own. She wanted her own place to live without the constant feeling of being babysat. All Y/N wanted was her own life back. 

Cassian cleared his throat and it interrupted Y/N from her own thoughts. As she zoned back in, she made eye contact with the handsome man again. He was looking directly at her, a gleam in his eyes that seemed like…concern. Y/N didn’t avert her gaze. Something within her made her not want to look away. She was swimming in his eyes and she would happily drown if she had no other choice. 

The corner of the man’s mouth twitched and Y/N couldn’t help but mimic that movement, fighting the urge to smile. Nothing had made her smile properly in a while but just simply from looking at this man, she wanted to smile, share that experience with him. Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line and averted her gaze, only for a quick second. As her eyes met the man’s once more, a small smile pulled at his lips.

“Eris,” Rhys interrupted and the man reluctantly looked away from Y/N. 

“What?” The man, now known to Y/N as Eris, said sharply. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Rhys’s gaze flicked between Eris and Y/N and his gaze darkened the smallest amount. “I asked you if there was anything else you wished to discuss.”

Eris leaned back in his chair. “Actually there is one thing. I would like to know the name of the beautiful woman I have not been introduced to yet.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Her name is–”

Eris held up his hand, cutting Rhys off. “Ah, I did not ask you for her name.” Eris turned his attention to Y/N. “I would like her to introduce herself.”

Y/N briefly glanced at her sisters. Their expressions did not give away much but for some reason Y/N had a feeling that neither of them wanted her to introduce herself. It only made Y/N want to do it more.

Y/N plastered a bright smile on her face as she faced Eris once more. “I’m Y/N Archeron.”

“Y/N,” Eris repeated, her name sounding like poetry on his tongue. “A beautiful name to match such a woman.”

Y/N’s smile only brightened. 

“Now all introductions are over, I will see you out, Eris,” Rhys said. 

“I can see myself out Rhysand,” Eris replied, standing from his chair. “Although I would not complain if the beautiful Y/N walked me out.”

Y/N felt Eris’s eyes bore into hers and she couldn’t help the heat that rose to her cheeks. 

“I–” Y/N began to speak but she was cut off by Rhys.

“She will not escort you out, Eris,” Rhys said.

“I’m sure Y/N can speak for herself, Rhysand,” Eris said, his eyes not leaving Y/N’s. 

Reluctantly, Y/N shifted her gaze from Eris to Rhys. The High Lord’s violet eyes hardened and Y/N knew exactly what that look meant. It was a warning. Y/N then looked at her two sisters. Feyre did not seem to mind as she slightly nodded at Y/N. Nesta only looked at Rhys’s annoyed expression in amusement. Y/N looked at Cassian and Azriel. While they didn’t say anything, the protective look in their eyes said enough. Though as her gaze met Azriel’s he shrugged. Do what you want, his look seemed to say. It doesn’t mean that I need to like it.

Y/N turned back to face Eris. “I’ll escort you out.”

Instead of a smirk, Eris plastered a pleasant smile upon his handsome face. Y/N pushed back her chair, it scraped loudly against the floor. She could feel the eyes of everyone on her yet she was only focused on one. As she walked around the table to meet Eris, he offered her his arm. Y/N took it gracefully, feeling the hard muscle beneath his jacket. 

As soon as they were outside of the meeting room, Y/N let out a long breath. She looked at Eris to find him already looking at her. 

“I can feel how suffocated you are,” Eris said, his eyebrow knitting together in concern. “I know the feeling all too well myself.”

Y/N sighed. “This is honestly the first time I have ever been allowed to do anything on my own in a long time.”

“I cannot imagine how that must feel,” Eris said. “If I were in your shoes, I would simply run for the hills.”

Y/N’s lips twitched. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of doing that?”

“I don’t see why you don’t,” Eris said, as they finally stepped outside. Y/N lingered in the threshold of the doors. Eris’s concern seemed to heighten. “How long has it been since you have been outside?”

“Well only a few days since I moved from the House of Wind to here,” Y/N said. “But actually being outside and feeling the sun on my skin, quite a while.”

Eris scoffed. “Moved around? You are not a piece of furniture.You are a human being.”

“Exactly,” Y/N replied. “A human being. I am not fae. I am not safe if I am to live and walk around in daylight.”

“That is no way to live,” Eris said. 

“It is the way I have been living for nearly four years now,” Y/N said. 

“Well why don’t you and I change that,” Eris said, trailing his hand down Y/N’s arm to intertwine their fingers together. Y/N smiled as she felt his warm palm against hers. “Step out into the sun with me.”

“But it is sunset,” Y/N commented.

“It is said that that is when the sun looks the most beautiful,” Eris replied, nodding his head in the direction of the large hill obscuring their view of the sunset. “We will get a perfect view just up there.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, stepping back from Eris, though she didn’t release his hand. She didn’t want to release his hand. The warmth she felt from it was unlike any other. 

“Don’t do that,” Eris said softly.

“Do what?” Y/N asked.

“Shrink into yourself,” Eris said, lightly pulling her so she stood close to him. “Come with me. It is only over the hill after all. I can walk you back here safely after.”

Eris’s expression held no ill intent and deep down Y/N already knew that for reasons she couldn’t explain. Y/N nodded her head slowly. A wide smile spread across Eris’s face and Y/N couldn’t help herself but smile back. His smile was infectious. 

Together they stepped out of the townhouse and Eris led her further away from the building. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she felt the warm sun on her skin. They stopped at the top of the hill as Y/N’s eyes widened in wonder. It had been a while since she had seen such a beautiful sight. 

“I have to admit that this sight is rather beautiful,” Eris commented. “But the sights in Autumn are even better.”

Y/N turned her attention to Eris. “Perhaps I can see them one day?”

Eris smiled. “I would happily take you now if you wanted.”

The smile fell from Y/N’s face. She glanced back towards the townhouse. “I would love that, but…”

Eris glanced at the house. “They won’t let you.”

“It is their way of making sure I am protected, though I just feel trapped all the damn time,” Y/N said. “I hate feeling useless and that my life has no meaning. I rarely see my sisters because they are busy with their own families or travelling. I am not even allowed to train to pass the time, I am considered too delicate apparently, even for the training dummies. I just want to finally leave this court. I want to go back to my farm.”

“Your farm?” Eris asked.

“Before my sisters were turned into fae, I lived on my own farm hundreds of miles away. I sent most of the money I made to my sisters. I lived on the basics but I was happy,” Y/N explained. “I would kill to go back there.”

“Why don’t you?” 

“Well everyone inside of that house for starters but by now I am sure it is run down. I didn’t have anyone to help out on the farm, only the occasional person passing through if they were in need of work,” Y/N explained. “I am sure that it is not the cosy home it used to be by now and if I’m being honest, I do not have the motivation to even think about remodelling it.”

“What if you had help?” Eris suggested. 

A small smile creeped onto Y/N’s face. “Eris, are you offering to help me?”

“Perhaps I am,” Eris replied, taking a small step closer. “And if I was, Y/N Archeron, what would your answer be?”

“I would say–”

“Y/N!” Rhys called from the townhouse. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to look at Rhys. He stood in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. Y/N sighed. “I should get back inside now.”

As Y/N went to take a step back but Eris gently gripped her hand. “I take it that it would be impossible to convince you to come with me.”

“It wouldn’t be impossible to convince me,” Y/N said. “But convincing the Inner Circle to allow me out of sight is near impossible.”

Eris briefly looked at Rhys before looking back at Y/N. “Maybe I can convince them.”

Y/N laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I take that as a challenge,” Eris smirked. “Mark my words, Y/N, that by this time three days from now, I will get you out of that house.”

Y/N linked her fingers through Eris’s. “Well I cannot wait until you do.”

Eris lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. “I will look forward to seeing you again, Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Rhys said, interrupting Y/N from responding. 

“Rhys,” Y/N greeted. 

Rhys turned to Eris. “I see that my sister-in-law has escorted you out, maybe it is time for you to take your leave, Eris.”

“I was just leaving,” Eris replied, a gleam in his eye. “I have a very important letter to write tonight.”

Eris slipped his hand away from Y/N’s but Y/N found herself wanting to take his once more. The immediate coolness that wrapped around her hand was far from pleasant and she missed the warmth Eris provided. 

“I will see you very soon, Y/N,” Eris said, that gleam still shining brightly in his eyes. He turned on his heel and walked away without turning back. The light shone on his copper hair and Y/N wanted nothing more than to follow him. 

Rhys offered his arm to Y/N. “Let’s get back inside.”

“Before someone sees?” Y/N replied sharply. She walked ahead of Rhys the short distance to the town house. Though she felt a fluttering in her stomach and waited in anticipation to see if Eris’s words would come true. 

[pitchsidestories]

Jealousy II Patri Guijarro x León!Reader

masterlist I moodboard I word count: 2985

a/n: Hi, we hope it's not too confusing to read, the oneshot is a bit darker and more dramatic than our usual fanfics. The inspiration for the oneshot was this request here.

Carefully you applied the glamorous eye makeup you had in mind to your eye lids; you were getting ready for your older sister’s birthday party. Looking in the mirror you remembered a quote from a book you read for your English class in school beautiful little fool. According to Daisy in The Great Gatsby, it was the best thing a girl could be in this world.

You didn’t want to be a beautiful fool and didn’t yearn to be perceived as one. Another glance at your reflection and you realized you were done. Time to go to the party.

“Mapi, feliz cumpleanos, hermana!”, you greeted her grinning. Their home was almost a second home to you, you felt more at ease here than in your own appartement. You noticed Bagheera at his usual hiding space behind the window curtains, but for you he came up to get a few cuddles, before returning to it.

“Thanks, glad you could make it.”, she replied smiling, giving you a hug at the same time, pressing a grateful kiss to your cheek.

“Yes, I mean you’re getting old now, so..” ,you teased her, the grin on your face deepened.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get old soon enough, too.”, the defender promised you, laughing.

“Ugh, don’t remind me, Maria.”, you groaned playfully.

“Is that a gey hair?!”, she gasped dramatically while holding up a string of your hair to the light of the lamp.

“Girls.”, Ingrid shook amused her head. She was used to your lively banter now.

“Sorry. Is Patri here?”, you asked her curiously.

“Of course, she’s somewhere around.”, your sister waved it off.

“You can’t miss her.”, the Norwegian added winking.

“Nope, definitely nod.”, Mapi smirked.

To watch the couple, harmonize so well as they did was always a little heart wrenching to you. There was a deep fear inside you that you would never be able to find a love like they had. On the other hand, you were incredibly happy for your older sister.

“I’ve not seen her in ages, I need to say hi, I’ll come back to you soon.”, you told them excitedly.

“Sure.”, the defender answered doubtfully.

“We won’t see er again until the morning, right?”, Ingrid asked.

“Probably not.”, her girlfriend responded in an honest tone.

The truth was you were undoubtedly, terribly, madly in love with one of your siblings’ closest friends. So, you couldn’t wait to see her again. She was the guest at this party you were the most thrilled to meet again.

“Oh, hi, gorgeous.”, a flirty tone of the stranger held you back.  

“Hi, nice to meet you.”, you muttered, while your eyes searched around the living room for the face you yearned to find.

 “Very pleased to meet you. You must be Mapis sister.”, the woman purred. Her voice irritated you, she almost sounded like Bagheera.

“I’m, from where do you know my sister?”, you questioned her, only half-interested.

“Oh, we’re friends.”, she shrugged.

“I see.”, you nodded.

She held out her hand. “But we haven’t met yet.“

A bit too formal in your opinion but you still shook her hand. Why not play along for a while?

“That’s true.“, you replied politely.

“Can I get you a drink?“, the stranger asked, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards.

“Sure.“

To your surprise, she immediately grabbed your upper arm as she led you to the bar.

You frowned, the grip was too tight, too desperate.

And then you saw her.

“Y/n?“ Patri appeared right in front of you, eyeing you closely.

“Patri.“

You wished this girl would finally let go of your arm.

“Hi.“, Patri said blankly.

She was in suit pants and a half unbuttoned shirt.

“Hey, you look beautiful tonight.“, you complimented her and you meant it.

Before the midfielder could reply, the stranger tightened her grip around your arm. You sucked in a breath, this might leave a bruise.

“Let’s go outside for a bit.“, the girl said, her voice sickeningly sweet. It was less of a suggestion and more of an order.

“Okay.“, you agreed.

While the stranger led you outside to smoke, you struggled to tear your gaze away from Patri.

You watched her watching you leave until she disappeared in the crowd.

You failed to see how Claudia appeared on her teammates side, shaking her head: “You’re a fool, Patri.“

“What?“

“She so clearly has feelings for you.“, Alexia rolled her eyes, sipping on her drink.

“Y/n has asked her on dates multiple times in the past few years.“, Claudia agreed.

Patri released a sigh: “I can’t go out with her.“

“Why not?“, Lucy now joined the conversation.

“She’s Mapis sister!“, Patri pointed out the obvious.

Alexia shrugged: “Yes, and?“

Her younger teammate looked at her in exasperation: “Did you not hear what I just said?“

“Remember that Mapi dated Alba back in the day?“, Alexia countered unimpressed.

Now it was Patri who rolled her eyes: “Don’t start with this again. You can’t compare that.“

“Of course I can.“

Patri held up her hands, abandoning this conversation: “Whatever. I don’t want to talk about her.“

“Okay. Another drink?“, Claudia blinked innocently at her.

Relieved, Patri nodded: “Please!“

You had no idea when your sisters birthday party had ended. In fact, you did not remember most of the early morning hours.

When and how had you gotten home? What was that beautiful strangers name again? Where even was she?

All those questions popped into your head when a ringing on your door woke you up.

Groaning, you looked around your bedroom. You were alone, that was good.

You got up and quickly glanced into the mirror, realizing that you still wore last nights dress. There were mascara stains on your cheeks, a bruise on your arm and a slightly purpling hickey on your neck.

No time to take care of this mess, you decided. You walked through your apartment and opened the door.

Relief flooded through you as you found yourself opposite your sister and her girlfriend.

The ease you felt for a minute was erased in the next when you saw their concerned faces scanning your bruised and shambled body.

“Hi Y/n, you need to stop. We worry about you.”, Ingrid begun, sounding deeply worried.

“What do you mean?”, you asked confused while the two women made their way through your appartement.

“You know exactly what we mean.”, Mapi answered frustrated.

“A little party never killed nobody.”, you defended yourself half-heartedly. Meanwhile, your sister and her girlfriend were taking place on your sofa, you were sitting in between them.

“That’s not a little party.”, the defender disagreed.

“And y/n you deserve to be loved for you as a person not only because of your looks.”, Ingrid softly strokes your hair.

“I’m fine.”, you protested.

“Y/n it’s okay. Ingrid is right.”, Mapi told you compassionately.

“But.”, you started, your lips trembling. Memories from last night came back in pieces.

The way the beautiful stranger only used you like a piece of furniture to satisfy her needs and ignored your thoughts and feelings behind your pretty façade. How she couldn’t wait to leave once you showed your longing for more than just touches but a real connection. The scary thought you had when you heard the door slammed shut, maybe you deserved the way you were treated. Maybe love was something that only happened to people who were worthy of it.

“Come here.”, Ingrids warm voice brought you back to the present moment.

“My girls.”, your older sister whispered gratefully, while she and the Norwegian pulled you into a tight, long hug, hoping that one day you realized that you were worthy of love for the person you were even with your faults who sometimes led to self-destructive behaviour.

“Can you let me go now?”, you questioned smiling lightly.

“Yes, before this gets too cute.”, Mapi laughed, releasing you from her hug.

In the passing weeks you tried to break the pattern you were in, meeting more of your friends for a cup of coffee, going to less parties, seeing a psychologist. The changes you made didn’t get unrecognized by Patri who watched you doing this from a comfortable distance.

It was at the end of a media day, the league would start soon again,  that Patri announced: “I think I’ll accept y/n’s date offer, girls.”

“What?!”, Claudia yelled excitedly.

“Yes.”, she confirmed it seriously.

“But why now?”, the smaller woman raised an eyebrow at her.

 “Yeah, what changed?”, Keira wanted to know.

“I don’t know.”, Patri responded truthfully.

“That’s okay.”, Lucy reassured her.

The midfielder’s heartbeat faster as she spotted you hugging your sister. Her heart sank when  the brunette heard the next words coming from your mouth.

 “Girls, I’ve a date, I think she’s serious.”, you cheered.

“You do?”, Mapi glanced at you happily.

“Yes, we’ll go out tomorrow. Fancy dinner and when a bar.”, you went on delighted.

“Sounds great.”, she admitted.

“We’re happy for you, y/n.”, Ingrid beamed at you.

“Thanks.”, you couldn’t help, but to smile at the possibility to have found the one.

You ignored as the other half of the team got quiet, listening to your conversation.

“Fuck.“, Patri cursed under her breath.

“Wow… you have really horrible timing.“, Claudia sighed, her gaze still fixed on you.

Patri nodded slowly: “We do..“

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell her then.“, Keira suggested the obvious which Patri rewarded with an eye roll.

“I won’t.“

“Maybe it’s better that way.“, Claudia said.

“Yes, maybe.“, Patri sighed.

However, she was not ready to give up yet.

She and Mapi met on the next day for some coffee, unbeknownst to you.

“What do you mean the date went horrible?“, Patri asked, slowly stirring milk into her coffee to avoid seeming too eager about what Mapi just told her.

Mapi shrugged: “Oh, apparently she only talked about her ex during the date.“

“In front of her?“

Nodding, the defender took a sip from her cup: “Y/n got bored after thirty minutes and left.“

“Understandable.“, Patri said quietly.

“It’s sad. I had hoped she would have finally found someone for a serious relationship.“, Mapi continued.

The midfielder could read the genuine worry in her teammates face.

She decided to lay it all bare.

“I was so close to accepting her offer but then this new girl came…“

Mapi choked on her coffee.

“Wait, what?“, she asked between two coughs.

Patris gazed was trained on the small wooden table between the two football players: “Yes, I know…“

“Why?“, was the defenders only question.

