#i guess if i wait another 13 years i will once again not have an answer to any of these questions

[mylittleredgirl]

there are many good reasons not to see avatar but if you DO see avatar definitely see the 3D version. the entire movie is effects. same movie as the first one just underwater now. also if you are wearing 3D glasses it is less obvious that you will cry like seven times.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 13]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Words: 5.7k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The base of your skull pounds as you try to keep focus on the things going on around you. It is almost impossible, as you just want to close your eyes and block out everything. 

You had woken up with a stiffness in your neck and shoulders that had quickly spiraled into the beginnings of a migraine. You hadn't had one since you were pregnant and now that you had a toddler, spending the day in bed and hiding under covers was not an option.

The gods seem to have smiled down on you, though. It is Saturday, which means it is Daddy Daughter Date Day and Matt is more than happy to keep Minnie’s attention on him. You don't have to watch her like a hawk. You can just sit and wait until your ibuprofen kicks in. 

If it ever does. 

You know drinking water will probably help, so you shakily reach for your glass.

Beside you, your daughter is none the wiser to your distress. Last night, a new toy arrived in the mail, and she was insistent it must be brought to lunch so she could show her Daddy and play with him. It is a friendship bracelet making kit - the type that has beads of all different shapes and colors - and it is a hit. Minnie and Matt have been making each other bracelets as you wait for your food.

“Can you please find me another ‘O’?” the nearly perfect man across from you asks your sweet toddler. “Like in ‘Octopus’.”

“‘O’ for octopus!” Mouse quickly confirms. She sets down her string of multi-color shapes and pulls the little box of beads closer to her. She picks up the discs that have letters on them, proudly showing off her ability to identify them by stating what each letter is until she finds the one, she's looking for. Once it is found, it is carefully passed across the table. “‘O’ for octopus!”

You have not been paying attention to the letters Matt has been collecting and thus have no clue what he intends to spell, but you're guessing it won't matter much to your daughter. She's going to be thrilled either way. You have a hunch that the feeling is mutual with Matt - whatever Minnie gives him, he'll proudly wear. Right now, the bracelet in her hands is a mixture of pink hearts with purple and yellow plain beads. There isn't a method to the madness beyond that. 

Your table falls back into silence. Mouse is enthralled with her task of threading and Matt is equally quiet. You think he is aware of your headache, as he's been soft spoken since you met up and hasn't been trying to make your little one laugh and squeal with glee. You're incredibly thankful for that. 

You resist the urge to close your eyes and instead find a scratch on the table's surface to stare blankly at and wait for time to pass. Hands pass through your field of vision to collect different beads and you hear farther-daughter talking, but you don't process any of it. All you know is the pain creeping around your skull. You are aware of how your eyes sit in your head and it is a very weird, unsettling feeling that helps nothing. 

You pray this outing has enough stimulation for Minnie, so that when you go home, she'll go down for a nap easily and you can join her.

You don't know how long you sit there, spacing out while the world moves on without you, but eventually Linda drops your plates in front of you. You fall into autopilot, saying, “Thank you, Miss Linda” in chorus with Matt and Minnie. After a quick cooing over how sweet your little family is, the waitress leaves you be, and you turn your focus to your daughter's plate.

It's chicken strips and french fries today and you know she needs her ketchup and mustard. Before you can start to reach for the bottles at the end of the table, Matt is already taking them and addressing Mouse, “You like it with more mustard than ketchup, right?”

“More mustard!” She happily replies as she lays her napkin across her lap. 

You watch with slightly parted lips as he starts squeezing the condiments onto her plate. You aren't used to anyone taking over this responsibility and you don't know how to react - it is nice to have the help and to see he's learned so much about Minnie's habits, but your mind can't help but chastise you for letting him do this menial task. You know he's her father, but it feels like something you should be doing.

Of course, you are the only one having conflicting feelings. They are having a good time - Matt makes two piles of sauces and Minnie instantly starts swirling them together with her food, a big grin on her face. You try to offer a smile back, but you don't know how sincere it is. Your head hurts so much, and your anxiety is spiking.

You are shaken from your daze when Matt says your name. You look up to see his head tilted just slightly, the slightest frown on his face. Guilt courses through you.

“You sure you don't want any coffee? The caffeine should help with,” he motions to his head, and it just confirms for you that he is always hyper aware of everything, and that Minnie must be too. 

You need to get your act together. You can't just zone out because you don't feel well - you're a parent and you are out in public. You can't just dump all your responsibilities onto Matt because he is here now. 

You shake your head, even if it makes you dizzy, “No, I'll be okay.” 

The truth is the idea of coffee makes your stomach turn. You don't want anything that tastes too strongly, which is why you have opted for a Cobb salad for lunch. 

The man across from you gives you a doubtful look. To keep him from worrying over you, you stab a piece of tomato and eat it. It tastes like nothing and that is fine for you. This earns a frown, but the gods smile on you again and your daughter causes a distraction by starting to play with her food. 

Mouse picks up a chicken strip and begins to make it hop around the plate before dunking it into her now orange mixture. “Oh no, you're all messy now,” she says to herself, “I gotta clean you.” She then proceeds to lick the sauce away with exaggerated sounds. Matt makes a face of pure disgust. 

“Sweetie, what are you doing?”

“I'm a kitty!” is her proud response before repeating the process. 

You know this game well but it's the first time he has experienced it. He knows you allow her to play with her food as long as she's not messy and actually eats it, but you can tell he wants to ask her not to. You are open to him making suggestions and asking Minnie to do things, and he knows that, and you wonder what direction he will take. You can see the wheels turning in his head. 

“I thought you were a mouse,” is what he goes with. 

That stops Minnie dead in her tracks. She considers this statement, a pout forming, before bringing her chicken strip to her mouth and beginning to nibble at it - like a mouse with a piece of cheese.  

The rest of the meal is subdued. You manage to eat a third of your salad through sheer force of will - having an empty stomach will only make things worse - and Mouse only needs her face wiped a handful of times. It feels like the minutes crawl by before Linda is back at your table to take away plates and hand over the check.

Packing up is quick and easy. There are no loose beads on the table, so you just need to snap the case shut and store it into your bag, along with anything else that was brought out for Minnie’s needs. As you do this, Matt finishes off both bracelets by tying the ends together and once he is done, you stop what you're doing to watch the exchange.

He returns the bracelet Minnie made for him to her and she hugs it to her chest.

“Daddy, yous gotta put out your hand. I have something for you,” she says like it is any sort of surprise. 

But of course, Matt plays along. He does as he is told, holding out the hand not holding the bracelet he made, “You got something for me?” 

Very delicately, like it's going to break, Mouse places the bracelet into his palm. Only when she is fully sitting in her seat again does he begin to run his thumb over the beads, feeling what she made for him. His lips twitch up into a smile before he starts to bite his lip. You've learned this means he's trying to not get overly emotional, and you completely understand. 

Having Minnie’s love is the only thing keeping you going some days and you've cried multiple times when she's given you something she's made for you. 

“I love it,” he whispers, his voice breaking a tiny bit. “Thank you so much, sweetheart.”

You and Minnie watch as he slips the bracelet on, and it settles next to his watch. The bright colors stand out against his muted palette, but you doubt he cares about that. Your daughter absolutely beams when he holds up his wrist to show off his new piece of jewelry.

“You're welcome, Daddy! Do you have a present for me?” Mouse asks, jutting her hands out, palms up.

You can't help but huff in amusement, even if your headache is making you feel cold and detached. You know she isn't being greedy or rude, she's simply an eager toddler. You can't fault her for that. 

Oh, so carefully, Matt sets the bracelet into her waiting hands and once you finally realize what he wrote out on it, your heart clenches at the sweetness. The bracelet is mostly made up of lettered beads, with the words separated by different colored hearts. Minnie quickly brings it right up to her face to inspect it and instantly starts trying to figure out the mystery in front of her.

“D-A-D-D-Y,” she spells out loud, “L-O-V-E-S. Y.O.U.” Her little brow wrinkles up at the words and you wait to see if she needs help figuring them out. They aren't unknown to her, but it's usually a flip of a coin if she can connect the dots. The only word you are confident she recognizes is her name. 

She spells it again, then tries her best to sound it out, “Duh..Ahh duh duh…why. Duh-ah-du- Daddy! It says Daddy!”

You rub her back, silently trying to communicate how proud of her you are, “That's right, it says Daddy. Do you know the other words?” 

While she considers her answer, you look at Matt. 

He hasn't shaved in a few days. It emphasizes his good looks, and you can see the hints of red - and grey - in his grown-out scruff. His charming and sweet appearance is only enhanced by his heart - you didn't know someone could be so full of love. He radiates it when he's around Minnie and it's like he can't help but pour all of his affection into her and he can't believe how much of it is returned.

You wonder if you were put on Earth to give him Minnie - and you wouldn't mind if you were. It would give you some sort of purpose. 

“Mommy,” your precious angel says, thrusting the bracelet into your face, “you read it.”

You feel your face heat up - and throb - at the way Matt turns to you. Your insides pang and you can't help but feel like you're ruining this moment for him. You clear your throat, and tell Minnie, “It says ‘Daddy loves you.’”

Her eyes go wide, and she gasps like it is breaking news, “Daddy loves me?” 

“Daddy loves you,” Matt instantly confirms, “always and forever. And you'll have this to remind you.”

The sentiment stirs so much in you, and you let your headache push it all away and instead of getting emotional, you help Mouse put on her new bracelet. She rips her arm away from you as soon as she can to mimic her Daddy and holds up her wrist to show off her bracelet. 

“I love Daddy, too!” 

The little anxiety and self-doubt demon stirs in your chest. You love to see them bond, but you can't help but yearn for your daughter to shout she loves you, too, and you want your own bracelet. You know, you know, you are going to be overflowing with bracelets soon enough, but these ones are special. They have meaning and memories and -

And you remind yourself you can't do this in public, especially not around Minnie. You can't ruin their good time - if you haven't already. 

Instead, you gently pat her back and ask, “What do you say to Daddy for the gift?”

“Thank you, Daddy!”

“You're very welcome, Mouse.”

Your daughter looks at her new piece of jewelry in amazement, turning her wrist so she can see all angles. With her distracted, you move to finish packing up by going to get the stroller, and by the time you have it popped open and your bag secured in the under pocket, Matt and Minnie are joining you by the doorway. Your little one needs no help buckling herself in and you can tell how happy she is by the way she kicks her feet. 

As you get in position to start pushing the stroller, Matt steps to stand beside you so you can guide him as you walk. He waits until you leave the diner to address you.

“We don't need to go to the park,” he says in a soft voice. 

You are shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence, “It’s fine, Matt. It's just a headache.” It isn't just a headache - your medicine hasn't kicked in and your head is just pulsing, but you will survive.

He very gently squeezes your elbow, saying your name, “you know I can tell that isn't true. You should be -”

“FROGGY!”

Minnie’s excited scream drowns out whatever he was going to push for. 

On the corner ahead of you, waiting at the crosswalk are Foggy and Karen. They look like they are on a shopping trip - both carrying bags from different boutiques. They turn in unison towards you and Foggy breaks into the biggest smile once he spies your little group.

“Well, if it isn't my favorite little buddy! And her charming and beautiful parents. Wait,” he looks to Karen and gasps, eyes getting comically big, “is this the famous Saturday brunch?” He whirls around dramatically and points to Matt, like he is accusing him, “You're going to the park.”

“We're going to the park,” he confirms, his own grin starting to form at the antics and at the same time, Minnie exclaims, “we're gonna watch the duckies!”

“They are going to watch the duckies, Karen. Do you know what that does to my heart?” Foggy asks as he puts his hand on his chest. Karen shakes her head fondly and completely ignores him to address you.

“We've heard so many stories about the ducks. He gloats every Monday.”

Matt actually pouts at the statement, and you are reminded of a chastised puppy, “I don't gloat.”

“You gloat,” his friends say at the same time.

Minnie, of course, picks up quickly on the new word and kicks her feet as she giggles, “Daddy goats!”

A thought barely crosses your mind before the words are leaving your lips, “You should come with us.”

You can practically feel Matt's initial disapproval of the offer - not from selfishness but from you refusing to acknowledge your headache - but with how both Minnie and Foggy light up, you don't think he'll voice it. And you are right - he gives your arm a light squeeze as he agrees without any disdain, “The more the merrier.”

“I don't think this is an offer we can refuse,” Karen says, nudging Foggy with her elbow. “How can we say no to that face?”

You can't see Minnie’s face from behind her stroller, but you can picture her pleading little face. She has all of you wrapped around her little finger and you suspect she might start crying if they say no. 

“To the park we go!” Foggy declares, “and with perfect timing because the light just turned green.”

You let yourself tune out as you start to walk again. Foggy is animatedly telling Matt and Minnie about his quest to find his girlfriend the perfect birthday gift. Apparently, her preferred brand of hand lotion has been discontinued and nothing else is good enough. It is sweet to hear him being so concerned about her needs and wants. He's the type of partner you used to dream about - before you realized that would never be in the cards for you - someone who listens to what you say and doesn't treat you like a glorified maid. 

You only had two ‘serious’ relationships in your twenties and both had left you feeling worthless and unloved. You spent most of your time commuting to them and taking care of their needs only to be tossed aside when someone worth their time came along. 

You were the type to stay at home and do the laundry, raise the children - be out of sight and out of mind. You didn't get taken out on fancy dates. No one tried to woo you. 

No one went out of their way to buy you a gift. 

In fact, you don't remember the last time you even celebrated your birthday. Some of your coworkers sent you Happy Birthday emails last year - only because the first one is sent out company wide and you are pretty sure it's automated. 

You are fine with it, though. It's not like you celebrated such things as a kid, so you have nothing to miss. You are happy Foggy has someone he so clearly adores, and you hope, when Minnie grows up, she'll find someone like him. 

Soon enough, you're at the park and making your way to your designated spot. Despite it being a warm and sunny day, things are relatively empty, and you are thankful there are no older children shouting or causing a ruckus. You just want to sit down. 

You can hear Minnie unbuckling herself before you roll to a stop and there is a whirl of motion as you park. She's on the grass before you know it, scurrying like her namesake to get the picnic blanket out of its pocket and spread out. As you wait for her to finish setting up and Karen admires what a nice area you’ve picked, you realize Matt not only still has his hand on your bicep, but his thumb has been gently rubbing in a small circle. 

Your heart stutters in your chest and you don't know why he's doing such a thing and now that you're aware of it, it's all you can focus on. Your entire body feels like it is on fire - from his touch, from the situation, from your headache - and you fear making a complete idiot of yourself. Foggy and Karen are here, and you don't want to embarrass Matt. 

“Mommy, I need my sunnies!” Your perfect little distraction says from the other side of the stroller and it's the excuse you need to pull away from Matt. You kneel and rummage in your bag until you find the pink Barbie glasses and hand them over to your daughter, then take the time to pull yours out as well. 

By the time you get them on and lock the stroller, everyone else is on the blanket. You situate yourself beside Minnie and tell yourself you need to pay attention as she enthusiastically begins to point out ducks to Foggy and Karen. 

“That's Moose, he's mean!” She describes to her new friends, while grabbing Matt's hand so she can turn him in the right direction. You aren't sure if he really needs it - you haven't sat down and spoken about his needs since the revelation about his and Minnie’s senses. You make note to do that.

You listen to the back and forth about your daughter's favorite duck characters and story lines, trying to desperately be in the moment. The warm sun feels good on your skin, and you yearn to just flop over and close your eyes. The tension and pain seem to only be increasing. This may turn into a full-blown migraine. 

As you start to mentally debate taking more ibuprofen, Minnie cuts herself off from describing how Moose is a food thief and whips her head towards the street, eyes going big. It very much reminds you of a dog that has caught the scent of a prey animal. 

Foggy snorts with laughter at your daughter's expression, “Oh my God, she's just like Matt. What do you hear, girl? Is Timmy in a well?”

That has you wondering how often Matt gets his attention drawn away by something only he can sense and how many times Foggy has made that joke to him. 

You don't get a chance to ask, because Mouse is turning her big begging eyes on you now, “Mommy, it's the ice cream man! Can we get ice cream? Please, please, please, please?” She is practically vibrating with desire, and you are not going to deny her anything. 

“You can get a small ice cream,” you tell her, like it's a compromise. “You don't want your tummy to hurt later.”

She lets out a shriek of joy and scrambles up. To everyone's amusement, she starts digging through your bag for your wallet, and once she finds it, runs it back to you, held over her head like it's a prize. She practically crashes into you, the biggest smile on her face, and you do a scoop and turn maneuver to sit her in your lap. 

“Would you like any ice cream?” you ask the three friends sitting with you, not wanting anyone to feel excluded.

Foggy pushes himself up into standing before you finish getting the words out of your mouth, “Of course we want ice cream, what kind of question is that? Do I look like I say no to ice cream?”

“Oh, a cone does sound really good,” Karen muses beside you. 

“Then ice cream it is,” Matt declares, getting up as well. “My treat,” he adds much to your dismay. You don't get to protest, as he barrels on, holding his free hand out to Minnie, “Want to lead the way, sweetheart?”

Your daughter practically leaps up to grab onto her Daddy, demanding, “Carry me!”

“Minnie!” You quickly chastise, shame running through you. She knows better than to jump and climb on people, but you are beginning to fear Matt may become her new jungle gym. No one else shares this worry, least of all Matt, who simply gives into his daughter's will and swings her up onto his hip with a laugh. She clings to his neck and shoulder, and because she is sweet as pie, plants a big kiss on his cheek. 

Everything happens so fast that you are still sitting on the blanket with Karen, and you don't even think of standing before Foggy is looking down at you and Karen, “What flavor do you want?”

“I'm feeling chocolate,” the strawberry blonde hums, tapping her index finger on her chin. 

The shame and anxiety demon is growing in your throat at the implication you and Karen will stay while the men and your daughter fetch dessert. You want to say that you can pay and that you can go get it - that they should spend the time relaxing - but the darkness in your mind screams that if you say anything other than ‘vanilla’, you're going to ruin everything. Minnie's fun will stop, and Matt's friends are going to judge you, and thus him, and you can't do that. 

So, you croak out your preference and hope Matt's super senses are too focused on his daughter to notice you are two steps away from a breakdown.

“One chocolate, one vanilla, coming right up,” Foggy says so cheerfully and you wonder if he is always like this, or if it is an act for Minnie. You honestly can't tell, especially when he turns his attention to your little one, “Okay, Lassie, where's the ice cream truck?”

Matt and Karen laugh at the reference, and you force a smile because it is a cute joke. Minnie points over her Daddy's shoulder towards the road and directs, “That way!”

Matt, managing to keep a straight face, purposely turns to face the river and takes a step towards it, “this way?”

“No, Daddy! Other way!”

“Ah,” he pivots to his left, so he is facing the bushes that border the edge of the park, “This way.” 

Mouse dissolves into giggles, hiding her face against his neck and Matt gets the sweetest, dopiest smile on his face - like this is the best moment of his life. It makes your heart sing to see them play and tease and you wish so desperately you weren't in agony so you could actually enjoy it. 

Your daughter must say something to Matt, as he lets out a loud barking laugh before kissing the top of her head, “Okay, okay, we won't miss the ice cream. Fog, would you be so kind?” He motions to the sidewalk with the hand holding his cane and there must be an understanding, as the blonde man holds out his arm for Matt to take. The cane is expertly folded up and the two men and your daughter start walking towards the road. It doesn't take more than a few steps for all of them to start laughing again. 

You and Karen watch as they disappear down the sidewalk. The woman beside you is smiling softly, clearly enjoying the show that is Matt with Minnie. You hope you are smiling as well and not looking like some sort of summer Grinch. 

“You know,” Karen says a few moments after they turn around a corner and go out of sight, “I don't remember the last time I saw him smile so much.” 

You turn your attention to her, ducking your head just slightly, “she adores him.”

“And he adores her,” she quickly confirms. “And you.” You doubt that but know better than to try to argue. It doesn't matter, anyways, because she doesn't give you room to, continuing on, “He's been through a lot - not just his childhood but recently, too. I was really scared for him. We thought…we thought we lost him.” Your heart clenches tightly at the conversation. Karen switches from a soft smile to biting her lips and looking like she might start crying at the memories she's bringing up inside herself. “He's a good man but, truth be told, he's an idiot sometimes. He thought he was alone. That he had to be alone.”

You are lucky you are wearing your glasses because you can't bring yourself to look at Karen. It hurts to hear her talk about Matt in that way. You haven't had this sort of conversation with him - everything has been so surface level or about Minnie. You clear your throat and ask, “What about you and Foggy? You all seem very close.”

Karen laughs a little sadly, then tucks some hair behind her ear, “He and Foggy weren't talking. It was all…complicated. But it's better now. We're all good. Or we are working in it.” She takes a breath, and you see her look up, and you think she's smiling at you, “The point is he's…I don't worry anymore. You came into his life, and it is like you knocked some sense into him. He was never good at taking care of himself and now, he puts in the effort. He doesn't want to disappoint you. He wants to be a good dad.”

Her words confuse you - Matt seems very put together - he's a lawyer with amazing accomplishments under his belt. She must be talking about his personal life and fear trickles into your system. Was he an alcoholic or a drug user? As long as it was all behind him, you can't judge him for it. You know people have spotty pasts and even good people have rough times - and that doesn't make them any less of a good person. You'd be a hypocrite if you did think less of him because you've had your own share of troubles. 

You want Karen to know that. You start to pick at the hem of your jeans, so you have something to do with your hands while your mind free-fall. “He's a good dad,” you start slowly. “He's amazing with Minnie. He's so attentive and understanding and I love watching them play. I'm still getting used to the whole…” you lower your voice, just in case, “super-senses thing, but he's been helpful in explaining things. I’m just glad he wants to be in her life.”

“Are hers as good as his?” She asks and you can feel her leaning towards you. You don't know the answer to that, as Matt hasn't exactly explained in detail what he is able to do, but you do know Minnie has abilities you didn't know were possible. 

You shrug in response, “I'm not sure, but…I don't hear or see an ice cream truck, so.”

She laughs at that, then you fall back into a silence. You can tell she wants to ask more, but you aren't sure why she hesitates. You are grateful for it, though, and behind your glasses, you close your eyes. The back of your skull is throbbing and part of it has curled around to your left ear. You resist the urge to try to massage it away and instead try to stretch, letting your chin touch your collar bone. You focus on breathing through your nose, hoping it will magically make things more tolerable. 

Your mind feels like sludge, and you start wondering how long it will take until Minnie is worn out. You usually end up spending about an hour and a half at the park, enjoying the sun and ducks, and you've only just gotten here. You have no idea if it will go quicker or slower with more people for Mouse to interact with. Usually, she stays in your lap, hiding away from people, but she very obliviously loves Foggy. You think it is because he's good with children - Matt told you he has a big extended family. She had opened up to him very quickly once she realized he is Matt's best friend. Best friend is an important word to a toddler, apparently.

“It isn't just Minnie,” Karen says suddenly, bringing you back to reality. You frown at her, not understanding what she's talking about. Had you missed part of the conversation?

“It isn't just Minnie,” she repeats, “it's you, too.”

You feel like a lost lamb. Your brain hasn't caught up with what is going on and all you can do is gawk at the woman beside you.

“Me…?” You question and she nods. 

“You make him happy, too.”

You don't understand why she's telling you that or what it has to do with anything. You get you've made Matt happy by bringing Minnie into his life. The only response you can think to give is a simple, “I'm glad.” 

You can feel Karen examining you, but you refuse to meet her gaze. You don't think that was the right thing to say, but it is all you have. You are glad bringing Minnie into Matt's life has made him happy and seemingly changed things for the better for him. You want him to have a good life. 

In the corner of your eye, you see Karen reach out and you brace yourself as she puts her hand on your shoulder. She says your name, then gently questions, “Are you doing alright? You look pale.”

You force yourself to smile and give a dismissive shake of your head, “Just a little headache. I took some ibuprofen; it just hasn't kicked in yet.”

She quickly drops her hand, humming in sympathy, “I get that. I have some Motrin in my purse, if you need something stronger.” 

“Oh, no, I'll be okay,” you promise. 

You'll have to be okay. Minnie and Matt will be back from getting ice cream any minute and you will need to go into Mom-mode to make sure your daughter doesn't make an absolute mess of herself. Then, you'll need to keep an eye on her while you remain at the park for however long, because you will never forgive yourself if you give any indication to Matt's friends that you're not a suitable parent. 

You just need to take a deep breath and make sure you don't space out again. 

You'll be fine.

After all, it is just a headache.

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[ja3yun]

The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY Finale

sim jaeyun x afab!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), oral (f rec.), pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, pet names, dirty talk, i think thats the main stuff, ynjake are so fucking cute so, fluff, reconnection.

wc: 8.7k

synopsis: you and jake's high school relationship blossomed into a romance filled with hope and promise. However, as time went on, jake's long-term expectations began to weigh heavily on you, who struggled to meet them. your paths eventually lead you in separate directions, each experiencing different aspects of life and ultimately moving on from your past love. unexpectedly, fate intervened and you both reunite after years apart. the reunion allows you to rediscover your feelings for each other but also forces you to navigate the complexities of your past and present.

a/n: it's officially over :( i just want to say thank you to everyone who read the series, left comments, and likes! i hope the ending was what you wanted it to be. see you for the sunghoon series!

masterlist

Irony is a funny thing. So is deja vu. As you sit on a train heading home you can’t help but take in your surroundings and laugh at how you have found yourself running away from Jaeyun once again. You find it harder to convince yourself this is the right choice this time, nonetheless. Eunseo is right, you can’t take Jaeyun from Yeoreum. It’s selfish for you to walk in, raise hell, and get your happily ever after, leaving a trail of destruction behind you. You have already caused so much pain and confusion. 

Parts of you know it isn’t your fault, you didn’t know he was going to be there getting married. You did, however, have the opportunity to come clean, to disappear into the wind once again and let them live their happy life, yet you didn’t. Why? 

Selfishness? Ignorance? Love.

It was all for love. You and Jaeyun’s souls are bound by a connection greater than anyone can fathom and as soon as they found their way back to one another you couldn’t stop them from stitching back together, from loving each other. That’s why it feels like dying as you let him go. Just like the first time.

Looking out the train window you see the outskirts of the city you once lived in. It had been a long time since you stepped foot back home and to say you were nervous would be a massive understatement. Pieces of you are scattered around the city, memories of you from a lifetime before. Recollections of your past started to fade the more you were in Pyeongchang, largely due to the fact that you didn’t speak a word of your past to anyone for 4 years. 

Your mind drifts to your mum and dad. Mr. Sim said they had a hard time and that upsets you. In a way, you wish you could go back in time and just tell them not to tell Jaeyun where you were so you could keep your relationship with your parents alight. You have a lot of regrets about that day. 

Stepping off the train you smell the same caramelised nuts from when you were a teenager.

__

When you walked up to the Son family house, it was big, like a mansion. Nothing like your childhood home you were briskly walking up to right now. Carting your bag up the driveway your mouth goes moist, like you’re going to vomit any minute. If you were being honest with yourself you would admit that the anxiety you’re feeling seeing your parents again was overwhelming. If you didn’t know your body you would genuinely believe you might die. 

Tentatively, you raise your hand to the bell, waiting to muster up the courage to press the button. “It’s just your parents, they won’t hate you.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you convince yourself to push the button.

The ding-dong from the doorbell shoots fear straight through your chest. What if they slam the door in your face? What if they shout and scream at you? You feel like a kid again who is terrified of their parents scolding them for doing something naughty. Guess it doesn’t matter what age you are, 13 or 23, you’ll always be scared of your mum and dad.

A gust of wind hits your face as the door swings open. Your mum. Your beautiful mum. She was right in front of you and suddenly your throat closed and your tear ducts filled.

“Y-Y/N? Sweetheart?” Her mouth hangs open as she whispers out your name, scared that if she says it too loud you’ll vanish from her. You don’t move and neither does she. 

During this time you look at how she’s aged so gracefully, crow's feet that were slight are now deeper, her forehead is adorned with new wrinkles, and her laugh lines are starting to appear. Your mum didn’t just miss you growing up, you missed her growing up too.

The wind blows around you and it pulls you both out of your trance.

“Hi, mum.” You wave nervously, your voice cracking, “How ha-”

Pulling you into her she hugs you tight, her arms squeezing around your neck as she takes in your scent. She can’t believe her baby is right in front of her. There is an astronomical amount of comfort in her hug, but she might squeeze you to death if she grips on any longer. “Mum…too tight.” Laughing slightly as you shed a tear.

“Sorry, sorry, I just can’t,” Her eyes drag over you and suddenly that sweet and soft look turns harsh and you know exactly what is coming, “Where have you been, young lady? Do you know how many times I called the police to look for you? How much time I spent worrying? My hair has turned grey because of you!” 

You laugh and hug her again, “I missed you too, mum.” Her tense body from the scolding she gave you flutters away, this hug holding every apology and forgiveness in it.

Your dad walks up to the door and he sighs relief. He never did have much to say but as he hugs both his daughter and wife, he says enough. 

“Welcome home, honey.”

___

After what felt like hours of explaining everything to your mum and dad, you finally felt the exhaustion hit you. It was hard to blabber out everything that had happened in the past week never mind the past 4 years. When you spoke about Jaeyun they also told you about how it affected him. 

He was a mess according to them. Jaeyun was never home, looking around every motel, all your friends' houses, and hospitals, he even went to every train station with your picture begging people to tell him if they had seen you. It shattered your heart to know that you did that to him. He said he went searching but somehow hearing it in detail from your parents made it worse, like you were there living it with him. 

Yet, here you are, doing it again to him. You can’t even find peace in the fact that at least he has a life to continue with because deep routed within you, you selfishly need it to be you that he’s with. 

As you drag yourself up to your childhood bedroom you feel the depression you felt that clouded you 4 years ago. It’s heavy and you can’t even be bothered to lift your feet to the next step. Talking about it all just puts everything into a clear and concise perspective.

You can’t have him. 

Opening the door you are hit with a massive wave of nostalgia. Everything was exactly in the same place; your plushies, the clothes you threw out of your wardrobe as you packed, and the posters of Monsta X and Seventeen are plastered along the walls. Suddenly you’re 19 again.

You place your bag down on your desk chair and sigh, beginning to tidy up your surroundings. Now you’re older you understand why your mum was always infuriated with the mess of your room and how she cleaned it for you. You’ll thank her properly for all those times tomorrow.

Walking to the pile of clothes you had on the floor you trifle through them and laugh, your fashion sure hasn’t changed. You haven’t really changed all that much if you think about it. One piece of clothing in your peripheral vision catches your eye. A simple black stretch t-shirt with a Lacoste logo embroidered on the right side. It was his t-shirt. 

Your fingers instinctively reach for it, picking it up gently and bringing it to your nose. Somehow it still smells like him, like the him you had the pleasure of calling yours. Gripping it tight you bury your face into it, soaking his essence up. A memory of the last time you remember him wearing it projects in your head. 