“I didn’t want to give in because you’re her sister and we are friends…“, she admitted.

Mapis eyes softened as she studied the younger player: “Patri… if you love her, go out with her.“

Patri looked up in surprise: “That would be okay for you?“

“Of course. If you really love her.“

“I do…“

“Then ask her out. She deserves someone who doesn’t just see her looks.“

“She’s not perfect but no one is…“, Patri said more to herself than to her teammate.

“Patri.“

“Yeah?“

“That’s not what a person wants to hear after she told you that you could be the one for her sister.“, Mapi laughed.

Blushing, the midfielder grinned innocently: “Sorry.“

“You still have my blessing.“, the defender chuckled.

“Thanks.“

You walked through Barcelona, Alexia next to you. You had not felt like talking to your sister about the date but you knew you could trust Alexia with the details. And she was more than willing to listen.

You were in the middle of explaining of what you did after you left the restaurant when a familiar face appeared in front of you.

You stopped yourself mid-sentence: “Patri? Hi…“

“Hey, do you have a second?“

You stalled. She was out of breath, had seemingly been looking for you.

You looked at Alexia, then back at Patri: “I do…“

“Good.”, she sighed relieved.

“So?”, you rose an eyebrow expectantly.

“Would you go out on a date with me y/n?”, the Mallorquin woman asked, licking her lips nervously.

“Wait, are you serious?”, you gasped. Almost couldn’t believe that this question came from her mouth.

“I was never more serious.”, you could see the determination in the midfielder’s pretty brown eyes.

“I’m asking because whenever I asked you.. you said no.”, you tried to put the hesitation you felt into words.

“I thought Mapi wouldn’t approve of this. And Mapi means a lot to me as a friend.”, Patri explained.

“But she did?”

Something like hope flattered inside your chest. Was this just a dream, you hoped it wasn’t and if it was it hopefully would never end. This being realer and better when whatever you’ve imagined in so many sleepless nights when sleep couldn’t find you and the yearning for her overcame you.

 “Mapi did.”, the friend of your older sister confirmed earnestly.

“I really liked you for a long time.”, you confessed.

“I know but I was scared. And I wasn’t sure if you meant it because you’re always with someone else.”, the brunette admitted.

“Yes, I guess I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”, you guiltily bit your lip.

“Maybe we can figure it out together.”, she suggested carefully.

“Okay, but I’m warning you I’m not easy.”, you told her.

“I never cared for easy anyway.”, Patri reassured you.

“So, we give it a try?”, you glanced at her, waiting eagerly for her reply.

“If you’re willing to. Because you haven’t answered if you want to go on a date or not.”, she remarked.

“I want to go on a date with you.”, you smiled at her, meaning every word you said.

“Okay, but first we need to finish gossiping y/n.”, Alexia threw in grinning. The Barcelona captain has been watching everything from a safe distance until now.

“Ugh, Ale.”, Patri groaned.

“No, I’m just joking go ahead.”, she laughed.

“Can I take you on a date right now?”, the younger midfielder laid her eyes on you, it was clear from the look of her face that she couldn’t wait any longer.

“Yes, you can!”, Alexia answered for you winking.

“I didn’t ask you.”, Patri shook her head amused.

“I think it’s time for us to go.”, you decided smirking.

“Yes, please.”, she nodded happily.

“Bye, Ale.”, you waved at the older woman.

“Enjoy.”, the blonde responded cheerfully.

While you made your way through the buzzing city, the sun was about to set, the night never seemed more promising to you, as you walked hand in hand with the woman you had feelings for since forever. You always liked the city your sister chose to play for, but this evening you fell in love with it. The beauty of the architecture and everything else was almost too overwhelming. Before the mass of people made you feel lonely but now you were a part of it.

“Well, were do you want to go y/n?”, Patri whispered into your ears as you passed the neighbourhood of Gracia.

“You pick. You asked me out.”, you mouthed back.

“Good, I already know a place.”

And that’s where your story begun, the first date ended with a kiss on your doorstep, but you came back for another, because it left you even hungrier. But for the first time in forever you felt safe, knowing that you’d see her again and Patri wouldn’t walk away.

The summer break came. For most of the players it was only a short period of time between the end of the season and the next games with their national team.

You and your girlfriend wanted to make the most out of your free days, enjoying the pure bliss of having no responsibilities.

That was how you found yourself on yacht with a group of people, most of which you did not know. But they seemed to know your sister which meant that some stranger always came up to you, wanting to talk when all you wanted to do was lay in the sun and sip on some cocktails.

Even the woman in charge of preparing the drinks wanted to engage you in a conversation but your replies remained monosyllabic. Once she was done pouring, you flashed her a smile and disappeared with a cup in each hand.

Patri had been watching from where she was tanning herself in the afternoon sun. As you approached her, she moved her sunglasses to the top of her head: “Y/n?“

“Yes?“, you asked, sitting down next to her.

“What are you doing?“

You shrugged, handing her one of the cups: “Just got us some drinks.“

“Why was the barkeeper staring at your tits?“

You suddenly felt uncomfortable in your bikini top and jeans cut-offs. “She has? I didn’t even notice, Patri. Everyone stares at me… always.“

You relaxed a little when Patri looked you up and down with a smirk: “I mean I get that they look at you. You’re gorgeous.“

“Can’t help it.“, you assured her again.

“But the flirting… not a big fan.“

You took a sip from your drink: “Relax, I’m yours.“

Your girlfriends eyes sparkled, challenging you: “Prove it.“

You put your drink down, pushed your girlfriend back on her towel to straddle her and kissed her passionately.

“Again?“, Patri asked, innocently blinking up to you.

“Maybe with less people to see?“, you suggested. You had the sudden urge to get away from everyone, to do more than just kiss her. You only wanted to be Patris.

You both got up. Patri took your hand in hers, leading you towards the inside of the boat.

She winked at you: “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everyone knows that you belong to me. I’ll leave my handprints all over you.“

You smiled quietly about how right this felt. She would never get mad or freak out. If she was jealous, she made sure that everyone knew that you were her girlfriend.

You always knew that Patri could handle it.

[breezeflows]

The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 4

Y’ALL THIS ONE WAS/IS A ROUGH ONE. I had a lot of writers block with this chapter, but I think I finally accomplished fitting in everything I wanted it to have! Also just for clarification, a lot of things that happened in this chapter will be discussed more thoroughly in future chapters! (Aka Ford’s perspective.) Thank you everyone so much for your patience and continued support!! With that, here is absolutely gut wrenching chapter 4!!

Also, last thing I promise, if you want to be added to the tag list, just comment!

Themes: Lying, Arguments, Strong language, Lotsss of bottled up emotions, Fiddleford gets traumatized by the portal, Ford over prioritizing Bill and his work over sleep/his wife etc, all the fun stuff! This chapter is very sad! But we will finally be back to the present in chapter 5!

You found yourself waking in the late afternoon, your bags now packed and in hand as you make your way out of Lizzy’s apartment. And although you were a nervous wreck to return home and confront Ford about last night’s events, you were also happy at the thought you’d be sleeping in your own bed tonight. You were hopeful that Ford would have a good explanation. Maybe he was drunk out of his mind, due to your absence, or maybe Fiddleford brought the two of them there after a breakthrough in their research. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You keep your thoughts running as you settle into the passenger seat of Lizzy’s car. Your mind is a flurry of hope, worry, and anxiety as you mull over all the different possibilities of what happened last night.

Lizzy hops into the driver’s seat, her gaze flickering over to you as she senses your nerves.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Everything will be okay, alright? I’m sure Ford has a good explanation for everything. At least, he better.”

You let out a nervous sigh, once again fiddling with your wedding band as you try to steady yourself. 

“I hope so,” you murmur, eyes drifting out the window as Lizzy kicks the vehicle in motion. “I really don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.”

Lizzy places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, giving it  a squeeze.

“Let’s just focus on getting there for now, okay? Try not to imagine any worst-case scenarios until we actually talk to him.”

You give a small nod as she drives, the world outside becoming a blur of trees and late afternoon sun.

6:00 PM.

With a final turn down the gravel path, you arrive at the place you consider home, the cabin. The familiarity of your surroundings should be relieving, yet you find yourself on edge, tugging down on the beanie that rested against your head.

You unclip your seatbelt as the car hauls to a stop, Lizzy turning to give you a reassuring smile.

“I’ll drive around closeby.” she says. “In case things go, you know, not so great.”

You nod softly, thanking her as you grab your bags from the backseat, stepping out of the car. The gravel under your feet crunches with each step, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to the front door of your home, a nervous hand twisting the knob and pushing it open. As you step foot into the familiar space, you’re surprised to find Ford in the living room. He’s seated on the couch, working on what seemed to be some sort of gadget on the coffee table.

He looks up as you enter, his expression casual with a hint of excitement.

“You’re back!” He states as he stands, approaching you with a warm smile.

You swallow hard, clutching your bags tightly as you regard him warily.

“I missed you, how was your trip? There’s so much I have to tell you, Fiddleford and I had a major breakthrough this weekend!”

Ford’s words are light and pleasant, and he looks genuinely happy to see you. A stark difference from how he was the night before. He steps closer to you, looking as if he’s about to pull you into an embrace, but you take a step back, releasing your bags from your grip.

Ford’s smile falters for a brief moment, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Where were you last night?”

He seems taken aback by your blunt question, a brow raised as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Ah… well I was here, working with Fiddleford, like I said.” he replies, gesturing to the gadget on the table. “Why do you ask?”

Your heart twists in your chest as you clench your fists, frown adorning your lips.

“Is that all..?”

Ford looks perplexed by your question, his eyes filled with concern as he takes a step towards you, his expression growing increasingly more confused and worried.

“What do you mean? Where else would I have been?”

You go to speak, but falter, looking down at the floor as you hold your elbow sheepishly.

“Nevermind.. It’s nothing, sorry.”

Ford pauses, his concern only deepening as he watches you avoid his gaze. He takes another step closer, his voice gentle.

“Y/N, please tell me what’s wrong,” he says, reaching out to touch your arm.

“You’ve been acting strange ever since you came through the door… Did something happen? You can talk to me.”

You swallow hard, before looking up to meet his gaze.

Ford’s expression is genuine, his grip on you squeezing gently as you gaze at him for a moment. This Ford was a huge contrast to whoever you had talked to last night, this was the man you knew and adored. Maybe you and Lizzy really did have too much to drink, and you mixed it all up with some other guy? It seemed too coincidental, but the way Ford was acting now made you second guess everything. He seemed totally unphased, and there wasn’t a single thing about his tone that would lead you to believe he was lying. This was still your husband, after all.

You shovel all of your thoughts and suspicions down as you sigh, placing a hand over the one he had rested on your arm.

“It’s nothing, I promise,” you say, cracking a soft smile as you lean into him. “I just missed you a lot. It’s good to be home.”

Ford’s eyes soften at your words, and he pulls you closer to him, gently enveloping you in his arms. He holds you close, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, his voice soft and gentle. “More than you know.”

Your ears and cheeks turn red at his words as he pulls away, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he speaks.

“So, you uh, need help with your bags?”

A soft blush covers Ford’s cheeks as you smile once more, your hand reaching to cup his cheek, thumb grazing the skin underneath.

“Sure, although I wanna hear everything you wanted to catch me up on while I unpack.”

If somehow possible, Ford’s cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink as you touch his face, his gaze flicking down to your hand before coming back up to meet your eyes. He then clears his throat, voice slightly strained.

“Y-yeah of course,” he stammers, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head. “We can talk in the bedroom while you unpack.”

“Sounds like a plan.” you say with a chuckle, grabbing both of your bags and handing one to Ford, placing a quick peck to his cheek before pulling away.

A small, boyish smile appears on his lips at your gesture. He quickly takes the bag you handed him, keeping his eyes on you for a moment before looking down at your luggage in his hands.

He clears his throat once more, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness as he speaks.

“Right, let’s go then.”

Ford then begins to lead the way to the bedroom, you trailing along behind him.

As you both enter your shared room you begin to unpack your bags, Ford chatting away excitedly as he helps you with your things, pulling out your clean clothes and placing them in the closet. 

You smile at his enthusiasm, but you can’t help but notice the bed as you unpack. The sheets are just how you left them, pillows fluffed and blankets tucked into the edges of the frame.

“Did you get any sleep while I was gone?” you ask, shutting a drawer after you’ve placed a pair of jeans inside.

Ford pauses mid-sentence in his excited explanation, faltering as his glaze flicks from the bed to yours.

“Uh, well… no, I didn’t,” he admits, his voice laced with a hint of guilt. “With all the work Fiddleford and I’ve been doing, I guess I just forgot about sleep.”

You frown deeply as he moves to continue helping you unpack, your arms falling to your sides.

“Ford..”

Ford pauses again, a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he senses your disapproving tone.

“Just promise me that you’ll at least come to bed tonight. Okay? I worry about you when you aren’t getting any rest.”

His expression softens, gaze full of guilt and affection meeting yours. He nods in agreement, a sheepish smile crossing his face.

“I promise.”

Over the following nights, Ford makes a point of coming to bed, holding true to the word he gave you the night you returned from Lizzys. However, the pattern you had desperately hoped for doesn’t last long. The old habits return quickly, Ford abandoning the bedroom in favor of work in the lab for days on end. Days soon turn into weeks, weeks into months, and so on. You find yourself lying alone in bed each night, your mind filled with anger and frustration. Sometimes, you’re kept awake by the bright flashes and rumbling from below. A part of you wanted to stomp down there and give him a piece of your mind, to leave him and this broken marriage behind, but another part of you yearned for Ford. You longed for the day you’d see him emerge from the lab instead of Fiddleford, or the day he’d prioritize you again. Even just a simple acknowledgement of your presence, other than “hello, how are you”, would do. You missed how things used to be. You missed him.

But the day never came.

You were too stubborn to be the first to break the now built-up tension, after all it was Ford’s fault the two of you were in this predicament anyway. At least that’s what you told yourself, feeding into the false hope that things were going to somehow magically improve. 

The same cycle repeated itself, leaving you feeling helpless and abandoned.

Until one night.

You found yourself lying alone in bed yet again, your head laid on what was once Ford’s pillow, his scent no longer attached to the fabric. The sounds of the lab seem louder tonight as you toss and turn, grunting in annoyance. You glance towards the clock on your nightstand, the glowing numbers reading midnight. Frustration mounts within you, the lack of any attention whatsoever from Ford wearing you down.

Suddenly, an extremely loud whir from the lab forces you to sit upright, your heart pounding in your chest as your irritation gets the best of you. Finally, you’d had enough.

You throw back the covers in an aggressive motion, swinging your legs over the bed. You pad across the room, your bare feet touching the cold hardwood floor. Each step you take fuels the growing anger in you, your patience thinning.

Reaching the door, you pull on it, the sound of it creaking open adding to the building tension. With a huff, you step forward into the darkness and descend the stairway leading to the lab.

You press the button to the elevator harshly, stepping inside the metal contraption. As you descend further you hear the sound of faint yelling, along with a thud. Your stomach twists with frustration and anxiety, your mind reeling with possibilities of what the hell was going on down there.

Finally, the elevator doors slide open, revealing a blinding blue light behind the glass window of the lab. Your feet carry you quickly to the source, dashing through the entryway when all of a sudden, your shoulders are grabbed.

Your body stiffens as your eyes adjust to the lighting, revealing a disheveled Fiddleford in front of you. His fearful eyes search your panicked ones, his grip painfully tight.

“Fiddleford-”

“You’ve got to get out of here Y/N,” he states frantically, his voice shaky. “This machine will bring about the end of the world, it’s dangerous beyond comprehension. It should never see the light of day.”

The sound of your heartbeat fills your ears as you process his words. The seriousness in his voice and panicked look in his eyes were enough to send a chill down your spine. You take a moment, before stuttering out a few words.

“What? Machine? The end of the world..?”

Before you can finish your sentence, Fiddleford leaves in a rush, your frightened gaze moving to the source of the light.

In front of you stood what seemed to be some sort of portal, with your husband standing right below it.

You watch him as you stand there, dumbstruck by fear and confusion. You clench your fists before taking a firm step forward, swallowing dryly.

“Ford..?”

He stands with his back turned to you, mumbling something before yelling aloud.

“No, you know what… I don’t need anyone!”

Your legs tremble as you make your way towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Ford jumps violently at the contact, his head whipping around to face you. His gaze widening for a moment, before turning cold and harsh.

“What..? What are you doing down here Y/N?” He snaps, his tone sharp and defensive.

Your gut clenches at his tone, your eyes brimming with tears as you finally break.

“What the actual fuck, Stanford!” You yell, hands formed into fists as you hold them in front of you.

“What is this?! This.. this thing?!” You yell, pointing towards the portal. 

“This is too fucking far!!”

Ford’s eyes narrow, his irritation growing apparent. He stands his ground, stepping towards you and jabbing a finger towards your chest.

“This?” he replies, gesturing to the portal. “This is my life’s work Y/N! Everything I’ve dedicated myself towards for decades! Something you wouldn’t even understand the significance of, even if I explained it to you!”

His words cut through you like a knife, tears now streaming warmly down your cheeks. You grab hold of his wrist roughly, jerking him towards you.

“No!” you yell, your grip unrelenting. 

“This is some sort of doomsday device you abandoned EVERYTHING for! That you abandoned ME for!”

Your voice breaks with that last sentence, your teeth clenching as you attempt to stifle your pain.

“I’ve stuck with you through everything, Stanford! When you lost Stanley, during those horrible years in college, through this!” You say, pointing to him and then to yourself with your free hand. “When you’ve practically neglected me as your wife, all of it! I stayed with you because I’m in love with you, Stanford!”

Ford’s eyes soften at your words, a strong flicker of guilt in his expression as you list all the sacrifices you’ve made for him.

“But I can’t,” your voice trembles with each word, your grip on his wrist loosening to where it falls back to your side. 

“Y/N…”

Every emotion you’ve bottled up until now weighs down on you, your heart racing in your chest.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Your tearful gaze meets his, his heart aching at the sight.