He was coming back from football practice and stopped at your house to see you. You think about how pretty he looked that day with his baseball cap put on backward, a silver chain peeking from under this very t-shirt you’re holding. How could someone be so effortlessly beautiful? 

“Baby?” He said waltzing into your room, still high from a successful practice. You were lying on top of your bed with earphones in.

“Jaeyun!” You beamed and sat up a little as you took an earphone out, “thought you were going to Heeseung’s after practice?” 

“Nah, wasn’t feeling it. I’ve used up my social battery for today I think.” He takes the earphone from you and places it in his ear. 

Like muscle memory, you opened your legs and he lay between them, his head placed on your tummy, arms hugging around you so his palms are placed against your back. 

“Jaeyun, if your social battery is drained, why are you here?” You look down and remove his cap, raking your hand through his hair. His puppy eyes meet yours as he looks up, his chin poking your stomach.

“Babe you know you don’t count,” he plants a kiss on your stomach, “I can never get tired of you.”

Heartache is the only feeling you have right now. Everything was so simple back then and you had to ruin it. How many chances did you miss to lay with him like that because you were stupid enough to leave him? 

All the conversations from the last few days swirl in your mind.

‘I would have made long distance work.’ 

‘Baby, I love you’

‘They don’t want him to marry her.’

‘You’ll make the right choice’

’If those reasons don’t matter anymore, you should do what you think is best.’

‘He would leave my sister for you’

It was all too much and you only had yourself to blame. You can’t shake this heaviness in your chest, the only peace you’re finding is in the comfort of his old t-shirt. 

Slipping out of your clothes you forget about cleaning your room, too sad to focus. If you can’t even clear up your thoughts what chance do you have cleaning this mess up? You strip down to your panties before putting on his t-shirt. It fits the way it used to, it’s slightly baggy and ends just on the very top of your thighs. Something about your body being engulfed in something that’s his makes you tranquil. 

You pull your covers back and slink into bed, the sensation strangely foreign despite the years you slept here. As you get comfortable, Jaeyun’s t-shirt wafts, and it’s like he’s in bed with you.

You cry yourself to sleep and dream of a better reality. One with you in his arms. One where you are his.

___

A loud thump at the door jolts you from your slumber. Someone is pounding at the front door and the sudden rude wake-up makes your heart match the rapid bangs. 

Creeping downstairs to not make a sound, your eyes are scanning the lower ground floor for any sign of your parents, fuck, any sign of life at this point. Your dad always said not to answer the door if they ‘chap it like a copper’ so you’re very apprehensive. 

“Dad?” You whisper shout and another couple of hard knocks scare you again. This is it. You’re going to die. It’s karma for all your mistakes. 

It seems you’re the only one home and you stomp your feet like a bratty child trying to build the courage to open the door. “If I die tell Jooheon I loved him.” You say to no one in particular, just anyone that will head your plea.

Unlocking the door you slowly open it and have your eyes tight shut, ready for the worst. 

“Y/N…” 

That voice. His voice. 

You pry one of your eyes open to see if your ears are deceiving you. They aren’t.

“Jaeyun? W-what are you doing here?” You look around behind him in bewilderment and then back into your house searching for the time. “You’re getting married in like-” Whipping your head around you don’t get to finish your sentence.

“I’m not marrying her.”

Shock pulses through your veins. Guilt pours into your heart. This is your fault. 

Your water line was filling with tears at the thought of you ruining his new relationship, ruining his new life all because you were an idiot. You stayed too long, let yourselves get attached again. 

A scoff of disbelief leaves your mouth and you shake your head. “You can’t be serious?”

Looking into his eyes was the worst thing you could have done. He’s tired and drained, he’s looking at you like you hold the universe. Waves of all emotions crash onto you at once and you try to fight back the tears. 

“I’m so serious, baby.” He steps forward and you step back, “No, no, no, Y/N, don’t run from this. Did you think I wouldn’t come chasing after you this time? I love you, Y/N. I can’t live without you, not again.” 

Jaeyun spent the whole night driving, his first stop was at your flat in Pyeongchang. He begged Eunseo for the address and after a hard slap to his face, she gave him it. Jaeyun asked as a shot in the dark, expecting no result, but Eunseo saw the way he was frantically running around the house looking for you. She couldn’t see three broken hearts from this situation. When you weren’t at your flat there was only one place you would be. Here.

You shake your head full-on crying now and trying to get away from him but he yanks you back until your chest is pressed against his. His lips are dangerously close to your chapped ones. Sucking in your bottom lip you sob and look down, “Tell me you want us. Tell me you felt everything I felt this week.”

His words aren’t registering in your head. All you are thinking about is how this is exactly the situation you wanted to avoid back those years ago, Jaeyun giving up everything he has worked hard for, just for you. “You can’t do that. You can’t leave her.”

“If it meant I would have you back I would do anything. I’d break anyone’s heart to be able to hold yours again.” Jaeyun’s eyes are holding tears as his heart beats loudly in his chest and you feel it softly. Only soulmates can notice minute things like that. His words echo in your head and you sob loudly, covering your mouth. “I’ll ask you again, tell me you want this, us.” He’s begging for permission to love you again, to just be yours again.

Jaeyun’s feelings for you never left. When he went to Busan and attended Apollo College he was a shell of a person with only two emotions inside him longing and love, both just for you. 

“You started your new life for a reason, you gotta live it.” Despite your words trying to separate you both you find yourself practically melting into him, becoming one again. 

“Baby, please,” He kisses your forehead and feels you exhale in contentment at his lips laid upon you once again, “I might be living this life but if I don’t have you I’ll spend all of it failing to get over you, just like I have been.” Lips graze from your temple to your cheek, etching their way to your lips, brushing ever so slightly. “What you asked that night at the club, you meant it.”

Confusion sparks on your face, “huh?”

“When you asked me not to marry Yeoreum.”

Shock. 

You’re in complete shock. You didn’t say that, did you? There is no way did. Jaeyun sees the confusion written across your face. You really don’t remember. 

“I saw it in your eyes, in the way you kissed me, touched me. Y/N, it’s fate that you turned up.” Jaeyun’s lips are touching yours as he speaks, patiently waiting for you to give him the green light to devour you in a kiss. But you don’t.

There is so much to lose. Friendships, families, opportunities. Eunseo meant so much to you, if you take Jaeyun away from her sister you’ll lose her. But you’ll lose Jaeyun if you don’t take this chance. You’d be so selfish to say yes to him, to break Eunseo’s heart. To break Yeoreum’s heart. “What about Yeoreum? What about her?”

“I told her everything,” His big hand is holding the right side of your face now, “about us, about how I felt, that I think deep down we both knew we didn’t want this wedding. I wasn’t over you and Yeoreum wasn’t able to live with a husband that couldn’t be 100% hers. And she shouldn’t have to.”

“But you love her.” That’s what you had always thought.

“I loved that she was a distraction from you. When she and I met I was just hooking up with her,” There is pain on your face as he says those words and he rubs the apple of your cheek, “I know, I’m sorry baby, but you gotta hear me out.” He continues, “It was casual, she was good to me, patient. But no one was ever going to shine a light compared to you. One day she was just…my girlfriend.”

You shut your eyes. Honestly, you didn’t want to hear any of this. Of course, you knew she got to have him and touch him the way you used to, but when someone says it so brashly it makes your skin crawl. Especially when it was coming from his lips.

“I told her I wasn’t over you but she said she could help. After that…” Jaeyun continues to thumb your cheek, hoping it provides some comfort and reassurance. “I thought I fell in love with her. Really I did. I even asked her to marry me but I was just in love with the fact that she made me forget you, even for like a millisecond.” He rubs his nose with yours, sighing and closing his eyes, “Believe me, Princess, when I tell you I thought about you every single fucking minute of the day.” 

You did believe him because you did the exact same thing. Even in your dreams, he was always there. 

“Then when I turned around and saw you at the party on Tuesday,” He bites his lip and opens his eyes, almost rolling them at the thought of you in that dress, “Nothing was distracting me. I kissed her and suddenly all I could think of was you again. Your lips, how you made me feel. Fuck, Y/N, you’re the only one that ever let me just be me. How could I truly love someone that I can’t even be myself around.” 

The sobs in your chest rumble as you hold them in but it’s getting hard to breathe. “Shh, baby, relax.” He can feel you struggle for air and he wraps you tight in a hug, “Princess, I love you.”

As he feels your arms wrap around him and hears you crying, he guides you into the house and kicks the door shut to give you some privacy.

Crying hard into his chest he simply soothes you, gently caressing your back and kissing your hair. It’s all too much for you to process. 

One side of you feels guilty, he was happy with Yeoreum before you showed up. The wedding that was meant to take place today is canceled because of you.

The other side of you feels like it’s floating, finally free of a burden. You can love Jaeyun with all your heart because you have the opportunity to be his.

“Princess, look at me.” Jaeyun’s pointer finger lifts your chin, both your eyes meeting, glazed in water. “I’ve already called off the wedding, baby. Either you have me or you don’t. The decision is yours and I’ll respect it.” He smiles sadly, “but if you say no then I’m single and honestly I can’t bear to download a dating app. I refuse.” Jaeyun jokes to lighten the mood and you laugh loudly, masked in a sob. 

He’s right, there’s nothing really stopping you from being together now. You’re basically graduated, and so is he. He has a job in Busan which is like media hub central so you could easily find work. There is no reason to torture your souls anymore.

“Okay.”

“Huh?” Jaeyun’s eyes widen and dart over every detail on your face, waiting to hear what he wants to.

“I love you so much, Jaeyun.” It’s your turn to reach your hand to his cheek, your palm only covering a fraction of what he covers on yours. “I want to be yours. Forever.”

A second. It took one whole second before Jaeyun’s lips were devouring yours, those beautiful full pink lips pressed hard against your own. Not one thought left in any of your heads other than each other. 

You’re both desperate, clashing with one another. Jaeyun dips down and his hands slide down your ass to your thighs, picking you up so you are sitting on his hands, legs enfold around his waist. Not once did you stop kissing him. 

He carries you up the stairs, his feet moving instinctively and quickly to your bedroom like it was just yesterday. Jaeyun knew the scope of your house in every light and darkness with how many times he snuck in to fuck you late at night or had dinner with your family.

When he reaches the top step he bounces you up so you’re more secure on his waist but as your core presses down on his hardening cock he groans. He missed the way you felt and even this teaser was almost sending him over the edge, tempting him to just take you in the hallway.

Kissing Jaeyun felt like sunflowers blossoming in your stomach and out of your mouth, pouring sweetness and love into every smooch, every tongue flick. He rushes into your bedroom and almost falls over the mess. Fuck, you really should have cleaned your room.

Jaeyun’s hands grip you tighter to stop you from falling, “Sorry, Princess.” He places you down gently and goes right back to kissing you, his hands roaming the soft skin under your t-shirt. 

That’s when he notices what you’re wearing. His t-shirt. One he thought he lost when packing to leave for Busnan, but it was with you. Just like his heart. “I thought I lost this.” There’s a double connotation to his words. Yes, it was about the t-shirt, but it was also about you and your love. You look down and sheepishly grin.

“I found it when I came back here.” You say while his hands take the bottom of the t-shirt and rub it.

A smirk plastered on his face, “Damn,” he tuts, “Here I was having thoughts about you touching yourself wearing it while we weren’t together.” 

Oh, Jaeyun hasn’t changed one bit. Still horny, still obsessed with you. Playfully you roll your eyes. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t have another t-shirt of yours.” 

If a grown man could purr, he would have. Closing his eyes, he had to compose himself for a moment before he busted a nut right there and then. You use the moment to massage your hands up his torso and on his chest, rubbing your thumbs over his nipples. The purr turns into a whine as he grabs you tightly on your waist. “Fucking love you so much, Y/N.”

Jaeyun’s lips are back on yours with force as he pushes you onto the bed, his weight hovering over you. The heat emanating from both your bodies feels like the sun has been turned up by 100, his touches light up your skin, and his lips leave sunburnt kisses all over your neck. The way he’s desperately clutching your skin proves to you how much he missed you.

“I wanna fuck you in this t-shirt but shit, I gotta see all of you, baby.” Jaeyun pants in your ear. He’s like a dog on heat, just aching to have you, to consume every inch of you. His tongue runs down your neck until he reaches your collarbone but you need more than this.

While he’s kissing and biting the base of your neck he’s gripping at the t-shirt that’s covering his second favourite part of you and lifting it to uncover your tits. Jaeyun peels himself away from you for a second to admire your figure. God how he has missed your body - the softness of your skin, the way each of your boobs fall slightly to the side when you’re on your back like this, and how your nipples stand proudly. It’s mouth-watering.

“Sit up a bit for me, Princess,” Jaeyun says as he takes off your t-shirt and that’s when he sees the necklace again. He noticed you wearing it the whole week and it made him feel proud, like part of you always belonged to him. His pointer finger holds the chain away from your neck and his smile is beaming. “You never took it off? Like ever?”

“No. I couldn’t” You confess, looking down at it, the sun symbol shining as brightly as the first night he gave it to you. Jaeyun’s smile widened further if that was even possible. Something about you always being branded by him made him feel feral. You were always his and it made him feel guilty because literally yesterday he was getting prepared for his wedding to someone who wasn’t you.

You see his face change to a look you’ve not seen before, “Hey,” Your hand reaches for his face, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. For ever being with someone else.” Your heart shatters. It’s not his fault, none of it is.

“Jaeyun you never have to apologise for trying to move on. I left you without a word, it’s only natural you would move on.”

“But I didn’t. I couldn’t move on.” His hands are massaging your tits as he speaks and it’s sending your brain into a frenzy. It’s been so long since he touched you so intimately yet so commonly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put into words the love I have for you.”

As his hands knead your breasts he feels your heart skip and it entices him to lean down and kiss you softly. The act between the two of you right now is so pure and raw. It’s meant to be. 

You kiss him back gently, your tongue slipping into his mouth. The taste of him is so delicious you can’t help but moan and your hands rake through his thick hair. Instinctively, your back arches and pushes into him, the motion causing your tits to mold further into his hands, and the flesh spills between his fingers. 

Jaeyun keeps one hand on your left tit while the other slips down past your waist, the pads of his fingers etching hearts into your skin just like that day in the car. The feeling of his gentle touch is making your stomach do cartwheels and your core aching to be touched. You rub your thighs together to create some friction that will help ease the neediness. He notices you wriggling and he knows exactly what you’re doing.

“Am I not going fast enough for you, Princess?” He smirks, his middle finger dips into your pants just enough to sit in the waistband. You’re throwing your head back, preparing yourself for him to touch you where you need him but instead all his motions stop, causing you to open your eyes and go back to looking at him.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“You seem to be pleasing yourself all on your own, baby,” Jaeyun’s eyes fall down to look at your legs rubbing together like they’re two sticks and you’re in the woods trying to start a fire, “Don’t want to interrupt you.” 

Oh, he is evil. It’s been 4 years since his hands have been on you and he still has the reserve within him to tease you. 

Jaeyun sits back and grabs your hand, placing it on his wrist. “Use it.”

“Use what?” You’re genuinely confused.

“My hand. Use it how you want. Tell me what you want since you seem to be so desperate and clearly I’m not doing it right.” His tone is unbothered but mocking. There’s a glint in his eye that’s almost challenging you. He’s so fucking hot.

Taking a harsher grip on his wrist, you open your legs and push his hand to cup your heat. He never let you take charge before so you’re apprehensive but you need to take your pennies before they disappear. 

His hand stays there doing nothing and you look at him expectantly. Why isn’t he doing anything? 

Putting your hand to ghost over his you push it down, his palm now pressed hard against your vagina yet he still doesn’t move. His head shakes as he pouts, “That all you want? Come on baby, I thought you were desperate. Hmm?” Somehow his voice is an octave lower and it elicits your pussy to drip through your pants and onto his palm. When Jaeyun feels it he smirks, licking his bottom lip. “Your bodies telling me everything, but you gotta use your words, Princess.” 

You’re feeling a little defiant, he’s too cocky in this situation and you want to take him down a peg or two. So you press the bottom of his palm to your clit and start to grind on it.

When Jaeyun carried you up the stairs not even 30 minutes ago you thought the sex would be sweet, full of confessions and whispered promises to never leave each other again considering the emotional rollercoaster you both went on this week. But you should have known better, that was never his style. 

The sensation of his rigid palm against your nub was sensational and you were gasping when it rubbed you a certain way. You could get off just by doing this but you needed more. More of him.

Jaeyun can see your internal conflict of whether or not to tell him what you want. He leans down, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks, “Princess,” he nips at your lobe, “give in?”

“N-no.” You’re trying to focus on the pleasure you’re feeling but your entrance is clenching around nothing like it’s talking to you and telling you it needs to be filled by something. Anything at all. Jaeyun. 

He tuts and sighs heavily, pulling back and watching you grind on his hand. “Since when didn’t you listen to me?” His middle finger suddenly rubs in between your folds, ghosting over your hole and you could cry with happiness but he stops as soon as he starts, “Want more of that?”

Nodding quickly you stare at him desperately, your hips never stopping the action that’s giving you satisfaction. “Tell me.” 

It was almost like he was asking you to beg him. 

And that is exactly what you do.

“Fuck, please Jaeyun, I need your fingers inside me.”

“There’s my good girl.” He kisses your temple and his once limp hand now gains its strength as it takes over. Finally.

Jaeyun doesn’t know how he’s restrained himself this long. If he wasn’t so in love with the way you act when he teases you he probably would have fucked you and made you cum 3 times already. But it’s the first time in so long since he’s had you like this, he was going to make sure he gave you everything he had. Showed you just how much he missed you.

After pulling your underwear down, two fingers breach your entrance and you throw yourself back onto the bed, gasping as you finally feel some sort of release. He thrusts them in slowly, gliding them in and out as he stretches you out in a way only he knows how. 

Right now Jaeyun didn’t want to think about how you’ve probably been touched by someone else but god does he love to have his ego boosted, so he asks the question, “You’re so tight, baby. All those other guys not fuck you right?”

You can’t believe he’s bringing this up right now. Of course he would surmise that you probably had sex. It has been 4 years and you weren’t going to go celibate your whole life. But to ask it while his fingers are fucking you open, curling into you like he was gesturing for your orgasm to come closer? He sure did pick his times. You know what he’s looking for, what he is looking the hear.

“No,” your voice was quiet, almost lost amongst the wet noises your pussy was making as Jaeyun picks up the pace, “No one fucked me like you do.”

“Because I’m the only one that can fuck you good. Isn’t that right?” His fingers start to scissor you open further causing you to lift your hips and bury the back of your head into the mattress. Jaeyun’s free hand lays flat across your lower abdomen and pushes your hips back down, the pressure only adding to your gratification. 

He was right though, not one other person ever fucked you as good as him. The way he would listen to your body was otherworldly, always giving you exactly what you craved. All those boys from college just looking for a quick fuck didn’t care about you or if you came. Not like Jaeyun who thought if he made you cum only twice it was a weak night.

“I only want you.” You confess his heart could flutter straight from his chest. Jaeyun had missed the way you would just casually say the prettiest things, especially when you were so fucked out like this. He smiles widely and kisses your tummy.

“And I only need you,” he replies, his lips still lingering under your navel. 

His thumb rubs your clit and you’re seeing stars, a coil erupting in your stomach. Jaeyun feels you cumming and goes harder with his fingers, thrusting them up at a rapid pace just the way you liked and putting pressure on your sensitive bud. “That’s it, Princess.” He talks you through it but you’re too far gone to hear a word he says, “So fucking beautiful cumming on my fingers like this. Such a good girl for me. I love you so much.” He says these cute but filthy words in between kisses he’s planting on your forehead. 

As you come down from your high you don’t get a chance to breathe as you feel your legs being pinned open and Jaeyun’s tongue is lapping up your cum. “J-Jaeyun give me a…give me a minute.” But he doesn’t let up, lost in your essence, drinking your cum like it’s the sweetest thing since honey. 

Your taste has been missed. Jaeyun almost forgot how addicting your pussy is. Messily he starts to lick and suck at your overstimulated nub, he’s eating you like a man starved and you can’t help but be brought close to release once again. 

His tongue dips into you, curling as he slurps up every trace of your last orgasm. Your fingers find his hair to grip on while you moan profanities into the warm air.

“Tug on it, Princess,” Jaeyun instructed and you did just that. Yanking his hair emanated a low groan from the boy between your legs, his hips humping the mattress to try and relieve the pressure in his trousers. If he didn’t make you cum again soon he would spill right into his boxers. That situation only happened once when it was his birthday and you wore those cute frilly pants that he loved. You let him eat you out with them still on, the fabric rubbing against his nose, and when you came all over his face he came in his boxers. 

Jaeyun’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the memory, only spurring him on to devour you even more in this moment. He feels your walls contracting around his tongue so he pulls out and puts his mouth to work back on your clit.

“S-shit, Jaeyun,” The grip you have on his hair tightens, “I’m gonna cum again.”

The smirk on his face didn’t match the butterflies in his chest. His cocky exterior was a mask for how much he was anticipating your release on his face, how he was so giddy with excitement that he got to soak you up, something he thought would never happen again.

“Let go, love. Give it to me.” He wanted to sound confident but he practically whined it, begging for your nectar. He was hungry for it, for you.

His words have you cumming again and the sound that erupts from your mouth has Jaeyun growling into your pussy. He was the one making you cry out in pleasure like that and he was confident no one else ever had. 

Your chest is heaving, pants echo in the room but Jaeyun is still between your legs, cleaning every last drop from you. 

“Jaeyun, please…” You go to shut your thighs but you can’t, his hands forcing them to stay open. He wasn’t done with you but you don’t know how much more you can take. “Baby, I’ve only got one more in me, max.” It’s embarrassing to admit it but you haven’t cum like this in so long, and you wanted to cum on his dick at least once today. 

His big eyes twinkle as he peaks his head up. “What?” He looked so cute you contemplate if you could really cum 2 more times.

Playing with his luscious now slightly damp hair you smile at him, “I can push for one more but I want it to be on your cock.” Almost like your words pulled him out of his trance he smiled, placing one last kiss on your clit before sitting up. 

“Remember you used to be able to cum like 6 times in one night?”

“Yes,” You roll your eyes and smile, “but that was when you had me trained. I’ve not cum more than once in, oh I don’t know, 4 years.” 

The arrogance radiating off him was so sexy. Jaeyun’s ego was the size of a hot air balloon as you disclose the information that he is in fact the only man who can make you feel good like this. 

His hand pets your pussy as he leans down again, “Don’t worry, I’ll train you back up in no time.” 

“Um, Jaeyun?” 

“Yeah?” His eyes meet yours waiting for you to continue.

“Did you just speak to my vagina?” 

There’s a silence and then laughter from both of you. Now that Jaeyun hears you acknowledge his actions out loud he realises how strange it must have looked. He brings his hand to scratch the back of his neck as his laugh gets louder.

“Yes?” He chuckles and places his hands on his hips in embarrassment, “Sorry.”

“Is that a new thing you picked up? Talking to genitals?” You shuffle up so you’re sitting straight, legs spread as wide as the smile on your face.

Jaeyun shrugs, “Sometimes it’s a very stimulating conversation.”

Your eyebrows raise, “Oh really? And what is my pussy saying to you now?”

Crawling towards you he smirks and his puppy-like eyes are blown out with love and lust, “It’s telling me that it needs to be fucked so good it’ll start barking.” You laugh again. He’s so silly and stupid. He’s your Jaeyun.

Once you both stop laughing you place your hand on his face, stroking your thumb on the squishy part of his cheeks. You both look at each other and instantly understand one another. The apologies, the pining, the need, the love. You could almost cry right there and then as his eyes whisper a soulful ‘I love you’, you can’t ever imagine living without him again.

“I love you so much, you know that right? You know I never stopped?” The hand that was on his face now wipes his mouth clean of your cum. Jaeyun wouldn’t have cared if your juices stayed there forever, at least he could taste you all the time.

“I know, Princess. I love you more than the moon and the stars.” Jaeyun’s bottom lip juts out and you take the opportunity to kiss it, sucking it a little and tasting yourself on him. 

Sitting on his knees he deepens the kiss, leaving you breathless. Your hands unbutton his trousers clumsily and he smiles into the kiss. “Want a hand?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You laugh, “I’m distracted.” Jaeyun beams and nuzzles your nose.

Standing up, Jaeyun pulls down his trousers and goes to follow it with his boxers but he swiftly turns around and heads for your drawer, looking to locate a condom. He pulls out the shiny blue packet and examines it, “Baby?” He twirls to you, the packet in between his middle and pointer finger, “You think these have an expiration date?” 

You watch him look thoroughly at the packet. If he didn’t look so cute right now you would be wondering how he can be so bright but so dumb at the same time. “Jaeyun, baby, did you not take sex ed?”

“Huh?” He’s puzzled.

“They lose effect over time? 3-5 years max? Ring any bells?” You’re trying to hold in a laugh as his eyebrows furrow together.

“When did we learn that?” He’s racking his brain for any recollection of the class, then i clicks his fingers and point to you, “Ah, Mrs. Lee. That was the class I made those little boat hats in.”

He was so proud of himself, every time he had the class he timed how many he could make within the hour.

“I think I still have the pink one you made me in here somewhere,” You scour the room to see if it was easily available. “Anyway, you don’t need it.”

“The boat hat?”

“No-” Oh my days he is unbelievable you think to yourself “No the condom you idiot!” You’re shaking your head in disbelief. He is truly so stupid. “You don’t have to use one, unless you want to, of course.” You let him decide what to do. However, you’re patience is wearing thin and you’re getting chilly due to you sitting on the bed naked.  

“Seriously?” Jaeyun never thought he would get to feel your raw pussy ever again. That one time you let him fuck you without a condom was the best thing he ever experienced. With Yeoreum he always wore a condom despite her protests most times. He just couldn’t risk it, being a dad so soon wasn’t worth it regardless of how good it would feel. That and he only wanted to have sex raw with you, no one else. “Are you on the pill?”

“I got a coil put in last year.” You shudder at the memory and pain. It was easily in the top 5 most uncomfortable moments you went through, but right now you’re glad you got it.

“Did you fuck guys without a condom?” His voice is hurt and his arms drop to his side, face frowning. Jaeyun didn’t want anyone else’s cock feeling your walls the way he did. It was his pleasure to have, not anyone else

You quickly shake your head sit up more alert than before, hands flying to your chest as if to swear on your heart. “Oh god no, baby. My periods got like, really really bad. I got the IUD because they said it would help.” How could he think that? You couldn’t do that to him.

Seeing him physically relax eases your own mind. “Okay, good. I was worried there for a second.”

“You never fucked Yeoreum without one?” Her name leaving your lips leaves a bitter feeling in your mouth and his ears. He mumbles a ‘no of course not' and throws the probably expired condom back into the drawer. 

Jaeyun walks towards you with a small smile on his face, relief evident. Now he can make love to you with full confidence that he is, and will be, the only man to ever truly feel you. He steps out of his boxers and you’re almost salivating at the sight, drool threatening to drip down your chin. You’ve missed it so much.

You reach your hand out but he slaps it away lightly. Protesting with a soft ‘hey’ you go to touch him again but it’s the same result.

“Princess, I love that you wanna gag around my cock but I need to be inside you, like, right now.” Your walls throb at his words. His effect on you and your body needs to be studied one of these days.

Before you know it, he’s pushing you to lay on your back, kissing all over your face and neck, each kiss meaning more than the last.

“You’re hearts beating,” You say quietly as he sucks on the sweet spot just under your ear.

“Yeah baby, kinda how I stay alive,” Feeling his smile on your neck as his tongue licks you gets you even wetter than before, if that was possible, “I didn’t miraculously turn into Edward Cullen.” 

“A girl can dream,” You joke. A slap across your pussy makes you yelp and open your eyes wide. “What was that for?”

Shrugging, Jaeyun smirks, “For thinking about another guy.”

“You brought him u-”

Slap.

The stinging on your pussy brings you to a halt. “Stop that!” 

Slap

You can’t deny how much it’s turning you on, the groan that slips from your lips plasters a smirk on Jaeyun’s face. “Be a good girl, yeah?” His hand goes back to your pussy to soothe the nipping.

Having sex like this again was invigorating for him, he missed this so much. He missed you. 

Replacing his hand with his dick he starts to collect your wettness on the tip of his cock. He looks into your eyes for permission to go and as soon as you nod he slips the head of his cock in. “Fuck.” 

The pace is slow as he takes in the feeling of your cunt hugging him so tight, fitting him like a glove. When he pulls back, the tip snags on your hole and he repeats this until your begging him for more. “Babe please, faster.” 

He speeds up, his hips driving into you as he bottoms out each time he lunges forward, his head pecking kisses to your cervix. He’s so deep in you, that the unfamiliar familiar feeling begins to overwhelm you. Jaeyun’s pubic bone is lightly hitting your overstimulated clit and it’s making you thrash under him. “Jae-Jaeyun please,” 

“What is it, baby?” The soft-spoken tone of his words is a juxtaposition to his relentless thrusts that are battering your cunt. 

“Close.” If it was any other time, you would be embarrassed at how fast you’re cumming again, but Jaeyun would understand. He does. 

Jaeyun spits on your folds and rubs it in, focusing on your clit to bring you over the edge. The sensations are too overwhelming, between his fingers roughly rubbing your bud and his cock bruising your walls, it’s all too much and you’re cumming for the third time that day. 

The squeeze of your walls nearly has Jaeyun spilling into you but he wants this to last a little longer. “That’s it, Princess. Cumming over my cock so well,” He kisses your forehead, “Such a perfectly good girl for me.” 

Jaeyun’s lips trail down your face to your neck to your tits, his mouth taking in your right nipple. “Fucking hell, Jaeyun.” He can’t hear you because he’s too busy sucking your tit and losing himself in consuming you. 

His hips are jackhammering into you and you can’t think straight, your mind is foggy, mouth wide open, eyes have rolled back, and hands aimlessly gripping at his back and arms. You haven’t been fucked like this in years, hell, you don’t think you and Jaeyun have ever had sex as good as this. 

Jaeyun mentally agrees with you as he starts to lose his rhythm but still gives you his all. His mouth leaves your nipple as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, “Fuck, Y/N, can’t hold back anymore.”

Despite his energy depleting, his thrusts are still sharp and his hands are holding you down by your hips, leaving you no option but to just lay there and take his powerful hits. Not that you minded, this is exactly how you like it.

You don’t truly believe it but you think you might cum again. To make sure you get there in time with him you reach down and rub yourself, mewling loudly in his ear at the feeling. 

Jaeyun’s head peaks up to look at you, “You gonna cum with me, Sweetheart?” The nickname isn’t used often but when he does whisper it, it’s your favourite one.

“Y-yes oh god yes.” 

Jaeyun kisses you hungrily as your words help him spill his seed into you, the white strings shooting straight into you and it mixes with your own release. You both chant each other's names along with some expletives, Jaeyun dropping in 2 ‘I love you’s’ just for added measure.