Ford looks as if he’s been torn in two. Flashes of guilt, anger, and concern, all etching across his face as he stands there, desperately searching for the right answer. And although you never in a million years would intend for him to be put in this spot, he knows he has to choose. The person who devoted their everything to him, or everything he’s ever devoted himself to.

Ford stutters out his answer faster than he can think, sweat beading against his forehead.

“This isn’t,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, his expression heavily conflicted. “This is something monumental Y/N, something that could change the course of existence itself. I have to do this,” as Ford continues, you feel your heart snapping in two, your gaze lowering to the floor as you attempt to take in what he is saying.

“I have to finish what I started, Y/N.”

Your vision blurs with heavy tears as the two of you stand there in deafening silence. 

Your expression is filled with pure distraught as you lift your head, your gaze meeting Ford’s. Although he doesn’t return it, his eyes glued to the ground with a solemn frown on his lips. Your lip trembles as you lower your head once more, standing there for a few moments before forcing yourself to turn away.

“Okay.”

Your legs feel heavy with each step, every part of you screaming at you to stay. But deep down you know you can’t, it was time for you to choose yourself for once.

So with that you trudge on, out of the lab and out of the cabin.

The cabin you once considered home.

Thank you for reading! I hope y’all like how this turned out :)

Tag list: @karmaisacatluzi @therottenheartofscum @catr4dora @slay-thou-pookie @wow-life-love4 @missgurlsstuff @violetvsworld @inquiit @mandossillyriduur @mokikow @phirbat

[space-matt]

Could I request a Matt x reader.They have been dating for a while but the reader has never left that honey moon stage.One day Matt is not having a good day and the readers presence make him on edge.He ends up blowing up on her calling her overbearing and clingy.Things shift and she becomes more distant,for a while he feels ok but he starts to miss the relationship they way it was before.when he tries to talk to the reader she cries to him about the whole situation.He is really sorry and does his best to make it up to her.

I’ll make it up to you 

matt.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: It's really true that you understand the value of things when you lose them.. Matt figured it out too late, but will he be able to make up for it?

request: yes 

author’s note: thank u so much for the request!! I hope you’ll enjoy it ♡ I added the song that helped me to write it. For everything I’m here!

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English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

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revised

Still lying in bed you feel the heat coming from the window left half open in Matt’s room, with your eyes closed you stretch by turning to the other side meeting a boulder of a blanket, you reach out your hand in search of your favorite person but to your surprise, your hand leans on the mattress, so you open your eyes trying to focus and notice that half of the bed is empty.

You've been together for seven months and thirteen days now, and you have to say that they are the best months of your life; Having never had previous relationships, it can be said that Matt is your first true and actual relationship in your 20 years of life. 

Everything had started as a pure joke between you two to make fun of Chris and his girlfriend Maddy, but the more time passed, the more you began to feel real feelings towards the boy who unlike you had liked you for a long time, but for fear of being considered only and solely a friend, he wanted to avoid putting his heart in the foreground and listening to the rational part of his brain. 

But fate wanted that one evening while you were saying goodbye to go to your own house, the moment you were about to press a kiss against his cheek, Matt turned earlier than expected causing your lips to collide, making you immediately move away but when you stopped to look into his eyes you saw in both of them a spark to burst a breathless kiss.

It must be said, from that moment you have been together, indeed perhaps precisely because it is your first relationship that you try to always make everything go for the best unlike Matt who still had his first relationships during his adolescence that, however, according to him, ''they can't compete with you''. Of course, it scares you that sooner or later it may get bored or otherwise lose interest in you, but you still try to eliminate this thought and be the best girlfriend in the world. 

So you get out of bed by completely opening the window so that the room can change air, leaving the bed undone; Take your change in the drawer that Matt has free so that you can put some of your things when you stay at his house to sleep, and you head to the next bathroom without noticing who is in the open space connected by a small corridor to his room.

Meanwhile Matt was lying on the sofa, the TV turned on in the background, with the phone in his hand looking at the various social networks but his mind was elsewhere, indeed the day had started in the wrong direction.

All night you did nothing but stay attached to him not making him move, which didn't make him sleep a wink and that's why he was quite nervous.

His brothers were still in their respective rooms changing, as they would then be out all day under your precise instructions, as you wanted to spend a day entirely with Matt before leaving for spring break in two weeks. 

When Nick and Chris find themselves in the living room ready to go out, Matt pulls up his head ''Do we have any meetings today?'' He asks confused getting up and putting the phone in his pocket ''The two of us yes, you have the day off today.. enjoy it'' Chris replies with a grin on his face which vanishes when he hears a puff from him ''Wow I didn't expect all this enthusiasm '' exclaims ironic Nick going to the door of the house ''Please let me come with you, I need to disconnect, I need air'' Matt responds whispering so as not to be heard by you ''Sorry MattyB but no'' says Chris taking a can of Pepsi from the fridge and then he goes out too.

Another puff comes out of his lips knowing he has to stay with you all day, and resignedly throws himself back on the couch closing his eyes.

When he feels your steps approaching a sense of annoyance and nervousness pervades his body, he can't even understand the reason for all this but it's already been a couple of days that he just wants to have a moment for him, but with you in the middle it's almost completely impossible.

On the other hand, you do not notice anything different, perhaps because taken by too much love even the most obvious things go unnoticed by your eyes in the shape of a little heart. 

All happy you go to the kitchen take water pouring it into a glass, you notice Matt on the sofa, you leave the glass on the counter and go in his direction lowering yourself to his height ''Babe, let's go out for breakfast?'' you ask trying to caress his hair but at your touch, he moves by sitting down looking at you ''I can't, I have to go out'' he responds annoyed without even looking at you, leaving you a little surprised but doesn't give up trying with a ''Then when you come back we can go for a ride at Lake Hollywood Park, right?'' hopeful in one of his answers but the only thing he pronounces is a ''See you later'' without greeting you and leaving the house, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room. 

The hours go by and so does your enthusiasm, you start thinking about the worst situations in your mind, which do nothing but increase your paranoia;

Okay maybe you recognize that in the last period, you have always been with them but although it has been almost a year since you moved to Los Angeles, you have not been able to make many friends due to your armor that you tend to raise when it comes to new people. But with Nick, Chris, and Matt it's different, you've known them since you were little, and with them, there was never a need to create a wall to protect you, because they are your guardian angels.

You've always gotten along, except for a few quarrels which is normal, but you've never noticed before behaviors so distant from Matt, as if your presence wasn't welcome.

When you hear the door open you hope that your boyfriend's figure will come out of the stairs but you recognize the voices of Chris and Nick, you resign yourself completely on the couch with your pajamas and the tray of ice cream on your legs.

''Ookay... why are you at home? Didn't you have to go out?'' Nick asks looking at you confused ''By the way where is Matt?'' Keep looking around ''I have no idea'' you answer him in a subtle voice while you eat a spoonful of vanilla ice cream, you feel the tears stop at the corners of your eyes, so you don't see you turn your head on the other side putting the teaspoon in the tray ''He came out this morning and never came back, I tried to text him and call him a couple of times but I didn't receive an answer'' you keep whispering closing your eyes making the tears fall.

You feel the package of ice cream being removed from your legs and two arms that surround you, from the essence that envelops you, you recognize that is Chris and with your eyes still closed you abandon yourself in a liberating cry after holding it all day ''Shh, it's okay'' he whispers massaging your back ''You know that now and then he has its relapses and behaves like this'' he keeps trying to reassure you.

You pull up with your nose and detach yourself from his arms ''But with me, he had never behaved this way.. at all he always came to me'' you explain looking in his direction receiving almost an expression of pity on his face ''What do you say if we order something and watch a movie here all together? We will make you choose'' announces trying to cheer you up But on your part, he only receives a nod with your head.

Even though he had spent the whole day outside walking around the crowded streets of Santa Monica, his mind did nothing but think about the time to get home, the only thought of having you always stuck made him take his breath away, of course he cared you but this so much physical contact, at that time, was leading him to detach himself from everything, but especially from you.

That's why he had waited for a late time to come back, so as not to have to face you trying to postpone everything to the day of your departure. But you know how his thought works more than yourself, in this way after finishing watching your comfort movie together with the two boys, you decide not to go to sleep right away but to stay on the couch not being able to stay alone in bed without Matt by your side, with the knowledge of having done something wrong. 

The fact that there was no communication between the two of you was new, you have always been the anchor of each other, and not being it in a short time has completely upset you, especially not understanding how to act, and consequently how to find a solution. 

The silence that reigns in the house is broken by the noise of the keys that are inserted into the door patch, your heart begins to beat quickly but you remain motionless sitting with your gaze turned in his direction, while he tries to slowly climb the entrance stairs but when it reaches the last one, he stops seeing you pulling his eyes up ''you shouldn’t have waited up for me, there was no need'' he says changing towards the fridge taking a bottle of water but no longer being able to hold back your thoughts for you ''What have I done? It's all day that you avoid me indeed it's days that you behave strangely'' you blurt out getting up to get closer to him, and given your height difference you are forced to pull up your head to look him better in the eyes.

As you stand in front of Matt, you can feel the bitterness in his words cutting deep into your heart. "What did you do to me?" he asks, his voice laced with anger and frustration. "There's that you've become overbearing and clingy. I can't take it anymore. You're always sticky, I never have a free moment, and if I have it, you're always there" he exclaims with clenched teeth and a hard look.

His words strike you like a bolt of lightning, and you take a step back, not believing what you're hearing. "We weren't like that before, and now I understand why no one has ever wanted you" he adds with wickedness, making you feel small and insignificant.

You try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat. You know what you've been through, and you've always hoped that Matt would understand. But instead, he holds it against you, making you feel like an outcast.

"You're an asshole" you finally manage to say, raising your voice as tears slide down your face. It's not like you to use such harsh words, but you're hurt and angry, and you can't help it.

At that moment, Matt opens his eyes, and you can see the surprise and shock on his face. He had never heard you say such a thing to him. Among all people, it was always you who used a calm tone, even in the most difficult situations.

Seeing you rush into his room, he follows you around, but when he sees that you start to take your bags, he realizes that he has exaggerated. "What do you do?" he asks, trying to take your arm. But with all the anger that you had in your body, in very little, you wriggle from his grip. "Let go of me" you say in a dry tone.

"I'm not going to stay in the room with you anymore. I'll go to Nick's, and I'll bring all my stuff" you finish, closing the zip and dragging the bag on the ground. As you come out of his room, you find yourself facing the two guys who, from the screams, immediately catapulted to see what had happened.

As you ask Nick for help, you feel exhausted and drained from the situation at home. Without even turning to see him, his hand takes the bag from yours and you head up to the room with the older brother. In the distance, you hear Chris saying, "Dude you have already done too much damage, let her be."

Days pass by, but the situation at home remains the same.

After receiving some harsh words, you decide to build a wall between you and Matt and try to avoid being alone with him.

You attempt to behave like a mature person, spending more time with the two brothers and going out on your own when they can't accompany you.

Matt, on the other hand, feels good when you're not around. However, as time passes, guilt starts to creep in, and he realizes that he doesn't want to push away the one person who means the world to him.

He understands this even more when you don't even look at him at the airport and leave without a single glance. "Why did I do wrong to her?" he says to himself as he watches you go through security checks. "Because you're a jerk, that's why" answers Nick, watching him with a serious expression.

Although he regrets his actions, Matt is determined to make things right between you two. Without telling anyone, he packs his backpack with only the bare minimum and heads off to the other side of the country.

Spring break is coming to an end, and leaving your family and friends in Boston again feels like a stab in the heart. This time, it hurts even more because you know that once you get back, you'll have to fend for yourself completely, starting with finding an apartment.

You and your family were having a pleasant evening playing board games when you heard the doorbell ring. "Were you expecting someone?" you asked, moving your pawns on the board. "No, we weren't. Why don't you go and answer it?" your mother replied, gazing at you with a gentle expression. You got up from your spot, a little confused.

As you reached the door, you saw Matt standing outside with a bouquet of your favorite tulips and a puppet with the words <I'm stupid> written on it. The sight of the flowers made you smile, but you didn't let your guard down completely.

''Please, I have to talk to you''

"You have five minutes" you told him as you closed the door behind you and sat on the porch, keeping a distance. He handed you the flowers and the puppet, and you accepted them, putting the flowers next to you and holding the puppet in your hands.

"I'm sorry" he began, fiddling with your fingers. "I know I'm not good with words, but I realize now that I was wrong to say what I said.

I shouldn't have blamed you like that. I just wanted to talk to you and explain my side of things."

He paused, looking down, and when he looked up again, his eyes were watery. You felt your own eyes fill up with tears, too.

"I don't want to lose you" he said, touching your cheek. You closed your eyes and put your hand on his. "I was an asshole, but I understand that now that you're gone."

You spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was a low blow. You've never made me feel so small and helpless before. But I have to admit, I've been clingier than usual lately. That's just my way of showing you love, and if you don't like it, we can end it here."

"No way" he said, taking a step closer. "I flew over 2,500 miles to see you and tell you I love you more than anything. We just need to communicate better and make sure we're both happy. I'm here because I want to be and make it up to you." concludes by looking into your eyes '' I love you too... but please let's not hurt ourself anymore'' you leaned your forehead against his and felt his lips on yours in a gentle kiss.

When you pulled away, you grinned and grabbed the puppet. "Would you be him?" you asked, laughing together.

----------------------------------------------------

Taglist:  @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @inlovewithmattstur @sturniolobendystrawsposts @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

[d1xonss]

Practice Makes Perfect

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 11

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+)

✧ Word Count : 8.9k

AN ~ Okay, so this was originally a request sent in by annon, but when I first uploaded it, I wasn't completely happy with the turnout. It felt a bit rushed and there were some things I wanted to change so I figured I would reupload and try again. So in other words, if you've already seen me post this once, no you didn't:) Hope you enjoy! xoxo

ps- Daryl's a sub in this so if you're into that, this is definitely for you;)

Daryl stood slumped over at the kitchen counter in the shitty apartment he now called home, the space oddly silent as the kids were off with Carol for the day. But the quiet was nice, it gave him time to think, time to let his mind wander as he slowly woke for the day. The smell of coffee hit his nose as it brewed softly from behind him, the light streaming in through the opened windows to let in the fresh breeze. 

Though his gaze remained downcast at the piece of paper that sat in front of him, his eyes rereading the words over and over again to the point where he had it memorized. The neat cursive of your handwriting, the small errors in your spelling, and especially the little heart you placed at the bottom where your name was signed. You had left it the first time you came over, and even though you didn’t have a clue in the world, he had kept it ever since. Mostly because he didn’t have the heart to throw it away. Though there might’ve been another small part of him that held onto it because it was something you wrote out for him, and him only.

He reminisced about how stressed he was that day, having just moved into the Commonwealth with two of his kids, trying to figure out the new community and routine they would have to grow accustomed to. It was all very surreal having to go back to a “normal” kind of life, Judith already asking for allowance before he even had his first day of work made his head spin. But then with just a soft knock on the door, came a sight that he never expected to see.

You stood there on the other side, all pretty and perfect, wearing a smile on your face and holding out a container of cookies as some kind of welcome. You explained that you lived just down the hall and heard about the new arrivals, wanting to do something special as you expressed your understanding for how weird it must’ve felt for him. And after offering your baked goods and assistance to whatever they might need, all Daryl could do was nod his head as he stared at you dumbly. He wasn’t trying to be rude, in fact he appreciated your words more than anything in that moment. However, he couldn’t help but ogle you as if you walked straight out of a Disney movie or something.

And it was safe to say those feelings never exactly went away. In fact every time he saw you they only seemed to worsen.

The kids however were even more hooked with you than he was, your cookies really winning them over in the beginning as they finished them within a day and a half. “Marry her.” was the first thing Judith told him after tasting the delicious treat, and he couldn’t deny he was amused. Though he obviously wasn’t looking to date or marry anyone ever, the idea of eating whatever you baked for the years to come...it tempted him a bit.

But the reality of it all was that he didn’t want to ruin his blossoming friendship with you, it was far too precious for him to ever risk. That, and he had absolutely no experience with relationships whatsoever. He had kissed a girl once when he was about fifteen, but other than that, he hadn't been with anyone in his entire life. Never even showed interest in any woman that attempted to flirt or touch him as he simply didn’t ever feel the need to want that. He always preferred to be on his own, that’s just the way that it was. 

But now as he stood there, reading over your note you left on top of the container of cookies all those months ago, he knew he was in way over his head with someone like you.

Just then the front door suddenly opened up, the sound causing him to jump a bit as your familiar voice called out, “It’s me!”

It had become a common occurrence for you to just walk into each other's homes without knocking, and though Daryl didn’t mind, now was clearly not the time. He scrambled to open up a random drawer, tossing the note inside before slamming it shut again, “Kitchen.” he called back with a huff.

He saw your head peek around the corner a few seconds later, smiling as you adjusted the strap of your purse, “Hey, you busy?”

“Nah,” he said as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, “Just…makin some coffee.” he gestured, offering you a thin lipped smile.

You nodded, “Where are the kids?” you asked, sitting yourself down at one of the stools across from him, “I found some things I think they’ll like, I figured I’d stop by and drop them off.”

“They’re out with Carol, she offered to take ‘em for a couple hours.”

“Oh.” you nodded again as you watched him turn around to pour himself a cup of coffee, “Well, that’s nice…you deserve some peace in the mornings every once and a while. I can just leave them here.” you suggested as you took the two little boxes out of your bag, placing them down on the counter.

He hummed a response before retrieving some milk and sugar to pour a decent amount into the mug, making you question everything as he was always adamant on having his coffee black. The way God intended or something. But then your expression softened a bit seeing him setting it down in front of you instead, making it the way he knew you loved.

“Oh, I don’t need any-” you tried to protest.

“It’s just coffee,” he said as if it were no big deal, “No roofies or anything, I swear.”

You snorted at his shitty joke, like you always did, raising the cup to your lips as you muttered, “Smartass.” just loud enough for him to hear.

He smirked a little at your response, pouring himself a cup of the steaming hot beverage as the two of you enjoyed it in the nice comfortable silence. His eyes never strayed away from you for very long however, almost as if he was casually taking in your appearance without you noticing too much. You always dressed up pretty, your hair styled to perfection, wearing some kind of boot or high heel, and paired with some fancy outfit that was far too much for the apocalypse. But Daryl never minded. In fact, he found it endearing.

Though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander a bit, noticing that it had been quite a long time since he had seen you. Usually the two of you would get together a few times a week simply because you had grown to love each other’s company. But recently you had been busy with other things, with other people. Perhaps that’s why he found himself staring at your note this morning, subconsciously missing you without even realizing it.

“You avoiding me or somethin?” he then broke the silence, his question lighthearted but a part of him was a little serious. His insecurities tending to get in the way of things.

Your brows furrowed a little, “What?”

He shrugged a bit, “Just noticed you’ve been busy lately…haven’t seen ya in a while. Miss ya.”

You gave him a sad smile, “Believe me, I’m not doing it on purpose, work has just been insane. We recruited a few new people who don’t know what the hell they’re doing, training them has been a disaster, and…” you trailed off as you looked at him, noticing the small smile he wore when watching you ramble on and on. “...I miss you too.”

“Then stay for a while.” he said, his voice soft, seeing if he could keep you a few extra minutes before you would ultimately have to go to work.

You sat up a bit straighter at the invitation, “Yeah? You want me to?”

“Course.” he reassured, though his statement made him feel a bit uneasy, roughly clearing his throat to slightly divert the topic, “Just…don’t get too comfortable cause you ain’t movin in.”

He heard you laugh softly, the sound being almost too perfect to be real, “Don’t worry, I know you like your little bachelor pad going on here.” you gestured.

He scoffed, “Yeah, when the kids ain’t hoggin it.”

You hummed before a slow knowing smile was brought to your face, gently setting down your mug, “You know, speaking of…I talked to Carol recently. She told me some pretty interesting things.”

He raised an eyebrow, whether it was one of concern or curiosity, you couldn’t tell, “Oh yeah? Bout what?”

“You. And…Connie.” you hinted.

A look of surprise crossed his face, “What bout Connie?”

You shrugged innocently, “She seems to think you have a little thing for her.” you said, taking another sip of your coffee as you looked around, “Maybe this won’t be a bachelor pad for long.” you winked.

Daryl was left baffled. Why Carol would think he had a thing for Connie, he had no idea. But she had gotten it completely wrong, and now the girl he had been pinning over was under the same impression from the misinformation. But he couldn’t necessarily correct you, not without you questioning why. This conversation couldn’t have been going any worse, and all because he just wanted you to stay for a damn cup of coffee.

He couldn’t help but chuckle nervously, running a hand through his slightly messy hair, “You and yer wishful thinkin, girl.” he tried to brush off.

You tilted your head a bit at his dismissive tone, “I just want you to be happy.”

The sincerity in your voice made his heart flutter in an unimaginable way, finding he couldn’t stop the smile that spread onto his face. This is exactly why he liked you, your heart was far too big for your own good. “Yer pretty sweet, ya know that?”

“I’m just being honest,” you spoke softly, “If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”

He scoffed lightly in response, “Well, I appreciate that…but I don't think that's somethin I want...it ain’t really that simple for me. I can’t just…do that with Connie. Or any woman really. I ain’t good at that kinda stuff, I dunno what the hell m’ doin. I never even-”

A lump formed in his throat as he suddenly cut off the last part of his sentence, feeling his face get hot with embarrassment at what almost dared to slip out. He hadn’t meant to say that much, he never wanted to admit this kind of stuff to anyone let alone the woman he was enamored by. But now he had gone too far, he became far too open and honest about his inexperience, and now all he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die. 

Apparently, the conversation could get worse.

Though whether it was because of your innocence or the fact that it was early in the morning, you weren’t picking up what he was putting down as your face morphed into confusion instead. “Never even…what?”

Oh for the love of God.

Daryl cleared his throat awkwardly as he ran a hand over his face, the redness spreading down his neck as he debated on whether or not to tell you. It was mortifying, the fact that he had gone fifty whole years without touching a woman was absolutely the last thing he wanted you to know. Yet at the same time, he trusted you. He trusted you wouldn’t laugh or make fun of him for the matter. And anyway, he felt it was a little too late to back out now given the intrigued look on your face.

“Never had…y’know…” he trailed off with a gesture of his hand, hoping he wouldn’t have to actually say it out loud.

A beat of silence passed before your eyes widened a little as you connected the dots. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. No way this man was a virgin.

“Shut up.”

Daryl felt his cheeks burn brighter at your disbelief, “M’ serious…I ain’t ever…done that before.”

“You’ve never had sex?” you asked as if to make sure you were truly on the same page.

He blinked, “No.”

You slumped back in your seat with a breath, “Wow…” you muttered, watching as he grew more uncomfortable by the second. Though you weren’t trying to make him uneasy by admitting such a thing, it just genuinely surprised you that he had gone this far in his life without sleeping with someone. I mean…he was attractive, kind, somewhat of a smartass. It was hard to believe no one had fallen for that sort of thing, causing you to wonder just how much he had missed out on.

You nodded to yourself, “We gotta get you laid or something.”

His eyes widened in absolute horror, clearly not expecting that response from you, “No, no that’s- what?” he exclaimed in disgust, “You ain’t gettin me laid.”

“Why not?” you asked in mild disappointment.

He set his mug down on the counter with a soft slam as he grunted in slight frustration, “Christ (Y/N), cause it ain’t that easy. I don’t just wanna screw around with someone, that ain’t me. I would have to have…feelings for that person to get that far, y’know?” he asked, silently pleading with you to understand.

His outlook made you slowly realize that Daryl wasn’t like any other guy you’d ever met. Well, you always knew that, but hearing his genuine words seemed to make you falter for a moment as you just simply stared at him. Any other guy would absolutely dive head first for the opportunity to have a random and meaningless hookup, something to make them feel good before forgetting about the other person as a whole. Using them to just get what they wanted. 

But Daryl…was the complete opposite; probably the biggest sweetheart the world had ever seen. You knew he would want to love and cherish that person he would share such an intimate moment with, treating them with the most respect and consideration. He would probably take it as slow as possible, not only to prolong the intimacy, but to make sure they were truly comfortable. You imagined him to be gentle and kind, even after the deed was done, he would continue to take care of them, offering to get them anything their heart desired. 

Thinking about all of this caused an unexpected flutter in your stomach, one that you didn’t expect. But you couldn’t deny it was there.

You blinked a few times to snap yourself out of it, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I know that…I honestly wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” you smiled softly.

His shoulders relaxed a bit upon hearing your response, nodding in appreciation as he assumed the topic of conversation would end here, hoping to get out of this humiliating misery. But before he could speak, your gentle voice cut off his words.

“Is there someone you have feelings for?"

His eyes widened a little at the unexpected question, "...Huh?"

"Is there someone you’d want to, you know…experience that with?” you clarified.

He paused again, swallowing nervously as there was a certain heaviness to that question he couldn’t place. Of course there was. The way he felt about you was unlike anything else he had ever experienced before. In the beginning he denied it relentlessly, because he simply couldn’t accept the fact that he had managed to open up his heart to someone so special. But there was no denying it anymore, at least to himself. Though you on the other hand, could never know the truth.

“Nah.” he said simply.

You nodded slowly in understanding, quietly tapping your fingers on the counter as if you were trying to figure out what to say. “Well…if there comes a time where there is someone, and you need some advice…I’m always around.” you assured.

He nodded slowly, “Alright...” he said in appreciation, trying to mask how he was really feeling, his heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest at the thought of you seeing through him.

“Dropping the topic now.” you said as you raised your hands in surrender.

He chuckled gruffly, “Thanks.”

You smiled up at him, before catching a glimpse of the time blinking on the oven, “Oh shoot, I should go. I have to head into the infirmary in like fifteen minutes.” you said as you quickly drank one last mouthful of coffee.

Daryl tried his best not to let his disappointment show, nodding once more as his eyes followed you when you moved around to place your empty mug in the sink. Though the disappointment seemed to diminish when you turned around to give him a hug, your arms going around his shoulders as you gave him a soft squeeze. He found himself smiling at your familiar gesture, patting your back before he pulled away first, his hand lingering on your arm.

“Stay outta trouble, alright?” he mumbled.

“Always.” you promised in return.

An entire week had passed since that little talk the two of you had in his home, and it was safe to say that it had been plaguing Daryl’s mind ever since. He couldn’t recall the last time he was so open with someone, not being able to tell for certain if he regretted it or not. Though he couldn’t deny that your support and understanding wasn’t something to take for granted. But the longer he thought about the interaction, the more he wished he’d told you the truth.

Maybe he should’ve laid it all out there, but then again he had a lot to lose. Having no idea how you would react to his confession, he could potentially scare you off, and that was something he didn’t know if he should risk. He became a mess of emotions as he pondered endlessly over the things that clouded his thoughts. Although he couldn’t deny that he was slowly starting to find the idea of sex more and more appealing the longer he thought about it. Maybe having a little experience wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. But that also meant having to ask you for that experience, and he knew he would rather die than put himself out there like that.

Though as the days dragged on and he grew more restless, he physically couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it. This was way out of his comfort zone, he knew that, but he felt like he was going crazy at this point. At least if you said no then he could just move on and not absolutely spiral about the constant “what ifs.” So, with that in mind, he smoked an entire joint by himself in order to calm his nerves before gathering what little confidence he had left, and headed down to the infirmary where he knew you’d be at this hour. He couldn’t let himself think about the decision too much otherwise he knew he would surely chicken out. 

The door opened with a soft creak as he stepped inside, scanning the area for you. He disregarded the people sitting in the waiting area, clearly anticipating when their name would be called, opting out to peer around the corner to try and see if he could spot you. And sure enough he managed to catch a glimpse of your frame in the back, stocking up a nearby medicine cabinet as you organized a few pill bottles. You were wearing that little white doctors coat that he knew you hated, thinking it ruined your outfits. But he always found it quite attractive.

He awkwardly stood there for a moment as if debating whether or not to go back there, knowing he didn’t exactly have permission. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, letting out a small whistle in hopes to get you to look at him. It was a quiet, soft sound, but it caught your attention nonetheless, glancing over your shoulder to see him standing there lingering in the waiting room. He smiled a bit, gesturing with a hand as if asking if he could walk over to talk to you, to which you nodded almost immediately, waving him back.

Daryl let out a breath once you beckoned him to come over, silently slipping past everyone else to join you in your more secluded spot, “Hey.” he breathed.

You smiled, “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

Once you said that, it hit him. What was he doing here? He showed up to where you worked of all places to have this private discussion, not even considering the option to invite you over sometime to talk like adults. Maybe he underestimated how high he really was.

“Just uh…just wanted to see ya.” he said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he figured there was no backing out now, “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Oh, um…” you trailed off as you looked around, making sure no one needed your assistance, “You might have to make it quick.”

He nodded in understanding, “Right, course…I promise it won’t take long.”

Your brows furrowed a little in concern, “What’s going on?”

He cleared his throat nervously, gripping the material of his jeans as he felt his palms begin to sweat, “You know, uh…you remember that morning you came over a few days ago? When we was talkin in the kitchen?”

“Mhm.” you nodded.

He swallowed thickly as his heart was beating concerningly fast, trying to force himself to just say it, “Well, I been thinkin…bout what you said and…all that,” he gestured with his hand, “Bout gettin some real experience.”

Your eyebrows raised a little, “Really? You changed your mind?”

“Yeah, I did,” he grunted, “I think it could help, y’know…get outta my comfort zone and whatnot. See what all the fuss is bout.” he joked dryly, purposefully dancing around the subject.

You smiled a bit in surprise that he was willing to take that step, knowing normally he wasn’t one for change or trying new things. But maybe this time he was really ready to put himself out there, and you couldn’t lie, you were happy for him. Though the more you thought about it, the more you became a bit discouraged at the thought of him with another woman. You didn’t know where it came from, this pang of jealousy, but you knew you couldn’t say anything. After all, you were his friend, and he clearly came here in search of the support you always provided.

So, you managed to push your lingering thoughts aside, smiling genuinely as you gave his arm a small nudge, “Well, I think that’s great.”

He hummed as he nodded his head, trying to force himself to just stop being a coward and ask, “But I also had…somethin to ask ya.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh? About advice?”

“Nah…not exactly,” he mumbled as he let out a heavy sigh, “I was just wonderin…if you’d…” he trailed off again as he took another moment to look at you. He knew there was no going back after he said this, questioning last minute if it was really worth it. But seeing that gleam in your eyes and the sweetness of your smile, the words just seemed to stumble out without his permission.

“If you’d be the one to give me some experience.” he said quietly, his tall frame leaning down a bit to mutter it quietly for your ears only.

Your stomach plummeted when you heard his quiet request, feeling as if the wind was knocked out of you as that was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. The way his tone dropped when he asked, the fact that he took a small step closer to tower over you more than he normally was. It was all doing something to do. The tension between you was there, thick enough to cut with a knife as you stared at him practically gaping like a fish, not knowing what to say.

On one hand, you were flattered, and a little turned on by the fact that he wanted you specifically to give him the experience he craved. But another part of you felt hesitant, as if you weren’t one hundred percent sure he knew what he was asking of you. You wanted him to get out there, escape his comfort zone, but you didn’t want him to do it just because you simply suggested it.

Though just as he was growing a bit worried at your silence, you finally spoke, “...Me? You…you want it to be me?” you whispered.

He let out a soft breath, “Well…yeah. I...I really like ya, and...I trust ya.” he admitted, gazing down at you with a certain gentleness in his eyes, “But you know…you don’t gotta if you dont want to. I ain't gonna pressure you or anythin, I just thought I'd...” he trailed off, realizing he was talking far too much.

But you didn’t feel pressured, quite the opposite really. You honestly just couldn’t believe this was actually happening, it was a lot to process, and you hardly knew what to say. Time seemed to be moving incredibly fast and slow at the same time as you stood there, staring at each other with a newfound feeling.

Though just as you were about to open your mouth to speak again, someone popped around the corner and called your name, clearly needing some help. Daryl silently cursed at the interruption, though it was to be expected. He was coming to the conclusion that this was probably the worst time to be having this discussion.

“Sounds like they need ya...” he said softly.

You tilted your head as you didn’t want to go, your expression turning sympathetic, “I’m sorry.” you whispered.

Daryl shrugged it off, “It’s alright.” he said, hesitating for a moment, before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. Your eyes widened a little at the gesture, the comfort of his touch, feeling yourself almost leaning into his hand before he took it away too quickly.

“I’ll um…I’ll see ya around, okay?” he said with a nod before turning to head out, not even giving you a chance to respond. 

You were a little shocked at his sudden rush to get away, but at the same time you understood. He must’ve been incredibly embarrassed and ashamed, especially since you hadn’t given him an answer. A part of you wanted to call him back, but you knew better than to do that, knowing he was already too far gone to hear you anyways.

Daryl couldn’t even begin to describe his regret as he walked back home, the distance between his apartment and the infirmary giving him way too much time to think. You didn’t seem completely disgusted, but clearly you weren’t a huge fan of the idea given the look on your face. He knew this was a bad plan from the get go, but he still somehow convinced himself to do it, now wishing he had never opened up his mouth at all. He felt a certain grief wash over him as he could imagine he had ruined whatever relationship he had with you, needing to learn to let it go. 

The remainder of the day passed by in a flash, ending with him taking a long, hot shower in an attempt to ease the tension in his muscles and the thoughts circling his mind. The water sprayed down on him like an element of lava given the harsh temperature, his fingers running through his wettened hair as he rinsed out the soap and bubbles. Perhaps the longer he spent under the running faucet, the more it would make him forget about the embarrassing events of the day. It caused him to wonder what you were thinking at this moment in time, but then again a part of him didn’t want to know.

“Daryl?”

His eyes widened in surprise when he heard the sound of your voice, momentarily considering it to be just his imagination, but the sound of the front door closing with a familiar slam convinced him otherwise. What the hell were you doing here? And with the worst timing in the world.

“Y-Yeah? I’m in the shower.” he called out without thinking, the door being opened a crack and just enough to where he hoped you could hear him.

You fidgeted nervously near the front entrance, hearing his slightly muffled words made you rethink your decision to come over, seeing it clearly wasn’t the best time. “Oh, okay...should I um…should I come back later?”

“No, no,” he quickly called out again, “Just…just gimmie a sec.” he said as he frantically finished up before you had the chance to leave.

With his reassurance in mind, you stayed put as you waited for him, briefly hearing the water shut off after only a few seconds. Your thoughts ran wild as you pondered over the things you wanted to say, having not been able to take your mind off the interaction for your whole shift. It was distracting, nerve racking…but it was also a bit enticing. You had no idea what you were going to say to him, but one thing was for certain, you weren’t about to deny that his request didn’t intrigue you.

The sound of his footsteps approaching is what snapped you out of your thoughts, your eyes widening a fraction as you saw him step into the living room in nothing but a towel. The truth was, he was just far too anxious to hear what you had to say to take the time and put on real clothes. Though now as he stood a few feet from you with just a thin piece of fabric shielding him, he felt a little exposed under your lingering gaze. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, his messy hair sticking to the sides of his face and the water droplets that clung to his skin, it truly was a sight to behold.

Had you always looked at him like this? From the moment you met, you always saw him as a close friend and someone you could count on for anything. But now it was like a switch flipped or something, nearly drooling as you saw him in a way you never had before.

“Somethin you need, sweetheart?” Daryl’s voice broke through the silence.

You blinked a few times as you were brought back to the current situation, nodding absentmindedly, “Yeah, uh…I was hoping we could talk.”

He shifted a bit on his feet, subconsciously tugging his towel up a bit, “Bout what?” he asked dumbly. He knew why you were here; he just didn’t know what else to say.