A few minutes later once you both had time to compose yourselves, Jaeyun falls to the side of you and stares at the ceiling. He was so content with everything in this moment. You are back in his arms, he’s just had the best sex of his life, and his heart finally feels like it’s beating with a purpose other than just living. It’s beating for you and that is the best feeling in the world.

“I love you, Jaeyun.” You turn your face to the side to look at him, eyes smiling softly. 

He takes your hand and lays a kiss on top of it. “I love you too, Y/N.” 

None of you have to say any more than that right now. It’s enough.

He sits up and inspects your body, some bruises were his fingers dug in too deep forming and he frowns. He didn’t mean to go so hard but quite frankly he wouldn’t take it back.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Planting a kiss on your head he makes a b-line for downstairs, grabbing a glass of water and some paracetamol for you. 

When he comes back, you’re sitting up, leaning against the headboard with your eyes shut. You’re the perfect view. 

“Here, baby.” After handing you the water and pills he puts his boxers back on and gives you the black t-shirt from earlier. “Almost forgot we’re literally still at your parent's house.” His neck turns red.

“I don’t even know where they are?” You place the water on the windowsill next to your bed and pull the top over your head. Jaeyun hums and stays sitting at the edge of the bed with his head down. Gently your hand makes contact with his shoulder, “Babe? You okay?”

“You’re mine again, right?” He side eyes you because he’s too nervous to look directly at you, “Like, you’ll come to Busan with me and be my girl again?”

Your heart summersaults and you smile reassuringly. You couldn’t imagine ever being away from him again. You made that mistake the first time but never again, “I will. I’ll need to finish up Uni but that’s only a few months.” Grabbing his chin you turn him to you, “Then I’ll be home with you.”

Home. Your home.

“Marry me.” 

“What? Haven’t you had enough wedding drama for a while?”

“I’m serious!” He laughs and looks at the ceiling, thinking deeply, “Not right now, but when we’re settled. Be my wife?”

The only thing you can do is kiss him as confirmation, too overwhelmed by pure emotions to give him a verbal answer. This is truly all you’ve ever wanted.

He pulls back and smiles widely. “Wait here!” In the next few seconds, Jaeyun shoved his t-shirt on and pranced downstairs and out the front door. What is he doing? 

Hearing his car door open and shut you impatiently wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long but why is it when you want them to hurry up time suddenly slows down. With his hands behind his back, he enters your bedroom once again. 

“Y/N L/N,” He coughs before he starts again, “I love you more than anything else in the whole world. You’re so stupid and annoying, and honestly, you’re mean.” 

Wow, you think, he’s such a charmer. 

“But you’re mine. My everything to be quite honest. I could have everything in the world and if you’re not by my side there really is no point in any of it.” He sits down beside you on the bed, hands still clasped behind him, “So, would you do me the great honour of marrying me in the distant, but please make it near, future?”

He moves his hands to the front of him and you tear up. Is it what you think it is?

Trembling, your hands take the white box and stare at it. It takes you a moment to gather up the courage to open it but when you do it’s like it opens a floodgate of tears as they ricochet down your cheeks.

The pinky ring he gave you the night before you left shines in front of you. He kept it all these years later. Jaeyun didn’t know why quite honestly because it only served as a hurtful memory. But as he sees you ogle at it, he realises it was exactly for this moment.

“My speech the first time was better I think.” Jaeyun jokes and you choke out a little sob. Taking the ring from the box he slips it onto your left pinky. It still fits perfectly. Just like you and Jaeyun. “So? Will you?”

“Yes.” Nodding your head and wiping your tears with your free hand you give him the answer he’s been waiting to hear his whole life, “I’ll marry you. Eventually.”

His forehead rests against yours. “I’m gonna love you forever.”

“Until the sun stops burning?”

“Until the sun stops burning."

[sugar-omi]

Hope you don't mind another prompt from me, since my first one when you mentioned the hangman moment 'Growing', I thought it would be a very fun thought experiment to reverse the scene and it's gn!mc who writes the phrase down, and Cove is the one to guess it. I take hangman very seriously (bc it's my favorite pass-time activity) so I'm very quick with it but I could imagine Cove taking some more rounds to guess until he finally gets the full result. :D

tags : fluff, step 2, re-imagined "growing" moment

synopsis : you flirt with cove in a game of hangman

maybe its the heat that makes you so bold, or maybe its mistake number 5,796 that only 13 year olds can make at this time; but with cove's suggestion to play hangman, you decide to share one of your many thoughts on cove, your neighbor and crush...

you sit back down with a paper and pen in hand. "mind if i go first? since you picked the game..."

cove nods.

you hum and think for a minute, tossing back and forth ideas before you finally settle on it.

it's a bit embarrassing, and you feel a wave of heat wash over you, but you just blame it on the weather.

sketching out the lines for the hangman and your quote, you turn it around for cove to start guessing.

your heart pounds as cove starts guessing, although his first guess makes you laugh.

"z?"

you laugh for a bit, leaning on your bed as you take in cove's answer. wiping away tears you look at him with a grin. "z? wha- *laughs* what makes you guess z?"

cove smiles lazily, happy to make you laugh. he shrugs. "gotta take out the hard options."

you shake your head, drawing a shaky circle for the hangman's head. "you're silly. consider starting with vowels instead."

you pause for a moment, wondering if you're giving yourself away.

you didn't exactly think about how cove would react to the compliment once he guessed it.. would it be okay if he didn't guess it?

he'd probably ask what it was if he failed... would you tell him?

you chew your lip, startling when cove catches your attention.

"y/n?" cove tilts his body to the side, looking at you.

you smile weakly. "nevermind, just dying in this heat."

cove blinks but plays along with you, grinning as he makes a comment. "me too. i think i'm stuck to the floor now."

you throw your stuffed cat plushie at him. it didn't hurt him, the cat is the size of his hand at best. he just laughs and fluffs it into shape.

"imma have to charge you rent then." you grin wolfishly when cove asks how much. "twenty."

cove rolls his eyes, his cheeks a bit flushed as he thinks about it. "still can't believe my dad did that..."

cove looks down at the paper, telling you his answer again before you get too distracted.

you lick your lips, adding "O" to the line.

you smile at him, continuing where you left off. "yeah, it was kinda weird.." you twiddle your fingers, looking at your lap as cove takes a bite of his sandwich, thinking about his next guess as he waits for you to continue or not.

mumbling a bit, realizing the heat must have some kind of bug in it since you're so... sentimental today.

"i'm glad he did it anyway. you're not bad for twenty dollars." you smirk, trying to ignore your racing heart and covering up your fluster with jokes.

cove rolls his eyes and laughs. there's still a blush on his cheeks, your words still warmed his heart.

"good. there's no refunds." he plays along, looking at you through his lashes.

"damn. i missed the return window, huh." you curse to which cove laughs, telling you his next guess.

"p!"

you bite your lip, drawing the letter.

as you go on playing, joking and laughing as well as focusing occasionally when cove contemplates his next move.

he's... close. although not without sacrifice.

he lost the first and second round, with only 3 letters correctly guessed on the board in the first round and somehow finished the second round with 2. now it's you're third round, and his hangman is close to his end, unfortunate for him.

the hangman only has 2 legs and an arm left, and cove has finally decided to take your game seriously instead of laughing and joking with you.

you're really nervous now, since he's getting really close..

YOU A_E CU_E

cove looks confused at what it could be, but taking his former experience into account he guesses the next few letters.

"r?" cove phrases it like a question, tilting his head like a puppy.

you draw it, twisting the pencil as he takes the final guess.

"t..."

you swallow, drawing a shaky letter 'T'.

'YOU ARE CUTE'

the silence stretches between you two, and you look up from the paper to greet cove's flushed face.

he's covering his face with his hands and you look down at his lap to see his glasses are hanging off the plush cat's head.

you try to think of the plushie with glasses that actually fit, its a way to distract you as you wait for cove to respond but it just makes you blush when you realize it'd just look like cove that way...

jesus fucking christ... you drag your hand over your face. cove takes up so much of your thoughts...

you look up at him, still covering your mouth with your hand, and you mumble loudly enough for him to hear. "...a penny for your thoughts?"

cove squeaks, clearly lost in his thoughts.

it makes you happy though, since he hasn't run away it must be a good sign right?

he peaks at you from the gaps of his fingers. the shadow casted over his face makes his eyes pop, cove's brilliant blue irises making your stomach flutter with the way he looks so flustered by your written compliment.

you startle, almost missing his question.

"you mean it?..."

you blink, swallowing. suddenly your mouth feels dry... in the end you nod, and muster up a couple words.

"yeah. i do." cove squeaks at your answer.

you can't really see it, but cove's hands part in a way that allow you to see the smile forming on his face.

it makes you smile too. this is good right? you're suppose to start feelings... things. at this age, so this is okay. especially if its cove.

cove finally comes out of hiding, trading covering his face for twisting the arms of the cat plush in his lap. he must have braced himself enough to give his own compliment without hiding, at least if tilting his head down and glancing away didn't count.

"i uh... i think you're cute too..."

you're blushing, and you bite your lip to stop the elated grin from taking over your face.

yeah, this is definitely okay.

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 5

chapter 9:

1. OMG DID REMUS FORGET TO GO BACK TO HIS CELL WAIT HOLY SHIT THIS ISNT GONNA BE GOOD

2. oh good wait, remus left and came back

3. sirius’ first thought is to brush his teeth to kiss sirius 😭😭 he’s so me fr. i wouldn’t let my ex kiss me unless they brushed their teeth first. or had a mint. im so sensitive to smells

4. “He used to build things. Create things. And now he's lucky if he doesn't destroy what's already formed.” JESUS FUCK. THATS LITERALLY SO SAD WTF

5. 😭😭😭 sirius is literally amidst gay panic beyond your wildest comprehension and remus is just like ✨☺️😏🥱🩷🏳️‍🌈 “touch me”

BABES

6. “Remus hums. "Imagine how I feel. No one's touched me without causing me pain in five years."” NOOOO BABY

7. god, wolfstar deserves everything. the best wolfstar content i find is always in a fic that is centered on another ship. i could literally survive off wolfstar alone- no water, no food, no air

8. wolfstar calling each other beautiful>>>>>>>

9. 😬 what did sirius jsut say. i must be going crazy. cause there’s no way he just said he needed to brush his teeth

10. wolfstar deserves the world universe

11. reg is no longer a pathetic teen with a crush, he’s a pathetic adult with a crush

12. reg being grumpy even in his sleep <33333

13. james having a pathetic crush on reg while cuddling together is top tier

14. there really needs to be an emoji to accurately show the face i just made. it probably looks similar to this- 😀😟 what. there’s no way reg is about to tease james, just to get his old 14 year old self off

15. 😀😀 girl what is he doing. i-

16. how he became freinds with barty is so crimson rivers canon, i can’t even. like, i KNOW that it’s canon. but it’s also canon that bizzarestars was right about. no author mistakes in that piece

17. damn, reg is actually gonna go at it. i don’t know how james is gonna survive this and make it to the actual arena.

18. “James says his name like it's the only word that has meaning. His voice is rough, and Regulus' name is sloppy and desperate in his mouth, like a hail mary or a form of salvation.” CHRIST. I SAID I DIDNT KNOW HOW JAMES WOULD SURVIVE THIS, BUT HOW THE HELL DID REG SURVIVE THIS??

19. “Barty is a good lover, there's no denying that—but he'll be damned if James isn't just better.” 😟 shocked. omg. who would have guessed this would be reggie’s thoughts

20. “"Because you might die today," Regulus tells him bluntly, shrugging one shoulder as he stands up. "Consider it a parting gift. Now, get out."”

😧

they just fucked, and all reg can do is be like “yeah yeah, now get out horny bitch” no fucking way i just read that right i-

bitch that’s foul

21. “Regulus is a conundrum, honestly.” yes. that’s the word i’d use to describe him.

22. james: don’t tell sirius that reg and i just fucked. also james: “he’s in the shower”

bitch if you could be any more obvious

23. “Remus Lupin. If there's one good thing to come out of all this, it's him.” YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY! REMUS IS THE GOOD IN THIS

24. “”James, I am so grateful to know you, and so sorry that I had to. Every name that I call is a name I wish I never learned. Yours—you—will remain etched into my heart forever."” BITCH I CANT CRY OVER THIS- MY EYE MAKEUP LOOKS TOO GOOD TODAY TO CRY

25. “"I'll see you again soon, Regulus."” BITCH WTF THAT HURTS EVEN MORE THAN JAMES’ GOODBYE

26. maybe it’s been too long since i’ve read the books, BUT this fic seems to capture the absolute tragedy and horrors of it before it even starts even more

27. christ, not reg saying the “i don’t want to go” that hurts. like holy fuck. he’s still just a scared child. don’t put him in that arena

28. god, the way the death of james feels like sirius dying too. and sirius deciding that once james is dead, sirius will be too

how the hell is this people’s comfort fic???

29. not sirius having a lapse of memory and losing his memory of his last moments with james. that shit hurts

30. fabian <3333

31. 😧 wait fabian is dead. they just shot him. holy shit

32. gideon <3333

33. wait gideon is dead too.

y’all. i just-

this whole chapter was a fucking rollercoaster.

[blackbat05]

A shared bond

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: The festive season is around the corner and you’re determined to give your best customer an unforgettable Christmas.

Genre: PG-13 / Trope: Baking, Alone on the holidays

A/N: Another piece for @the-slumberparty🫶🏽 I hope I did this right but it was another challenge that pushed my writing cells and create a piece that is close to home. Thank you for letting me share my work and hope readers enjoy! Reblogs and comments are appreciated!💜

The alarm beeps, signaling the newest batch of baked goods. Satisfied with the smell of blueberry pie wafting through the kitchen, you leave the delicacy to cool down. You go back out to the counter, pleasantly surprised to see your usual customer already waiting at the door.

“Hello Joaquin! You’re early today.” You let him in. “The usual?”

“Yes please.” He takes a seat at the counter, nose wrinkling to detect the source of smell. “I see you have been cooking up a new recipe. Any chance I could get a taste?”

You sliced a blueberry pie onto a plate and serve it to him with a cup of coffee. “Lucky you, I was trying out something for the Christmas menu and you just happened to be my first customer!”

Joaquin takes a fork and sinks his teeth into the pie, groaning at the impeccable fruity taste that blended nicely with the crumbs. “This shouldn’t be just a seasonal menu.”

“Glad to know. Guess I had enough foresight to make a whole batch of them. Would you like one more?” You carried the tray out and for a moment you thought you saw Joaquin salivating.

“Does it mean I have to pay?”

“Well, this one’s on the house. I insist. In the spirit of Christmas.” You give a second serving to Joaquin before preparing for the morning crowd.

It was like a routine that the both of you were used to. While you attended to customers, Joaquin would busy himself with a book at the side along with his drink and your baked treats. As you helped a father and his young son with their purchase, you can’t help but to sneak a glance at Joaquin who had an unreadable expression. The bell chimes, signaling the pair’s exit.

“What’s on your mind?”

Joaquin sighs. “When I see families, I think about the ones that I’ve lost.” You pause what you were doing, giving him your full attention. “It’s hard when I think about them but it especially hurts during festive seasons. I guess that’s what happens when you’re alone.” Joaquin smiles wanly. “I’m sorry for being such a dampener.”

You frown and shake your head. From your many conversations with Joaquin, you knew he was from military and he had a story that was beyond reality. You don’t know how he does it but he comes to your cafe with a smile every single time. “Don’t say that. You’re the strongest person I know, Joaquin.”

He takes a shaky breath and nods, but you sense that he’s going further down the hole.

“What if I told you that you don’t have to be alone during Christmas?”

Joaquin stares at you curiously and you’re more than positive that this would work out perfectly.

***

“Goodbye Mrs Lelia!” You moved towards the door, the elderly women trailing behind you.

“Thank you for visiting my dear.” She kisses you on the cheek and does the same for Joaquin. “Come back again soon with those lovely goodies!”

“Will do Mrs Lelia. Happy holidays!” You carefully descend the snow covered steps, checking one more house off the list. Joaquin decides to break the silence first.

“I didn’t know you do this during Christmas.”

“I started not too long ago. Two years back.” You helpfully corrected him. “I wasn’t in a good place.” Joaquin stares at you intently.

“You know how you told me once that when you came back from your tour? There was always people around you and yet you still felt lonely?”

Joaquin nods at the memory. You purse your lips.

“I felt that too. In a different way of course.” You explained. “Being blipped right back and having to see constant doom scrolling and watching others flaunt their extravagant lifestyles while holding to the knowledge that I could be someone better… it ate me up inside. So I decided to kickstart this food drive. I can’t reach everybody but I can do enough.”

Joaquin falls silent at your simple but impactful admission. “We’re all fighting our own battles huh?”

“That’s all we can do.” You respond. “What better way than to help others in the name of Christmas?” You grin, holding up the bag of baked treats. “Come on, we can do this! Dinner’s on me.”

***

An hour later, you sit beside Joaquin at a Thai restaurant savoring on the much needed spicy Tom Yum soup.

“I can’t express how much it means to have you help me this year. It seems to me like the ladies love you.” You teased.

“If that means having this feast after every food drive, count me in.” Joaquin laughs, taking a bite of the lemon chicken. “But really, I should be the one that’s thanking you. You’ve helped me a lot.”

You suddenly have a warm rush of affection for the man who was a mere stranger eight months ago. Joaquin seems to have noticed the change in temperature as he’s unusually focused at the half eaten chicken on his plate.

“After the blip, it was hard to even talk to someone. And I mean, genuinely have a conversation. That is until I met you.” Joaquin looks at you under his curls. “You didn’t push me and you allowed me to take my time.”

Your heart beats faster and you can feel yourself attempting to control your breathing. A determined glint crosses Joaquin’s eyes and he steadily moves forward.

“I really like you, Y/N. Not because you took pity on me but you saw me as a person. I don’t know if you feel the same way but I-”

Before he can finish his sentence, you launch yourself onto Joaquin, giving him the biggest bear hug that you could. He freezes for a moment at the contact, but he doesn’t hesitate to lean into your embrace.

“I really like you too, Joaquin.” You whispered, slowly detaching yourself to look at him. “And trust me when I say this but you came into my life when I needed someone. So I don’t want you to ever doubt yourself. Not anymore. Not when I’m with you.”

Joaquin pauses, processing what you have just said and breaks out into a big grin.

“I don’t know if this is appropriate but I really want o kiss you right now.”

You giggle at his honesty and take out the last blueberry pie that you saved for desert. Carefully taking a bite, you purposely stained your lips with blueberry coating.

“There. Now you can wipe it off me.” You cheekily point at the creation on your lips. It’s Joaquin’s turn to laugh at your absurdity as he looks at you lovingly.

The snow starts to fall harder and the Christmas decorations shine brighter. Reunions bring along joy and happiness across the city and for today, people forget what the world has thrown at them as they laugh with their loved ones. You and Joaquin Torres were not an exception as the bond between the two of you only strengthened with the help of a Christmas miracle.

He is gentle, leaving your lips wanting more. Joaquin gazes at you and how you wished you drank a little less of the wine. The crowd thickens but it is only the two of you in the small and tiny space that you envision. You see his lips moving and you tilt your head in confusion. Joaquin moves closer and you hear it.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

He leans in again, and this time he is sure to leave you breathless.

[topsyturvy-turtely]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you for tagging me @gregorovitchworld! 💚

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

13 🙃

2. what's your current ao3 word count?

73.611 (not that bad i guess but i wish it was more)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

only bbc sherlock for now but i am thinking of writing for good omens too :)

4. top five fics by kudos?

-> Rosie's Elephant in the Room

-> Human Urges

-> JOHNLOCKed in a Closet

-> Let Me Fix You

-> Halloween

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

yes! i respond to every single one (unless it is only an emoji... but even then i do it most of the time)

why? because i fucking LOVE connecting with my readers! and i wanna make them keep commenting on fics. because comments are so fucking important!!! they are what keep us writers going!

6. what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

aaah probably Missing (but that will be happy again!)

so in the end it is THE LONELIEST

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

JOHNLOCKed in a Closet, i'd say

8. do you receive hate?

thank goodness i don't!

9. do you write smut?

nope. i write some subtle sex scenes, but never long ones or intensely described. i just don't feel comfortable with it.

10. do you write crossovers?

nope. seems too complicated to me 😂 i don't really read them either so ig i don't have the urge to write them. ooh, wait i wrote a short freebatch/star wars/johnlock kind of crossover once. prompt: "geeking out over something" (day 14 of my otp challenge! that i might have ignored for about a year now... whoopsie)

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

3 times that i know of. novelhd dot com is a bitch. they stole JOHNLOCKed in a Closet (JLiaC), Strawberries and Cigarettes (S&C), and my oneshots on wattpad. it is fucking heartbreaking and really made me lose some trust in humanity as well as my motivation to write for a long time... DO NOT STEAL FICS!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no, because i don't feel comfortable with it. probably because of the shit that happened to me described above.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope, but i would be up for the challenge:)

14. what is your all-time favorite ship?

the answer is obviously johnlock lol.

15. a wip you doubt you will ever finish?

all my wips. no idk. i've got lot of wips and i will never completely give up on them. maybe just forget them, haha.

16. writing strengths?

writing about feelings, dialogue, inner monologues, two-person interactions

17. writing weaknesses?

well, smut lol. writing long intense plots (i am a fluff writer xD) - but i hope to get better at it. i have big hopes for Missing.

18. will you write a dialogue in another language?

never say never! but only after i have checked up with someone who speaks/knows said language well!

19. what was your first fandom?

*sigh* bbc sherlock, my babes. ;)

20. what's your favorite fic you have ever written?

first thought of day 9: hugging of my otp challenge. it's an alternative ending to TLD. it's a bunch of big emotions, big words and and big moments. - ghost mary actually is one of the big reasons they finally get together!!!

tagging (if you have already been tagged, feel free to ignore this and/or tag me in the post you already answered those questions): @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @gaylilsherlock and man who else??? anyone! anyone who wants to join the fun!

[scifrey]

Cling Fast: Prologue

Read below, or read the updated/edited version over on AO3.

by Loysark

The Sandman (Netflix with some sprinkling of comics canon and Gaimanverse)

Dreamling (Hob Gadling x Dream of the Endless | Morpheus)

Unfinished

PG-13 (for now)

Unbeta'd

Hob Gadling is a clingy bastard, and he's not ashamed to admit it. He clings to life. He clings to hope. He clings to his love of humanity. He clings to his Stranger. He also, unfortunately, has a habit of clinging to his name.

Which means, when the BBC is looking for a new pet history expert to appear in their educational docudrama series "Elizabethan Manor," they're overjoyed to find a professor of domestic history who, according to their meticulous research, is actually descended from the Master of the National Trust building they're filming in - Gadlen House.

Only Hob knows how right they are.

Picks up a few hours after the end of Episode 6.

*

Author's Note: I don't know what I'm doing. New to this fandom, new to this ship, and this is the first fanfic I've written in over a year. I am just coming back from a creative burnout so bad that I ended up leaving my literary agent. I haven't written anything that isn't loosely connected drabbles in literally years. So, I don't know what's going to happen with this fic. It may get written, it may fizzle. I have the idea plotted out, but I'm trying to approach it cautiously, with my eyes averted, in case it spooks and bolts.

That's why I'm posting this here instead of AO3, I guess. I want to see if it's something that resonates with people, and me, before I commit to posting it there.

*

"One hundred years, then?" Hob's Stranger asks, hours later, when Hob's talked himself hoarse and his business partner is flipping chairs onto tables to mop. Hob's marking has been jammed unceremoniously into his briefcase and completely forgotten, and there are three empty pint glasses at his elbow. The wine glass in front of his Stranger is still full.

"2089 or 2122?" Hob asks, through disappointment like broken glass on his tongue. Hob's stomach sinks when his Stranger rises from his chair.

Hob's Stranger seems to mull this over. "'89," he says at length. "I believe it is customary for friends to meet more frequently than a century."

"Then why wait even that long?" Hob asks, both startled and completely unsurprised with how desperate he sounds. "Or is that some sort of… of supernatural law? That the terms of our bargain have to be adhered to and we can't… I don't know," he confesses helplessly. "Renegotiate?"

Helpless.

Yes, that's how he feels.

Helpless and desperate for his Stranger to stay, to not abandon him again, to not leave Hob wondering if he may miss another meeting on a whim. If his Stranger was getting tired of playing with his little mortal toy and Hob would be left to eternity with no friend, no through-line, no continuity, no foundation—

Unavoidably detained, what does that even mean? Hob thinks viciously, brain spinning in circles between despair and hurt, elation and greed. Is it an excuse? Did he even want to—

His Stranger frowns, a fearsome, dark expression that Hob's never seen on the man's face before. Hob flinches when his Stranger makes an abrupt flicking motion at Hob's shoulders, as if shooing off a housefly. All at once Hob's breathing eases, the panic and surging loneliness retreating.

"What?" Hob asks weakly, when he realizes that… that somehow that single gesture from his Stranger has banished decades worth of crushing loneliness and anxiety. Hob had grown so used to bearing the ever-grinding worry that he'd forgotten what it felt like to be without it.

"A waking nightmare," his Stranger says. "And a bold one, too, to cling to you so persistently in the face of its king's displeasure."

King.

Well.

Hob had always figured that his Stranger had to be some sort of nobility. It was in the way he dressed at the peak of fashion each century, the softness of his skin and hands, the cleanliness of his hair, the way he spoke and held himself as if he'd never been denied anything his entire life. And the giant ruby of course, which, Hob had noticed a few hours ago, was nowhere to be seen this time around.

But a King.

"My friend," Hob whispers, mindful of the staff closing the New Inn around them. He swallows hard enough that his throat clicks. "Forgive my boldness, but… what are you? Who are you?"

"It… it is not important," his Stranger hedges, hesitating for the first time since Hob's known him.

That's unusual.

That's a crack Hob can get his fingers into.

"It is, though," Hob says, rising to his own feet. He dares to reach out, to pinch the fabric of his Stranger's coat cuff between his fingers in an old-fashioned, petitioning plea. The way you would kiss a queen's hem, or a king's ring, Hob pinches the cuff and hopes his Stranger understands. "It is to me. You are important to me."

"Hob," his Stranger says, but it's not a rebuke or a dismissal. It sounds awed, and humbled. Mercury shimmers along his bottom lashes, mouth pulled tight, a display of emotion that Hob never thought to garner from his Stranger, and not one he's sure he knows how to read, just yet.

What has him so upset?

"When you didn't come, I waited," Hob whispers, daring to press closer, so the words are little more than a puff of air between them. "I waited hours. Days. I returned every day for weeks. Where were you?"

"Rest assured, I did not want to miss our appointment."

"Then why?" The Stranger hesitates again. "Please. Please, if you're really my friend, please don't…" Hob trails off, not sure what he's really trying to say here. Don't shut me out. Don't treat me like a servant who only needs to do as he's told. Don't run away from me all the time.  "Please don't go without telling me how to reach you, at least. I couldn't bare it if you…"

Without his meaning it, Hob's grip on his Stranger's cuff slips, and his fingers brush the cool, smooth back of his Stranger's hand. The Stranger hisses as if he's been burned.

"Sorry, sorry," Hob says, jerking his hand away. "I'm—"

"That is the first kind touch I've had in…" his Stranger's eyes drop to where their hands meet. Slowly, he reaches out with one shaking finger to stroke it along Hob's knuckles.

Understanding and rage flash through Hob like a lightning strike. The little hints that his Stranger probably hadn't realized he was even dropping come together, all at once, into a horrible picture.

You can be hurt. Or captured.

Hob seizes his Stranger's hand in his own, enraged further when his Stranger gasps, cheeks flushing pink and lips parting in a soft 'oh' that might have sounded lewd if it wasn't so obviously overwhelmed.

"Who did this to you?" Hob growls, low and dangerous. "Where are they now? I'm going to kill them for—"

The Stranger jerks his head up so fast that one of the quicksilver tears shakes free and rolls down his gaunt cheek.

"Hob," his Stranger chokes, and Hob is sure he would have said more, maybe even leaned closer, except that Dennis at the bar shouts:

"Fuck's sake, Gadlen. Take your booty call upstairs. I wanna close!"

"Sorry!" Hob calls back, leaning to the side and  modulating his volume so he doesn't shout in his Stranger's ear. "Sorry Dennis, right. We're going."

Hob tugs on his Stranger's hand, and is absurdly grateful when the man allows himself to be led toward the back of the bar. Hob snags his briefcase from the banquette as they pass, and heads straight for the door marked "Staff Only." He punches in the keycode and within a few quick moments, he's gently pulling his stranger over the threshold and into his flat.

"You live above the pub?" his Stranger asks, looking around with curiosity as Hob toes off his shoes and drops his briefcase by the door. The Stranger has neither released his hand, nor wiped the moisture from his own face. When Hob looks down to see if his Stranger has taken his boots off, Hob is startled to be met with a pair of bare, moon-pale and delicately arched bare feet.

Okay.

Well.

Hob knew he wasn't human.

Apparently that includes vanishing clothing at will. Which probably means making it, too. Which definitely explains why his Stranger has always been in the pits of fashion.

Absolutely 100% not a Vampire, Hob adds to his mental List Of Things I Know About The Stranger. It's a very short list.

"Live above it, own it, built it," Hob says, pulling his Stranger gently into the living room and toward the sofa. "When I heard they were going to tear down the White Horse, I did some financial juggling, dug up a few treasure caches, and bought it. The building, the land… I mean, really, the whole area. I own most of this side of the river, all the green bits at least. I couldn't stand the thought of losing all the parks and the trees and… I wanted to save the White Horse itself, but the… well, the restoration is tricky. Time-consuming and costly. Cheaper to knock it down and start over but…" he shrugs as he encourages his Stranger to sit. "I'm not into bulldozing the past because it's cost efficient. Is it okay if I let go of your hand?"

His Stranger looks down at their entwined fingers and blinks as if he hadn't realized he was still holding onto Hob. "My apologies," he says softly, and lets go.

"Don't apologize," Hob says, even as he retrieves his arm. Touch starved, his brain screams, adding it to the list of sins that his Stranger's… captors must have perpetrated. "I'm making tea. Do you drink tea?"

"I could… I could drink tea, yes," his Stranger ventures, as if he's unsure if he actually can.

"I'll be right back."

You can still be hurt. Or captured, his Stranger in his memory says again, and Hob waits until he's turned away and headed to the kitchen before he lets his face transform into a scowl.

Behind him on the sofa, the real-life Stranger makes a wounded little noise, as if he'd heard the memory.

As he fills and sets the kettle to boil, Hob tries to dissipate the frisson of tenseness hanging between them with nonsense. 

"The National Trust is both amazing and a huge pain in my arse," he laughs, but it sounds strained even to him. "It's half the reason I'm a history professor now. I wanted to preserve the White Horse right, you know? I spent so much time in historical architecture lectures, buried up to my eyebrows in library books and research grants and… well, when it came time to establish this identity I thought, why not? Fudged up an undergrad degree in Medieval History, breezed into University of York for a Masters and spent it focussing on the lives of the common folk, you know, hearth and home kind of archeology. Wattle-and-daub construction, wooden nails and cooking fires, sellswords and home remedies, the beautiful mundanity of the everyday. And now here I am. Professor Bob Gadlen, with a PhD in my own bloody life."