You gave him a look that made him feel stupider than before, “About earlier…” you trailed off after a moment, attempting to find the right words, “Were you…um…did you really mean all that?”

He shrugged, “Yeah…” he breathed, “You really think I didn’t mean what I said?”

“No,” you quickly reassured with a shake of your head, “It’s just…it was all really unexpected, you know? You’ve never done anything like this before, and now all of a sudden, you’re asking me-”

“I know how it looks,” he said as he dared to take another step closer to you, “But…I’ve had these feelings for ya ever since you first knocked on that damn door, alright? It’s new to you but it ain’t new to me.”

Your expression softened as he admitted this wasn’t some spur of the moment thing, not that you thought it was. But his confirmed feelings for you only drew you closer to him, hearing the assertiveness behind every word.

“Look,” he sighed, “Goin down there and askin ya that was me bein a fuckin idiot. I shouldn’t have gone about it like that, hell, maybe I shouldn’t have even asked at all...I don’t know. But I don’t want ya to feel like ya owe me a damn thing, cause ya don’t. If you don’t wanna do this-”

“I want to.”

Daryl paused for a moment when you interrupted him, feeling a bit shocked that you had made your decision just like that. But then again, you did have hours to think it over. Meanwhile he didn’t even have to think twice when it came to you.

“Y-You do?” he asked, not meaning to stutter. He was just thrown off and absolutely floored that someone as breathtaking as you would agree to something like this with him of all people.

You took a breath as you stepped closer to him, leaving just a few inches of space, “Yeah…I really do. Honestly, I’m...pretty flattered.”

He felt a sudden burst of nervousness in his chest as the reality of the situation began to set in for him. You wanted this too. He could easily see how genuine you were being as you moved to be closer to him.

Clearing his throat gruffly, he spoke again a bit quieter, “Yer flattered?” he couldn’t help but chuckle, “Ya don’t even know the half of it.”

You smiled a little, sensing both his eagerness and unease which you seemed to find charming, “It’s just me.” you reminded.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah I know…” he said as he hesitantly rested his hands upon your arms, as if to help steady himself. “I just…I don’t know what m’ doin.” he admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I know,” you reassured, “I’ll show you…you trust me?”

He nodded again, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage as he grew more anxious by the second. Not because of her, but because of the unknown. But it was clear he was in good hands. “I trust you.”

With his simple nod of approval, you reached up to gently grasp the back of his neck, before pulling him down to meet you halfway where your lips clashed together. He gasped quietly against your mouth, the softness of your lips already addicting as his hands instinctively squeezed your arms, wanting to keep himself grounded. The taste of you was better than he ever could’ve imagined, heavenly, unreal…but what else did he expect from someone as perfect as you? As the kiss deepened, you slowly coaxed his mouth open so you could slip in your tongue, his groan in response to you only encouraged you to keep going. His kiss was hesitant and a bit sloppy, though you couldn’t help but love it.

Your free hand moved up to his wrist, guiding his hand down toward your hip as if silently encouraging him to touch you. Daryl received the message loud and clear, but he was still a bit clueless when it came to how, slowly allowing his hand to roam the curve of your back blindly. He then pulled you a bit closer to him, wanting to feel every part of you against his skin. But with his swift movement, caused his towel to nearly slip all the way off his waist, feeling him quickly grab it before it had the chance to hit the ground. 

He cursed quietly as he pulled away from your mouth, his breathing coming out in short, harsh pants as he grew a bit flushed at the idea of being completely naked in front of you. You allowed him to collect himself for as long as he needed, noticing the red that dusted his cheeks, but you still didn’t miss the blatant lust that filled his eyes.

Your hand reached up to gently brush some hair away from his face, “You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.” you spoke so softly, so patiently, leaving a few kisses on his cheek as if to help ease him.

He sighed shakily, trying to gather himself as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the feel of your touch, “I know, just…never been this exposed in front of anyone before.”

“I know,” you assured again, your mouth traveling to gently nip at his earlobe, “How about we move to your room? And you can take it off when you’re ready.”

Daryl hissed softly as your teeth grazed his ear, nodding frantically at your suggestion, “Okay…yeah.” he said breathlessly before taking your hand to guide you back down the hallway.

In a flash he had taken you into his room, shutting and locking the door behind the two of you before you gestured for him to sit down on the edge of his bed. He followed your suggestion without saying a word, willing to do just about anything you wanted right now with how incredibly turned on he was. Though he was extremely nervous, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted you, how many times he had imagined himself in situations much like this one. Completely at your mercy.

His eyes followed your movements as you came to stand in between his legs, cupping his face to angle it up toward you. “Just relax.” you whispered before slowly kissing him again with a little more force than before.

This time he couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, feeling the smoothness of your skin on his aging cheeks, his body physically shuttering. His hands reached out to pull you closer to his bare chest, wanting your body flush against him as his touch seemed to roam a bit more confidently. You felt his hands travel down to squeeze your ass, groaning into your mouth as your tongue invaded his mouth to taste him again. At this point he couldn’t help but wonder if this was a dream, or some kind of sick hallucination, his mind tricking his body that this was actually happening with how fast they seemed to move. But he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care right now.

You smiled against his lips as he gently groped your ass, your hands moving up towards his hair to give the roots a gentle tug as your mouths worked frantically. A shiver ran down his spine, the action making his head spin. You were so good with him, so gentle yet so firm as well. He couldn’t stop himself from breaking away from your mouth briefly, his lips moving down your neck as if he wanted to trace and memorize every last bit of your skin.

You sighed softly as your head instinctively tilted back for him, “You sure you’re a virgin? You seem pretty good at this.” you teased lightheartedly.

Chuckling against your skin, he took his time to kiss the underside of your jaw a few times before responding roughly, “Just have a good imagination is all…”

“You’ve thought about this before?”

He nodded a bit timidly against your neck, growing a bit shy at the admission, “A lot, actually…”

A smile broke out onto your face as you looked down at him, “Well, now I’m even more flattered.”

He groaned in slight embarrassment as he buried his face in the side of your neck, the words just slipping out without him being able to stop. His mind was too far in the clouds to realize fully, the lingering effects of the weed he had smoked making his mind a bit hazier. But he desperately wanted to remember every little detail, his hands trailing down toward your thighs as if he was itching to memorize your body.

“Here...” you then spoke again, moving his hands up toward the buttons of your blouse, “Help me out.”

Daryl looked back up at you with slightly widened eyes, swallowing thickly as he gave a shaky nod, beginning to undo them one by one. His calloused hands, though rough, couldn’t have been more gentle when it came to touching you. He treated every part of your skin like it was delicate glass, a piece of art to admire, as he almost didn’t feel worthy of being in this position. How could he have gotten so lucky when this was the last thing he thought he deserved.

“Keep going,” you encouraged when you felt your top fall to the floor, feeling his hands hesitantly move to unzip your skirt.

The piece of fabric slowly slid down your smooth legs and bunched at your feet, leaving you in practically nothing as you believed bras were a waste of time and effort to wear. His eyes took in every inch of you, mentally trying to capture this moment as he was already reluctant for it to end. And yet it hardly even started.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered as his hands reached out to touch you again, his face filled with desperation.

You smiled as you looked down at him, “Yeah?”

He nodded instantly, “Yeah…I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

A laugh escaped your lips as you leaned down to be aligned with his face, “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” you said sweetly before leaving a kiss on his cheek.

Daryl let out a breath as you kissed his cheek, the reminder that this was far from over was almost reassuring. His growing need and want was beginning to be unbearable, his hands gripping your thighs a bit tighter as he felt his erection start to ache.

“You wanna take that off for me?”

Upon hearing your request, the gesture of your hand that pointed toward the towel still around his hips, he grew a bit anxious. It was no secret that he was a bit insecure with the way he looked, he was older, his hair and beard a bit graying, his skin worn and scarred. He knew he was about to be fully vulnerable with you, that being both a good and a bad thing. He did trust you, but he just hoped you liked how he looked despite the fact that he didn’t.

It took a moment for him to build up the courage, to which you were incredibly patient, before he finally pulled the towel off of him, leaving him completely bare in front of you. But your reaction was far from a negative one. Your eyes widened a little as you took him in, not being able to see his flaws he was so worried about as you were solely focused on how breathtaking he looked. His arms could’ve been sculpted by gods, his toned chest rising and falling with every heaving breath, and as your gaze traveled south, you were shocked at the bragging rights he seemed to hold. 

But the thing you wanted him to know the most, was that he was just as perfect to you as you were to him.

Though seeing his pleading expression seemed to stir something inside you, quickly slipping off your thong before stepping forward to straddle his hips in a fit of impatience. His eyes widened at your fast actions, but he wasn’t about to complain, his hands immediately going to your hips to hold to in place as he loved the feel of your skin against his. He didn’t know what to do now exactly, but he did know that he wanted more of you.

“You’re so handsome.” you praised, your mouth coming down to suck softly on the side of his neck. "So perfect for me."

A small gasp escaped him at your praise, your mouth working against his skin caused him to nearly melt beneath you. He had been called a lot of things in his life, but handsome and perfect were never one of them. It was new, different…and he loved it. He soaked up everything he could like a sponge, wanting to ravish in your touch forever. But when he felt you begin to rock against him, stroking his length with every pass of your hips, he couldn’t help the strangled moan he dared to let out. His hips instinctively bucked up against you in return, unable to help himself as he craved more than what you were giving him. All he could feel was his heart racing, his skin burning up, and his dick twitching as he physically needed more. His face nuzzled in the side of your neck, breathing you in as shivers of pleasure ran through him like currents of electricity.

You hummed, “You like that?” you asked, your mouth hovering over the shell of his ear where your teeth grazed his sensitive skin.

Daryl nodded his head frantically against you, losing himself in the lust he had never felt before in his entire life, “Yes…yes, I like it.” he stuttered out desperately, gripping onto you as a signal not to stop anytime soon.

He had never felt so good, the rhythm mixed with your kisses and taunting praise, he felt he could’ve imploded right then and there. He wanted more, his body craved more of you, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. His breathing was ragged at this point as he tried to hold himself back, his face still hidden in the crook of your neck as his lips began to place soft kisses against your skin. But as your pace grew more tortuous and slow, he couldn’t help but writhe and moan beneath you, not being able to take much more of your teasing.

You felt him pull back to look up at you, a distressed look painting his face, “Please.” he nearly whined. It was a tone you had never heard from him before, finding that you loved the way he was falling apart for you.

“Please what, honey?” you asked sweetly as if you didn’t already know, cupping the sides of his face, “Tell me what you want.”

A soft whimper escaped him in your agony, knowing damn well you knew what he meant. He looked up at you pleadingly, the smooth skin of your hands on his face feeling so good, but not good enough. “You…” he whispered needily, “I want you…please.” he begged.

Whilst he was beneath you, whimpering and pleading for you to fuck him, you on the other hand learned something new about yourself. The scene that played before you was something sinful, but you loved it far too much to feel even a little bit guilty. The burly man you had come to know as tough and stoic, just whimpered because of you. And for that, you had no choice but to give him what he so desperately needed.

In an instant you slowly sunk down onto his length, the size of him causing a moan of your own to escape through parted lips. Though Daryl on the other hand groaned loudly as he felt your tight walls enveloping him, his head falling back as he bit his lower lip in an attempt to silence the noises you threatened to pull from him with one simple move. It felt like he had just walked through the pearly gates of heaven, the feeling so surreal and pleasurable he couldn’t help but let it cross his mind.

As you adjusted to him, you looked down and studied his face, his brow already lined with sweat and his expression one of pure bliss. “You look so good like this.” you whispered, your finger gently tracing his jawline.

He wanted to scoff at your comment, thinking that he no doubt looked like a mess in front of you, but he couldn’t help but feel prideful at the thought of you loving it. It made him feel good, perhaps more confident even though he was fully flushed and exposed.

Though as he felt you begin to move, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and a low moan left him in response, feeling the heat in his stomach already beginning to build. His hands moved from your hips down to your thighs as if to encourage you to keep going, giving them a firm squeeze as he panted to try and catch his breath. He felt as if he were going insane with the waves of pleasure washing down upon him, the feeling like no other as he knew he was a goner from the moment you agreed. His head was spinning though he tried to concentrate, not wanting it to ever come to an end as he watched you steadily pick up the pace from above him.

His mind was lost on him as your movements quickened skillfully, his hips pathetically trying to match your pace though he was failing miserably. But he didn’t care. It felt too good to care. His fingers nearly dug into the soft skin of your thighs as he whimpered and squirmed, feeling himself already starting to chase his high. He felt a little embarrassed that it had taken him close to nothing to reach his peak, but then again, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to stop.

Daryl grew desperate to say something, to warn you that he was getting more and more overwhelmed with the feeling of ecstasy, though he wasn’t able to form any coherent sentence. All that managed to come out were pathetic whines and moans as he desperately tried to pound into you, looking up at you with widened eyes in hopes you would get the message.

And you did. You understood completely. With a simple kiss on his lips and encouraging words, you let him know that it was okay. “I know, honey, I know.” you said sweetly, “Let go for me.”

He whimpered against you lips when you kissed him, hearing your words made him feel a bit more at ease as he felt himself just on the brink of losing all control he had left. But he couldn’t help the way you were making him feel. With his mind beginning to cloud and the desperate movements he made, he finally felt himself release deep inside you, burying his face in your neck as he came. You slowed down your pace a bit as you guided him through his high, trying to make it last as long as possible for him as he just gripped and thrusted into you harder. Near sobs began spilling from his lips as he clung onto your limbs, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as his body was practically vibrating.

He hadn't meant to be this much of a mess, completely falling apart from underneath you as he chased his high so desperately. But with how unbelievable you made him feel, it was like he had no control over the noises he made t or the emotions he felt. Like you had complete control. And he loved it more than he was willing to admit.

It took him a while to come back down to earth, but you waited patiently the whole time, running your fingers through his tangled mess of hair as he collected his hazy thoughts. Though he couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed and a bit vulnerable, knowing he didn’t last as long as he would’ve hoped. When he finally gathered the courage to look you in the eye, he feared your reaction, as if he expected you to regret what just happened.

But instead you smiled, “You okay?” you asked gently.

All he managed was a small nod in response, letting out a breath as it was clear you weren’t upset in the slightest. But as his mind wandered a bit, he began to feel selfish, realizing he couldn’t make you feel as good as you made him feel. Leaving him overthinking the things he could’ve done differently.

“I’m sorry.” he then whispered gravely.

Your brows furrowed a little in concern, “For what?”

He blushed a bit with embarrassment, almost not wanting to explain his reasoning for speaking up in the first place. But your gaze remained expectant, and he knew he should answer. “For not…makin ya feel good.” he said sheepishly.

“Hey…” you said softly as you titled his head up to look at you, “You did make me feel good.”

The truth was you enjoyed yourself, even if you didn’t finish, you didn’t care. He was still new at this, and that wasn’t something you were about to shame him for.

He grew a little surprised at your admission, “But…you didn’t…” he trailed off, almost not wanting to say it out loud.

You smiled a little at his lack of words, “It was your first time, Daryl. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” you said, kissing his cheek reassuringly.

He sighed, “I know…but I wanna make ya feel good too.” he tried to explain.

“You will,” you nodded, “Practice makes perfect, right?” you said with a small wink.

He perked right up at that, the idea of doing this again with you hadn’t even crossed his mind. He assumed it would only be a one time thing, but hearing you say that sent a spark of excitement through him.

“So…there’ll be a next time?” he asked, trying to hide his hopefulness.

You laughed softly, “Only if you want there to be.”

He quickly nodded, he would have to be an absolute fool to say no to something like that. “Course I do…I want ya…as many times as you’ll let me have ya.”

Your smile widened as you leaned in to kiss him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to bring him flush against you. He groaned softly as his hands danced across your back, suddenly feeling very grateful. He almost couldn’t believe someone as kind and understanding would actually want him, but he couldn’t bring himself to question it for very long. Just simply wanting to live in the moment and not take it for granted.

“Wanna go again?” you asked against his lips.

“Mhm.” he hummed immediately as he deepened the kiss, his response not having any hint of hesitation. It made you laugh softly, feeling him already getting excited all over again. It was safe to say it was going to be an eventful night.

~ Thanks for reading!

[bandtrees]

this has always been one of my favorite lines in this scene it’s so striking to me. i think debating over callum’s level of lucidity and what can or cannot “fix” him is deeply antithecal to what the story is trying to express with him - but the idea that callum is still there and still a person who does have the capacity to love mingus, just not in a way she can ever comprehend or accept, because she can't comprehend or accept anything outside her narrow worldview, is sooooo good.

there is no way of actually knowing if callum is proud of mingus, much less recognizes her at all - but it's added to by the fact there's only so much of that she would accept even if he could. ultimately, she wants validation and power, his prestige, from him, she wants a supportive parental figure she never had - there's only so much of that callum is able to provide even in a world where her stint to fix his memory actually worked. he's like a hundred. he never even MET her. to say nothing of all he's missed in the past fifty-odd years. to say nothing of how his age may have messed with his mind deteriorating even without the pre-existing brain damage.

and mingus' phrasing here implies he doesn't even look at her when she visits - which brings me to the visit that radicalized her: the one after her surgery, where he was watching gingi out the window.

obviously, callum watching gingi is mostly for the thematics of it all, how similar the two of them are in ways mingus refuses to recognize, but theres also the thought of... callum's been sitting alone in that room for over half his life, barely lucid if at all. of course he's going to be drawn to a brightly-colored thing making noises and knocking stuff over outside. if he can't respond to stimuli of the people around him he's at the very least going to latch onto something more visually interesting than Brown Wall and Brown Figure.

but it's not like mingus can think of it like that, because she's internalized so much about her grandfather and built up such a specific, personalized vision of him - she doesn't see him as an elderly man with (a fictional equivalent to) dementia, she sees him as President Callum Crown™, the man she personally has to please and live up to the legacy of and make proud, disregarding the fact that's not something he has the mental capacity to even do - because she's so obsessed with validation and complete control that the only way she can get it is by either subjugating others and forcing it out of them (what she does with her townsfolk), or just completely projecting on someone who, for her purposes, is basically a blank slate.

which is maddening to her in its own way, see how crazy she drives herself trying to restore callum's memory in the first place - but also, would she be happy even if callum could see her for who she is? post-game, when she's working on herself, that's an irrelevant question as she's pushed past that need, but as we know her? absolutely not.

i love the ch3 standoff between norm and mingus as a show of "Okay guys let’s see who can dehumanize this disabled guy harder (via pedestal-putting) and justify themselves for it better" and why i think it is so important that it’s gingi who reads the postcard and ultimately speaks for callum instead of either of them, or even the narrator. they can’t read, and they struggle to, but they manage to get it right even when people are telling them to stop. and the fact they’re able to do it at all, are given the chance to do so, and are ultimately the one to wind down this conflict shows that the world of dialtown, while not perfect, really is how callum would have wanted it.

both gingi and callum are some of the most altruistic and human characters ever, and the crux of their parallels is that they are denied this by close-minded people because they happen to Behave Strangely. it's why seeing mingus act the way she does hits so hard - she loves her paw-paw, yes, but if she were to see him in a vacuum, a one-limbed man who can hardly think, much less speak for himself: or even his younger self, who was struggling to make ends meet with his odd inventions...