The kettle whistles and Hob leaps to pull it off the hob when his Stranger flinches at the sound.

I'm going to stab them through the earhole, Hob snarls to himself. When he tells me who they are, I'm going to—

"Justice has already been delivered, Hob Gadling," his Stranger says softly, as Hob pours the water into a teapot. There's not a lot of modern conveniences that Hob eschews—humanity invented new and exciting things all the time for a reason, and that reason is usually that it's better—but he has never managed to get on board with tea bags. Looseleaf all the way. "And revenge has been, as they say, dished out."

Hob sets up a tray with two mugs, some biscuits, and the teapot under its hand-knitted cozy from the 50s. He's done this so often over the last few hundred years that muscle memory takes over, even as his brain stutters to a fizzy halt as he registers what his Stranger has said.

And what it means.

"Oh," Hob says, setting down the tea tray on his coffee table. He drops into his armchair beside the sofa with a thud. "Uh. Can you... Can you read my mind?"

"Only your daydreams," his Stranger confesses. "And only those on the surface of your thoughts. You dream of doing violence to people who, I assure you, are already dead."

"My daydreams. And my waking nightmares," Hob echoes, feeling like his brain is slogging through molasses. There's a… there's a confession in there, somewhere. A truth that his Stranger is trusting him with, if he could only work it out.

And then he remembers, suddenly, what he had been daydreaming about in 1789 when he'd caught sight of his Stranger's extremely shapely calves in his silk hose, and Dear Lord above. Hob has a sudden and humiliating urge to be swallowed up by the ground. A glance at his Stranger makes it very clear, by the smug little microexpression around his eyes, that his Stranger also remembers Hob's fantasies from that particular evening.

Hell.

"You're a King," Hob says slowly, pouring out a measure of tea for each of them to hide his blush.

"Yes."

Hob dollops milk into his own, and invites his Stranger to doctor his own to his liking with the sugar and milk he'd left on the tray. His Stranger only holds the mug between elegant pale hands, and simply inhales the steam instead.

"A King of… Dreams and Nightmares?" Hob ventures.

"Yes," his Stranger says.

"So you're a, a what… a god?" Hob asks, feeling both giddy and foolish to be saying it out loud. But then, he's been alive for six hundred and seventy-two years. That's a long time. He knows for certain that while his Stranger is not the Devil by his own admission, there are more things that walk the earth than are dreamt of in anyone's philosophies.

Hob scowls at himself for letting Shaxbeard's drivel cross his mind, and hides his pout in his mug.

"No," his Stranger says slowly. "And yes." He pauses.

Hob leans back, and lets his Stranger work through what he's trying to say. His Stranger sips his tea and seems to find it lacking, because he pauses to dump four cubes of sugar into it.

Sweet tooth, Hob files away, right under the entry on the list that says God. 

"I am a being beyond gods," his Stranger goes on once he's tasted his tea again and found it satisfactory. "I am older. I am more powerful. I am… simply more. I have existed since the moment the first sentient being closed its eyes and sought its rest, and I will continue to exist until the final one slips away to the Sunless Lands in its sleep. And yet, the version of myself that you see before you was once worshiped as a god."

"That explains a lot," Hob says, redirecting the buzzing adrenaline from his lingering, now futile rage into sarcasm.

The Stranger blinks again, as if unused to being teased. Being a… whatever he is, he probably is.

"Endless," his Stranger corrects. "I am Dream of the Endless. I am…" he gestures in an elegant arc with his free hand. "Limitless. Everywhere. Unchanging and ever present. I am every Dream of every creature, across all of space and time. I am both master of all dreams, and I am the dreams themselves."

"Bit like a TARDIS," Hob says, trying to wrap his head around what his Stranger, Dream of the Endless, is saying.

Dream blinks, head tilting like a corvid, a far-away look in his pale eyes as if he's shuffling through a mental rolodex. His lips curl up into, what is for him, a very wide, expressive grin when he seems to hit on the right entry. His face brightens with mirth.

"Yes, Hob Gadling. I am indeed bigger on the inside."

Hob laughs, if maybe only to contain the slow creep of existential horror. He has some sort of cosmic entity sitting on his squashed, unhygienic sofa that he hasn't cleaned properly since the day he moved in thirty years ago. Yeah. Hob's totally fine.

What's the bigger leap of understanding, anyway? Illiterate peasant sellsword in 1389 to university professor who taught the last two years through Zoom in 2022, or normal boring human with a bit of an Immortality thing to God's teeth there is a celestial creature in my apartment, and he is my friend.

"But that is the… the whole of me," Dream goes on, seemingly amused by Hob's quiet panic. "And the facet that sits before you, this particular anthropomorphic personification, is the one born of a worship and naming on this world, several eras ago."

"Oookaaay…" Hob says slowly, not entirely sure what Dream is getting at.

"Humans create gods," Dream says, filching a biscuit and crunching on it delicately. "Not the other way around."

Even spilling crumbs across his black teeshirt like stardust looks deliberate and elegant when he does it. Hob shoves down a new daydream, as far as it will go. If Dream catches it, he doesn't let on.

"Didn't God create mankind and all the world in seven days, though?" Hob asks, dragging his treacherous brain back on topic.

"In one story," Dream allows. "And in others, Zeus sculpted humanity from clay, and sundered the pieces to create soulmates. In yet another, Skywoman fell through a hole she dug through the world, and landed upon the back of a turtle. There are as many origin stories as there are gods, and there are as many gods as there are humans to imagine them. This—" Deam gestures to himself, and only then seems to see the crumbs on his shirt. He whisks them away with a flick of his wrist. "This embodiment was thought into being by what you would call the Bronze age cultures of the Mediterranean. To them, I was the God of Sleep. I have other names, but the most appropriate and widely remembered in this day and age is Morpheus."

"Morpheus," replies flatly.

"Yes," the creature on the sofa says, preening. "I desire that you call me that, Hob Gadling."

"Not Dream of the Endless?"

"Dream of the Endless is… Dream belongs to all sentient beings, of all kinds, on every planet and plane of existence. That creature has as many names, and faces, and physical embodiments as there are species to sleep. But here, the man who sits before you, whose form and face you know—"

Thank god he said 'know' and not 'desire', Hob thinks frantically.

"--this is Morpheus."

"The God of Sleep," Hob repeats, because is bears repeating.

"And you built me a temple."

"I… what?" Morpheus flicks a look around the room. "The New Inn? No, I built it for you so you could find me." Hob clocks what he just said. Then he thinks about the libations, the singing on karaoke night, the offerings and toasts, the way everyone totters away to pass out after last call. "Fuck me, I built the god of sleep a temple."

"If that unsettles you, you may alternately call me The Prince of Stories. The Shaper of Forms. The King of Nightmares. The Sandman. The—"

"Okay, okay!" Hob laughs. "I ask for one name and I get a hundred. Careful what you wish for, eh?"  Hob scratches his fingers through his stubble and heaves a sigh as Morpheus helps himself to another biscuit, munching peevishly. "So if I'm understanding this right, Dream is… is like a diamond. And Morpheus is just one facet. And there are hundreds of facets of you."

"Millions of millions," Morpheus agrees.

"And it's Morpheus I have my agreement with? And my… friendship?"

"Yes, Hob Gadling," Morpheus says fondly.  "Though I can assure you that the whole of all I am considers you a friend, not just this facet." 

Something in his posture that changes then, something that relaxes a little. Relief, that's what it is. Did he think Hob would be scared of him?

Overwhelmed, maybe. Confused, a little. Intrigued, definitely. Attracted to? Hob's mind shies away from that one. But scared? Never. Except for when he was worried he may have condemned his soul to Hell, Hob has never been frightened of Morpheus. And even that fear was of purgatory itself, not of the man-shaped thing that may end up dragging him there.

"Then it's Morpheus I'd like to… see more of," Hob decides on, tripping over confessing something maybe a little bit too intense for just now, and sidestepping it as politically as possible. "More than once a century. If that's okay."

"Why?"

Hob blanches. "Are you not allowed to? Or… or do you not want to?" Hob asks, wondering if he's completely misunderstood the point of Morpheus' confession.

"I did not say I was opposed to it," Morpheus says gently. "I simply wonder why my company is that which you would… choose."

Hob wonders, in turn, who it was that made Morpheus feel like his company was a burden, as he clearly thinks it is. He carefully does not daydream of doing them any violence. He wants to, though.

"Listen, I…" Hob says, and stops to lick his lips, wet his throat with tea, and choose his words carefully. "Before I explain, I want to make it clear that I don't regret, or rue, or am bitter about this… this gift you've given me."

"My sister gave you," Morpheus corrects him gently. 

"Sister?" Hob asks, derailed. "It wasn't you who… made me like this?"

"You and I have but an agreement to meet every hundred years. No more, no less," Morpheus explains. "My sister is the one who granted your request to never die, and traded a boon with our father to ensure you that you and I could keep our appointments."

"Uh. And who is this sister of yours I need to thank, then?" Hob asks.

"The woman who accompanied me at the White Horse that first night, do you recall her?" Hob nods. "She is Death."

"Death," Hob warbles, heart kicking in his chest. "Oh. Okay. Yeah. Makes sense. Death. I called her stupid to her face."

"She thought it charming."

"Fuck. And… your father?"

"Time."

"Time," Hob squeaks. The mug in his hand trembles and Hob sets it down before he sloshes on himself.

Morpheus frowns. "My sister did not think that the terms of the agreement between you and I would be fair if you continued to age, but did not die."

"No, no, makes sense," Hob says, heaving in a breath and trying not to freak out at the idea that Death and Time know who he is, and granted him his greatest wish simply because he was a loudmouth braggart in the right pub, on the right night.

"But you were speaking of the terms of our friendship," Morpheus prompts him.

It's a kindness, and Morpheus must know it, to be distracted from the existential crisis that is creeping up on Hob. Maybe Morpheus can see the waking nightmare hovering behind him, who knows.

"Yes, as I was saying, I don't regret being, uh, like this," Hob starts again, pointing at his own heart. "But it gets… well, it's hard. Maybe you know what I mean, being you know, Endless. Maybe you don't notice the passage of time, or maybe mortal lives are so fleeting that you don't care—"

"I care. And I notice."

Hob swallows hard again, and plows on, because if he stops to unpack the utter misery with which Morpheus just said that, he thinks he's going to have to get up right now, race out into the early morning dawn, and dig up whoever did this to his friend and kill them all over again.

"Right. Okay. Yes, you care, so you understand that… you have to let go. Do you know what I mean? You have to walk away. You have to… let things, let people, slip through your fingers. It doesn't matter how tightly you hang on to someone or something, change is inevitable. Time… ah, your father… has its… his way with us all. Except me. And you."

Morpheus watches him carefully, intensely, and Hob can't read what that expression means, hasn't seen it before. But if it was on a human, he'd call it intense and focussed affection.

"And I love life. I love humanity. I love the weird shit we come up with, and the ways we change, and grow, and at the same time stay exactly the same. I love people. I love love. But it can be…" he spreads his arms wide, clutching at the empty air, wishing he was better at putting thoughts into poetry. Then maybe he could explain himself better to the Prince of Stories.

Oh, so that's why that bitchy little twink Shaxbeard—no, focus, Gadling. Not right now.

Morpheus smirks at Hob's line of thought, but otherwise doesn't interrupt.

"The point of what I'm saying is that…" Hob takes a deep breath and plunges in. "You're my anchor. And you pull me through the years, and I follow along the tow line and… no, no, that sounds like you're dragging me down." Hob scrubs a hand through his hair, the beer and the adrenaline and the late hour catching up with him. He feels giddy and tongue-tied and stupid. "Maybe, you're a kite, then? And our meetings is the string, and when it's wound around my wrist, when I know what direction my life is being pulled by you and the wind, then it… it's full. It's taught. It's exciting. But when that string was… was slack… when you didn't come, when I thought I'd driven you away, I… I couldn't… there was no direction, and there was no point, and I—" Hob laughs flatly, false. "I had to build myself a fan, I guess. An Inn to fill the sail of the kite, and just hope that my breeze would come back and—"

And he doesn't talk about the years in the middle. The years between when he bought the White Horse, and before he threw himself into his schooling. The years when the misery of being forced to shut down the one place he needed more than air and food and water, because it tied him to his Stranger, the years when the White Horse continued to deteriorate and there was nothing he could do, except maybe sleep until 2089 and hope. The years when he put anything and everything down his throat, into his veins, up his nose just so that he didn't have to feel it, the wretched passage of time, the despair, the isolation and loneliness, the—

Morpheus' hand on his knee brings Hob back to himself. He huffs and wipes the moisture away from the corner of his eyes.

"What I'm saying is… I lost who I am, without you," he says slowly, covering that moon-pale hand with his own sun-browned and sword-calloused one. "And I'm not saying that you have to spend time with me. But I thought I ruined everything. And learning that instead you were captured and suffering, and I had no way of knowing and no way of helping, that's just so much worse. I need you, Morpheus. And more than that, I like you. These last few decades were awful without you, and I… I don't want to force you to spend time with me to keep me sane, that's not what I'm saying. I don't want to drown you in order to keep my own head above water."

Mixing metaphors again, Gadling. Get to the point.

"I guess what I'm saying is that I want to spend time with you. More than once a century. I want to be your friend, and I want to know when you're hurt, or in trouble. I want to be there for you, the way that you're there for me. I want to be the solution to your loneliness, the kind that only people like you and me know. The people who go on, and on, and on, when everything around you is always changing or withering away. Because you are the solution to mine. You're…" Hob decides that six hundred and seventy-two is too old to speak in euphemisms. "You're all that I get to keep. So, please. Can I keep you?"

"I too find that I thrive when I am seen," Morpheus says, summing up Hob's rambling with eloquence and sincerity. "And I am more than satisfied with your explanation. I find that I… share your sentiments. So yes, I shall give you a way to contact me, and a way to know if I am in distress. And I will be happy to meet with you more often."

"Once a week too much?" Hob asks, sniffling with pent up emotion and swift relief. "God's bones, I sound like such a clingy bastard. I guess I am. I won't be ashamed of it."

"If that is the case, then I find I am one as well. Will every Tuesday evening be acceptable?"

Hob didn't teach Tuesday afternoons, but Morpheous probably already knew that.  "More than."

"Excellent. It is done."

Hob huffs out a weak laugh, flopping back into his chair and feeling like he's just gone a hundred rounds with a heavyweight champ. Or sold his soul to Morpheus all over again. Morpheus releases his hand and pours them both more tea, though when Hob takes a drink, he finds it's become a sweet, cool wine, the kind he'd once had in Greece, centuries ago.

After they sip for a few moments, Hob screws up his courage, and asks, "And was it Morpheus who was… 'unavoidably detained'," Hob says, putting the finger-quotes around the phrase. 

Morpheus goes silent for long enough that Hob worries again that he's offended his friend again.

"We don't have to talk about it," Hob assures him. He reaches out his hand for Morpheus, offering support and understanding, just as his friend had offered it to Hob. He is relieved and flattered when Morpheus takes it again, without a moment's doubt.

"I… do not think I could bring myself to speak of this again, if I were not to unburden myself now. You have confessed so much this evening, and I feel I must honor your truth with my own, no matter how… infuriatingly painful and humiliating the confession may be. I was, as you surmised, captured."

"How can someone capture a… a concept?" Hob asks softly. "A literal, actual force of nature?"

"How indeed," Morpheus says, rueful and bitter. "While most magic is insubstantial nonsense," Morpheus begins slowly. He lifts his free hand and spreads his fingers wide, and on his palm a whirlwind of golden sand swirls into the shape of a small glass cage, with a tiny, prone man trapped inside. Hob's heart clenches when he realizes what he's looking at. "There are some immutable laws of existence that can be harnessed and twisted to entrap even one such as I. But it was not Dream of the Endless that Rodrick Burgess sought to enslave, nor even Morpheus the God of Sleep, but Death her very self…"

NEXT

[specialagentlokitty]

Castle x teen!reader - a family

Castle x teen reader another kid of his or foster/adopted kid you pick prompt 13 biggest tree - @witchreporter 💜

13: “I want the biggest tree there is.” “It won’t fit in the house.” “The biggest tree!”

Crouching down, you looked at some of the Christmas decorations in the boxes on the floor.

“Mr Castle?” You asked.

“You know you can call me Richard, or just Castle.” He said.

You watched Castle walk over and you shrugged a little bit at him.

“What’s this?”

You held up a decoration and he smiled a little as he took it.

“Oh wow, Alexis made this when she was a kid. I haven’t been able to find years, where did you find it?”

You gestured to the box in confusion.

“Here?”

He laughed a little, turning around.

“Alexis look!”

He showed his daughter and she gasped, running over.

“Oh wow! I used to make you a new one every year, is there anymore in there?” Alexis asked you.

You shrugged a little bit, standing up as you stuffed your hands into your pockets, watching as she went through the boxes.

“Oh my god can we make them again?!” Alexis gasped.

“Yes! And (Y/N) can make some too!” Castle grinned.

You slowly backed away.

“Yeah, no. Not happening, I’ve got plans anyways so later I guess.”

“Hey, you know the rules, after your stunt a few weeks ago Beckett said you’re not allowed out by yourself again otherwise you’ll be in trouble.”

You groaned a little bit, turning to face him and Alexis.

“Fine, can Alexis come with me? Either way I’m going out so…”

“Yeah, I can go. Where we going?” She asked.

“Just out.”

“Okay? I’ll go grab my coat wait there.”

Alexis ran off and Castle walked over, handing you your coat and some gloves.

“You’ll behave?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’ll keep Alexis out of trouble?”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t ruin her reputation don’t worry.”

Castle sighed, smiling a little at you as he wrapped your scarf on your for you.

You tried to swat his hands away but all he did was smile and carry on.

“I want you both out of trouble, and if you need anything you call me.”

“Huh, so you can be serious.”

“Only once a week, that’s my quota for the week.” Castle grinned.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down on the back of the couch while you waited for Alexis to come back.

“Oh! Oh! Here!”

Castle ran over, handing you his credit card.

“Seriously?”

“It’s Christmas.” He beamed.

“I’m ready!” Alexis called.

You pushed yourself up, walking to the door with her, not saying a word as you left.

You simply jumped in a cab, and she followed you.

“So, where are we going?” Alexis asked.

“Party.”

“Seriously? We can’t! What if you get in trouble?” She whispered.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“If Beckett finds out she’ll be furious, and then dad will get in trouble.”

You shrugged.

“Not my issue.”

“I’m not having my dad get in trouble because of you, I’ll call her.”

“Fine! Okay. We’ll go shopping or something boring.”

You huffed, staying quiet as you waited for the cab to stop outside the mall.

When it did, you waited for her to get out before wondering inside, grumbling to yourself.

“Oh, I’ve got to get some presents while we’re here too, do you need anything?”

“Well the whole no family thing might put a dent in those plans.”

“Sorry…”

You laughed a little, shaking your head as you began to walk.

“Let’s just get what you need to get out of here.”

“You don’t like Christmas shopping?” Alexis asked.

She glanced at you and you shrugged a little bit.

“Never had any need.”

Alexis nodded, changing the topic as you guys went around the mall for her to do her shopping and you made some daft purchases with her dad’s credit card.

When she was done you were dragged back to the apartment and you threw yourself on the couch.

“Hey, do you want to help me make some decorations?” Alexis asked.

“No thanks.”

Rolling over, you buried your head in your arms, deciding to take a nap to pass some time.

You when up to someone shaking you a little, and you grumbled, rolling back over.

“What…?”

“Well as comfortable as the couch may be, you have a bed.” Martha said.

You grumbled a little, slowly sitting up.

“You know, you don’t have to be so defensive around us. We’re just here to help you.”

Rubbing your eyes, you glanced at her.

“Yeah…”

“So, why don’t you take part in all the Christmas celebrations?” She asked.

“No reason to.”

Getting up, you made your way to the room you were given and collapsed on the bed, going straight back back to sleep.

A few hours later you woke up, making your way down the stairs, grabbing a drink.

“Did you sleep in your jacket?” Beckett asked.

You turned to her, slowly nodded your head as you took a sip of the water.

“Come on, if you’re cold we can turn the heating up.” Castle laughed.

You padded over, sitting on the other end of the couch, setting your water down on the table.

“Still exhausted huh?” Beckett smiled.

You slowly nodded again, resting your head on the couch.

“So, I heard you tried to sneak away to a party.”

“Yeah, I didn’t do…”

Castle raised his hands.

“Hey, you’re not in trouble. I’m proud of you for not going.”

You gave him a thumbs up, and he sighed a little bit.

While him and Beckett carried on talking about their case, you had fallen asleep again, and they left you there.

Again, it wasn’t long until you woke up, and this time you noticed a blanket under your head, and a blazer covering you.

Sitting up, you took a deep breath and stretched.

“Hey, Christmas tree hunting, you’re coming right?” Castle asked.

“No.”

He frowned, walking over to sit in front of you.

“Come on, everybody loves Christmas trees.”

“I don’t.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t know what to tell you, I don’t.”

Castle sighed a bit.

“What’s the real reason you don’t want to take part in anything?”

“What’s the point? After the holidays you’re just going to give me back to children’s services, you only took me in cause there was no room anywhere else.”

“Well, yeah, that was one of the reasons, but I like having you around, I know Alexis and mother do as well.”

You gave him a confused look.

“I’m not just going to palm you off like everybody else does. I just.. I don’t really know how to make you comfortable or see that.” He explained.

“It’s fine, I’m not a big fan of Christmas anyways.”

“Come on, there must be something you love about Christmas? Music? Films? Baking? Oh we can make cookies! Presents?”

You laughed a bit, shaking your head.

“I do like Christmas trees, okay? I like all the lights and the weird little decorations you put on them.”

“Great! So come pick a Christmas tree with me!”

“Isn’t that what your mom and Alexis do?”

“Yeah but they’re busy and I really want to get it now before all the good ones go.”

You sighed, looking at him.

“Fine you bigass kid.”

He grinned.

“Great! Let’s go!”

Castle tossed your jacket at you and you laughed again, getting up to follow him.

You guys went down to somewhere to get real Christmas Trees and you looked around slightly confused.

“So, what tree do you want?” Castle asked.

You looked at him.

“I want the biggest tree there is.”

Castle looked at the largest tree he could find.

“It won’t fit in the house.”

You pointed to it.

“The biggest tree!”

Laughing, he shook his head at you, pointing to another one.

“How about we find the biggest one that’ll fit into the apartment?”

“Okay!”

You jumped into the snow, and you began to walk under the trees to find one that you liked and Castle just smiled.

“Hey (Y/N)?” Castle called.

You turned to look at him.

“You’re family, I want you to know that okay?”

“Thanks Mr Castle.”

You walked back over and walked alongside him.

Castle was used having a daughter like Alexis who wasn’t bad, she was good and trusting.

Then there was you, the unofficial teenager he was someone ended up caring for after a case, and it was a challenge for sure but you just needed a family, and he could never say no to somebody who needed a family

[distortedclouds]

Mr Leonhart wasn't redeemed and I refuse to accept him as such

If you’ve been anywhere near my blog, you’ll know that I don’t tolerate that guy in any way, shape, or form, nor accept his apology to Annie

I have multiple reasons to believe his apology wasn’t sincere/well-intentioned.

He had the worst motivation out of all warrior parents

I think the reason I'm angry with Mr Leonhart the most compared to other Warrior Parents, even though they're all shit (I guess with the exception of Pieck’s father) is that the rest of them believed Marley's propaganda

They believed in the whole Eldian sin and Island Devil thing. Most parents of warriors, even kids training to become warriors, believed their kids were giving away their lives for a good and honorable cause. This is still abuse and it’s gross, but really, it’s not out of the “ordinary”

Parents place ridiculously harsh and harmful expectations on their kids all the time. Plus, I don’t think they would’ve straight up abandoned their kids if they didn’t make it as warriors

Mr Leonhart, however, never fell for Marley’s shit version of history nor did he care. He came from abroad and Annie once said he was in the same situation as her (mixed parents), when he took her in as a baby for a purely selfish reasoning

While it’s easy to put some distance since the situation of the warriors is nothing like in the real world, I’ll give you an example:

Someone adopts a puppy and then trains it for underground dog fighting to make money and better their financial situation. If the dog loses/isn’t good enough, he’s gonna throw it out. This also puts the dog at risk of injury, shortened lifespan, and overall reduced quality of life

I don’t feel hesitant using an animal in this example, because Annie was merely a tool, and like all tools, if it’s not doing its job, it gets thrown out

His apology wasn’t for Annie

Annie only miraculously became his daughter that he loves and cares about only after he’d gotten what he wanted: an irrevocable(?) Honorary Marleyan title. Doubt he would’ve had the same “revelation” had Annie failed her candidacy

Two aspects of his apology, in particular, piss me off: the timing and the rootcause/motivation

Timing

If Annie’s 13 years of titan shifting end when she’s 22, that means she got her titan powers when she was 9 years old. But the attack on Wall Maria happened in 845, when Annie was 11

Why the two year gap??

It’s not like military work as a titan shifter is a part-time job or a 9-to-5. She probably went away for days if not weeks at a time during Marley’s countless expansion and invasion efforts. She could’ve died or been captured during all of those and yet that still wasn’t enough for Mr Leonhart to realize his fatherly feelings towards her

I think it’s control

In the Lost Girls manga, Annie says her relationship with her father was “one of absolute obedience.”

And Annie was never a rebellious kid. She only went against him once (when she broke his leg) and never again

While in the military, Annie was being constantly monitored by her commanding officers. She had rules to follow and consequences for disobeying

But leaving for Paradis on a longer mission? She’s free

She’s free from him and from Marley and he knows she won’t care for her mission the same way Reiner, Bert, and Marcel cared, because she doesn’t believe in the Island Devils propaganda in the first place

I highly doubt the Paradis mission was announced to them the morning of their departure. They’ve known for a while, and yet he waited until the morning of her departure to say something

To be fair, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d gotten somewhat attached to her over the course of 11 years. The other warriors still had families to return to, but once Annie is let go, she’s gone. So that might’ve played a part

Motivation

Another part that pisses me off is that his regret never seemed like he was sorry for Annie, but for himself, for the type of person he'd become

After all, no one likes to believe that they’re evil/the bad guy

Considering that he still lives in the same rundown house as before, I don’t think(?) he’d taken advantage of any/many of the perks and privileges awarded to the parents of warriors during the 10 years Annie’s gone

But this all strikes me as self-flagellation, that he’s more concerned with feeling better about himself and his own past deeds, and not really the entire life he’d ruined and the child he’d mentally, emotionally, verbally, and physically abused since day one

It was always about him, and it's still just him

There’s this shot during the rumbling that MAPPA added, in which we see Annie’s old house right before it’s stomped:

Those are the same padded polls Annie used to train with. He hadn’t removed them

At first glance, this looks like a way for him to not sweep his past/guilt under the rug. To face what he’d done to Annie every time he’d step out of the house or even look out the window.

Shows his remorse, right?

Sure, but what about Annie? What if she had returned with Reiner 4 years ago?

She finally manages to get home to her father, her family, the only reason she kept going, only to find her open-air torture chamber still up, like it’s been waiting for her return all along

I’m not saying he was planning on getting back to his old ways as soon as she got back not at all!

But even with his bad leg, over the course of 10 WHOLE YEARS, he could’ve dug them out. He could’ve asked it as a favor of Reiner and I know Reiner would’ve absolutely done it had they the smallest doubt Annie might come back and see them

But he didn’t because it’s about him feeling like he’s not escaping from his past mistakes, facing them head on like an honorable man

Annie? she doesn’t matter

Her return as his daughter is also another way for him to feel better about himself and that he’s actually making it up for his actions; atoning for his sins

Also, note the difference between how Annie remembers the apology:

vs how Mr Leonhart remembers the apology:

(those two shots are from the same chapter)

It really feels like his perception of that day is completely different from Annie's. She looks at him directly and smiles, while Annie mostly remembers herself still being in shock even as she promises him to come back

Final thoughts

I’m not saying his apology was entirely a manipulation technique. But Annie was and still is a tool to him, this time with the fancy title of “daughter”

If her previous purpose in life was to become a warrior and complete her mission, then her current purpose is to become a good daughter so he could feel like a good father

Post-canon, this would likely take most (if not all) of the verbal and physical abuse out of their relationship, but I can’t say the same for more covert types of mistreatment: mental and emotional

I think it’s important to respect/try to understand Annie’s point of view as well, for still loving him, since he was the reason she survived and come to think of her life as one worth living, even if only to return to him and be his daughter

Still, I wouldn’t really say that Annie has forgiven him. Not really

I doubt she even realizes she was hurt in a way that matters. Simply disassociating from that whole aspect of her life—blocking it out. Especially considering how she was able to tell her story to Hitch

The chance of simply “having a father” and be something more than a tool, was enough for young Annie to not even think about all the harm he’d done to her

It was always about him, and it's still just him

[sweetsweetjellybean]

In The Cold November Rain Part 13 *18+ MDNI*

Eddie Munson/FemReader Steve Harrington/FemReader

TW: Story runs congruent to events in the show. If you know what happens in season 4, then you'll know how this will end.*Be warned.* 18+ Eventually Smut, Angst, High School Fuckery, Drinking, Drugs Let me know if I miss any. 

Can you have two great loves in a lifetime? 

A story about the pain of growing up, unrequited love, and loss. 

Dedicated to Eddie Munson & all those that love him.

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Sincerest & Eternal Thanks To @loveshotzz & to all of you that have read, commented, sent asks, & rebloged. Thank you for taking this journey with me.

Part 13/13 Series Masterlist Fic Menu

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Steve comes back quicker than you expected, or maybe he was gone an hour; you wouldn't know the difference. Taking you by the hand, he leads you to the passenger side of his car. He helps you inside and buckles your seatbelt for you.

"I don't want you to get in trouble at work," you say.

"It's no trouble. Robin knew Eddie. She understands."

Steve drives along the familiar route in silence, glancing at you, making sure you're not breaking again. At first, it's a blur, colors bleeding together, but slowly things sharpen into focus. His face is full of concern, but there is something else you almost missed in your grief, his sadness. He shuts off the engine, and you both sit, listening to the engine tick as it cools. 

"Where are your parents?" He's looking at the dark windows and empty driveway. Being alone felt like such a great idea only an hour ago. Now the prospect was overwhelming.

"They're at the lake. I'm just here for the weekend to relax."

"I guess that's not happening any time soon. Do you want me to come in with you?"

Relieved, you gratefully accept his offer. Once inside, you make a beeline for the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Jose Cuervo. Steve follows you into the living room and plops down on the couch. 

"Isn't it funny how everything seems smaller now?" He asks, looking around. "It looks exactly the same as the last time I was here. It must have been around three years ago since then."

"Has it been that long?" Taking a glass from the stack your parents keep in the cabinet, you twist off the cap and pour yourself a double.