...well, the feeling norm's imagining here would probably be mutual. mingus' relationship with bigotry is a very fascinating one, she's very close-minded but views certain oddities (ie her flesh-head) as having earned their place and thus being fine - she's a freak too, by her own admission, but she's doing it for a just and wider purpose, so it's fine. which is, ironically, the ideology callum forced upon himself.

callum was obsessed with helping people, pushing himself to do more and more, because it was the only way he ever found respect. if he didn't help people and have grand visions for the world and make himself "useful" to society at large, then what would he be, if not a freak?

mingus and her paw-paw are very similar people, from their well-intentioned extremism, to their stubbornness and paranoia, to their inability to view themselves as anything more than a vessel for that grand cause they believe in (callum in the dialup, mingus in restoring her paw-paw's memory) - which is funny, because if mingus was able to view callum, and herself, as a flawed human person, she would come to understand how similar they really are.

:(

[cheynovak]

Tell me what it takes

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary: REQUEST: Dean realizes after a near-death experience that he has nothing if Y/N isn’t in his life. He searches for her and finds her living in Lawrence, Kansas. When he shows up at her door, she’s shocked but lets him in. Dean struggles with small talk before finally confessing realized he needed her.

Warnings: 18+ romance, nothing too explicit, mostly making love, hurt, couple issues, friends to lovers,

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The sound of gravel crunching under the Impala’s tires was a familiar comfort as Y/N stared out the window, her mind miles away from the endless Kansas road. She had been living with Dean and Sam for years now.

It had become her life—hunting, saving people, the usual. She had loved Dean for years, they started out as neighbours, friends, but over time, something had shifted between her and Dean, something she wasn’t sure either of them knew how to define.

She and Dean were inseparable, tied together by years of shared grief, laughter, and battles fought side by side. She had helped him take care of baby Sam when their father disappeared on one of his many hunts.

Dean and Y/N had leaned on each other back then, and as the years passed, that connection deepened in a way that was never spoken about, but always felt just right.

Now, though, feeling it wasn’t enough anymore. She needed more, needed to know, hear it he felt the same for her.

They were staying in a rundown motel outside of town for the night, waiting on a lead Sam had tracked down for their next hunt. As soon as they checked in, Sam disappeared to do more research, leaving Y/N and Dean alone in the room they would share.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her heart heavy as she watched Dean peel off his jacket and toss it over the chair by the window. His movements were as casual as ever, but her mind was racing.

It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed, tangled together in moments of passion when the night was too long, and the world seemed too heavy.

They’d kissed, hooked up, and fallen asleep wrapped around each other more times than she could count, Dean had been her first and if it was up to her, also her last. It felt right with him but it always felt… temporary. As if none of it mattered when the morning came.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She knew he cared for her, more than just a one night thing, she noticed he'd stopped sleeping with other girls, he was protective of her and when a man looked at her in a way he didn't like, he held her.

Those are boyfriends trades, right? Than why didn't he ever admitted it to her, or did he made it official?

"Dean," she said quietly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. He glanced over at her, brow furrowing when he saw the expression on her face. “What’s up sweetheart?”

She bit her lip, trying to find the words that had been building up for so long. "We need to talk." Dean stiffened, his jaw tightening slightly. "About what?"

"About us." Her eyes met his, searching for some kind of reassurance, but she found nothing there but his usual guarded expression. "Dean… I need more."

His brow furrowed deeper. "More? What do you mean?"

"I mean… I can’t keep doing this. The kissing, the hooking up, the sharing a bed… It’s not enough anymore. I need to know where we stand. I need to know that this isn’t just some… convenient arrangement for you."

Dean shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. "Y/N, you know I care about you."

"That’s not what I’m asking," she said, her voice wavering. "I need to hear it, Dean. I need to know you... love me, like I love you."

The room fell into an oppressive silence, the only sound the faint hum of the highway outside.

Dean looked away, his face hardening in that familiar way whenever emotions came into play. His defense mechanism.

"Y/N, I…" he started, then shook his head. "I don’t do this type of things. You know that. I’m not good with—"

"With emotions? With feelings?" she cut in, her frustration rising. "I’ve been with you for years, Dean! I know you better than anyone, I never asked for anything, and I’m telling you, begging you, I need to hear you say it. I need to know that this isn’t just… nothing to you."

Dean’s eyes flicked back to hers, and for a moment, she saw something there. Fear. Pain. But then, just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by his usual bravado. He scoffed, shaking his head. "You’re overthinking this, Y/N. You know how I feel. Why do we need to say it?"

"Because I deserve to know!" Her voice cracked, and she stood up from the bed, her chest heaving with pent-up emotion. "I deserve to be more than just the girl you hook up with when you feel like it. I deserve to be loved, Dean. Really loved."

Dean’s eyes flashed, and he stepped toward her, his own frustration boiling over. "I’m doing the best I can, Y/N! This is who I am. You knew that from the beginning. You think I don’t care? I wouldn’t hold you all damn night! I wouldn't kiss you good morning! I wouldn't you know... hold your hand and stuff"

"But you won’t say it," she said softly, her voice breaking. "You won’t say you love me. You only kiss me when no one is around, you only hold me or my hand when you think someone is interested in me. Why is it so hard to tell me, just me Dean, you don't need to shout it of the roof!"

He clenched his fists, his expression hardening once again. "What do you want from me? I can’t just… say it because you want to hear it."

Y/N’s heart shattered at his words, the final nail in the coffin. She had hoped—prayed—that he would give her something, anything. But instead, he was pushing her away.

She took a shaky breath, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "I can’t do this anymore, Dean."

His face paled, his bravado slipping for a moment. "Y/N, don’t act like that, don't —"

"No," she said, her voice firm now, despite the tears threatening to fall. "I can’t keep waiting for you to love me the way I deserve, the way I have loved you since you moved in next door."

"I ran away from home to help you and your dad take care of Sammy. I did anything for you..." a trembling sigh left her "I’m done."

Without another word, she grabbed her bag from the floor and headed for the door. Dean stood frozen in place, his eyes wide with shock, but he didn’t stop her. He didn’t call her back.

As she walked out of the room, the weight of everything hit her at once.

Years of friendship, of love—unspoken and unacknowledged—crashed down around her. She didn’t want to leave him, but she couldn’t keep sacrificing her heart for someone who wasn’t willing to give her theirs in return.

The door clicked shut behind her, and as she stepped into the cool night air, Y/N let the tears fall. She didn’t know where she was going, but anywhere was better than staying in a place where love was always just out of reach.

Inside the motel room, Dean stood alone, staring at the door. His chest ached, his heart pounding in his ears. He wanted to go after her, to pull her back and tell her everything she needed to hear. But the words stuck in his throat, buried beneath years of walls he had built to keep himself from getting hurt.

And so, for the first time in a long time, Dean was alone. Completely, utterly alone, the only thing he truly loved and cared for in this world, beside his brother, just turned her back and walked away.

A year later

The rain fell in steady sheets, drumming against the roof of the Impala as Dean pulled up outside a modest, two-story house on the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas. It had been almost a year since Y/N walked out of his life, and for most of that time, he’d tried to convince himself he was fine. That he didn’t need her.

But he’d been wrong.

The last hunt had been a brutal reminder of his mortality. He had come inches from death, pinned under the crushing weight of a creature whose claws had torn into him, leaving deep gashes that still ached. In those moments when the world started to blur and his strength began to fade, there had only been one thought in his mind.

Y/N.

He had always pushed people away, afraid of losing them. But in doing so, he had lost the one person who truly mattered. The one person who had seen him, broken and scarred, and stayed anyway.

Dean’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he stared at the house. He didn’t know what he would say, but he knew one thing: he couldn’t leave without trying. He couldn’t lose her again.

With a deep breath, he stepped out of the car, the rain soaking through his jacket as he approached the front door. His heart pounded in his chest as he raised his hand and knocked. Each second that passed felt like an eternity until finally, the door creaked open.

Y/N stood there, her eyes widening in shock. She hadn’t changed much—her hair was a little longer, and there was a hint of weariness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. But she was still Y/N, the woman who had always been a part of his life, whether he’d admitted it or not.

“Dean,” she said, her voice soft but guarded.

He gave her a small, nervous smile, shifting awkwardly. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the past year hanging heavy between them. Finally, Y/N stepped aside, opening the door wider. “You should come in. It’s pouring out there.”

Dean nodded, stepping inside. The house was warm, cozy. A far cry from the cheap motels and the constant chaos of the life they’d once shared. He could see small touches of her everywhere—books stacked on the coffee table, a blanket draped over the arm of the couch. It was a home, something Dean had never been able to give her.

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the wall as she watched him. “What are you doing here, Dean?”

He opened his mouth, but the words got stuck. He hadn’t exactly planned this out. He scratched the back of his neck, forcing a half-hearted smile. “I was in the neighborhood?”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Try again.”

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. “Okay, fine. I suck at this, you know that. I—” He stopped, his gaze dropping to the floor as he searched for the right words. He wasn’t sure there were any.

Y/N didn’t say anything, just waited. And for the first time in a long time, Dean felt like he needed to be honest. No walls. No bravado.

“I almost died,” he said quietly, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

Her expression softened for a moment, concern flashing across her face. “Dean…”

“No, listen,” he interrupted, his voice firmer now. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About us. About… everything. And for a long time, I didn’t get it. I thought I could just keep doing what I was doing—going through the motions, keeping everyone at arm’s length. But when I was lying there, bleeding out, the only thing I could think about was you. And how I had nothing if you weren’t there.”

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, but she stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“I messed up,” Dean admitted, his voice thick with guilt. “I was so damn scared to say what you needed to hear because… I’ve lost everyone, Y/N. My dad, my mom, even Sam, for a while. I didn’t want to lose you too, so I thought if I didn’t say it—if I didn’t make it real—then maybe you’d stick around. But I was wrong. And I know I don’t deserve it, but… I’m asking for another chance. A real one.”

Y/N’s arms dropped to her sides as she took a slow, steady breath. The silence that followed was almost unbearable, and Dean’s heart pounded in his chest. She was right to make him wait, to make him feel the weight of his actions. He hadn’t just broken her heart—he’d broken their bond. And that wasn’t something that could be fixed with a few words.

But he needed to try.

"You hurt me, Dean," she said, her voice soft but strong. "For years, I was there for you. I gave you everything, and you couldn’t give me the one thing I needed. Do you know how hard it was to leave? To walk away, knowing you’d never say what I wanted to hear?"

Dean swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I know. And I’m sorry. God, I’m so damn sorry. I should’ve told you… I should’ve told you how much...

I love you."

The words hung in the air, thick with the emotion he had been too afraid to show for so long. For a moment, Y/N just stared at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She had waited so long to hear those words, but hearing them now, after everything, wasn’t the easy fix either of them had hoped for.

"Do you mean it?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Or are you just saying it because you’re scared to be alone?"

Dean stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I mean it. I’ve always meant it. I just… I didn’t know how to say it. But I’m saying it now because it’s true. I love you, Y/N. And I want to be with you. Really be with you. No more half measures. No more running away."

Y/N’s eyes searched his, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt. She didn’t find any. Slowly, she exhaled, wiping at the tear that had slipped down her cheek.

"I can’t promise it’ll be easy, Dean," she said quietly. "You hurt me. It’s going to take time for me to trust you again."

Dean nodded, his expression serious. "I know. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll wait as long as you need. Just… don’t tell me it’s too late."

Y/N looked at him for a long moment, and then, finally, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. She didn’t say anything, but the way she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, told him everything he needed to know.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself breathe. He let himself feel.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone.

He was home.

The warmth of her body pressed against his was like coming home after years of being lost. Y/N lifted her head from his chest, her eyes searching his face. There was something new between them now—vulnerability, raw and unguarded. For the first time, there were no walls between them, no unspoken words hanging in the air.

Dean’s breath hitched as she looked up at him, her lips parting slightly, and without thinking, he leaned in. Their lips met, soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters after everything that had passed between them. But it didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, years of longing and unresolved tension flooding between them like a dam that had finally broken.

His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more urgent. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, needing him the way he had always needed her. The fire between them had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but now it was consuming them both.

"Y/N," he breathed between kisses, his voice low and husky. "God, I love you."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, but this time, she believed them. There was no hesitation, no fear in his voice. Just truth.

Clothes were shed in a frenzy, their hands tugging and pulling, desperate to feel skin against skin. They stumbled their way to the bedroom, never breaking the kiss, their lips and hands exploring each other like it was the first time all over again.

Dean guided her down onto the bed with a tenderness that took her breath away, his body hovering over hers, his gaze never leaving her. "I should’ve said it sooner," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a wave of heat through her. "I should’ve told you how much you mean to me. How much I love you."

Her breath hitched as his lips moved down her neck, trailing kisses along her collarbone, her hands gripping his shoulders as her body arched into his. "Dean…"

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her again, slow and deep. Every touch, every kiss, was filled with a quiet intensity that made her heart race. This wasn’t just another night—it was everything they had both been holding back for years.

Dean’s hands roamed her body, gentle but sure, like he was memorizing every inch of her. The way he touched her was different now—there was no rush, no urgency to fill the silence. He wanted to savor this moment, to show her with every caress, every kiss, how much she meant to him. His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips as he whispered, "I love you," over and over, like a promise.

He entered her slowly, their bodies moving together in perfect sync, the connection between them electric, yet soft and intimate. Each thrust, each movement, was filled with meaning, with the words he hadn’t been able to say before but was now making sure she knew. His forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling as their bodies moved together in a slow, sensual rhythm.

"You're everything," he whispered in her ear, his voice ragged with emotion. "Everything I ever needed. I’m never letting you go again."

Y/N’s hands gripped his back, her nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built between them. She could feel every emotion he poured into her, not just with his words, but with the way he touched her, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. And for the first time, she believed it—she believed him.

Their pace quickened, the room filled with the sounds of their shared passion, their breathing heavy, their bodies entwined as they climbed higher together. Dean’s lips never left her skin, whispering sweet, broken confessions of love and regret, of promises for the future.

When they finally reached the peak, it wasn’t just about the physical release—it was about everything they had been through, everything they had lost and found again. It was raw, and emotional, and when Y/N cried out his name, she knew that this time, things were different. They were whole.

Dean collapsed beside her, pulling her close, his arms wrapping around her as their breathing slowed. His lips brushed against her forehead, and in the quiet aftermath, he whispered again, "I love you."

This time, there were no doubts. No walls.

She looked up at him, her hand resting on his chest as she smiled softly, her heart full in a way it hadn’t been in years. "I love you too, Dean."

And in that moment, lying together in the quiet of the night, they both knew this was the beginning of something real—something they should’ve had all along.

--

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@call-me-mrs-winchester @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @yvonneeeee

[itstheghostofmypast]

15.07

Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: At this point, he didn't know who she loved more, him or Byeol, either way, he was happy. What else could Choi San ask for other than his two favourite girls in the world getting along?

Genre: PURE FLUFF

Warnings: NONE

Word Count: 2.1K

Est. Read Time: 10 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

A/N: No- see @edenesth 💗 did this to me. This timestamp is for my saviour, the one and only @edenesth 💗 , like we should totally blame San for posting such domestic core pics- no wonder we get all delulu- PS THIS COLLAB HAS ME DYING

@edenesth version: [12.58]PM

"San?" she called out, walking down the hallway as she paused in front of the wall-length mirror, fixing her hair once more and checking out her outfit, simple, crisp and a dash of purple. Very different from her usual office attire, very colourful too- after all the first time he had seen her she was in a plain suit, a white dress shirt and slacks, running around collecting printouts for the upcoming spring magazine. That also being the first time he had realised how much he loved the word 'simple'. Okay, fine, perhaps she was dressed on the softer side, but was it so bad to play cute for once? Especially, if she was doing so to please her man. Call it her way of simping.

Truth be told, she wasn't even sure if he was going to show up, after their extensive tour, when he had mentioned the upcoming off days he was to get, she had suggested going to his home town to relax, leaving the city life for a while and although it pained her to know that she would be too busy with her own work at the office, also known as the company he too worked in, she wanted him to rest and relax away from the hustle bustle of his idol life, what she did not expect that after a week of his departure to Namhae, the very next weekend her fluff of a man would be ringing her doorbell in the late hours of the weekend.

"Byeol wanted to see you and so did I, I spent a week there and I'll spend a week here."

Was all he the dimpled man had made his way inside to the living room, opening the carrier to let Byeol out, the living room already a place of her liking. She had been here with San a couple of times; she had also been a very important part of their relationship. Especially on their third date where he had delicately brought up the topic, "Are you allergic to cats?"

"No, why?"

"Do you like cats?"

"Yeah, why?"