"Are you sure that's a good idea right now?" Raising a defiant eyebrow, you tip your head and knock it back. The alcohol burns your throat on its way down. It's been a while since you had a drink. 

"I think it's an excellent idea." 

"Well, bring me one then. I'm not going to let you drink alone." After retrieving another glass, you bring everything to the coffee table in front of the couch. The light from the afternoon sun bounces off the glasses, leaving little rainbows on the wall covered with framed photographs. Some of them are of the boy sitting next to you. The brown liquid glugs from the bottle as you fill the glasses with a generous pour. Sliding his drink across the polished wood of the table, you wait for him to join you in raising your glass before you both drink it down. He coughs a little. Looks like you're not the only one out of practice. When you reach for the bottle, he pushes it away from you. "Let's pace ourselves."

The tequila is starting to do its job, taking the edge off. Sighing, you sink back against the couch cushions and wait for Steve to say something. It doesn't take long. 

"Do you remember the Christmas we tried to stay up late to catch Santa?"

"I don't remember that at all."

"That's probably because you kept falling asleep. We made this grand plan to sneak out here after everyone was asleep. We sat next to the tree, and you couldn't keep your eyes open. I kept shaking you, but eventually, I just gave up. I sat there watching you sleep with the tree lights twinkling. Then it got close to morning, and I was scared we would get in trouble. I tried to carry you to your room, but I wasn't strong enough, and I kept smacking your head into the wall."

"Well, maybe that's why I can't remember. You gave me a concussion." You laugh.

"That sounds about right." He rolls the glass between his hands. "Where were you during the earthquake? Why didn't you know?"

"I got the chance to study abroad. I left in February, and I was gone all summer. My parents called, but they were fine and said not to worry."

"I should have called you and told you about Eddie. It was such a mess here I didn't even think about it. I didn't realize you two were so serious."

"We weren't. I mean..it was…I don't know. It's complicated."

He nods, understanding. "Trust me, I know, complicated. It's kind of my thing now. Steve Harrington. It's complicated." He uses a newscaster voice and gestures in the air before pouring himself another shot and drinking it down.

"You have changed, Steve. Thank you for staying with me. I want you to know it means a lot to me. I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," he replies, patting your knee. "You two weren't still together, were you? You and Eddie."

"No. Not for a while. It ended when I left for school. He was really good to me." Your knee bounces, and you swallow, trying not to cry again. 

"I'm sure. He was different than I thought. He was pretty tough on himself, but he paid attention, you know, to what everybody was feeling. I think maybe he felt things a little more than the rest of us."

"You did know him. I thought maybe you said hi to each other when he came in to rent a movie." 

"I didn't know him very long. Just long enough to know he was a good person. Listen, whatever you hear in town, don't believe any of it. It's all bullshit, just like in high school. They don't know what happened."

"And you do?" 

"Yeah, I do. He saved a lot of people. Including me. Do you understand?"

"I don't. I don't understand any of it. An earthquake? That doesn't make any sense. There has to be more to it."

"There always is, Peach." His hand covers the top of yours, his thumb moving back and forth on the underside of your wrist. He hadn't called you that since middle school. It started when you were nine, carrying around a worn copy of James and the Giant Peach to all his games. He said it to tease you, but you ended up looking at your feet, blushing like crazy.

A lone tear balancing on the edge of your lid falls, running over the apple of your cheek. A deluge follows. "I have so many regrets. They are stacked up like this heavy weight. I'm not sure if I can carry it, Steve." His big soft hand slides along your shoulders, pulling you to him until your head rests over his heart. With your arms around him, you cry out your truth. "I was so selfish. I waited until it was too late. The last thing I said to him…I was so cruel. And now I can't tell him that I'm sorry or that I loved him. I had so much left to say."

"It's okay. It's okay." He whispers with his lips pressed to the top of your head. "He knows. He wouldn't hold anything against you. In fact, I'm pretty sure the guy thought you shit out lucky charms." A little laugh sneaks through your tears." He was always staring at you. I thought he was such a creep. It used to piss me off. I wanted to punch him, but I knew I would have had to deal with you, so I didn't. Remember that asshole from the hockey team that was sniffing around you senior year? What is his name?"

"Matt?" It has been so long that you've forgotten how good Steve is at holding you together. It makes you feel like you did when you were little, like he could save you from anything. 

"That's right, Matt dickhead Crestwood. I never would have let you go out with that guy. He used to run his mouth in the locker room about every girl in school. I was about to say something to him, but someone keyed his car and slashed his tires. I'm pretty sure it was Eddie."

"What? No way. I don't remember that."

"It's been pointed out to me that we were all in our own little world. Not really paying attention to what wasn't right in front of our faces."

"Who are you? Yoda? Next, you're going to tell me you can move things with your mind." You sit up and pour more shots. He has a strange look on his face, but he shakes it off and laughs, taking the glass from you. 

"Nope. That's someone else, actually." He raises his glass and waits for yours to clink against it. "This is what happens when you grow up." He uses your words from earlier. You drink, and you talk. The tequila bottle gets a little more empty. The room gets darker, and you have to turn on the lights. "What was your plan this evening before everything?" He asks. "Nothing special. Popcorn and Molly Ringwald."

"She's kinda hot." He says with a lopsided smile. There's your Steve. "We should probably eat something before that tequila burns a hole in our stomachs. Do you want me to make you something?"

"I don't know. Are you going to burn the house down?"

"Hey, I can cook. How else do you think I got fed? My mom?" He scoffs.

"True. They kind of quit on you, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I don't want to talk about them. Come on." You follow him to the kitchen to sit on the counter and watch him make you the perfect grilled cheese sandwich. 

"This is really good," you say with your mouth full.

"I'm a man of many talents. Kind of like James Bond but with better hair."

"And just as humble."

He washes the dishes and sets them on the drying rack when you're finished. You ask him to spend the night, and he agrees without hesitation. He pauses in the doorway of your room. "You still have a Strawberry Shortcake bedspread." He throws himself down on your twin bed so hard he bounces. 

"The sheets too. My Monchichi is still in the closet. Do you want me to get it?" Clicking on the little light next to your bed casts a soft glow around the room. 

"Gross. You know I hate that thing." He stretches out, taking up all the space on your little bed. "This was much bigger the last time we shared it." 

Images of two small kids curled on their sides, sleeping back to back, fills your mind. Sleepovers happened less often once you hit middle school and the last time was freshman year, the first time he got dumped. His parents weren't visiting that night. He just climbed through your window and got in bed with you. You were already in love with him at that point. He fell asleep quickly, and you stayed awake the whole night. Your body vibrating next to him, praying he would touch you. Of course, he hadn't, and it was another crack in your tender heart. Thinking about him coming through that window and kissing you stupid was once your favorite fantasy.

"I think we've gotten bigger. Do you want to sleep on the couch?"

"Nah, we'll manage." He stands up, toeing off his shoes before pulling his shirt over his head. 

"Steve, what happened to you?" The light catches the newly healed scars on his abdomen. Moving closer, you run your fingers over the shiny pink skin. The texture is bumpy and uneven with jagged edges. His muscles jump at your touch. "Are those bite marks?" Trying to avoid the question, he turns his back to you only to startle and turn back toward you quickly. "Let me see your back."

Reluctantly, he turns to let you examine him. These scars aren't as deep. He looks like he was dragged behind a truck. You gently place your hand on him, wishing it would be enough to take them away. "This is scaring me. Tell me what's going on, please. That's not from an earthquake." Your voice comes out shaky. He turns back and catches your hand in his, his expression full of pain. Standing this close to him, you can see more faint scarring circling his neck. He shakes his head from side to side and looks down.

 "I can't tell you anything. Let's just say my life hasn't exactly turned out the way I hoped."

"Steve-"

"Don't! There is no way in hell I'm dragging you into this. I can't put you in danger. Please, trust me, I'm doing what's best for you right now."

"What danger?" 

He won't say anything more. He moves to the bed and turns down the covers. Alarm bells are going off in your head, and you don't have the first clue how to help him. Leaving him, you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth and change into your PJs, which consist of an oversized Garfield shirt that reads Give Me Lasagna Or Give Me Death. While washing your face, you examine your reflection in the mirror; you look older than you did that morning. When you return, Steve's in his boxers, lying on his side of the bed, which is the outside, so you have to crawl in from the foot. 

"Nice shirt." He teases, pulling back the covers for you. 

"Next time, I'll wear my nightie."

"Don't do me any favors." Both of you lay on your sides facing each other. His eyes are closing. "Steve, do those scars have anything to do with Eddie?" He nods his head. "Were you with him when he���." you trail off, but he knows what you're asking. 

"No. He was already gone when…I couldn't help him." You shake your head, trying not to get emotional again. "Was there a funeral? Is there somewhere I can visit him?" He shakes his head no. You think you've cried out every tear in your body, but somehow there are still more. 

"How am I supposed to get past this?" You ask, trying to wipe away the wetness on your face. 

"You won't, but you'll live anyway."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Don't say things like that. I can't worry about you that way." He grabs your hand and holds it between you.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I don't mean it. I'm just really sad."

"I know you are, Peach." He kisses your forehead, and your eyes close as his lips linger, comforting you.

"Have you ever known anybody that died? Besides Eddie. 

"Yeah." He rolls to his back and looks at the dark ceiling while he ticks names off his fingers. "My grandparents. My uncle Dave. Barb Holland."

"I thought she ran away."

"No." He sighs and scrubs his face. "Billy Hargrove."

"He died? He asked me out once."

"He did? Did you go?" You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess he wasn't your type. He died right in front of me."

"What? When?" Concerned, you prop yourself on your elbow to look at his face. 

"Heather Holloway, Jason Carver, Patrick Mckinney, Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson. I know I'm forgetting a few." The moonlight filtering in through your curtains is enough to see that his eyes are shiny, and he's taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself. 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Feeling helpless, you watch his chest rise and fall quickly. "What the hell is happening here?" He just shakes his head, refusing to answer. "Are you okay?" You ask, stroking the hair at his temples, trying to soothe him.

"I'm so fucking far from okay, and I can't tell anybody because people depend on me. I just have to push through it. But now that I've told you, maybe I'll start feeling better."

"You can always talk to me. I want to be here for you." Snuggling down against the pillow, you tuck one of your hands under your head, and the other runs through his hair until his breathing returns to normal.

It's quiet. The familiar noises of the house feel unsettling tonight. As it often does, your life has been changing without you knowing. It has been building like a wave crashing against you all at once. Now you're trying to keep your footing until the tide goes out again. Unanswered questions plague your thoughts, keeping you from sleep. He has the answers, but your conscience won't let you push him. Counting your breaths, you try to stop the memories that cycle through your tired mind. The tree branches outside rustle in the wind as the first pings of rain hit your window. Steve breathes out a soft sigh and shifts slightly beside you. A smile tugs at your lips. Watching him trying to keep his eyes squeezed shut, he shares the same restless battle. Delicately, you place your hand on his stomach, smoothing it upward until your fingertips move through the hair covering his chest. His eyes pop open, 

"Steve?"

"Uh-huh."

"When did you get so hairy?" His lips turn up into an affectionate smile. You start giggling, and he can't help laughing with you. He turns back over to his side to face you. "Probably around the same time you got boobies." He pokes his finger into your breast. "Hey!" Rubbing the tender spot he just poked, you pinch one of his nipples in retaliation, "Oww. You want to play the pinching game?" He reaches around you and pinches as much of your ass as he can gather with his fingers. You howl in pain. "Okay, Okay, you win." 

"I always win." He reminds you. "You didn't have to do it so hard," you complain. 

"That's how I win. Let me rub it for you." His hand kneads your ass. Something is waking up, something between you that you thought you'd lost. 

"Stop. What's wrong with you?" You push his arm away from your butt. It doesn't go far, landing on your hip. "Are you drunk?" 

"No. Are you?" He squeezes your hip.

"No." You slide one of your smooth legs between his liking the way his bristly hair lightly scratches you. "You kissed me once when you were drunk." 

"No, I didn't. I would remember that." The hand on your hip pulls you a little closer.

"You did. It was after one of your parties sophomore year. I stayed to help you clean up, and you kissed the hell out of me. It was my first kiss you didn't remember the next day."

"Fuck, you're kidding me. I'm such an asshole. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not. I didn't tell you to make you feel bad."

"Are you sure you don't hate me?" He asks, looking into your eyes.

"I was upset at the time, but I'm glad it was with you. I was so in love with you back then. God, I thought I was going to pass out. It feels good to finally say it."

"I knew. I just didn't know what to do with it. I wasn't ready for someone to love me like that." He pulls you that last little bit closer to him, so you're flush against his body. His hand smoothes from your hip to the small of your back, where he rubs little circles on your spine.

"How do you know how I loved you?" The question comes out in a soft whisper.

"I know you." Those dark hazel eyes stare into yours. 

"Are you sure about that? I don't think I knew myself that well back then."

"I know you like cinnamon better than marshmallows in your hot chocolate. You'd rather have sunflowers than roses. You don't mind when it rains, especially when you're already feeling sad. You hate mustard on your sandwiches. You only sing if you think no one's listening. And I know why you keep those Weebles that are on that shelf over there."

"Oh yeah, and why is that?" You ask, looking down and hiding your smile against his chest.

"Well, your mom made you give Mrs. Johnson some of your old toys when she had the twins. You weren't ready to let them go, and you cried and cried. You were too old for all that stuff, and I told you to quit being a brat. You stopped crying right away. I hurt your feelings, and you were so mad you weren't going to let me see one more tear fall. You stuck your chin in the air and ignored me all afternoon. I felt so bad about it. I just wanted you to play with me again. So I snuck over to the Johnsons and stole back the princess and the knight because I knew they were your favorite. You keep those Weebles because I gave them to you."

"You know you're awfully full of yourself. Maybe I just really like Weebles." He tips your chin up to look at your face. "I was so dumb. I was always hurting your feelings. I should have been more careful once I realized how you felt." He kisses the corner of your mouth.

"It's not your fault. You didn't feel the same way, and I couldn't let it go. I was kind of pathetic back then."

"Nah, you weren't pathetic. You were cute. But Jackie had those really big boobs." You try to pull away from him. "Way to ruin it." Both of your hands push against his chest, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but he easily holds you in place. "They were huge. They would hypnotize me when she walked." 

"You're lucky you didn't need penicillin afterward."

"You're right about that," he says, laughing. "Maybe we should try it again? Like a do-over?"

"Try what again?"

"Your first kiss."

"Now I know you're drunk," you say, narrowing your eyes at him. "You want to kiss me?"

"I want to kiss you." He's looking at your mouth, and it's making you lightheaded. You can't wrap your head around it. "Why?"

"You're warm, and we're in bed together. You're half-naked. It's making me hard." You roll your eyes and scoff. "But mostly because I've missed you for a really long time, and you feel like home, when it was safe before there were any monsters in the world. And I need you right now, and I think you want me to touch you."

His mouth is just inches from yours. He angles his head and parts his lips, but he doesn't move forward, wanting you to make the decision. Inhaling a short breath, your lips unseal, floating just below his. And you can see it in his eyes, something that wasn't there before. Tilting your head, you close the gap. He hums into your mouth, kissing you over and over. His long fingers move softly over your jaw, the side of your face caressing you, holding you. They ghost over your lips before he brings his mouth back to yours. His tongue dips in, brushing against you softly. He quietly moans, savoring the taste. 

You finally get what you always wanted, but it isn't erasing the ache. Eddie's sad brown eyes fill your mind as guilt spreads through you. Regrets are stacking up in a tippy pile. 

 "Stay with me." 

Somehow, Steve knows you aren't thinking of him. He waits for your eyes to flutter open and connect with his. He deserves more than being your distraction. Your fingers move through the long bangs that have fallen over his eyes. He leans into your touch while his fingers gather the fabric at your hip, collecting it in his palm. Slowly pushing it up your body's curve until it's over your head, forgotten somewhere on the floor. His lips travel down to the tip of your chin, a hand on your shoulder easing you back so he can move over you, his warm skin pressing you into the mattress. The feeling of those silky lips gently sucking the delicate column of your throat has you lost. Your leg wraps around his waist, pushing him closer. 

Another wave of change is building. Standing on the shore with open arms won't stop a thing if it's big enough to knock you down. His name echoes from your mouth, calling him back when he moves away to remove anything still between you. The short absence has made you desperate and needy. He doesn't tease or make you wait. He's against you. Inside you. Moving under your skin unhurried and sure. Finding the places that make you come apart. His mouth is on you when you come, swallowing your cries and stealing your breath. He whispers beautiful tender words in your ear as you ride out your high. He surges and throbs inside you, finally falling apart. Staying inside long after until sleep finally finds you both.

You wake up with Steve's arm crossed over your chest like a seatbelt, the hair on his chest tickling your back. The sheets and blankets are in a tangled pile at the foot of your bed. Cocooned in all his safety and warmth, you lay quietly watching the shadows cast on your wall by the last raindrops running down your window glass. The morning light has chased away the ghosts of last night but has brought doubt with it. It's easy to be caught up in him, but the bigger picture isn't as simple. Last night feels like a step too soon, and at the same time one, you've been waiting to take forever. The leg resting between your thighs shifts.

"Good morning." His lips graze the shell of your ear.

"Morning," you whisper, feeling all of him behind you.

His mouth is on your shoulder, tongue swirling over your skin. Every place he touches, he leaves little fires in his wake. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths as his hand leaves your shoulder to slide over your breasts and stomach stopping just shy of your pubic bone.

"You're trembling. Are you cold?" You're the very opposite of cold. With a hand on your chin, he turns your head to look at him.

"Are you okay with what happened last night?"

Your stomach drops. "You regret it."

"No. No." He shakes his head while running his hand along your cheek. "Last night was….Being with you…." He pauses, trying to find the right words. "Yesterday, you were suddenly there in front of me after all that time, and you spent the whole afternoon telling me you were his. But I couldn't help it. You have always felt like mine." His mouth takes yours, his tongue delving inside. There are demands in his kiss. Being his has always come with a high cost. Your intuition tells you that this time won't be different. 

You return his kiss with the same fervor. The hand under the pillow snakes out to wrap lightly around your throat, anchoring you. He pulls back, more than a little breathless, his plush lips parted. His other hand moves to your breast, his fingers rolling your nipple. He watches your face. Your eyes stay on his, your lips part, and you moan from the contact. His hazel eyes darken as his pupils dilate. "Do you want me?" He asks in a low voice. "Yes," comes out as a breathy sigh. "Please tell me. I need to hear it." 

"I want you, Steve," you say, pressing your ass against his thick swollen cock. A contented groan leaves his mouth, and his hand moves between your thighs. "Look at how wet you are for me." His fingers glide through your folds, dipping into your pussy. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly as he positions himself at your entrance and sinks inside you from behind. You cry out as your walls stretch around him, the position allowing him to go incredibly deep, burying himself to the root." So full," you gasp, feeling drunk on him. He moves your leg back down, so your thighs press tightly together. He moves at a slow tempo, smoothly rolling his hips. He softly and tenderly caresses your body. His fingers feather down your arm, the curve your hip, your stomach, and breasts. 

The emotions build up inside you. The years of love and longing. The heartbreak and loss. You're so very tired of crying. You slam your hips back, wanting some pain to push it all down. "Hey, hey." He squeezes your hip to slow your movements. "Stay with me. Let me get you there." He presses small kisses to your cheek and temple. Breathing through your nose, you concentrate on the words he's whispering in your ear.

"It's okay. I'll take care of you. You don't have to hide from me. I feel it too." 

He knows you, just like he said, and you know him too. He demands your vulnerability, your emotion. He's strong enough to carry them. His fingers begin to lazily circle your clit. Your orgasm builds incredibly slow, cresting in big surges that go on and on. You both moan as your muscles clutch him. He pushes your knees up, moving faster through his last few strokes before cumming hard while groaning your name.

After It could have been awkward, but it's not. He made eggs while you showered. Then he sat with you while you ate before taking his turn. He takes every opportunity to touch you, a hand on your shoulder or in your hair, his lips on your forehead. He holds your hand while driving you to your car. He kisses you deeply as his co-worker pulls into the lot and doesn't seem to mind that she could see him do it. 

"I want to see you again," he tells you as you lean against the passenger door of his BMW while he keeps hold of your hand. 

"You've got my number." Giving his hand a little squeeze, you let go and walk towards your car. His fingers wrap around your wrist, and he yanks you back to him, placing his hands on your biceps. "I know I have no right to ask you this." Those eyes, flecked with gold, bounce back and forth, watching yours with an intensity you haven't experienced from him before. "Is it too late? Could you ever love me again?" 

You used to think your heart was made of glass. There was a limit to how much it could hold. It became more fragile every time it shattered and mended. But maybe it was always elastic, snapping but not breaking. Maybe it could stretch to love them both. "I can't make you any promises right now," you tell him honestly. "But yeah, I think maybe I could." 

"We have time to figure it out, right?" He asks, swallowing. 

You nod your head and wrap your arms around him. "I'll be back for Thanksgiving."

"That's not too far away." His fingers comb through your hair.

He holds the Beetle's door open as you climb inside. "What are you doing tonight?" He gives you that lopsided cocky smirk that tells you he already knows the answer. 

"I'll be around."

He leans in to press his lips against yours. "I'll find you." He shuts your door and heads inside. 

Loose asphalt crunches under your tires, and you bounce slightly in your seat as you turn onto the uneven road that leads into Forest Hill Trailer Park. It occurs to you that you hadn't made the conscious decision to come here, nor do you remember the drive over. Your foot hits the brakes, and a small cry escapes your mouth as Eddie's trailer comes into view. Whatever you expected, it wasn't this. The trailer is split lengthwise from the middle to the front end. The metal is curling and jagged at the edges as if it was cut open with a can opener. The two halves lean away from each other, exposing their contents. Steve had explained to you that Eddie hadn't died here. He made you promise not to dig for information. He would answer your question the best he could. It was a promise you would keep. For now. 

A car horn honks from behind you, reminding you that you're stopped in the middle of the road. After pulling to the side, you step out, and you're hit with the pain all over again as the last glimmer of hope that somehow Steve had been mistaken dies inside you. Eddie's curtains blow out of his broken windows. Stepping to your toes, you try to get a better look. The walls in his room still hold pieces of ruined posters, and you can pick out a few familiar pieces of clothing lying amongst the debris. If you could reach them, would they still smell like him? No photos were taken of the two of you, no mementos or tokens. It's as if you two never existed. The only place that held any memory of your time with him is here, and it's in pieces. Wanting to be closer, you climb the front steps and reach for the door.

"Miss! Miss, you can't go in there." An older man standing there. His white beard stained yellow, likely from the lit cigarette in his hand. It takes a minute to register that he's speaking to you.

"It's not safe." He explains.

"Right. Of course," you say, stepping away.

"It's a shame what happened in there. Did you know that freak?"

"I loved him." You respond in a clear voice that carries no shame. 

The man has the courtesy to look embarrassed and mumbles his condolences. You stare him down as he backs away, leaving you alone. There is a pile of weather-damaged furniture on the curb. Eddie's acoustic is lying on the old kitchen table, smashed to pieces. A lone string is still attached to the neck. There's a soft squeak as you run your fingertip down the ridged length. Alongside it, the light bounces off the single shard of mirror left in the cracked frame. Pulling gently, mindful of the sharp edges, you work it gently from the frame. Placing it in your palm, you angle it to catch a glimpse of your reflection, hoping it will be his face staring back at you. A sharp sting causes you to drop it, and like all fragile things, it shatters as it hits the ground. A thin line of red marks your palm. 

Refusing to let the sum of his life be a pile of broken things, you sit at a nearby picnic table, tracing the scarred wood with your fingers, remembering him. There is the sound of children playing nearby, and a few people come and go staring at you curiously like you don't belong here. Maybe Eddie had thought that too. But you don't see any of that. All you see is him. The sound before his chuckle turned into a laugh. The way he would hold out his hand behind him without looking at you, knowing you would take it. How he would try to keep from smiling when you peppered his face with kisses so you would keep doing it longer, his cheeks eventually rising despite himself. His fingers moving swiftly over the frets of his guitar. His eyes bouncing to the clock waiting for Wayne to leave so he could pull you into his lap, sitting beside you wasn't close enough. Each smile that made your heart beat faster. How it felt when he touched you. His laughter. Every word. Every kiss. Every moment. Vowing to never let a memory fade, you lock them all in your heart where he'll live now, forever beautiful and always with you. This time you won't leave him behind. 

Epilogue

5 years later.

It wasn't raining today, but it felt like it should have been. It was a clear, crisp day. A slight breeze has blown a few red and gold leaves to the base of the black granite stone that had been installed the day before, and you bend to clear them away. A hand wraps around yours as you straighten, giving it a squeeze. His blue eyes crinkle at the corners, and although taller now, the brown curls still make him look boyish. Dustin steps in front of the small crowd gathered to finally say their goodbyes. His words are brief but moving. Eddie would have been proud to have seen the man he had become. A few birds catch your eye as they sail from the swaying branches of the large white oak. It felt right that he should have some shelter when it storms. When it's over, people huddle in small groups sharing a memory or two before wandering back to their cars. Wayne makes his way to you, looking older than he should, his eyes full and watery. He grips your hand and breathes out a shaky "thank you." The tears you've been holding back start to fall. 

"It wasn't me," you tell him, glancing over at Steve, standing just off to the side in a black suit, one hand crossed over the other. Steve looks surprised when Wayne holds out his hand for a shake but pulls him into a hug. The others walk back to the road, but you linger, sitting on the cold ground, legs tucked off to the side, tracing the words etched into the stone. There wasn't anything to bury, just the stone, but you can feel him here all the same. Steve returns after walking to others to their cars, offering you his hand. "Are you ready to go home?" After placing a smooth stone you collected from the ocean on Eddie's gravestone, you let Steve lead you back to the car. He came to you one morning, letting you know the arrangements had been made, saying he wanted you and Dustin to have a place to visit, but it also might have been a debt he felt needed to be paid. After much discussion on what should be printed on the stone, Steve left it for you and Dustin to decide.

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[non-un-topo]

13 Books Tag Game

Was tagged by @disregardandfelicity Thank you! This is really getting me back into the spirit of reading. I needed this <3

1) The last book I read:

Coma by Alex Garland. I love him as a director, and I just recently found out he's also written some books. It was fun and mind-bendy, sort of reminded me of the stuff I try to write. Also really fast. I think I finished it in one or two hours.

2) A book I recommend:

Moving Forward Sideways Like a Crab by Shani Mootoo. I recently formed a little book club around this book because I just think it's so special. And almost no one has heard of it, which is such a shame! Everything this author writes is just stunning. Heartbreaking, guttural, sometimes disturbing, but always always stunning.

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

Pillars of Light by Jane Johnson. Became one of my all-time favourites almost immediately, and I plowed right through it. I've been itching to read it again, actually. Oh, John the sad gay foundling, I miss reading from your pov...

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more):

For some reason I've read Room by Emma Donoghue twice. I wouldn't be able to stomach it now, but I guess it did something for me at the time. If anything, it's a fast read once you get used to the five year old's voice.

5) A book on my TBR:

So, soooo many... After the book I'm currently reading, I was hoping to pick up White Noise by Don DeLillo or Foe by Iain Reid.

6) A book I’ve put down:

Cloud Atlas, for now. Just sort of fell out of it by accident.

7) A book on my wish list:

And Then She Fell by Alicia Elliott. I've read her other book, A Mind Spread Out on the Ground, and I genuinely think it's one of those must-reads for any Canadian (or non-Canadian) interested in Indigenous lit.

8) A favorite book from childhood:

I was partial to The Spiderwick Chronicles. In earlier childhood, though, it was The BFG by Roald Dahl.

9) A book you would give to a friend:

The Solitude of Prime Numbers by Paolo Giordano. I know what you're thinking --- kind of a depressing book to give to a friend. And yes, it is depressing and very rough. But it opened something in my heart, idk. I felt comforted by it. I would also give a friend The Bonesetter's Daughter by Amy Tan. Basically, books that have made me cry and hug them after I finished them.

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own

Can't remember the titles off the top of my head, but I have some Neruda. My partner is the poetry reader.

11) A nonfiction book you own:

Oh, sooooo many. I used to only read non-fiction for the longest time. But I'll go with the one that makes me look the most pretentious: Gender Trouble by Judith Butler. Found in the special little book sale room at the library I work at.

12) What are you currently reading:

The Kite Runner, for the first time. It's as gorgeous and heartbreaking as promised.

13) What are you planning on reading next?

Essex Dogs by Dan Jones. I bought a copy last year, got a few chapters in, then gave it to my dad for Christmas because we're big Dan Jones fans and I couldn't find another copy anywhere. I waited months for my new copy, so I have to read it now!

Hmm, tagging @spacegirlsgang @raedear @captainshakespear @maddielle @polarcell @knoepfchen but no pressure ofc

[maybeimamuppet]

the rainbow road

hello everyone!! 

happy priiiiide i actually genuinely did not plan having this be the first fic i posted in pride month but daaaaang it worked out lol

this was requested by OnlyHere4TheFandoms on wattpad. here it be yay :))

quite possibly the longest list of trigger warnings i’ve ever had haha oops 

pre-coming out misgendering/deadnaming 

trans/homophobia

child abuse

abandonment

bullying 

outing

self harm 

suicide attempt/ideation

implied ed

dslur

happy pride once again. whether you realized it like these kiddos or much later in life. whether you’re out and proud or watching from the closet. much love <33

enjoy!

—————

Janis still remembers the first time she thought something was up with her best friend. 

They were six years old. Having a play date at Janis’ house. Dana’s mom had come to pick her up, but they begged and pleaded and managed to get their mothers both to agree to another two whole hours while they had some coffee and caught up. 

They decided to play their favorite game, knights and princesses. Dana is always the knight. Janis doesn’t mind so much. She likes being the princess. Her old pink princess Halloween costume doesn’t fit so well anymore since she’s grown so much, but she can pretend it’s not so tight and itchy. It’s as easy as pretending the crown on her head isn’t plastic and standing on her dresser is as scary as being locked high away in a tower guarded by a fearsome dragon.

“Fear not, fair maiden!” Dana says, brandishing her sword against Janis’ puppy, Molly. “I will slay this foul beast and save you from your… uh… jail!” 

“Imprisonment, Dana,” Janis says with a roll of her eyes. She giggles as Molly chomps down on the foam sword and shakes her head, trying to steal the toy. 

“Hey! Molly,” Dana giggles, wiggling it gently to wrestle it back.

“You’re not supposed to eat it, Molly,” Janis laughs. Molly’s dragon hat is falling off, so she hops down and adjusts it. 

“Hey! You’re not supposed to get down! How am I supposed to save you now?” 

“I guess the princess saved herself this time,” Janis says with a shrug. She rolls on the ground to wrestle with the delighted pup and eventually rips off the dragon costume. “The beast is… vanished!” 

“Vanquished!” Dana admonishes.

“That’s it!” Janis nods. 

“We gotta read more storybooks, I think,” Dana says as she starts pulling off her foam armor. 

“I’ll ask for more for my birthday soon.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Dana nods eagerly. Janis pulls off her hot, itchy dress, but decides to leave the crown on. “Janis?”

“Yeah?” 

“D’you ever wish you could be a boy? And not just for dress up?”

“Mm… no,” Janis says. “Well, sometimes I wish that girls could kiss girls like boys get to. But I don’t think I wanna be a boy.”

Dana is quiet, running her finger over the new teeth marks in her sword. 

“Why?” 

“Nothing. You wanna play spacemans?” Dana says, dropping her sword on the floor. Janis will definitely be in trouble later if she doesn’t clean up, but that can wait. Spacemans comes first. 

“Yeah!” she says, conversation forgotten. 

—————

They were ten when they learned there was a word for everything. 

Dana had been deemed old enough to inherit her dad’s old work laptop after he got a new one. She quickly discovered the wonder of the internet. And a few of the horrors. 

Janis came over for a sleepover. They watched a few pirated PG-13 movies. Janis had to be talked into it, briefly fearing the police would find out and come to lock them up for good. Or worse, their parents. God knows what they would do. 

Dana reassured her that she had done this before and no police nor parents had ever found out. They’d be fine as long as they didn’t fess up. Janis was pinky-sworn to secrecy and let herself enjoy a few movies. 

“D’you remember when we were little and you said you wanna kiss girls?” Dana asks as the third one’s credits scroll on the fuzzy old screen. 

“What?!” Janis gasps. 

“Hey, you said it,” Dana says. 

“I did not! I don’t wanna kiss anyone!” 

“You did so!” Dana insists. 

“And besides, girls can’t kiss other girls!” Janis huffs. “It’s illegal.” 

“No it’s not,” Dana giggles. “It’s just illegal for girls and girls and boys and boys to get married. But my mom says they’re gonna change it soon.” 

“Oh,” Janis says. 

“So you can kiss girls if you want to.” 

“I don’t! Gross!” Janis groans, burying her face in her pillow. 

“Not even Regina George?” Dana teases. Janis rears up with a gasp and whacks her with a pillow. 

“You’re horrible!” 

“Ow, hey!” Dana laughs. “You’re horribler.” 

“That’s impossible,” Janis grumbles. 

“But I’m your best friend! We got the necklaces and everything!” Dana gasps. 

“They say cousins, Dana,” Janis says with a roll of her eyes. 

“My mom read the package wrong. At least they match,” Dana huffs, closing the laptop and rolling onto her back. 

“Why’d you ask me that?” Janis asks quietly, lying on her stomach next to her. 

“Ask you what?” 

“About the… kissing girls thing.” 

“Oh,” Dana says. “I found a website. I think it’s bad. But there’s a word for girls who kiss girls. Called lesbian. And another word for girls who wanna be boys.” 

“Really?” Janis asks. “We’re not the only ones?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Huh. What’s the word for you?”

“Transgender,” Dana recites immediately. She’s clearly done a good bit of research here. 

“Like Transformers?” Janis asks. 

“I think so. Cause they… transform.” 

“Into a boy?” 

“Yeah. But it can go the other way, too. Some boys wanna be girls,” Dana says in disbelief. “Who’d ever wanna be a girl?”

“I dunno. Girls are prettier. And they smell better,” Janis says. 

“When I’m a boy I’ll still be pretty,” Dana says. “And smell nice.” 

“You can turn into a boy?” Janis asks. 

“I’m gonna ask my mom soon. And my dad always says he wants a son. They’ll be happy,” Dana says. 

“Cool. Can I come when you transform?” Janis asks. 

“Duh!” Dana says. “You gotta make sure they’re not actually gonna turn me into a truck or something.” 

“Oh yeah,” Janis giggles. 

“Do… you think you’ll still be my friend? When I’m a boy?” Dana asks quietly. 

“Duh,” Janis retaliates, poking her best friend in the belly. “We got the necklaces, after all.” 

“Good. You wanna go watch Mulan in the basement?” Dana asks. 

“I’ll get the popcorn!” 

—————

Janis noticed how uncomfortable her friend looked being called a ‘she’ or a ‘her’ or ‘Dana’ after that day. Always a grimace or a wince. She’d fold her arms over her chest, almost like she was trying to keep down the things she knew were doomed to come. 

She never did around Janis, though. Something about their history together, Janis supposed. 

Then Dana’s dad left. 

They were eleven. 

It was November. They’d gotten home from school a few hours earlier eager for three extra days off of school for Thanksgiving break. 

Janis was playing in the backyard with her almost-five year old little sister when she heard two car doors open and close from the other side of the house and the doorbell echoing from inside. 

She continued pushing her sister on the swings, figuring it must be someone trying to sell something or convince them to find Jesus. Janis hopes that whoever this Jesus guy is, his family find him soon. Sounds like they’ve been missing him for a long time. 

“Janis, Julie, time to come in,” their father says. Janis looks up and shudders a bit at the dark look gracing his features. 

“But-” Julie begins to protest. 

“Now, girls.” 

“No fair!” Julie whines, climbing off the swing and moping inside. Janis has been bored for a while, and it’s getting dark and cold. She heads in with nowhere near as much complaint. 

She freezes when she sees her best friend crying at the end of the hallway and their mothers talking frantically in hushed voices. 

“Mama? What’s going on?” 

“Oh, Janis!” her mother gasps. “You scared me. Why don’t you go get Dana set up in your room, dear?” 

“Um… okay?” Janis says in confusion. “What’s-” 

“I’ll explain later. You two go get settled in. Dana’s spending the night tonight.” 

Janis knows the tense look in her mother’s brow means now is not the time to push. She gently tugs on Dana’s sleeve to get her to follow her upstairs. Dana sags onto Janis’ bed like a thousand pound weight is sitting on her shoulders. Janis has never seen her cry like this. 

Janis leaves her to her feelings while she gets a sleeping bag unrolled on the ground next to her bed and grabs a spare pillow. She hesitates briefly before she sits down next to her best friend. “What happened?” 

“I… I told them,” Dana chokes. 

“Told them what?” 

“That-that I want to be a boy.” 

“Oh.” Janis says quietly. “You still want to?” 

“Not anymore,” Dana growls. “Not if this is what people do.” 

“What do you mean?” Janis asks sadly. Dana turns to look at her head on, and Janis gasps when she sees the red, almost glowing, hand-shaped welt on her cheek. “Dana!” 

“Can-can you not call me that? Please?” Dana begs. 

“Okay. What-what should I call you instead?” Janis asks, pausing her concern for the briefest of moments. 

“I don’t know. Anything but that.” 

“How about… D?” Janis asks. Dana nods frantically. Or, D does. “D, who hit you?” 

“Dad,” D chokes. 

“Your dad hit you? He can’t do that!” Janis says. 

“He did anyway,” D sobs. 

“Why?” Janis asks, desperately trying to understand. 

“He-he called me a freak. He said I was confused, but I told him-him that I’ve been-been thinking about-bout this for a really-really long time. And then he… he hit me. And he left.” 

“He can’t do that!” Janis repeats. “Your mom better talk to him when he comes back.”

D looks at her sadly. She’s quiet for a minute before whispering, “He-he’s not coming back, Janis.” 

“What do you mean?” Janis asks, feeling her chest go cold. 

“He packed his stuff. He said he wasn’t gonna-gonna stick around if this is how I was gonna make-make him live. He said it wasn’t right.” 

Janis blinks in confusion. D’s dad was always a little scary. But she never would’ve thought the man who grilled them delicious cheeseburgers on nice summer days while they played in D’s backyard, the man who made them pancakes for breakfast after sleepovers, the man who sang embarrassing karaoke with them at D’s tenth birthday, the man who gave them sparklers on the Fourth of July and birthday presents and new stuffed animals… would do this. 

“I’m sorry, D,” Janis says, not knowing what else to say. “I’ll be right back.” 

D looks up in confusion as Janis says this and watches as she runs out of the room. Their moms have moved to the living room, and Janis’ stepdad is putting Julie to bed down the hall. Janis runs into the kitchen to grab an ice pack and a towel for D’s face, and some ice cream with two spoons. 

“Janis, sweetheart,” D’s mother says. “Did… did Dana tell you what happened?” 

Janis nods solemnly. “She wants to be called D now, Mrs. Leigh.” 

“D?” she questions. She nods tightly. It’s quiet for a moment before she says, “Thank you for being there for her, honey.” 

Janis just nods. She lingers for a second. Nobody says anything, so she takes a few steps back towards her room. When nobody stops her, she runs the rest of the way back. 

“Here,” Janis says when she makes it back. D jumps as the door slams open, still on edge from what happened earlier. She smiles just a little as Janis shows off the ice cream. 

They lie side by side, D holding the ice pack against her cheek and sniffling periodically as they silently enjoy their favorite chocolate chip ice cream. 

Eventually, Janis’ mom knocks quietly on the door. Janis looks to D, who nods hesitantly. “Come in.” 

Janis’ mom steps in and shuts the door behind her. “How are you doing, Dan- uh. D?” 

“I’m okay,” D says quietly. 

“Poor girl,” Janis’ mother tuts. D tenses. 

“Mama, don’t call her a girl anymore,” Janis scolds, noticing her friend’s discomfort. 

“I don’t wanna be a her either,” D mumbles softly. 

“What do you wanna be then?” Janis asks. D shrugs. 

“Do you want to be a he?” Janis’ mother asks kindly. D shakes her head frantically. 

“What else is there?” Janis asks. 

Janis’ mother mulls this over and says, “Could be a they. Somewhere sort of in between.” 

“You wanna be a they, D?” Janis asks gently. D ponders. 

“Could we try it out? Just for tonight?” they ask quietly. 

“Of course,” Janis’ mother says kindly. “Have you had dinner, D?” 

“Yeah,” D nods. 

“And we got ice cream, Mama,” Janis says. 

Janis’ mother chuckles. “Of course. Just don’t eat too much, you know it’ll make your stomachs hurt.” 

D and Janis share a look that says they’re definitely going to finish the entire thing. Janis’ mother rolls her eyes. She inhales heavily before she gently says, “D, sweetheart, I couldn’t… help but notice your hair.” 

D instinctively reaches a hand to the back of their head. Janis somehow missed the huge chunk missing of their formerly long, beautiful chestnut brown hair. 

“Do you want me to help you fix it?” Janis’ mother continues. 

D hesitates, the hand they have wrapped around the spoon shaking. They put it down and grip their thighs to stop it. “Um… maybe later?” 

“Of course. Let me know if you want, alright? You two have fun up here. Julie’s asleep, so keep the noise to a minimum, please.” 

“We will,” Janis sighs. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Ian,” D adds politely. Janis’ mother smiles before she leaves them to their ice cream, clicking the door shut behind her. 

“What happened to your hair?” Janis asks. 

“I cut it,” D says sheepishly. 

“No duh, stupid,” Janis snorts. “Why?” 

“I don’t want it long anymore. That’s how my parents found out,” D says, pushing some of the ice cream around the rapidly emptying pint before hesitantly taking another bite. 

“My mom’s good at hair. She does my stepdad’s all the time,” Janis says. “She still won’t let me dye mine, though.”

“But your hair is so pretty!” D gasps. 

“That’s what she always says,” Janis huffs. 

“Why do you want to dye it?” 

“Regina wants us to match,” Janis shrugs. “Kinda like a uniform.” 

“You’d look nice as a blonde,” D nods. “I like your hair dark, though.” 

Janis shrugs again. “It’s what Regina wants.”

“But what do you want?” 

“For her not to hit me again,” Janis chuckles. 

“She hit you?” 

“Yeah. Not hard. It’s fine,” Janis says. 

“Friends shouldn’t hit you, Janis,” D says. 

“I know that, Da- D. She didn’t mean it, it’s fine. Let it go.” 

D eyes her oddly, but doesn’t mention anything again. The handprint on their cheek fades as they huddle together under Janis’ pink duvet and watch The Little Mermaid. 

“D’you think your mom will still do my hair?” D asks softly, fiddling with a stray thread on the blanket. Janis checks the clock on the computer and sees it’s past midnight now. Her mom might be asleep. They’re definitely supposed to be. 

She shrugs. “If she’s still up, she probably will.”

They both roll out of the bed and head off to find Janis’ mom. They hear raised voices coming from the kitchen.

“Wait here,” Janis says when they reach the top of the stairs. D looks at her in confusion, but sits and watches Janis go down. Janis heads down the hallway and stands there, listening. 

“I just don’t want Janis hanging around those kinds of people, Ettie,” she hears her stepdad say. 

“And what kind of people would that be, Greg?” her mom responds. 

She can practically hear her dad’s grit teeth. “You know damn well.” 

“They’re eleven years old. Nothing is-”

“Exactly. Eleven is way too young to be exposed to that sort of lifestyle.” 

“How is a child living in a way that makes them comfortable a lifestyle?” Janis’ mother questions. 

“It just isn’t natural, Ettie!” her father insists. “What if she influences Janis to be… like that?” 

“You know damn well nobody can influence Janis into anything she doesn’t want to do,” her mother huffs around a sardonic laugh. “If Janis does come out as something, she will still be my daughter. And I’d hope she’d be yours too.” 

It’s silent after that. Janis shows her face from behind the wall and tries her best to make it seem like she didn’t hear their whole conversation. “Mama, D wants to know if you can help with their hair now.”

“Now? It’s late, don’t you two want to get some sleep?” her mother responds. She forces a smile, but Janis can still see the strain behind her eyes and the tension held in her brow. 

“Mama,” Janis huffs with a roll of her eyes. 

Her mother chuckles. “Of course not. Go get her- them set up in the bathroom, I’ll be right up.” 

“Mmkay,” Janis says. She heads back up to her best friend, trying to forget what she just heard. “D, come on.” 

D follows her to the bathroom and winces a bit as she flips on the light, having gotten adjusted to the darkness of the hallway. Janis’ mother comes up after a few minutes with a stool from the kitchen. She sets it in front of the mirror and tells D to sit down on it. 

“How short do you want to go? I can just even it out with what you cut, if you want, or I can go shorter if you want… something more masculine,” she asks as she snaps the hair cutting cape around D’s neck. 

“I think just even it out, please,” D asks sheepishly. Janis can see their hands moving under the cape and sits on the counter so they can see each other. 

“You sure?” she asks. D nods. 

“Alrighty then,” Janis’ mother says. She takes her hair cutting scissors and goes to work, occasionally turning D’s head this way and that to make sure it’s even and looks nice. Long chunks of brown hair fall to the tile around them as she continues. Eventually, D’s hair is all about even with their chin. It frames their round face, and D looks at themselves with a smile. 

“What do you think?” Janis’ mother asks as she brushes some stray hairs off the back of D’s neck. 

“I like it a lot,” D says. “Thank you, Mrs. Ian.” 

“Of course, hon.” 

“Now me!” Janis says eagerly, watching how D’s hair bounces and twirls at this new short length. 

“You?” her mother chuckles. “I don’t remember asking if you wanted a haircut.” 

“But I’m telling you I want a haircut,” Janis responds. “Pleeeeease?” 

“We have to match,” D adds, knowing they have more sway with their friend’s parents than Janis ever could. Janis’ mother rolls her eyes, but pats the stool. 

“Yes!” Janis says, eagerly plopping herself down. She panics a bit as her mom snips off the first chunk and she hears the scissors slicing through her hair. Her mother leaves her hair a little bit longer, but she does lose a good few inches. Janis’ is about even with her shoulders by the time her mother is done. 

“Matching enough for the two of you?” she asks, brushing Janis clean of stray hairs. D and Janis look to each other and nod eagerly. 

“Your hair is so curly, D,” Janis chuckles. 

“Yours is too!” D responds with a giggle. 

Janis’ mom rolls her eyes as they both reach out to tug on each other’s newly short hair and it naturally devolves into playful fighting. She tidies up and goes to grab her camera. 

Janis and D pose against the wall in the hallway, arms around each other and matching smiles on their faces. Janis’ mother snaps a few sweet photos. 

“Alright, you two, to bed with you. Just because you’re on break doesn’t mean you get to stay up all night,” she says when she’s satisfied with what she’s gotten. 

“Fine. ‘Night Mama,” Janis says. 

“Goodnight, baby girl,” her mother replies. She kisses her forehead and sends her off to her room. 

“Goodnight, Mrs. Ian,” D says sheepishly. They get a matching forehead kiss. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams, you two.” 

D curls up in the sleeping bag on the floor while Janis gets comfortable in her bed. Molly trots in and curls up at her feet, but it feels… off. Janis tosses and turns, feeling the minutes drag by and by. Sleep doesn’t come. 

Eventually, she flops onto her side to peer off the edge of the bed at her best friend. “Psst.” 

“What?” D groans exhaustedly. 

“Are you awake?” 

“No,” D grumbles. “Whayouwant.” 

“I can’t sleep,” Janis whines. 

D rolls over and squints at her in the darkness. “What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Can we still cuddle even though you’re not a girl anymore?” 

D rolls their eyes and clambers their way out of the sleeping bag. Janis winces at the icky metallic rustling noise it makes, but smiles victoriously as her friend climbs into bed with her. “Goodnight, D.”

“‘Night, Janis.” 

—————

Things are okay until seventh grade. 

Dana’s family adjusted to not having their dad around. It took time, but she and her mom were actually thriving after a few months. D’s mom went back to nursing school and took a job at the hospital, and Dana started a support group composed of kids with absent fathers to help them cope with the new change. Things were weird, but… good. Good weird. 

D flipped back and forth every day (and sometimes hour to hour) on how they wanted to be referred to. Some days are she-days and Dana days. Other days are they-days. Janis cackled the first time they referred to these as D-days. 

They had one he-day about a month ago just to try it. D was anxious. Janis didn’t mention anything, but it was the happiest she’d seen her friend in a long time. 

Regina stopped spending time with Dana. She said they dressed weird and didn’t fit with the group anymore. D actually seemed relieved to be out. Janis was still in, though, and Dana was fine with that. 

Until one brisk March morning. 

Janis is, as always, the first one at school since both her parents work early mornings. It’s cool but not too cold outside today, so she sits on the concrete steps outside the main doors and sketches out Regina’s birthday card. She’s turning thirteen next month. The party is sure to be a big one. Janis can’t tell if she’s excited or completely dreading it. 

She looks up when she hears clicking footsteps on the pavement next to her. Regina is there, surrounded by a flock of the half-popular girls who managed to get into Regina’s good books for today. 

“Janis, I just wanted to tell you that I can’t invite you to my birthday party.” 

Janis frowns in confusion and tucks her pencil behind her ear. “What? Why? I-I’m your best friend.” 

“I can’t invite you because I think you’re a lesbian,” Regina says. “It’s a pool party and there’s gonna be girls there in their bathing suits, I can’t have a lesbian at my party.” 

Fuck. Janis knew telling Regina she had a crush on Rapunzel in that new Disney movie would come back to bite her. She feels a burning behind her eyes and bites her lip to stop it trembling. Don’t be a baby. Not now. 

“I mean, are you a lesbian?” Regina titters. The girls behind her echo her like some sadistic flock of birds. “What are you?” 

Janis feels like she’s going to be sick. Something she’s never felt before is writhing and squirming in her gut. It rises, and rises, and… “I am a space alien and I have four butts!” 

Regina blinks at her for a second. Neither of them are quite sure what to make of what Janis just said in earnest. But Regina breaks first. She bursts out into that fakey pretty laugh that’s all she ever does now. Janis scrambles to grab her things and runs into the building, only letting a sob escape as the heavy metal door slams behind her. 

She debates running to the office to call home and ask to be picked up. But if she leaves, people will notice. People will ask. People will tell Regina. Regina will win. 

She can make it through today. Through this year. It’s already March, she only has about two months left. She can handle that. Even without who she thought was one of her best friends. Forever. 

Janis spends the morning hiding in a sneaky corner in the girls’ bathroom, not able to care if she gets marked absent or tardy in her classes. She doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t sketch or play games on her iPod or do anything. She just thinks. Counting off every time the bell rings. 

She can hear the rabble outside signaling lunch time. A few girls come into the bathroom to touch up their makeup or hide away from the tempting food they’re trying to avoid even though they’re already pencil thin. None of them see her, but Janis sees them. 

“Did you hear about Janis?” one of them asks. 

“Regina’s friend?” the other responds, sounding like she’s trying not to touch her lips together as she touches up some gloss. 

“Yeah.”

“No, what did she do?” 

Janis rolls her eyes. Of course those two-faces immediately assume she’s the one at fault. That she’s done something wrong here. Has she? 

“She’s a lesbian.” 

“A what?” 

“A lesbian. It means she wants to bang other girls,” the first says. 

“Gross!” the other groans. “We have to share a bathroom with her!” 

“I know! She’s probably been spying on us changing in the locker rooms all this time and we were none the wiser!” 

No, I have taste, Riley, Janis thinks to herself. And I don’t even want to bang girls anyway. Well, kiss some, maybe. But everyone wants to do that. Right? 

“Someone should tell the principal. She shouldn’t be allowed to be around other girls.”

“Right? It’s so creepy,” the other girl says. 

Janis doesn’t come out from her spot until she hears their heels clacking off down the hall and the door slamming shut after them. 

She almost doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair falls just past her shoulders. Her curls have stretched into more of a loose wave from the damage the bleaching has done to it. Being… forced straight. She looks like a clone of Regina George. 

She wants to claw her skin off beneath the pink polyester dress she’s wearing today. It feels like poison against her skin, seeping slowly into her bloodstream. It itches. It hurts. 

Does everyone know? Janis asks herself as she splashes some cold water on her face and tries to make herself look tough. Does everyone think… that? 

She jumps as someone else comes bursting in. “Janis! Oh, thank god, there you are.” 

“D? What are you doing, you’re not-”

“Have you been to your locker?” Dana asks frantically. 

“No. I’ve been in here all morning,” Janis says, holding herself protectively and looking down at her ballet flats. Despite all of Regina’s best efforts, she hasn’t gotten the hang of heels yet. Maybe she never will, now. 

D looks at her sadly. “You… you should come with me.” 

Janis eyes them suspiciously, but does grab her bag and finally leaves the bathroom for the first time that morning. “Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see,” Dana says with a grim tone. She winds through the hallways until they’re in the science hallway. Janis’ locker is here. 

She can spy it from a mile away. The normally blue metal is covered in neon sticky notes. Janis hesitantly steps closer. 

The post-its say various things. Go away, dyke and Lesbo and Pervert and Creeper. Some crude drawings scatter the mix, of things Janis doesn’t ever want to know. 

They outline something scrawled in Sharpie, directly on the metal. Space Dyke. 

Janis could recognize Regina’s handwriting anywhere. That swirly, excessive, frilly cursive. Janis always had a hard time reading it, but she understands this full well. 

This time, she can’t bring herself to be strong. The tears start to fall as she slowly picks off every little note stuck to the metal. She knew these people weren’t her friends, but for them to hate her this much… 

D stands a few feet behind and watches her, unsure what to do. She isn’t using new pronouns or a different name at school. Everyone thought she and Regina just had a falling out. They’ve never been through something like this themselves. 

Janis pulls the last note off with shaking hands and reads it. We know what you are. Leave us alone. 

She breaks down sobbing, dropping the notes at her feet and running as fast as she can towards the office. 

“Janis!” Dana calls, grabbing their things and running after her. 

The secretary looks very concerned as a crying girl comes bursting into the office at high speeds, rapidly followed by someone else. 

“I need- my mom,” Janis spits out, trying and failing to breathe through her sobs. The secretary nods and gestures to the phone on the desk for students to use to call home in emergencies. 

She passes a box of tissues across the desk as Janis picks up the receiver. Janis takes a few and tries to convey her thanks without speaking, knowing that if she tries she’ll only start crying harder. 

Her hands are shaking so hard she misses the first number of the area code. Her knuckles are white around the receiver and she bites her lip to try to force her body to cooperate with her. 

D gently takes the phone out of her hand. “Let me call. You sit down.” 

Janis wants to protest, but she knows she won’t be able to get across what she needs to in her state. She sits on the itchy seats and tries not to growl at a visitor staring at her. She wipes her eyes with the scratchy tissues. The school doesn’t even have the budget for real Kleenex. The tissues might as well be printer paper for all the good they’re doing for her skin. 

“Mrs. Ian? Uh, hi, it’s D. Um, something… something happened at school. Janis is really upset, she needs picked up.” she can almost make out Dana saying over her loud sobbing. 

Her mother says something on the other end. D absentmindedly raps their knuckles against the granite of the desktop. 

“I don’t really know the whole situation, Mrs. Ian. But it’s bad, from what I’ve seen. She really needs to go home,” Dana continues. “I’ll tell her. Bye.” They turn to see her. “Jan, your mom says she’ll be here for you in fifteen minutes.”

Janis nods and tries to breathe. It doesn’t work. She tries to distract herself from the whirling thoughts inside her head by looking around. Wooden table in the corner. Four chairs. Big windows. It’s nice outside today. That’s where Regina-

She shakes her head to snap herself out of it and looks back to the desk. She jumps when she sees D isn’t there anymore. Her stuff is, but not her. 

“Your friend asked to speak to the principal,” the secretary says, coming around the desk to restock Janis’ tissues and give her a bottle of water. 

“P-principal?” Janis chokes. 

“She said he needed to know something urgent.”

Janis puts her head in her hands. Now she really is going to get kicked out of school. Why would Dana tell on her? Did Janis really manage to lose both of her lifelong best friends in one morning?

She’s just about worked herself to the precipice of another downward spiral when Dana comes back with the principal. “Janis, may I speak to you?” 

Janis wants to say no, but she’s probably already in enough trouble. She stands and follows him back to his office. He sits at his desk and motions for her to sit as well. Janis hesitates before sitting down in the cold plastic chair. 

“Your friend told me something happened this morning. Can you help me fill in some details?” 

Janis shrugs and hugs herself, like if she does it tight enough she might just squeeze herself right out of existence. She sniffles and refuses to look him in the eye. 

“Can you tell me your version of events?” he asks. His voice is gentle, but Janis still doesn’t trust it. 

“I-I-I was sketching out-outside,” she begins shakily. He has to lean across his desk to hear her soft voice. Janis doesn’t care. “Re-Regina came… and… she said she could-couldn’t have me at-at her birthday party.” 

“And that’s why you’re so upset?” 

“Be-because she thinks I’m a lesbian.” 

She finally dares to glance up and sees the shock written across his face. “O-okay. Please continue.” 

“She said there were gonna be girls there in-in their bathing-bathing suits so if-if I’m a lesbian I can’t-can’t come. But I’m not! I-I’m not lesbian, I haven’t been-been watching the other girls! Not-not like that. I swear, please-please don’t kick me out of school!” 

“We aren’t kicking you out, Janis, I just need to know what happened so we can figure out the best course of action. This is a very tolerant school, I’m sure you know. Being a lesbian, even if you were, is not valid grounds for expulsion.” 

“O-oh,” Janis sniffs. “She… told everyone I am. I thought it was a bad thing.” 

“Some people believe it is,” the principal says. “I’m not one of them.” 

“Oh,” Janis says again. 

“Can you keep going? With what happened?” 

Janis nods shakily. “Everyone’s been-been talking about me. Saying I’m a gross lesbian a-and I’ve been peeking on other girls in-in the locker room-rooms. And that I-I want to have… um… with… with-with all of them but I don’t! And-and someone… someone wrote space dyke on my locker.” 

“Wrote what now?”

“Space dyke.” 

“Why would someone do that?” the principal asks. Janis shrugs. 

“Can I- can I go now?” 

“Of course. I’ll be speaking to Regina and some of the other girls this afternoon. Is your guardian coming to get you?” he asks. Janis nods. The principal pulls out a notepad and starts writing frantically as Janis turns and leaves. 

Her mom is waiting for her in the office with her backpack and the books she can’t fit into the little designer thing. Janis bursts into tears anew and runs in for some much needed comfort. 

“Shh, baby girl,” her mother hushes. “Let’s go home and get you calmed down. We can talk about what happened later. It’ll be okay.” 

Janis growls in the back of her throat. How can her mother say that when clearly nothing will ever be okay

ever 

again.

—————

The next couple years are a blur of traumatic experiences for the both of them. 

D finally settled on they/them pronouns and going by D all the time. No more Dana, no more girl. Janis still thinks they’d be happier as a he, but she doesn’t mention it. 

D started having panic attacks when they turned thirteen. They got their first period, and their body started changing in ways they weren’t comfortable with. Nobody knew what to do. 

Nobody but Janis. 

Janis was the only one who could talk them out of their panics. She managed to piece together that D felt like they were running out of time. Neither of them knew what they were running out of time for for a good long while. Until Janis put together that this all started along with puberty. 

D was put on hormone blockers a few months later to delay any further development in areas they weren’t ready for. Lo and behold, no more panic attacks. 

Janis didn’t have quite as easy of a time finding her solution. 

She tried getting in touch with Regina. She texted her desperately saying she wasn’t actually a lesbian and since she wasn’t actually a lesbian she could still be trusted at a pool party. 

Regina never answered. 

Janis cried the entire day leading up to Regina’s birthday. She was finally deemed old enough for social media that year, and her entire Instagram homepage as far as the eye could see was every other girl getting ready for a party Janis could never go to. 

D showed up to rescue her and took her out for ice cream and karaoke. Janis almost managed to forget the party as she begrudgingly belted out Disney songs and listened to D’s one-man performance of Fiddler on the Roof. 

But while everyone eventually forgot about the party, nobody forgot about the rumors. Everyone still gossiped about her in the hallways. In the restrooms. Locker rooms. At lunch. In class. 

Things escalated after a while. Janis knew Regina was the puppet master behind it all, playing the whole school like her sick little marionettes. 

She’d orchestrated some clever story to make herself look like the victim in Janis’ story, so she never had any repercussions for anything. She was free.

Free to tell the football team to use their strength to shove Janis into lockers and trash cans. 

Free to tell the other girls to give Janis a wide berth in the hallways and giggle at her clothes behind their hands and hold their breaths as she walked by so they wouldn’t catch anything. 

Free to tell the nerdy kids who sat behind her in class to jab her with pencils and rig her books so all the papers would fall out when she picked them up and leave cruel notes slipped through the slats of her locker. 

Free to tell anyone who could to re-write space dyke on her locker door whenever the school cleaned it off. Even when Janis got a new locker assignment. Even when she got another. Even when she had to start keeping her books in the office because her having a locker was doing too much damage to school property. They found a way. 

Janis couldn’t take it anymore. She started cutting herself over the summer leading to eighth grade. 

She knew it was bad. She knew she shouldn’t do it. She knew how it was bound to end. She knew the statistics she had learned in health class in sixth grade. 

But she couldn’t stop. 

Something about the burn of the blade being dragged through her pale flesh made the thoughts in her head less loud. For a while, all she had to focus on was the glint of the silver metal in her hand. The vibrant, almost glowing, red of her blood against her pallid skin. Watching it flow into the sink or the bathtub and slowly

slowly

stopping. 

It hurt so bad she couldn’t think about anything else. She decided the pain was worth it. 