He never really answered her question that night, only smiled at her, leaning over the table to add more meat to her plate considering the late hours of the night, her hunger had distracted her from asking more questions, already too emotional at the thought of this angel of a man sacrificing his portion of protein for her - especially after grilling it so well. The only thing that did change was that the next morning she received around 400+ pictures of San's first love, Byeol.

The first time he had brought Byeol over, he was cautious and attentive, making sure both his girls were happy. He asked her cute questions all day- maybe she just found them cute because it was him, or perhaps it was because he was letting her in, into his domain, which is the little kitty roaming around the house.

"Can I put the litter here?"

"All your windows are locked right?"

"Do you mind if I keep the food bowl next to where we eat? She feels lonely otherwise."

"Can she sleep on your bed? I brought her cat mat just in case."

"Can we leave the bedroom door open a bit, so she can come and go without waking us up?"

He stopped when he realised, she wasn't even responding, panicking he looked up from the cat supplies. Maybe she felt like he was intruding or invading her privacy but was too afraid to tell him. Maybe bringing in Byeol was a big step he shouldn't have taken so quickly. What if she meant like she liked cats, at a normal level, like 'oh a cat.'  Not like cuddling them or baby-talking to them. Turning around his eyes scanned the room to spot her holding onto Byeol, carrying her like a baby and cooing at her. It was only then he realised how loud his cat was purring loud enough for it to echo in the silent room.

"Hmmm? You say something, Sannie?" she looked up from Byeol to him, eyes as curious as a cat's, hand resting on the cat's tummy, letting Byeol grab her hand with her soft paws. His heart felt as if it were about to burst out of his ribcage, running to her and landing on her palm, beating in it with an intensity that would borderline scare her. Licking his chapped lips the feline-eyed man shook his head, a genuine dimpled smile forming, one that would send thousands flipping with joy- or in her case have her gushing over it in solitude.

Thus, giving birth to a ritual, often he would spend his free days at his own home, sometimes calling her over, and gratefully his family welcomed her with open arms. On other occasions, he’d drop by to her apartment, bringing their 'daughter' with him.

She remembers the time Byeol had gotten sick. Unfortunately, San was busy that evening, and his parents were out of town so Byeol was to stay with her. Not an issue, at least it wasn't until the third night when San checked his phone after hours of practice late at night. He had decided to stay at the dorm, travelling would be more tiring she understood, but as the man checked his phone his heart almost stopped.

"Byeol is sick, she's vomiting. "

"I'm taking her to the vet."

"She's shivering."

"Okay, my car isn't working!"

'"I ran here, dw, made it in time, they're checking her."

"They say she has a fever, some bug?"

"They want to keep her overnight, idk I mean I can't just leave her here. She looked scared."

"I'm not leaving, but she's sedated. They say she'll be fine."

"San plz reply soon."

"San I'm scared."

Choi San had never run faster in his life he was sure of it, because the moment he burst into the 24/7 pet clinic his lungs were burning worse than a forest fire, his eyes red and blurry, the world around him extremely out of focus as he stumbled to the reception, about to take the patient's name but someone called him instead.

"San!"

His head snapped in her direction, running to her, enveloping her in a tight embrace, trying to calm her down as she began to shiver in his embrace, her words coming out with choked sobs. Hand pressed against her head, he rubbed her back up and down with the other one, looking through the glass window at his cat, sprawled on the table with an IV tube attached.

"It's gonna be okay, it'll be okay."

It took almost an hour to calm her down, he had tried to convince her to go home, she had work the next day but she refused, instead blaming herself for Byeol's health. Though the doctor had assured him it was not because of her incompetency, but the cat food, the cat food Sanhad insisted on changing. Once she found that out, Choi San had to get an earful the remainder of the night, “How can you- I told you not to do that!”

“Babe I- “Don’t babe me! She doesn’t even like salmon! She prefers tuna.”

After the wonderful argument, that through the eyes of an elderly couple waiting for their dog looked like a cute domestic quarrel, came to an end. San remembered sitting next to her sulking as she gave him the silent treatment, though a few moments later her head had landed against his shoulder with a thump, followed by her snores. That night Choi San had realised two things, firstly that he was in love with her and secondly, she probably loved Byeol more than she loved him.

Hence, today they were supposed to go to a cute cafe she had been eying for a month. They had planned on taking Byeol out but since the cat had decided to stay up all night, running around the apartment she was tired today. San had just mocked her, claiming that Byeol knew it was Valentine's Day so she wanted her parents to spend the day together. However, he later countered himself with a, "Though each day is like Valentine's Day with you, love."

Clearing her throat, she dusted off the invisible dust, adjusting her cardigan before making her way to the living room once more, calling out to her significant other, "San! I'm ready to let's go." though his lack of response was confusing her, so she called out again, "Sannie where are you-" her word stopped as soon as she turned the corner, into her living room, spotting a giant starfish sprawled out on the wooden floor. Next to him was Byeol, staring down at him, San's hand pressed against his cat's back in a soothing manner, but she knew what he was doing, making sure his cat didn't move because Byeol was not only pretty but smart too, she knew what her dad was doing.

Sighing she walked closer to him, standing next to Byeol who looked up at her, blinking slowly, before turning back to stare at San. She stared down at him, arms crossed before slowly poking his side with her foot, watching him pretend and stretch, groaning as he cracked an eye open, "Oh~ you're finally done?"  

"Mhmmm." Raising a questioning brow she nodded, "And?"

"Oh, I mean" Sitting up he stretched his legs, much similar to how Byeol would do so, "Byeol said her mommy was taking so long in the shower that we fell asleep, waiting for you…" his words trailed off when he turned to look at her, his breath hitching at the sight of the soft pastels, the pretty purple, purple really was her colour. Clearing his throat he quickly got up, standing to talk in front of her, merely a few inches away from her as he stretched his arms over his head before casually bringing them down, not so discreetly wrapping them around her and slamming her into him, smirking when she whined.

"The dress will wrinkle Sannie." she tried to push him away but he pulled her closer, leaning down to peck the tip of her nose, "You can't look like a pretty pixie and not expect me to hold onto you like Captain Hook kidnapped Tinkerbell."

"What an analogy."  she mumbled, letting him squeeze her into his warm chest, feeling the vibrations as he chuckled, "You look very pretty…I like your cardigan."

"Thanks, your mom gave it to me last birthday. " Her arms wrapped around his waist, letting him gently sway them from side to side.

“Who do you think chose it?” he smiled down at her, finally meeting her with a gentle kiss, one she savoured greatly, hands fisting his shirt as his palm pressed against her back before slowly trailing down, though their little moment came to halt sudden when a high-pitched squeak caught their ears. Pulling back, she looked down at Byeol, frowning before turning to look at San, “Why isn’t she wearing her leash?” “What do you mean?”

Tutting at her gorgeous idiot of a man, she pulled away completely before crouching to grab the cat and walking towards the door where they hung coats and her leash. “I said we’re going to the café.”

“I know,” he mumbled scratching his head, a bit confused as to what she meant, “I got a booking for it, no? Why are you – we can’t take her there and it's almost time for our reservation.”

“Aww~ don’t listen to daddy, Byeol” San watched her talk to his cat instead of him, watching her put on Byeol’s harness and leash, somewhat impressed because Byeol never let him do that this easily, though the next statement had him blushing mad. “He’s a bit slow, handsome, but slow, he forgot we’re going to a cat café, you’ll have fun there~ Won’t you baby~”

Letting out a hearty chuckle he closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief, of course she’d come up with this idea on her own. She had mentioned earlier how leaving Byeol home wasn’t fun especially when the cat was their ‘child’ and leaving their child unattended was cruel. He watched the cat jump off the table and onto the floor, meowing up at his lover who sent Byeol a flying kiss, San didn’t know what heaven was, but if anyone were to ask him to describe what it looked like, the view was right in front of him.

“Any kisses for me?” He asked walking up to his two girls, who were almost out the door, pausing when she winked at him, “depends big boy. Might need to send our baby back home for a while if that’s what you want.” And that had the man shivering with excitement running after her as the two made it to the elevator, already planning on asking someone or one of the guys to watch his little baby for the night, so he could have a night with his kitten.

“Don’t worry, I think that can be arranged, kitten.”

Taglist: @edenesth @mlysalt @spooo00oky @cereal-simp @yessa-vie

[cxrdycxps]

God’s Favorite/Devil’s Choice • Ellie Williams

☢️ religious trauma • child abuse (emotional and physical • mental illness • physical illness • emotional trauma • death ☢️

Main Masterlist • Ellie Williams Masterlist

“Momma?” You asked quietly, watching out the window at the back yard. The winter had hit Jackson hard which left the entirety of the town covered in snow and frost. It looked like someone had forgotten to draw in the details of real life.

“Yes, Baby?” Your mother hummed from her spot in the living room, feet up on the coffee table and book in her hand.

You looked down at the water your hands were in and the dishes you had just washed from dinner. You weren’t sure if you should ask but the question was eating you up inside. “Was all that really true?”

“All what, Baby?” Your mother asked. You released the water from the sink and clambered down from the chair you stood on carefully. You returned the chair to the dining table and moved slowly towards the living room, half hiding in the doorway.

“Am I really going to hell?” You asked her softly and she chuckled, patting the space beside her on the sofa. You joined her, climbing up on the cushion beside her.

“I wish you weren’t.” She sighed, pulling you onto her lap and holding you close. She rocked you slightly as you sniffled. “I’ve been trying to save your soul since birth but some people, well they’re just damned.”

You cried into her chest and she rocked you quietly, shushing you. Her hand ran up and down your back slowly and you had almost drifted to sleep when she tapped your leg. “You can’t sleep yet.”

You blinked at her sleepily before nodding, climbing down off her lap and stumbling towards the little cupboard under the stairs. You were five now. You had to say your prayers for an hour every night before bed.

The door to the closet closed behind you and plunged you into darkness. You didn’t like this part. You were afraid of the dark but your mother told you that you had to pray in here. You had to try and save your soul from hell.

///

“Well this just fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” You winced when Ellie dropped herself at your table, her arms crossed. She looked around and then looked back to you. “Why do you sit on your own? Are you the town freak, am I committing social suicide on my first day of school?”

You didn’t want to tell her. In fact you would die for just one friend that your mother hadn’t run away with her Bible rhetoric but you knew this wouldn’t last long. She was rough, always swearing and she seemed to be more world weary than you. Your mother didn’t like you to know a lot about what went outside the walls of Jackson because it opened your mind to sin.

“You kind of are.” You told her quietly. She looked around again at the other tables before shrugging and picking up her sandwich. “Dina is pretty cool. You could sit with her.”

“I’ve never been cool. I was a loser back in my old school and I met my best friend that way. Don’t want to break my lucky streak now.” She spoke with food in her mouth and grinned at you. You winced but couldn’t help the little laugh you gave her. It would be nice to have a friend for a little while again.

“Have you ever heard of Savage Starlight?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. This launched her into a massive spiel on what had to be the greatest comic book ever made and she informed you about all the characters and story lines she had gotten to read.

“‘Course I don’t know how it ends which is fucking annoying but I suppose that’s my little taste to understand how surviving the outbreak was hard. What about you?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shrugging. “Got any hobbies?”

“Not really. I got a lot of chores to do after school. I don’t really get time.” You explained and Ellie scrunched her face up. “It’s just me and Momma. I gotta help her out cause she’s not able to get around that easy.”

“Oh. Was she hurt?” Ellie asked softly and you smiled at her thoughtfulness but shook your head. “What then?”

“She’s getting old, she says. So I have to help. That’s my job as a daughter, you know?” You explained and she seemed to be pondering the thought before shrugging.

“I mean I’m an orphan, so not really. Joel doesn’t make me do chores because he’s boring and likes doing them. Says it reminds him of before.” Ellie explained and you nodded. It made sense.

“Were you always an orphan?” You asked and she nodded, sipping at her water. “My pa died before I was born too.”

“Nice. I don’t actually know if my dad died but I’ve been in an orphanage since basically my birth. Joel is kind of like my dad except not, you know?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. You hadn’t really ever had a dad around so you couldn’t really relate.

“Not really but I’m glad you have someone.” You told her and she smiled brightly at you.

“I think now I have two someone’s.” You shared her smile a little reluctantly. Ellie was nice, you knew that made it hurt more when they didn’t want to be friends anymore.

///

“That girl, with the swearing? Is she in your class?” Your mother asked. You were stood at the sink, staring out at the back yard. Summer had come and the flowers you had planted in the spring were all in bloom. You were rather proud of them.

“Ellie?” You asked for clarification but you knew it could only be her. She had been at the Tipsy Bison with Joel for dinner and she had been swearing up a storm. “The new girl?”

“Yes, the new girl. Don’t be daft on purpose, it doesn’t suit you.” You ducked your head focusing on the warm water your hands were in. “Is she in your class?”

“There’s only one class, Momma.” You sighed and heard the sofa creak as your mother stood from her seat. You counted the foot steps it took for her to get to you.

“That sort of cheek is the reason you’ll never get past the gates of heaven.” Your mother snapped and you winced in preparation when she took a handful of your hair and pulled you towards the cupboard under the stairs. “I don’t know why I even try with you anymore. Get in there.”

The closet had gotten cramped with age but still you were supposed to fit in and pray for at least an hour when your mother got like this. She didn’t pray with you but she did expect you to pray out loud without any pauses or noises of shuffling around.

Your eyes would adjust in a few minutes and you would have to find a cramped position in which you could be comfortable because any sign of stiffness or soreness would be seen as a regret for having prayed and earn you another hour.

“I can’t hear you.” Your voice raised in level and you counted the prayers out on your fingers hoping you didn’t miss one. She wouldn’t tell you until after and you’d have to start all over again. Tears of frustration pricked at your water line and you did your best to keep your voice steady.

You hadn’t been cheeky. You were just answering her question. She was so convinced of your damned soul that she took any chance to try absolve your sins immediately after you had committed them. You weren’t sure why you weren’t able to go a day without sinning but you knew deep down your mother was right. You were awful and you would go to hell because you had been lying to her.

You and Ellie had been friends for weeks now and she had understood when you told her that your mother didn’t like you having friends. She never approached you outside of school when you were with your mother and it had turned into one of the longest friendships you’d ever had without her to get in the way.

So you prayed a little harder for your lies and begged god not to remove the first good thing that had happened to you in years.

///

“Joel is teaching me to play guitar.” Ellie told you quietly. You were supposed to be filling out your math worksheets together but both you and Ellie were very good at math and had finished them in the first five minutes. “He wanted to be a singer when he was younger.”

“Is he any good?” You asked, laughing at the idea of big Joel Miller singing the gospel music your mother played for you when she was in a good mood.

“I think so. He’s good at country at least. I don’t know about all those old pop songs that he sings while he’s washing dishes. He just looks and sounds stupid then.” Ellie told you with a grin and you laughed again.

“He seems really fun. Me and Momma don’t have fun like that.” You told her, hand reaching up to sooth your scalp that had been burning. Four times this week she’d dragged you by your hair to pray.

“I wish you could come over to our house. Joel could make dinner and you could see the garage. I basically live on my own.” Her chest puffed out and you were in awe. You’d like to live on your own you think.

“I wish I could too. I could see all your comics and posters.” You sighed wistfully and she bumped her shoulder against yours.

“I’ll just bring them all in one by one for you to see.” She promised and you smiled brightly at her, swallowing against the almost sick feeling you got in your stomach when Ellie was nice to you.

“I know you’re gonna say this is sappy but you’re my best friend, you know that?” You asked her and she laughed.

“I’m your only friend, Angel.” That nickname seemed like it was gonna stick. Ellie had chosen it when she asked why you always paused before eating your lunch. When you had explained that you were praying she had tagged you with the nickname despite your protests that you were far from an angel.

“You’re still the best.” You promised her and she laughed, resting her head on your shoulder for a minute before straightening up again. Ellie didn’t like saying sappy stuff so she chose to touch you in some way instead, it was how she showed she liked someone. “Yeah, I know. You love me too.”

She laughed and pushed you away but you noticed her cheeks turning pink and you knew you had hit the nail on the head. You were her best friend too. You’d never had that before.

///

“Momma?” You climbed the stairs slowly, surprised to not find your mother in the living room when you got home from school. There was no reply to your call and you found the bathroom door wide open along with your mothers bedroom door.

But yours was shut tightly.

You weren’t sure why your heart was pounding as you stepped closer to the door, your hand reaching for the door knob. You took a deep breath and turned it, pushing the door open.

Your room was destroyed, everything pulled out of place, all of your books open and tattered on the ground. Your dresser drawers were overturned on the ground with your clothes spilled everywhere. “Momma?”

She was sitting on the edge of your bed, just waiting and watching your reaction. You looked around again and then back to her for explanation. “Are you okay?”

Your stomach was sinking and your lungs were constricting. She knew something she shouldn’t know and you only had one secret when it came to your mother. There was only one you couldn’t share. Ellie Williams.

“You’ve been very careful.” Your mother noted casually. Like she wasn’t in the middle of your upturned room, like she hadn’t made this mess. “Not even a trace of her.”

Of course there wasn’t. She had wanted you to bring home some of her comics but you had denied her. All the little notes she had written you were tucked away in your workbook in class. You knew better than to think you had that level of privacy at home. “Trace of who, Momma?”

“Ellie Williams.” Her tone was cold and you stayed in the doorway, not daring to get any closer to her when she was like this. It was a long way down the stairs to the cupboard if she got your hair now.

“I don’t know what you mean, Momma.” Your voice shook and she laughed at you. You didn’t know how your mother made such an expression of joy manage to be the exact opposite, cold and unfeeling.

“If I didn’t know better then I’d believe you.” She said and you swallowed, looking around again like you had been careless enough to forget something. “But when Joel Miller approached me to ask could you have a sleepover, promised it wouldn’t interrupt your chores. I had to pretend to know that you’d been talking to his girl.”

You felt faint. Your hand reached out for the door frame to steady yourself when your knees buckled. You had been so careful but not careful enough.

Your mother lifted her hands and settled a long black belt over her lap, smoothing the leather of it with her index fingers. It was your belt and you suddenly had to fight the urge to vomit.

“I always knew your soul was damned.” She sighed like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “But I never could’ve guessed to what extent. You’ve broken two commandments.”

“Momma, I didn’t.” You spoke quickly, fear pulsing adrenaline around your body. “I didn’t lie to you. I promise. I never told you that we talked because we sit beside each other in class. We aren’t friends, Momma. She just doesn’t understand that I have other priorities, Momma.”

The words burned you to speak them. It felt a greater sin to forsake Ellie’s friendship than to lie to your mother and when the tears pricked your eyes you knew it to be true. “I’m sorry, Momma.”

“You’ve just lied to me again, haven’t you?” She asked and you nodded slowly. There wasn’t a god on this world or the next that would have you deny Ellie.

“She’s nice to me, Momma. She doesn’t treat me mean the way everyone else does.” You explained through your tears. “I just wanted one friend. Just one.”

“You have one friend. The only friend you need. Jesus Christ who died for your sins.” Your mother stood and walked towards you.

“It’s not a sin to love Ellie, Momma. She’s my best friend.” Your mother froze in place, her eyes narrowed at you. You realized your mistake a second too late. “Not like that, Momma. We’re just friends.”

“Praying ain’t enough for you, child.” She handed over the belt and you stared at it in confusion. You had expected her to hit you with it. Maybe you were too harsh on your mother. “Go on, ten lashes.”

“You want me to-”

“Over your back. You’ll have to take your top of but self flagellation will work better than prayer. Don’t go easy either, if it don’t hurt it ain’t working.” She urged and you stared at her, bile crawling up your throat. “Come on now.”

“Momma, I didn’t do anything wrong.” You sobbed but she didn’t move, watching you with those cold eyes. “Momma.”

“Ten. I’ll count.”

///

“Dude, where the hell were you?” Ellie exclaimed when you took your seat next to her almost four days later. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you fought the hiss of pain, leaning into the comfort of her embrace.

You had suffered for this sin, you might as well commit it now.

“Got sick.” You explained and she let you go, looking you over. You knew how you looked. Your eyes were puffy and you were walking with a stiffness that came from being on your knees praying for almost three days straight.

“Damn, you look like hell.” She whispered and you couldn’t help the laugh. Hell was only the half of it. You had been through it all and back again in the last four days and you had made a decision.

You were choosing Ellie. No matter the pain or the punishment, you weren’t going to lose Ellie. You’d rather face an eternity of Hell in the afterlife than choose a moment without her in this one.

“I missed you.” You told her quietly and let your head rest on her shoulder. It pulled at your back but the comfort outweighed the pain you were feeling and so you didn’t move. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” Ellie promised quietly, her head resting against yours. “And don’t be mad but Joel totally put his foot in it the other day. He asked you mom why you couldn’t sleep over. He didn’t know it was a secret.”

“Oh.” You tried to keep your voice steady. “She never said anything. Probably thought he had the wrong person.”

“Thats a relief. I didn’t want you to get in trouble over me.” Ellie sighed and the pair of you sat up when class began. Ellie kept her leg firmly against yours though and you were grateful for the comfort it offered.

When lunch came about Mrs Collins called your name and held you back while everyone else went to get food. You made you way up to her desk and she gave you a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You promised her. Your mother had told everyone that you had been sick. You weren’t sure why it wasn’t a sin when she lied.

“Your mother told me you got a pretty nasty case of food poisoning?” Mrs Collins asked and you nodded, wondering was this another sin to pray for. “She also made a strange request.”

Your heart dropped and you looked back over your shoulder to where Ellie was waiting for you in the doorway, her back to you both. “Please don’t.”

“You want to tell me why she wouldn’t want you sitting by Ellie?” Mrs Collins asked and you shook your head, tears in your eyes. “If Ellie is hurting you or being mean to you then you can tell me.”

“No. She’s my best friend. Please don’t. I’m not allowed see her outside of school.” You explained in a rush, knowing you shouldn’t be sharing this much.

“Okay. It’s okay.” Mrs Collins insisted and you wiped at your face to dry the tears you didn’t mean to shed. “You and Ellie can stay beside each other. I’ll tell your mother I separated you both.”

///

“Only two weeks left.” You and Ellie were sixteen now, sitting with your backs against the school house. Well, Ellie was sitting back, you were a little more mindful of how the rough stone might hurt.

“What are we going to do then?” Ellie still didn’t understand the extent of your reasoning for why your mother couldn’t see you both being friends. She thought that you were old enough now to just make your own decisions.

“Well we could work together right? Your mom can’t stop that. You have to work in Jackson.” That much was true but you knew Ellie wanted to patrol just like Joel did. She had the urge to always be trying to save the world and you knew your mother wouldn’t allow it.

“You want to patrol. I’ll probably end up a waitress or in the greenhouses.” You sighed and ran a hand over your face. Ellie laughed a little and reached for your hand, tangling your fingers together and you paused, staring at them.

Ellie was turning steadily red but she didn’t let go, she tightened her grip and tugged so you’d turn to look at her. “I do want to patrol. But I want to spend time with you more. I can clean dishes or something if needs be.”

You stared at Ellie, your head tilted slightly as you studied her. She didn’t hide from you but she was blushing fully this time. You stared a second longer.

Oh.

Oh.

“Ellie.” You sighed before laughing. She attempted to free her hand but you held on tighter. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“How?” She exclaimed and it seemed like she had been holding this in for a long time with how it burst out of her. “I know you’re like super religious and most religious people hate gay people and we’re best friends and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Ellie.” You laughed again before reaching out and clasping her face in your hands. You didn’t give her a second, pulling her in and kissing her firmly. “I would walk into hell gladly knowing that I’ve held heaven in my hands.*”

“Oh you’re so fucking gay.” Ellie laughed and kissed you again, her fingers tangling in your hair. Those words should’ve terrified you but you had come to terms with it years ago while you willingly took lashings for punishment. You knew you’d take any form of torture to get to this point.

“I can’t tell anyone. Not yet. My momma will find out but Ellie, I’ve got a plan.” You promised and she smiled, her hand moving from your hair to cup your cheek.

“I haven’t told Joel yet. It’s okay.” She promised, her forehead pressing to yours.

///

You’d had a plan. It had been a good plan. Your best plan yet. Your plan did not factor Ellie and her teeth into account. The small mark she had made, definitely an accident, had given you away. Your mother had always been more than suspicious of Ellie and it seemed that even though a small bruise could be from any number of things it only made sense that it was her when paired with swollen lips and a light in your eyes.

“No.” She held the belt out to you and for the first time you refused it, shaking your head and crossing your arms. Fire burned in your mothers eyes and her jaw clenched.

“You have sins you need to repent for. You’ll burn in hell.” She cautioned and you felt the tears finally fall from your eyes, your bravery slipping away.

“Momma I love her. I’ve been in love with her since before I knew what it was.” You sobbed and she looked even angrier if possible. “How can this be wrong?”

“No child of mine will embarrass me like this before God himself.” Your mother insisted and you lifted your hands in desperation. “I won’t stand for it.”

“What more can you do?” You asked her quietly, desperately. Your love for Ellie wasn’t a flaw and it couldn’t be a sin. You didn’t want to be fixed or cured or healed. Something that felt this pure couldn’t be anything other than a blessing.

“I told you. I won’t have it.” Your mother insisted and you stared at her, unable to understand her threat. “The Lord says suicide is a sin but surely he’d understand I just couldn’t be tainted by your sin.”

“Momma, don’t do that.” You couldn’t help your tears. “It’s not bad. It’s not!”

“It is and you know it. You wouldn’t have hidden it if you weren’t ashamed of your sin.” She told you and you choked back on your sobs. “You knew that you’d never be without sin but to go and do this. I knew since you were born that you were filled with sin but I didn’t think it was cause you were one of them!”

“Momma! You know I can’t change it. I can’t. I love her.” You were choking on the tears and she only shook her head. “You can’t do that, Momma. You can’t.”

“You want me to stay alive then you stop seeing her.”

///

“Hey Angel, you okay?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shaking your head.

“I can’t do this. I thought I could but I can’t.” Your back was raw from the amount of repenting you had required the evening before.

“Can’t do what?” Ellie asked, unsure.

“This. Us. I thought I could reconcile it but it’s not something I can allow myself to do.” You told her, tears already flowing down your cheeks.

“What? Allow yourself to what?” Ellie asked. “Be fucking happy?”

“I won’t be happy if I move out of my Momma’s. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving her there.” You told Ellie honestly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise this before.”

“You can’t be serious.” Ellie stared at you, her face guarded like you were going to laugh and tell her it was a sick joke. “You are serious.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You wanted her to understand but she was too heroic. She would try help if she thought this wasn’t your decision.

“Yeah. So am I for not taking your fucking word for it the first day I met you. I should’ve sat with someone else.”

///

“Saw your girl started patrol today.” You looked up from the soapy water in the sink to where your mother was standing by the back door. You blinked at her, coming out of the daze you had been in. “That ain’t no job for a woman.”

She had been horrible the last few weeks. Telling you all about Ellie’s coming and goings when you refused to leave the house for anything other than work. Washing dishes down at the Bison. Everyone had to do their part, you hated doing yours.

It wasn’t a bad job per se. You could zone out and let muscle memory take over as you scrubbed the plates clean. No one talked to you much on account of your mother and it got you out of the house for a few hours every evening.

The problem was Ellie came to the diner every night with Dina and Jesse. She didn’t linger and you doubted that she even knew you were in the back. But you always found a second to pause when you heard her voice, as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

“You never had anything to say when any other women go on patrol. Maria’s been doing it since the walls went up.” Your head jerked back with her grip on your hair and her hand pressed to the spot between your shoulder blades causing you to hiss.

“I didn’t ask for your sass.” She warned and you blinked back tears from the pain. “I think you oughta get to praying.”

“I got work, Momma.” You told her and she gripped your hair tighter. Her hand dug into your back, nails pressing deep.

“Better go get the belt then if you’re in such a hurry.” Your mother spat and released your hair. “Every time you talk like that I get reminded that you’re a child of the devil.”

You had a hard time believing that having the devil for a mother would be any different than the Momma you had.

///

It was years before you saw the signs. You had turned twenty one under your mothers watchful glare. She threatened harm on herself if you so much as came home late from work. You wondered why you cared so much that she remained unharmed when you hadn’t been able to lie on your back for years.

It all became clear one night when you followed the noise of her downstairs. She was standing in the kitchen, looking around in confusion. “Baby, what’re you doing up so late?”

She hadn’t called you Baby in years. Not since before you had met Ellie. She claimed that no baby of hers could be full of sin. “Just checking you’re okay, Momma.”

“I’m fine. Just a little lost.” She told you, an airy laugh on her lips. “I can’t find the bathroom.”

She was standing in a puddle.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dealing with her was both harder and easier after your discovery. Maria let you stay home and care for her when you went to her and explained what was happening. There wasn’t exactly a nursing home you could send her to.

She began to pass through phases, a different version of your mother every time you talked to her. Sometimes you had your Momma back, a sweet woman who told you how pretty you’d grown to be. Sometimes you had your mother, the one who remembered Ellie.

Then one morning, the month you were turning twenty two, you had no mother. She had fallen asleep in her rocking chair and that was where you found her.

You sat with her for a long time. Just staring at her and wondered when it had gotten to the point that you stopped caring about her. Her death didn’t seem to have done anything besides giving you a sense of freedom you had only ever felt once before with Ellie’s lips on yours and her hands in your hair.

You found it within yourself to change her and wash her. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to do it. You laid her out in her own bed and then made your way down to the clinic to get a doctor to finally free you from her.

///

You had elected not to have a funeral service for your mother. You hadn’t even attended her burial yourself. No one had liked your mother, not even you. Maria had tried to sympathize with you but you hadn’t let her. She was the only one who tried.

You found yourself moving out of her house and into a small one bedroom cottage Maria had offered up. You returned to the Bison to wash dishes. You lived a boring life without prayers or belts or a constant ache on your scalp from having your hair pulled out by the root.

You could read books and leave the dishes overnight and play music that didn’t mention Jesus. Your back healed up but would forever be scarred but you knew without a doubt that your pain was at an end.

It had ended alongside her heartbeat and you knew for sure it was a bad thing to think but you no longer punished yourself for bad thoughts.

You no longer punished yourself.

///

A knock on the door gave you a pause and you looked up from your book to the living room window but you couldn’t see your front porch from the angle you were sat at. Just the pouring rain that had washed into Jackson a couple of days ago.

You pushed yourself up and answered the door, expecting Maria who came to check up on you monthly to make sure you hadn’t succumbed to madness while being so isolated.

It wasn’t Maria. It was Ellie.

She was soaked, rain water running down her hair and face into her clothes. You couldn’t say anything and chose instead to just stare at her as she left a puddle on your porch.

“Your mom died?” She asked and you marveled in how you had gone from speaking to her every day for almost four years to have gone longer without her words aimed at you.

“She did.” You answered slowly after a few minutes of just the rain for background noise. You continued to stare at her.

“I’m sorry.” You blinked, falling out of your trance at the condolences she offered. You folded your arms across your chest.

“What do you want Ellie?” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you didn’t want her apologies. You wanted her to leave so you could get on with your quiet life.

“I want to know if she was the reason.” Ellie stopped pretending the second you did, grim determination on her face.

“We were kids, Ellie.” You sighed and she wiped the water off her face and clenched her jaw. “You can’t be still thinking about it.”

“Still thinking about it?” She exclaimed. “I ain’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve spent the last six years wondering if your mom wasn’t around would we be together.”

“Ellie.” You sighed heavily, stepping back from the doorway. She looked panicked for a second and you opened the door wider. “Come in before you catch your death.”

///

You got Ellie clothes to change into and a towel to dry herself off. When she returned to your living room she was wrapped in your clothes, toweling her hair dry. You had lit the small fire in your living room and now you were standing by the window, watching the rain.

“I didn’t know she had died.” Ellie spoke quietly and you looked up at her, releasing a sigh. You took a seat on your sofa, inviting Ellie to sit next to you. “Maria mentioned it in passing while we were at dinner. I came straight over here.”

“She had dementia or Alzheimer’s. One of those. It was bound to happen.” You explained to her and she nodded slowly.

“I know you really loved her.” Ellie sighed and you turned your head to look at her.

“I didn’t. Not really. I had a really tough life with her.” You explained to Ellie and she nodded like she had always known that. She didn’t get to nod like that. She didn’t know the half of it. “I think she had her sickness my whole life. She was batshit insane.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ellie asked and you shrugged. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been able to tell anyone. Mostly, you reasoned, you hadn’t known she was sick. How could you tell Ellie that you thought you were the problem? That you were so full of sin even your own mother couldn’t love you?

“It was my problem to deal with.” You told her honestly. “What are you really doing here?”

“To see if your okey. To see if there’s a chance we got it wrong at sixteen.” Ellie turned to face you, drawing her knees up to her chest. You couldn’t look at her.

“We?” You asked, picking at your nail beds and ignoring how close she was, how your body lit up in response.

“Yeah. We. You for calling it all off and me for letting you walk away.” You turned to look at her, incredulous. “I shouldn’t have given up.”

“That’s exactly what you should’ve done. Anything else would’ve made it so much worse.” You told her, pinching the bridge of your nose to ward off the headache you could feel coming.

“I could’ve helped!” Ellie insisted. “I could’ve given you the support you needed.”

“You couldn’t have made me straight!” You yelled, standing up from the sofa. You paced back to the window, staring out at the rain. “I needed to not be like this. You couldn’t have fixed that. She hated me.”

“She was your mother.” Ellie argued and you scoffed, fighting the urge to turn and look at her. “She had to have loved you.”

“She told me she’d kill herself if I went back to you.” You turned then, wanting to see the look in her eyes. The look of disgust because you gave in, you let her control you. But Ellie didn’t look disgusted, she looked horrified. “I came home one evening with swollen lips and this tiny mark on my jaw and she knew what we’d been doing. She told me that if I kept talking about loving you that she’d kill herself to not be stained by my sin.”

“She was sick. She didn’t know what she was-” your hand went to the hem of your T-shirt, pulling it up so that she could see your back. The criss cross of scars that overlapped. Years of torture and abuse. All of it culminating in this. “Angel.”

Ellie breathed that old nickname and you dropped your shirt but she caught it, having moved closer without your knowing. Her fingers ghosted over your skin and her breath came out shaky.

“When did this start?” Ellie asked and you laughed bitterly. “This isn’t a fucking joke. When did it start?”

“The day Joel asked for a sleepover. I told you she couldn’t know. I guess you just didn’t understand why.” She let your shirt drop and you turned around to find yourself face to face with her. “She told me that I was damned at five years of age. She used to make me pray in the dark for hours at a time. When I was twelve she made me hurt myself to repent for the sin of loving you. I never could. I repented for not being sorry instead.”

“I could’ve helped. I could’ve gotten you out.” Ellie sighed, her hand coming up to your cheek. You leaned into her and closed your eyes against the emotions that were welling up. “I could’ve fucking killed her for you.”

“I would’ve taken you up on that. Isn’t the awful?” You asked her but she shook her head, wrapping her arms around you. “I was so relieved when she died.”

“Guess I don’t have to feel bad for feeling the same way. I always knew it was her. Cause this, what’s going on with us, we might’ve been kids but I know what I felt, Angel. This was the real deal.” Ellie whispered against your neck and then you let it happen. You let the tears fall. You held her tightly and you sobbed for everything you could’ve had for the last six years.

///

You were sitting on the sofa, curled up against Ellie’s chest. Her hands softly stroked your hair and you were struck silent by the parallel of your mother doing the exact opposite, hurting you so violently.

“So you gonna cut me loose or keep me this time?” Ellie asked quietly. You looked up at her and without speaking cupped her cheek in your hand and pulled her down to your level. You pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and she smiled. “Not afraid of Hell any more?”

“If loving you leads me to hell then I’ll sit at the table with all the others who gave up the idea of an eternity of heaven for a short time with the true meaning of paradise.”

*Lyra Wren on tiktok