She wore long sleeved dresses that went to her knees to hide the marks on her arms and her thighs. When too much scarred over she moved somewhere else. Her stomach, her chest, near her shoulders, her hips. 

She was fine. 

She stopped eating. 

She stopped sleeping. 

She lost weight. 

She looked tired. 

She was tired. 

So tired. 

She found a bottle of sleeping pills in her mom’s bathroom. 

She waited. 

She wrote notes.

She looked at the pills. 

She waited some more.

She took them all. 

Her mom found her. 

That scream won’t ever leave either of them. 

She spent a week in the hospital. 

She got her stomach pumped and her arms stitched up.

She stopped going to school. 

She was sent away to an inpatient intensive counseling facility. 

She hated it.

But it helped. 

When she was deemed to no longer be an active risk to herself, she was sent back home. 

The medicine cabinet was empty. The knives were locked in a cabinet she couldn’t reach. She wasn’t allowed to shave her legs anymore. Her dad’s tools were on a high shelf. The door to her bedroom didn’t lock anymore. 

Her dad looked at her with disgust in his eyes. 

Her mom looked at her with pity in her eyes. 

Her sister looked at her with betrayal in her eyes. 

Janis still needed help. She was kept out of school for eighth grade and started homeschooling with online tutors. She went to a pediatric therapist specializing in juvenile depression and self-harm. 

She discovered art. 

She really liked painting. 

Watching the paint flow across a canvas was much nicer. 

Seeing colors other than red. Other than bright, electric pink. 

She didn’t have friends anymore. 

Only D. 

D was there when she woke up in the hospital. They were there the night before Janis went to inpatient. They came to every visiting session. They cried every time they had to leave. 

They screamed at her. How could she do that to herself? Didn’t she think anyone loved her at all? What was she thinking? 

Janis cried and screamed right back. Called it healing.

D was there the day she was released to take her home. 

D was there to tell her every stupid thing Regina and everyone else got up to at school. Janis didn’t really care. D told her anyway. 

In a strange way, they held each other together. Two broken kids patching each other up bit by bit, and swapping little pieces of each other for themselves in the process. Growing together. 

And they changed, and they healed. 

—-

The real catalyst for everything came when they were thirteen. D finished eighth grade. Janis was in the crowd cheering at the top of her lungs at their graduation. They went out for ice cream with their moms and Janis’ sister on Janis’ last day of homeschool to celebrate. 

Their moms posed the idea there. 

A local Pride parade was being thrown in a couple of weeks. Their mothers thought going might be a good idea for both of them. Help them realize they aren’t alone. 

D agreed to go in a heartbeat. Janis was nervous, wary, but if D was going she just had to. They do everything together. You can’t have one without the other. 

They dressed for the heat and packed a bag of stuff they might need. D did some online research first and provided their moms a very helpful list. 

“Are you excited?” Janis’ mom asks when they’re on the way. 

“Yeah!” D says eagerly. Janis nods and wipes her sweaty hands on her pants. D wore shorts, but Janis still has things she’d prefer to keep hidden. 

It takes forever to find a parking spot, and it’s a long walk to their spots to watch the parade. D holds her hand and drags the both of them to the front so they’re close to the road and can see the whole thing. 

Janis jumps as a local school’s marching band kicks off and leads the whole thing. It’s loud, and colorful, and bright. People dance on floats and in the street. All sorts of things are thrown at them. Janis catches some things and dodges a few others. 

A person in nothing but a tutu and some sort of leather harness comes up to personally deliver them some plastic beads. D happily puts theirs on and almost chokes Janis forcing her into hers. 

Janis has never seen so many colors. So many people. People like them. It’s… amazing. 

The parade eventually comes to an end, and the crowd watching scatters to find various activities and foods and things for sale. Their moms trust them to walk around on their own, as long as D keeps their phone on. They head for a nearby field and wander aimlessly for a while. 

A couple doing the same thing catches their eye. They’re older, maybe in their early thirties. Holding hands. One isn’t wearing a shirt and has visible lines on their chest. The other has bright purple hair, a leather jacket with spikes, big black clunky boots, and heavy, dark makeup. 

They notice Janis and D staring at them after a few minutes and come to see what’s up. Purple hair greets them with a, “Hey.” and they both jump. 

“Sorry! We-we didn’t mean to stare at you!” D says frantically. They both laugh. 

“It’s okay. You get used to it looking like we do.” 

“I like your jacket,” Janis says shyly. The person wearing it chuckles. Janis sees she has a pin saying ‘she/her’ on it. 

“Thanks. You wanna touch the spikes?” she says. Janis nods eagerly, so the woman crouches down to let her gently run her fingertips over her shoulder. 

“Is this your first Pride?” her partner asks. Janis and D nod. “Fun! I was your age when I came the first time.” 

“Are you dating?” D asks. They both nod. 

“Are you?” 

“Eww, no!” D and Janis exclaim at the same time. They laugh again. 

“Friends are good too,” the woman chuckles. 

D is still looking at her partner. Specifically at their chest. They notice the looks and gently bring it up. “These are my top surgery scars.” 

“Top surgery?” D questions. 

“I’m trans. I was born female. Or, assigned female at birth, whatever. I had my breasts removed when I was in college and started my transition to help with the dysphoria.” 

D tilts their head. 

“Dysphoria is… hard to describe. But I couldn’t stand living in a female body. I got really depressed. I probably would’ve… wouldn’t have made it much longer if I hadn’t transitioned.” 

“How… how did you know? That you were all the way trans?” D asks softly. 

“That’s a good question,” they chuckle. “You can call yourself whatever you want. Being non-binary fits under the trans umbrella. But I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted my future to look like, and my past and what I wished I could change about it.

“I always kinda dreaded the idea of growing up and marrying a man, having kids and being a mom, things like that. I didn’t have any interest in being an aunt or a grandmother or… a woman. So I started thinking, and really liked the idea of marrying a woman if I got the chance, and being a father, or an uncle or grandpa. And I realized most of my memories with the most hurt from my past were moments where I felt… too feminine. Stuck, kinda. You know what I mean?” 

D nods shakily. The woman reaches out and squeezes their hand. “You have plenty of time to figure out who you want to be, hon. Take some time to explore. It’s okay to flip flop and change your mind all the time. It took this one more than twenty years to come to terms with who he was. The most important thing you can do is try your damndest to love the person you are enough to grow into the person you want to be. You’ll be just fine.” 

D nods again. Janis squeezes their hand too when she sees tears brimming behind their eyes. 

“And it seems like you’ve already got one person in your corner,” the man says. “You can’t control what the people around you do. Finding people like your friend here is really important. I lost a lot of people I really cared about, but finding people who love the real me and getting to love my body and who I am is so worth it. I promise.”

D seems too emotional to speak. Nobody asks them to. Everybody understands. Janis looks back to the woman. “How’d you get your makeup like that?” 

“Loads of practice,” she snorts. “You like it?” 

Janis nods. She’s never seen someone like her before. All the makeup she’s seen has been light and feminine. All she’s been allowed to wear has been pink and natural and dewey and glossy. The woman reaches into her pocket. 

“Here. I’ve never used this before. Consider it a… celebration gift. Something to get you started.” 

Janis opens the fingers she curled around it and sees a tube of lipstick. She untwists the lid and sees it’s the exact same dark purple color the woman is wearing. “Really?” 

“Of course. Happy first Pride, you guys,” the woman says. With a ruffle to their hairs, the couple is off. 

Both Janis and Damian are thinking the same thing. 

I wanna be them someday. 

——————-

D comes out as trans for the second time when he’s 14. They/them pronouns are no more, swapped for he/him. Janis and his mom helped him buy a whole new even more masculine wardrobe. Mostly flannels. Janis got a few too. Sue her, they’re comfy. 

He gets a haircut. Nice and short. Just long enough to still curl on the top, but buzzed everywhere else. A boy’s cut.

Janis shaves the side of her head in solidarity. Again, matching enough for them. But shaving her whole head is a bit much, she thinks. He agrees. 

He also starts experimenting with new names. He decided to stick with D as his first letter. Darius, Dante, Darcy and Darby all lasted about a week respectively. His mom suggested Darwin, which was scrapped almost immediately. 

Janis obviously only suggested the most ridiculous names she could find on baby name websites. Donatello, Delbert, Diesel, Dijon. And, of course, Dick. None of her suggestions were taken. 

It took months and probable hundreds of different names before he found the one that stuck. 

Damian. With an A, because Damien with an E just has the wrong vibes. 

He was Damian. 

Janis doesn’t think she ever saw her friend happier than when he finally got to be Damian. He smiles with his eyes again, something Janis hasn’t really seen in almost five years. He dances and sings and found a local theatre troupe to be part of in addition to all the school shows he’s in. He still gets cast as female roles, but he doesn’t seem so bothered by it anymore. Now that he knows he’s Damian, he’s just… pretending. His femininity is more like a costume he can alter to his will. 

Janis is glad for him. She still doesn’t know what the fresh hell is going on. 

She does think a lot about the woman from the Pride parade. How confident she seemed. How easy it was for her to be her. To be queer. To be happy. She said people stared at her all the time because of the way she dressed and did her hair and makeup. Janis slowly pieces together her own look. 

A jacket she found buried in the attic that belonged to her biological father. She left it hanging on her easel in her bedroom when the inspiration hit her and she started painting the jacket itself. Eyeballs, general swatches of nothing, demons and big bright handprints and even Frida Kahlo on her shoulder after one particularly interesting history class. 

Piece by piece, brushstroke by brushstroke, the jacket comes together. Becomes… hers. 

She buys t-shirts and fishnet tights from Hot Topic with cool designs and bands she’s started listening to. She distresses a few and leaves some plain. She buys denim shorts with spikes on the pockets and gems and frayed hems and puts designs on the backs and so much more. 

A hot day comes in the middle of summer. Janis can’t wear the long pants she usually does to hide the pink scars lining her thighs. She panics and putters around her room to find something she can wear to Damian’s first appointment.

She tries a few dresses, but none are long enough. Her shorts are even shorter. 

She’s about to give up and call her friend to let him know they’ll have to celebrate another time when her hand wraps around the swirly black tights with a design in lace in her underwear drawer. 

She tries them on underneath one of her pairs of shorts. She looks bitchin’. She smiles and grabs a random shirt to go with it and hopes she can make it through the day with her jacket on. Hiding her arms is a whole other monster. 

She runs outside when Damian texts her letting her know he and his mom are waiting for her outside. He’s up in the passenger seat, so Janis slides into the back and buckles herself in. 

“Hi, sweetie,” Damian’s mom greets. 

“Hi, Ms. Hubbard,” Janis says, panting a bit in the heat. 

Damian chatters eagerly the whole way about how excited he is to finally start his hormone therapies, even though it means getting frequent shots. He quite literally skips into the doctor’s office once his mom finds a parking spot. Janis doesn’t blame him. It took almost a year before they got the go-ahead to start hormone replacements. Janis did a lot of googling and found Damian was one of the lucky ones. Some people wait decades. 

Damian is bouncing in his seat in the waiting room a little bit, like a child who can’t sit still. Janis is a little more concerned about what’s about to happen to her friend, but she smiles at his antics and has to run to keep up with him once he finally gets called back. 

The nurse explains roughly what he can expect. To needlephobe Janis, a huge needle going into his poor thigh. But to Damian, it’s everything. Everything begins today. He starts the journey to become who he… is. To get his body to match what they all see him as and what he so desperately wants and needs to be. 

Damian’s entire future is contained in such a small vial. The nurse distracts him as she prepares the needle and the area it’s going into by talking about what he can expect. 

Soreness in his leg, obviously. She tells him it will take a while, but his voice will eventually start getting lower. He won’t have to force it artificially anymore. His body fat will rearrange slightly, again, over a very long period of time. He might even grow facial hair after a few months. 

Janis wonders how long it will take. How worth it this will all feel after three months, six, twelve. But Janis has also seen the hurt her friend has been through. How much he struggled and suffered as a girl. How much pain it brought him. 

She holds hand and his mom holds the other as the needle goes in. Damian’s face pinches briefly at the poke going into his leg, but he looks… relieved. After a single dose he looks like he could get hit by a bus in the parking lot and die a happy man. 

He’s patched up with a bandage and quite literally dances his way out of the establishment. Janis rolls her eyes affectionately and follows after him. His mom stays to get all the information she still needs before rushing to the parking lot after her stray children. 

“How you feeling, hon?” she asks as she slides into the driver’s seat. 

“Amazing!” Damian says. 

“That needle was huge,” Janis says, shuddering at the memory. It didn’t even go into her. 

“I didn’t look at it for a reason,” Damian replies. 

“Y’all want ice cream?” his mom asks.

Damian shouts, “Yes!” so loud Janis’ eardrums rattle. 

—————

Janis goes back to public school in ninth grade. 

It’s a new school, they’re in high school now. A new building. New faculty, some new students. Some old ones too, but she’s hoping either she’s changed or they’ve changed enough that the year will still go okay. Her goal is a month. Anything beyond that is a bonus. 

It’s a new start. 

It’s a nice feeling. 

She dons her new favorite outfit, fishnet tights underneath a dress she painted a design on yesterday to get ready for her first day. She adds her new denim jacket. She started painting it, but it’s still not as busy as she wants it to be. It just needs a little work. 

Her mom drives her since it’s her first day. They stop by to pick up Damian on the way, and he comes prancing down the driveway in all his flamboyant glory. 

His fashion sense actually hasn’t changed all that much since he started physically transitioning. He still wears lots of rainbows, theatre stars, and drag queens on his clothes, they’ve just gotten the more recent additions of flannels and jeans actually purchased from the men’s section. The drag queens are newer too. Damian made Janis watch the entire first season of RuPaul’s Drag Race at their most recent sleepover. Janis still sees all the sequins whenever she closes her eyes. 

Janis’ hands start to shake as soon as she sees the building. She’s been here for orientation and a special event just for incoming freshmen that the seniors put on, but knowing she’s here now for school… it’s different. Knowing there’ll be kids who know her there. Who knew the old Janis. 

She’d like to say she’s a whole new person now. But the truth is, under all her new makeup and the dark roots of her hair that are finally starting to show through the bleach-blonde and her huge jacket is the same petrified little girl in a pink dress that left that day in seventh grade and never came back. 

She’s literally shaking in her boots as she pauses outside the main doors. Damian squeezes her hand. 

“We’ll be okay,” he says softly. We. They’re doing it together. Janis nods and pushes her way in. 

Janis had to come one extra time to get to know the people in the guidance office after they saw her medical history and learned about the two months she spent as an inpatient. They worked some of their guidance counselor magic and got her and Damian the same schedule, and made sure she didn’t have a single class with Regina. They couldn’t do anything about lunch, but Janis isn’t worried too much about that. The cafeteria is big. She’ll find somewhere to hide. 

Damian goes to his locker first since it’s a little bit closer to the front of the school. He dumps his binders for the afternoon inside before following Janis as she tries to remember where her locker is. 

She pauses as she sees it. They haven’t even been in the building for twenty minutes and her locker already says space dyke in bold, black Sharpie. God, why couldn’t people just forget? 

It’s not Regina’s handwriting this time. Someone else did it. Maybe Regina moved on. Found someone else to torment. Maybe this is the work of someone else. 

Don’t get your hopes up. 

She sighs and shakes it off as best she can. Her books for the afternoon get shoved in unceremoniously and she follows Damian, slightly slower than they were going before, to their first period study hall. 

“You okay?” he asks gently. Janis nods and kicks a pebble someone dragged in to the side of the hallway. 

“Yeah. She doesn’t scare me anymore.” 

Damian nods too. “Tell me if anyone bothers you.” 

“You’re not my big brother, Dame, I don’t need you to protect me,” Janis sighs. 

“Oh, bitch, are you kidding? I could never, look at me,” Damian retorts. “But if you need me to tell someone. I will.” 

Janis nods, more an involuntary jerk of her head than much else. “I will.” 

Damian blessedly drops the conversation as he holds the door to their classroom and sits next to Janis at their desks. 

—-

Things don’t fall apart until lunch. 

She and Damian find part of a table in the furthest corner, blocked in by some juniors and seniors. They look at them oddly, for more than one reason, but there’s a group that seems to realize these kids need to be where they are and willingly sit close. Janis hopes everyone in their grade is that mature by the time they’re juniors too. 

They start to relax. Lose some of their hyper vigilance they haven’t noticed they’ve been holding all day. 

And then people around them start chattering. 

One by one, like they’re doing the wave at a sports event. It picks up volume, louder and louder… and then Regina is behind her. 

“Janis? Oh my god, is that you?” 

Janis bristles. Feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up like she’s just walked into a haunted house. She turns around just enough in her spot so Regina is in her line of sight, but not enough to make her vulnerable to any kind of attack. “Yeah?” 

“What are you doing over here, come sit with us. We got the good table in the middle,” Regina says. Janis… laughs. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“What?” 

“We haven’t talked in a year and a half, is what!” Janis cackles. “You ran me out of school!” 

“You totally overreacted, it was not that bad, come on,” Regina huffs. 

Janis can’t believe what she’s doing as she rolls up her jacket sleeves. Regina bristles and stares at the still bright pink marks lining up and down Janis’ forearms. That’s not even close to half of them. “Wasn’t it?” 

Regina recoils in disgust. “On second thought, stay here. Freak.” 

Janis sighs and sits back down, picking at her rubbery pizza and trying to ignore every single person in the vicinity staring at her. 

Part of her wants to stand on the table and yell. Say so what if I used to cut myself? Say you’d do the same if only you knew what she did to me. Stomp and scream and rule the school. 

Another part of her almost said yes to Regina. 

And Janis is violently thrown back in time. 

Back to seventh grade. Before her life fell apart. 

Blonde waves falling down her shoulders. Pink dresses and glittery makeup and lip gloss and too much perfume. 

Following Regina around like a lost puppy. Carrying her books. Doing her bidding. 

Falling head over heels for that blonde girl who somehow had her pinned under her heel and wrapped around her little finger at the same time. 

She can’t stomach anymore. 

Regina 

was

right. 

—————

Janis stumbles around until the end of the day when it’s time to be picked up. She tries not to stare at every girl she sees. 

She takes quick glances. Compares them to the boys in her classes. Who would she rather date? Rather kiss? Rather hug and cuddle and- well. 

She comes to a rather hasty conclusion. Boys are still gross. 

She’d thought, being the mature age of fourteen, that she would’ve gotten over not wanting to be with a boy. Apparently not. 

She consults Damian in art. 

“Do you still like boys now that you’re a boy? Or do you like girls?” 

“I dunno,” Damian shrugs. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Janis hasn’t either. She started to, she did. Back when Regina first did everything in middle school. Janis definitely had a lot to think about. But she was hurt, and then spent all that time in therapy and decided to put it off until she was better suited to handle such thoughts. 

Nice going, dumbass, now what the hell are you?

“I think… I might actually like girls.” 

Damian nods and pokes at his lump of clay he’s trying desperately to form into an ashtray. “That’s cool.”

“It is not cool! That means Regina was right all along!” 

“So?” Damian shrugs. “She wasn’t right about everything. Like her hair color. Ew.” 

“She’s blonde, what do you mean? You know what, never mind.” 

Damian just shrugs again. “It’s not a bad thing if you are. Don’t let Regina scare you out of it if you think it’s actually who you are.” 

Janis sighs and goes back to her painting. She has a lot to think about.

—-

And think she does. The next month is spent researching and looking and comparing and testing and everything she can think to do. 

She still doesn’t want it to be true, but the more she finds, the more lesbian feels like the right label. She’s still not sure, though.

One thing is definitely true, however, and that is that she likes girls. Even the girl she hates most in the entire world seems… like she’d be a good kisser. Gross. 

Now she has to tell people. 

It’s what Damian did. He realized something, and told his family. It’s how it goes. This isn’t something she can just keep to herself. 

She sits her mom and stepdad down on the couch after dinner that night. Julie’s in her room playing before bed. She can come later. Janis still doesn’t know how to explain this in a way she’d understand. 

“What’s up, sweet pea?” her mother asks kindly. Janis fidgets with her hands and looks down. 

“I… I think… Regina might have been right,” she mumbles.

“About what?”

“I like girls,” Janis says in one quick breath, forcing herself to look up at them. She can see the shock strewn across their faces. 

“You’re a dyke?” her father asks. Janis freezes. 

“Greg!” her mother chides. “Don’t call her that!”

“What, I can’t call it like it is? We’ve raised a dyke, Ettie! Look at her,” her dad insists. Janis looks desperately at her mother. 

“We have raised a girl who likes other girls and nothing more,” her mother growls, standing and stalking over her dad. “Now you leave her alone.”

“Or what?” her father retaliates. 

“Stop it,” Janis begs around a sob. “I-I’m sorry, I-I-I won’t-”

“You’ll shut your trap is what you’ll do,” her dad growls. “And you’ll get out of my house.”

“This house is in my name, you ass,” her mother retaliates. “If anyone is leaving, it’s you. I’m not letting you speak to our child this way.” 

“I’m talking to her the way she needs to be talked to. Do you want her corrupting Julie?!” 

“She’s barely a teenager! She can’t corrupt anyone, she’s not doing anything wrong!”

“Daddy, please,” Janis begs. 

“Don’t you go calling me that now. I clearly didn’t do enough. I’m not your dad anymore.”

“Get. Out.” her mom growls furiously. 

“I’m taking Julie,” her dad insists as he stalks off to pack a few things. 

“Like hell you are!” her mom says. 

“This is your fault, you little freak,” her dad says, pointing a rough finger into Janis’ chest. Janis sobs and tries to step away. Her dad looks at her for a second. Time moves in slow motion. 

He growls, lifts a hand. Brings it down across Janis’ face with as much force as he can muster. Janis gasps as she hears the impact. The pain takes a few seconds to hit her. The hit was hard enough to numb the sensation for the briefest of moments. 

She wails when it does and steps away. She wants to run, but she can’t leave her mom alone with this man who used to call Janis his daughter. 

Her mom swings without hesitation. Evidently she can handle herself just fine. 

“Have you gone crazy, woman?!” her dad yells. “Goddamn!”

“I told you to get out,” her mom says. “You’ll get a second black eye to match that one if you stick around.” 

Her dad spits on the ground near where Janis is cowering before he stalks off without another word or any of his things and slams the front door behind him. 

“Oh, baby girl,” her mom hums desperately, rushing to pull Janis into her arms. Janis tries to be strong for her mom, who seems to have just lost her husband for good, but all she can bring herself to do is cling to her mom and cry into her shoulder like a broken child. 

Broken child. 

That’s all she is.

“Should I call Damian’s mom?”

Janis can only nod.

—————

Janis doesn’t come out to anyone else until she’s almost seventeen. 

Nearly three years spent trying to crush down and destroy any feelings she has for any girl is miserable. 

But she can’t lose anyone else. 

Damian sees the way she looks at some of their classmates. At Regina. 

He knows. Janis doesn’t tell him, but he knows. 

In the time since Janis’ latest incident, he’s come out as gay, too. He said an experience at his arts camp the summer before their sophomore year confirmed the entire thing. 

Janis consoling him after Philip cruelly rejects his Edible Arrangement just feels like par for the course for the both of them at this point. 

They both know. They don’t ask. They don’t tell. 

They can’t. 

—————-

Junior year is almost too much for the both of them. 

It starts out so strong. A few really good days without a single taunt from Regina. Enough for them to hope she’s finally given up some of her grip on the school, eased off on her reign of terror. 

And then 

comes

Cady.

Some part of Janis deep, deep down inside knows she’s going to be an issue. 

Damian knows Janis is in love as soon as he sees the little redhead in the bathroom stall and the way Janis looks at her. 

Some part of both of them knows this won’t end without heartbreak. 

They’re right.

Things start falling apart spectacularly before they even reach winter break. Janis’ plan to have a sneaky spy infiltrate the Plastics and report back has completely backfired. By spring, Cady’s totally brainwashed. Lost. Hypnotized by the pink sequins and popularity. 

Janis hasn’t cried this hard since seventh grade. Not even when her stepdad left. 

Damian holds her together with one hand and putters the Jazzy home with the other. Well, technically he drives to his house. But it’s always felt like a second home to Janis. 

His mom gives her a good squeeze and gentle advice before shooing them up to Damian’s room with the promise of milkshakes to help lift their spirits a little. 

Janis disassociates and sips at her cookies and cream milkshake all through Mulan. She’s lost track of how many times she’s done exactly this. Sat cuddled under bed covers with Damian and watched this exact movie on this ancient laptop. In all their various forms over the years. 

She cries some more when the movie ends and she doesn’t have anything to distract her from her sadistic thoughts. 

Damian holds her close. He cries a little too. They talk. Damian refuses to let her sleep in the sleeping bag on the floor in her state and aggressively spoons her until they both drift off dreaming of happier times. 

And those times do come. 

The clouds part. 

So does Regina’s spine.

It helps, but not as much as Janis thought it would. 

The biggest change is Cady. She comes storming into the gym at Spring Fling in her Mathletes uniform and Janis knows in that moment that Cady has her heart and Janis would happily break it for her. 

Janis stares as Cady wins Spring Fling Queen and holds that stupid plastic crown in her hands and gives the most beautiful speech she’s ever heard. Damian gasps behind her as she snaps the crown into as many pieces as she can and tosses them to anyone within reach. Regina, Gretchen, Karen, even Kevin. Damian gets one. 

And then Cady is in front of her. The last piece is still in her hands. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Janis says, her chest aching. Cady reaches up on her tippy toes and puts the rest of the crown on Janis’ head. Janis flashes back to ten years ago. Playing princess with Damian. 

It feels even more real now. 

Cady apologizes. They dance. They leave early and go get pancakes. They cry and apologize some more. 

And for the first time since September, Janis has hope for her future. 

—————

Janis still thinks about those moments well into her adulthood. She doesn’t know that she’ll ever stop. That the moments will ever leave her.

She doesn’t know that she wants them to. 

She and Cady get married when they’re 23. Damian finally gets his top surgery later that year, and has two of his favorite people there to support him through his recovery. 

Cady is the one who goes with him to finally get his name and gender changed on all his important documents. She throws a party when it’s all over, a sort of late ‘gender reveal’ with a blue cake and confetti and streamers. 

Aaron comes. 

He and Damian get together when they’re 24. It’s a beautifully ironic thing, that Janis and Damian wound up with who they did instead of it being the two of them like it always was and Cady and Aaron together. 

Cady and Janis become mothers when they’re 28. 

Damian is the best uncle to their twins. Janis doesn’t know that she’s seen him happier than when he’s cuddling with his boyfriend and his nieces. 

The girls are flower girls in his and Aaron’s wedding. 

Damian and Aaron adopt three children when they’re 36. 

They celebrate Pride as one huge family. The kids all love the parade and seeing other kids from queer families they can play with. Seeing other people like themselves. 

Cady takes the twins to a craft setup for younger kids. Damian’s youngest goes with them while the oldest two follow Aaron to get food. Janis and Damian are left wandering around on their own for a little while. 

Damian taps Janis and points surreptitiously at some kids staring at them. Janis smiles widely and follows him over to them. They crouch down to their height. 

“Hi,” Damian greets kindly. “What are your names?” 

Janis knows in that moment.

They made it.

—————

thank you for reading!! 

i think i would be remiss if i posted this without acknowledging that our trans and non-binary siblings are under attack in my country right now. there is no LGB without the T and if you think otherwise. piss off. if you can do anything at all, please look into how to support queer communities in your local area. 

also, while i am non-binary, i don’t ID as trans. i based this off of some of my own experiences and those of a few of my trans friends i’ve been blessed to witness over the years. and also just… what i think it was like for these two growing up. it’s my own personal headcanon. if your journey was different, that’s okay. if your destination is different, that’s okay. queer people are not a monolith. we’re all walking this rainbow road together, but we’re all our own folks. 

anyway. rambling over lol, happy pride and thank you again for reading!!

lots of love,

ezzy

[nobodysdaydreams]

I Should Have Guessed Psycho-Boomer Would Be A Fanboy of His Own Manual. And Where Is His Glorified Secretary Getting Her Attitude From? (or my reaction to Wolf359 mini episodes 6-13).

Welcome back dear readers. Thanks again for your patience. Everyone has been excited for the mini episodes, so I'm eager to see what they've been so excited for.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that and for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom

Mini Episode 6: Once in a Lifetime

Okay, just from these episode descriptions, I'm starting to think that these episodes are gonna be Cutter BSing them into this mission.

Get ready for some ✨Cutter hate✨

2013? I think that's one of the first times we've gotten a year.

"He doesn't bite. Much" YES HE DOES RACHEL AND APPARENTLY SO DO YOU.

"Director of Communications?" Wrong. That's DOUG's job and he's better at it than you Cutter. Even if he is a pizza delivery boy.

Cutter shut up.

Cutter and Rachel shut up! THANK YOU MINKOWSKI.

"All they want is poster children and sob stories. We like people that can fly ships." Sounds like Renee wasn't the ONLY one rejected from NASA, huh Cutter? 👀 Aw, did they not like the fact that you murder people? Did they think your space ideas were crazy and unethical?

I think I'll call Rachel Cutter's glorified secretary. As for Cutter, I think that's simply enough for him. There aren't enough words in the English language or any language to give him

Wait what does her dad have to do with this? Andre? Astrophysics? Early retirement?

Why do I think Cutter had something to do with that "early retirement"? How old is he? He sounds about as old as Minkowski, but the actors all seem around the same age and Doug's Hilbert voice sounds older, so it's hard to tell their ages. Based on where Cutter is in his career, I'm guess he's older.

I hate this because YOU KNOW THEY ALL SAY YES. And you just want to shake them and scream not. PLEASE TELL ME YOUR HUSBAND SAYS NO.

Journalist? I hope he blows this wide open Cutter.

Oh my gosh he can adjust his salary? That means he controls the press.

Why is Cutter talking about Renee's parents like he knew them personally? "They would have done so much more if they hadn't gotten married and had kids." Why are you talking like a bitter male tenured professor who never found love to his female graduate students?

SHE MATTERS A LOT MORE THAN YOU CUTTER.

"Don't make your parents mistakes Renee" hm. sounds like someone is projecting his own issues.

"no one will dare reject you again" BECAUSE SHE'LL BE DEAD.

"My husband is going to kill me" No, but Cutter will.

But I hope you kill him first. And I hope your husband destroys him in his newspaper.

I am loving and hating these episodes.

Mini Episode 7: Rebranding

Look like it's Hilbert's turn for the chopping block, oh sorry! I mean uh...✨exclusive job opportunity✨

St. Petersburg 1989?

But this is number 2? So...these aren't in order? Is this Cutter organizing his files because he's numbering system makes no sense.

Yet another way he has proven incompetent.

Ugh. It even sounds cold. I had it.

CUTTER BROKE INTO HIS HOUSE.

Okay granted, that's far from the worst thing he's ever done, but still man, kinda creepy.

"Tricks don't scare him?" Tell WHO he should know better? Who else is threatening Hilbert.

"I prefer to think of myself as a citizen of the world" "That's very nice for you" 😂 It's nice to actually see Hilbert not going for Cutter's bs.

And he's right. There are other geneticists closer to home. Ah...the retroviruses.

The most realistic thing about this entire show is "oh I want to research something very important! Let's see who's doing it so that I can contact them and get a job" and it's one guy in the middle of nowhere.

Who is Victor Stewkoff? Why does he knew about Hilbert I mean uh Dimitri's research?

"Dr. Stewoff died last year" "Of course he did"

So either Cutter's lying about the conversation, when it took place, or he for sure killed that man.

"Are you referring to the human trials?"

That silence is an overwhelming yes.

"Matter of time" mmm... Cutter does not seem like that patient type.

And I'm sorry. If you're doing creepy illegal experiments, you should know better than to trust a man who comes to you and says he's cool with it. Takes a monster to know one.

So he promised him a chance to perform his illegal research? But...what does that have to do with space?

"The last member of your family died when you were 9" wait...what about his sister? I thought he said she survived, or maybe she died a little later?

"Any discoveries you make will belong to us" don't like that. I mean, that's how it is, but in this case, I don't like this.

Cutter's like "I'm paying off the IRB man, geez do I have to spell it out for you man?"

Again, sad because we know what choice they are going to make.

Does the retrovirus have a name? Decima. Wait. The what? Oh rebranding.

WAIT. WAIT.

WILLIAM CARTER.

AS IN PRYCE AND CARTER?

AS IN THE TEXTBOOK THAT CUTTER FANBOY'S OVER.

Let me listen again. I think I heard that right.

Oh my gosh. I'm so stupid. Rule of writing: don't give your characters similar names that can easily be confused by the readers UNLESS you're trying to make some sort of point with it. Don't know how I let that one get past me.

He really is like that professor who makes all his students buy his book.

Who the heck is Pryce? Is that another one of his fake names? Or is that a colleague he axed off years ago?

And why did he change his name?

Also if he's already a powerful adult with his own company in the 80's then he and Hilbert are for sure older than Eiffel and Minkowski.

Actually, I take it back. Maybe I do have a nickname for Cutter after all. "Psycho-Boomer". Probably did some surgery on himself to make himself sound like he's in his twenties (though by the way he laughs, you'd swear he was a nine year old tee hee hee 🙄).

Hopeful we'll get to see the boomer go "boom!" very very soon...

Mini Episode 8: Language Mapping

This one is Maxwell's. How is Cutter ordering these? Oh back to 2013.

Is Cutter organizing these in terms of threat level? Because if so, it's honestly accurate to put Minkowski first and the scientists next, though I KNOW his errand boys would be devasted. Doug probably wouldn't care.

Oh no wait this isn't Cutter. Huh. Hello Whiskey boy.

Why doesn't Maxwell want to be here?

HOW MANY SECRETARYS DOES CUTTER NEED?

Yeah, this IS harassment. How on earth could they have not broken any laws?

"You could have come to work for us." That's...that's not a solution.

Redneck teachers? Did not expect that background.

Sounds like she's very different from her family. Maybe that's why she doesn't talk to them. Is she embarrassed by them?

Hm. Don't like Maxwell yelling at the AI ethics committee. Well actually I suppose it depends. Was she advocating for their rights or against them? And was she doing so for the wellbeing of humanity and the AI or her own interests?

"Someone has to bully them into being brave. Somebody needs to push".

Maxwell. I agree that sometimes progress needs to happen. But if you don't do it carefully and with ethics in mind, bad things tend to happen. Very very bad things.

Especially when someone else controls the rights to your technology. Of course there's the whole "if they didn't hire me they'd find someone else" but still...Maxwell this is bad.

Do not be fooled by the flashy lights and buttons and sound effects!

"Whoever built this is brilliant and they already work for you. Why me?"

Good point.

"I need someone who can talk to things that aren't human."

^Great idea Whiskey boy. I'll call Doug. Dr. Robot needs to earn my trust first. Not sure how I feel about her nickname. It doesn't have the same punch as the others, but it does fit.

Oh great the Whiskey speech again. At least he earns his nickname.

Mini Episode 9: Greensboro

Number 4, 2010. Ah Lovelace.

Once again, if this is the order in which crew members present a danger to Cutter, I'm agreeing so far.

I wonder how similar hers will be the Minkowski's.

"We don't do interviews, well yes we do some. But that's only when we don't want to hire someone and need a reason." Why do I feel like that's a straight up lie?

"Infiltrate the company and bring it down from the inside" I love the foreshadowing and double meaning. It also makes me sad to remind me that Lovelace used to have Doug's sense of humor before she lost all her friends.

It's not standard protocol. No one else had a polygraph, and Hilbert was doing human experiments.

"Convicted of a crime? Are you an alien?" OH MY GOSH PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS FORESHADOWING.

(Actually don't tell me, but...I hope it is).

Do you love your father? Have you always wanted to serve in the armed forces? What are these questions?

Ma'am this medical stuff is private.

They interviewed the people working for her? Cutter is literally everywhere. Well, I suppose Psycho-boomer has been blackmailing people since the 50s so such. I wish he'd hurry and die.

"You do this for everyone?" No they don't.

"We're screening you for a different job" Nope. Nope. Don't like that. Usually means you're about to get underpaid for your talents. "Sorry the job you wanted didn't work, but oh look! We did find something." In this case, something worse.

I hate the lie detector.

I want to hook it up to Cutter, but psycho-boomer probably knows how to trick the test.

Mini Episode 10: Things That Break Other Things

Duck boy! Are we gonna get to see him get attack by a duck? Boy do I hope so.

San Francisco 2011?

Duck Boy is a heavy drinker. Fantastic. Just the man you want holding your explosives.

"Buy you a drink." Uh. What. Oh it's a fancy one too.

Yeah Jacobi this is weird. He's coming on too strong. Time to bail.

My gosh what happened to Jacobi in the military? He sounds traumatized. Did it involve the Duck?

"Did you serve?" "No." Hm. Wonder why.

Oh Duck Boy has daddy issues. Why is no one surprised.

Jacobi's dad: "You think you're man enough for the Airforce? Can even fight one lousy duck?"

Oh he has bad depth perception too? Wow, yeah, sounds like it's a great idea to give him explosives.

"I'm good at making things that break other things. Including people".

Don't like that. Sounds like Duck Boy might not either. Haunted by ghosts perhaps? Perhaps Discount Cutter can take that conscience off your hands.

Went off early during a test. Two guys died. Well ain't that a shame for you Duck Boy. But hey, what better way to get over the guys you killed than by killing more people for a boss that doesn't care?

"You'll never work in this planet again" well funny you should mention that...

I see. So this happened in 2009.

"most of the world is profoundly stupid" why would I not be surprised that discount cutter is into eugenics?

Oh he left his business card.

Would have been funny if Duck Boy had just knocked if off the table or forgot to call the number.

Mini Episode 11: Decommissioned

EVERYONE SHUT UP THEY'RE DOING ONE FOR HERA!

No longer do I agree that this is in the order of "threat to Cutter", but I suppose from his perspective...

Ah 2012.

Unit 214? Her name is Hera. And how many of her are there? Do they all have the same voice and personality?

"Do you remember me? Do you know who I am?" Ugh. Don't like that.

"Where am I?" poor Hera.

Yeah they need to stop talking like she's not here.

"Your science board rejected me." Interesting. Most of Cutter's approach has been "X won't let you do something. But I will :)." But with Hera, his own people rejected her, but he seems to like the reason. "Poor social skills". Huh. Odd thing to prioritize.

"Don't think of it as dead. Decommissioned." Yeah. It's basically dead. Or asleep. Depends on whether someone wakes you up again.

"Helpful for everyone". No helpful for you Cutter.

What did Hera do? Misguided bid for independence? Record for rogue AI attempting jailbreak?

Psycho-boomer is so unstable. I swear, he likes the risk of using Hera just to prove to himself that she actually can't destroy him.

"We're not about to start forcing anyone to do something against their will. But if you don't do what we ask, we'll kill you :)" Cutter you suck.

And it's sad because Hera probably just thought this was how he spoke to AI. So she didn't warn the other humans because she figured they'd be fine.

"Maybe I should see if Dr..." What doctor?

Oh he called her Hera. Feeling a little disgusted by that fact that he's the one who gave her her name.

Though it beats "Unit 214"

Mini Episode 12: Pagliacci

Doug's turn!

Oh dear. Are we gonna find out about his charges.

Texas. 2013.

Ugh I HATE the sound of those heels and fancy dress shoes.

Oh he's in jail. Yep, called that one pretty quickly.

"Are you my lawyer?" oh Doug you really are lost. And yeah, that's not how it works.

Wow. Glorified Secretary is very classist. Girl your salary comes from a man who'd kill you without a second thought. Maybe cool on the comments and take a breath while you still can.

"Scary Ally McBeal" nice nickname.

"You are extremely and infuriatingly lucky" Yep and he's gonna be lucky enough to kill you by the end. If Doug's going back to prison anyway, he has nothing to lose by ending your life.

"What do you want from me?" Your soul. What else?

Doug. He's not kidding. He's crazy. Now PLEASE go back to prison.

"Maybe I don't want your way out." Oh Doug feels like he deserves to be there. 🥺

Who is Ann? Yikes, yeah, Cutter you crossed a line there. Is that his wife? Daughter? Mom? Girlfriend?

DAUGHTER?

Oh. And he's promising everything Doug can't give her.

For my TMBS mutuals: something something something...MBS space AU...something something something...Curtain, Milligan, and Kate...you get what I'm saying right?

Mini Episode 13: Kansas

2009. Oh the same year Duck Boy had his little accident.

And...Discount Cutter is last. Where he belongs. How sweet.

Looks like somebody's not as "in" the "inner-circle" as he thought.

How do you like being on the expendables list Whiskey Boy?

"I am accountable to two men in this company"

Cutter and...who? Pryce? It doesn't sound like he's talking about Rachel.

"Step into the elevator" Nope. Miss me with that tower of terror bs.

Who the heck is Richard? Did I miss something? Another errand boy?

Oh Cutter's voice is infuriating. I now imagine him as a 70 year old man who has given himself throat surgery to sound younger. Like an smug elementary school know-it-all-kid voice. Yes, I understand it's just the voice actor's voice and age, but it's still funny to imagine. "William Carter" it even sounds like an old man boomer name.

"You're never going to stop are you? You're like me." Exactly. Discount Cutter earned his nickname. But Whiskey boy is nice too.

Richard Littlewood. What a name.

"It's a shame that you weren't there." Ohhhh... he's using Kepler to edge out Richard Littlewood.

"You're going to crucify him." "No silly, I'm going to hang him."

Cutter really said I want him gone without the mess. Psycho-boomer really is the worst.

"Am I going up or down?" You're going to the very top...metaphorically. But we're going very very far down."

I would have to agree. Hell is very far down indeed.

"Don't tell me you believed that." I didn't. Why would anyone?

Oh. The Black Archives. FINALLY.

The files on a 1978 early deep space mission. First contact.

Wait. So they've known about the aliens this entire time? Not surprised but...what happened to the first crew? And why do they keep sending teams up that don't come back? What are they testing? Or rather, what deal did they make with the aliens? Are they studying the aliens, or are the aliens studying them? Is Cutter an alien too?

Well I guess that's all dear readers. Find out next time.

Once again, very much disliking Cutter, but now I'm also wondering how long Rachel has been around. And who Richard and Pryce are. And when Cutter changed his name and why. Interesting that Richard, Pryce, and Rachel didn't have mini episodes. At least, not yet...

[theworldisquietheretooquiet]

Hi! If you're for it, Elros and/or Elrond & excitement for the prompt meme pls?

Thank you!! I went with the twins being excited to arrive at the Isle of Balar, and meet Círdan and Gil-galad again :)

I wrote the twins as being 'teenagers' here, about 13-15 ish. Canon is very vague as far as I can tell about what age the twins leave Maglor. But I hc he sent them to Gil-galad pretty close to the beginning of the War of Wrath for both safety and political reasons.

996 words

Elrond stares at the gentle waves hitting the edge of the boat. There is a slight wind today, and the captain of the ship warned them it might be a little rough in the Bay. But Elrond doesn’t care as he closes his eyes and lets the sea overwhelm his senses. Fresh salt air, the harsh cries of gulls, the constant churn of the water that you only realise you are hearing when it is gone.

His chest is very tight, and he tries to believe it is because he has missed the sea so much. Because he has.

He is startled out of his thoughts when his brother nudges him. “Do you remember coming here at all? I think we did, once, when we were about four but all I remember is playing on the ships.”

Elrond thinks. He has a vague recollection of being held on the knee of an elf who had a beard and being absolutely fascinated by it. “I maybe remember Círdan and a few other things, but nothing clearly.”

Elros nods, his expression thoughtful. “It will probably be much changed since then, anyway. And I would imagine some of its people have gone north to the war.”

“Yes,” Elrond says softly. He still cannot quite believe it is true. That the host of the West has come, that they will march on the Enemy. He had thought for many years that they all were just biding their time. Surviving only until the creeping darkness overtook them; and he had minded little where he waited for death. But now…

He looks at the growing smudge on the horizon. He thinks about the last time he heard his mother laugh. It had been at a letter she read that final morning, from Círdan. He hears the echo of it, bright and happy. When he had asked to know the joke, she had chuckled, put it away, and told him she would explain it when he was older.

He looks at his twin and smiles. “I remembered something else: the crabcakes Lord Círdan and King Gil-galad used to send to Naneth.”

Elros begins to laugh loudly. “Oh Eru, I had completely forgotten about those! She loved them so much. Naneth always claimed it had started when she was pregnant, but –”

“– Adar said she had adored them since she was a girl.” Elrond’s grin fades. “Did he like them? I can’t recall.”

“Me neither.” Elros looks at the sky for a brief moment, then says. “I’m excited to taste them again, though.”

Elrond nods, “me too.” After a brief pause, he asks quietly, “what do you think he’ll be like?”

His brother frowns. “Who? Círdan?”

“No, the High King.”  

Elros scrunches up his face as he considers. “I don’t know. He was born here so his eyes won’t be bright, and the songs say he has silver hair.”

Elrond rolls his eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant. I was wondering what the High King of the Noldor looks like. Fool.”

Elros punches him in the shoulder and Elrond flicks his nose.

Elros moves away from him and scowls. “I can’t see the point in trying to guess his character but fine. He’ll be proud like Fingolfin, brave like Fingon and wise like Turgon. Happy?”

Elrond shakes his head. “I don’t think he will be like any of the others. I think Gil-galad is different.”

His brother lets out a snort that sounds very like ‘you wish’.

Elrond ignores him and continues. “I hope he will let me study with the healers of Balar, I have so many questions I want to ask them.”

“You haven’t learnt everything yet? You spent all of last winter buried in scrolls.”

He shakes his head. “There is so much that has to be taught, one Elf to another. I’ll probably seem terribly behind to them.”  

He looks at Elros and grins mischievously. “There will definitely be Men there, you can demonstrate your Taliska skills!”

His brother groans and stares mournfully at the bottom of the boat. “You know they won’t be able to understand a word I say. I hate how much I’ve forgotten – and that trading party called my accent ‘the strangest they ever heard.”

Elrond begins to regret his words. “Well, we are on our way to the right place to change that!”

“True enough,” his twin replies, brightening a little.

They continue in peaceful quiet for a while. Elrond is watching a black and white bird and trying to remember its name when a thought suddenly occurs to him.

“Elros! You don’t think Gil-galad will want us to become rulers, do you?”

“Hmm?” His brother says, as he examines the hull with interest.

Elrond has another alarming idea. “Perhaps he thinks we want to usurp him. Or turn any remaining Iathrim against him.”

Elros finally looks up and fixes him with a doubtful stare. “Somehow, I doubt Ereinion Gil-galad is worried about that. He is probably wondering if we were even taught to write.”

Elrond goes red. He is being a little dramatic possibly.

His twin continues. “And wouldn’t you want to be a lord and lead people?”

He considers that for a moment then responds. “I would like to do it the way Naneth did, I think. Create a sanctuary of peace, a kind of refuge or haven.”

Elros smiles. “You would be good at that, you know.” Then he laughs. “I’d like a kingdom if I was offered one. But not Gil-galad’s kind, a different sort.”

“You’d be awful.” Elrond grins as Elros shoves him. “I’m only joking!”

After a moment his brother says, “Look we’re nearly there.”

Elrond glances up and notices that they can see the Isle of Balar clearly, green and grey against the deep blue sky. The harbour is full of ships, and they rock in the breeze.

He takes Elros’ hand and squeezes it. His brother squeezes back and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Excited.”

[3terna15unshin3]

Then Because She Goes

Cry, I will love you, love you, love you

★ Chapter 13 of 15, 3498 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: angst, descriptions of grief and depression

<< 12

18 September, 2019

Matty was right. Everything was okay. Until it wasn’t, and Este got the call.

She dropped everything to catch a plane to London. A train would be too slow. She had to be with her family. The two weeks she spent there felt like some of the longest weeks of her life.

There wasn’t a moment that the universe let her mind rest—it was a constant buzz of anger, sadness, release. She was mad that bad things happened to good people. Sad that there was so little time left. And eventually, two Mondays later, it happened. Este thought that when it did, her emotions would peak and then she’d be on the comedown—slowly, she guessed. But it wasn’t. Every day felt like the worst of what was to come. And the worst kept coming.

The clothes draped on her body remained the same for too long. Even their musty stench that grew as time passed couldn’t inspire her to change, so Cate had to force her out of them. She’d been helpful through those horrid weeks, constantly checking up on her best friend, even coming down to London a couple of times to take Este’s mind off of things and attempt to bring her back down to earth.

Two days after the dreaded Monday, they came back home to Manchester to grab some more of their things. Enough to last them through the weekend and however long Este felt she would need to stay. Work was a worry, but it didn’t matter to her as much as it probably should have.

After helping her flatmate pack another bag and essentially petting her head to sleep, Cate considered how intensely Este’s life had been put on hold to make room for her grief. There was no time to make new memories when she was all consumed with trying to cling to the ones with Florencia. Este was terrified of the reality that one day she’d struggle to remember them as brightly as they once were.

Cate thought about the increasing number displayed in the red notification bubble at the corner of her Messages app, and the people waiting to hear from her. The plans Este must have had, and their inevitable rain-checks. That’s when Matty came to mind. She decided that sending him a text would aid in planning their accommodations back in London, in case of some small chance that he’d have time to be there for the rites.

Matty Healy (famous)

Yesterday at 20:50 PM

hey. i thought i’d let you know that the funeral is on saturday morning. wasn’t sure if este invited you out but i know she’d want you there

i also have no idea where in the world you even are rn

so if you can’t make it then don’t worry

Today at 06:04 AM

Funeral????

I haven’t heard from her since this past Saturday

What’s going on

oh my god. she didn’t tell you

i’m so sorry you had to find out this way and that it isn’t coming from este but her nan passed away on monday.

Shit

I don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry

Can I ask what happened?

she’s been in remission for a couple of years, but in mid august ish she got super sick again. everything happened really fast and there weren’t any treatment options.

so at the beginning of september este went down to stay with josé in the house. the whole family went. they at least got to be with each other for her last couple of weeks

Is she still there in London or are u guys in Manchester

she just arrived back to the flat to pick up more of her stuff and figure out her leave from work and stuff with sam

we’re staying the night but heading back tomorrow. wake is on friday morning and the funeral the next day

Was just trying to figure out if somehow I could make it but I’m in Auckland

Would take days on a plane and we have a bunch of Australian shows coming up

I don’t think theres a way

it’s ok matty. she’ll understand

sorry for loading this all on you out of nowhere

No, thank you for telling me

Please let me know if there’s something I can do. Even from all the way out here

Anything

Today at 11:29 AM

i will

but also, just as a heads up, este really is not in a good place. she’s in good hands, so you dont have to worry or anything, but maybe just wait for her to reach out first before saying anything. hopefully you can understand why i ask that of you

hope your shows in australia go well x

Of course I understand x

Thank you Cate

Matty’s heart broke for Este and her family when he read the texts sitting in his notifications after his long plane journey out to New Zealand. In the car ride over to the hotel, Hann took note of how unusually his mouth was pressed into a flat line as he furiously typed away on his phone, eventually asking him what was up.

“Cate’s just told me that Este’s nan just passed.” he explained, “She was just super vague at the start about a funeral and I haven’t heard from Este at all, so I panicked,”

“Did you think she was inviting you to Este’s funeral?”

“Dunno, really. ‘Funeral’ is just a scary word.” Matty continued typing as Cate’s responses came through.

“Shit. Sorry, mate.” said George, giving his condolences. “How old was she?”

“75. Cate’s saying it was cancer.” As he read more texts, the further it was explained.

“The nan with the gallbladder?” Ross asked, a contained amusement sitting on his face as he brought up the story he shared when the guys had first met Este and Cate.

Matty threw him a grimace. “Yes, Ross. I’m sure she had a gallbladder. But if you mean the one who was my nurse after I got mine removed, then also yes.” Despite how inappropriate his joke seemed, Matty was glad the mood lifted when it gained a couple bittersweet chuckles from the rest of the guys. “Este never told me about any of it, so I’m just a bit shocked,”

He’d been frozen with grief before, so he didn’t blame her for not saying anything. Letting her heal was necessary—and his feelings couldn’t matter less in this situation. Plus, the idea of sending a message was too scary. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, or want to overstep. So Cate suggesting he let Este come to him first helped him with the internal dilemma.

She almost regretted reaching out to Matty after discovering that Este hadn’t told him about Florencia. It felt like crossing a boundary; like something that should have been shared on her accord instead of by her best friend over text. To clear her conscience, Cate confessed what she had done as they sat on the train back to London the next day.

“Hey,” she started, to break the silence and grab Este’s attention. Her sad eyes looked up to acknowledge the conversation and her curious eyebrows raised.

“Yesterday I was thinking about where I’d be staying this weekend and if there would be enough room at your grandparents’ house. Which I know you said there would be—but it just had me thinking about everyone who may need accommodations for coming in from out of town—and I thought of Matty. Which in retrospect, was stupid in the first place, since his literal house is in London. Impulsively I just sent him a text without even asking you first, and I feel really guilty for intruding, especially since he let me know that you hadn’t told him or anything. So I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking in the moment, I just—“

A reassuring and gentle hand was felt on Cate’s forearm. It was Este’s, as if to say, ‘It’s okay’. She gave a soft smile and Cate showed one similarly, still holding her breath from the anticipation of what reaction the fact she revealed may conjure.

All she did was swipe away Cate’s auburn hair before leaning her head on her shoulder—where the hair once sat—so that the weight wouldn’t pull on it, sighing quietly. Este didn’t feel strongly about anything at that moment, letting the clunky sounds of the train and the presence of her best friend envelop her numbness.

It wasn’t an active decision to keep Matty uninformed. It was probably due to her refusing to believe it would ever come to the point of relevance. That if she didn’t admit that Florencia was sick again, then the gut-wrenching inevitability couldn’t be real life. And once it was—as much as Este craved the comfort she knew he’d provide her—she couldn’t be rational. It was an all-consuming paralysis.

The air in the house was heavy. Endless paperwork screamed for attention from the dining room table, so her parents and granddad were busy dealing with that; not saying much to the two girls as they entered. A touch on the small of Este’s back was given by José, who didn’t usually use his words to show his love for her anyway. The warmth from where his hand brushed against her lingered for a couple of long seconds.

Before Cate and Este reached the spare room they’d be sharing for the weekend, her mother stopped them.

“You should look at the flowers on the counter, E. They’re beautiful.” said Percy.

Setting her bags down, Este agreed and stepped back out to the kitchen. The bouquet that came into her view was huge. They had received flowers from a couple of people since Monday, mostly dainty and affordable and easy to look at. But this one took her by surprise; its full shape made up of the most colourful foliage she could imagine. Her Lola would have loved it.

You could sense Florencia’s kookiness from the loud and maximalist decor throughout her house. Este acquired the hoarding habits from her. She could recall a couple of times her nan commented on how boring she found pre-made bunches from the supermarket, and how she wished she could combine every different type of bouquet to have one that actually interested her. If someone told Este that her grandmother picked the flowers sitting on the counter in front of her, she’d believe them.

“Wow, they are beautiful.” She mumbled, about to ask her family if they knew who had sent them.

But, a note card stuck out of the top. Este flipped it open.

‘For Este-

Life is just as precious and beautiful as it is unfair. I am so sorry it has been unfair to you. I feel both lucky to have even briefly known Florencia, and also terrible that I can’t be there to support you. Thinking of your family always.

All my love

Matty x’

Her shaky hand grabbed the card and slipped it into the pocket of her sweats for safekeeping—her question now answered. One day she would be able to accept how thoughtful his words were, and even send him a message to say thank you. But that day wasn’t today.

-

23 September, 2019

Sam knew he had to hire another employee at Greenhouse to make up for Este’s absences.

Over the years, there had been many occasions where time off was needed by either her or Oliver or even the owner himself; so there were a few solutions they’d usually jump to. A couple of close friends of the store had been kept on the store’s payroll to jump in when needed. But, Sam had a feeling that he’d be in need of something more. Meeting Este when she was a mere nineteen years old, he was aware of the tightly knit family she possessed—and he had never seen her in the state she was in now. This was clearly world-shifting for her.

She tried to insist on coming back to work that Monday morning, only a week to the day of her grandmother’s passing. Sam could hear the quiet quiver in her voice when they spoke on the phone, already in the process of sorting through CVs and inviting potential hires for interviews. Not with the intent to replace Este, but to ensure she could take the full time she needed off without the pressure of letting the business down. Of course, he refused to make her travel all the way back to Manchester and firmly encouraged her to stay with her family for as long as she wished to.

So, Este stayed in London—for much longer than she expected to. Weeks went by and she was still there. Her mum and dad were forced to leave not long after the weekend of the funeral; on account of some dodgy conversation with their bosses about time off. It didn’t feel right to leave José alone in the house. Este felt his sorrow through their silence. They slept under the same roof every night, both shutting their eyes to be able to see the sparkling memories of Florencia that were painted on the inside of their eyelids.

She did a lot of sleeping, for that very reason. And randomly got really good at Scrabble. Her and her granddad had played a couple of times which sparked her interest, but it soon spiralled into Este playing against computers through an app on her phone for most hours of the day. She thought to herself, After this game I’ll get up and do something else. But she never got up and she never did anything else.

Her vocabulary expanded. Este even considered ordering a Scrabble dictionary off of Amazon. She paid for Prime, so it could even come tomorrow. It’s okay, she reassured, It’ll wear off. I won’t sit here and play Scrabble until the end of time.

But what if I do? she feared.

-

Percy came to visit quite frequently. To both make sure her father and daughter were holding up, all alone in London, and to feel closer to Florencia. The house still smelled like her. Sometimes, she’d have to remind Este to go out and buy groceries after seeing that they were running low; or convince José to pay his bills on time. He had a hard time remembering what day it was.

She brought Dano with her whenever she was over. It helped spike Este’s mood, though temporarily. Her voice would reach its excited high pitch when she heard his paws tap on the hardwood floor and shower him in the only love she had left in her.

Este liked letting her family’s golden retriever up onto her bed, even though the fur that he left behind sometimes made her sneeze in the middle of the night. She liked how warm he was and that the in-and-out of his breathing helped punctuate her thoughts.

One night, she took a break from resting her face against him and gave Cate a call. She was nice enough to come back from Manchester a couple of times to bring more of Este’s belongings from their flat, helping to make the spare room feel more like her own. Cate saw her grief for what it was and gave Este the rigidity that others were scared to. The words she had trouble saying to herself felt easier to believe when her best friend was on the receiving line. Gently petting Dano’s coat, her voice escaped with a tremble.

She talked about how after seeing a trailer for a film called The Farewell (that was coincidentally about a sick grandmother) on the telly a couple of days ago, she hadn’t turned it on since. How she thought rereading Little Women might comfort her, but then she reached the part where Beth dies and couldn’t finish it. How she dreamt of her Lola every night.

But alas, the ponderous energy of the air around her lifted slightly. And when Cate hung up, after both girls lost track of time and realised the late hour, Este leaned back down onto Dano like he was her pillow, surprised to find his fur all wet with her tears.

-

29 October, 2019

Following the release of the third single for Notes On A Conditional Form, Frail State of Mind, Matty and the rest of the band had a couple of weeks off before playing Pitchfork Music Festival in Paris. Though they were still busy writing, the time away from performing left Matty thinking about Este more often. Sure, he was sort of always thinking of her; but it felt elevated during their first long break since he’d last heard from her.

He had sent a couple of texts to Cate to make sure she was alright, but never felt entitled to know more than just that. So, he was shocked to see messages waiting for him, from Este. The sheer anticipation made his thumb shake as it clicked to open it.

E ★

Today at 18:11 PM

I know this is more than a month overdue, but thank you for the flowers and sweet message. They were the most beautiful we’d received. The whole family loved them, and I’m sure my nan would have too

Pls don’t feel bad about not coming in for the funeral. I remembered that you’d be too far and that’s ok. It’s me that should be sorry for not letting u know what was going on. You deserved to know. But I’d be lying if I said i was doing better. Things are still really hard

I hope u can believe me when i say that I really do appreciate you Matty. I know you would be there for me if I let you in. But im sort of struggling to let anyone in rn.

Sorry for spamming you, I will text soon x

Este theres nothing you should be apologising for

Losing my nan was one of the hardest things I’ve had to go through

I’m never more than a text away, just remember that xx

Congrats on the new song too, you can imagine I relate to it a bit. Lol

After those few messages, Matty stopped hearing from her. They gave him a bit of hope, so Este’s radio silence hurt him a little bit more the second time around. He gave up reaching out after just over a month of no responses. Once in a while he would send a text to Cate, just to snuff his fear of something worse going on, and she assured him that she was alive. Not necessarily ‘good’, but alive. Matty guessed that it was a sufficient response and eventually stopped pestering.

It felt odd to mix the song he wrote about her in the studio while they weren’t even in contact. With it only running for a couple of seconds more than two minutes, they didn’t spend an overwhelming amount of time on it. But, as Matty listened back to his buried vocals that sang the lyrics he wrote about Este and their short bursts of memories between dragging months apart, he couldn’t help but yearn for her.

He liked that the song was so short, and that the lyrics were hard to pick apart. It felt like a little moment. The final line, ‘Will you stay or wait?’ repeated through Matty’s head as they perfected the song’s shoe-gazey production, booming in his chest through its painful relevance.

When they reached America for their final leg of tour that year, her name was sketched into Matty’s ear whenever they performed I Couldn’t Be More In Love. But what about these feelings I’ve got, he thought—too literally.

He would meet a fan that had a dimple and would think of her. Or one that had a septum piercing. And think of her if he ever drove past a small book shop.

Then, inevitably, Matty could feel the brightest element of his life slowly dim to darkness—fading into a fleeting moment of his past. But the memory stayed, along with a small glimmer of hope. And he knew he’d be at her feet the minute Este wanted him there again.

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