#i need someone that is a completely clean slate

[buck-yyyy]

man

[iznsfw]

Senior Year Isn’t the Only Thing That’s Hard

Momoland's Nancy McDonie x Jeon Somi x Male Reader Smut

20,859 words

Categories | popular!Nancy and Somi, threesome, blowjob, titjob, anal, spanking, fluff, also if you get the reference(s) I love you

Thank you for commissioning! Was tough to find time to write during exam season but fuck it we ball.

Stars in the sky, stars in their eyes—they’re truly something else. Shouldn’t they be up there themselves? They glimmer too bright to be left here on earth, with a guy like you who can’t hold a flame to them.

But maybe you’re one yourself. Stars only ever mingle with their own kind. So there's the possibility that the three of you are stardust, simmered onto this world to shine in other places where they need it. It’s a laughable way to put it, almost cliche. But when you look at them, you realize you’re not far off.

See here: you're young. It's too early to worry about reputation—(oh, what a word, by the way, with its promise of faint or fail)—but a great, great place to start. 

You didn't know about that second part until you met Somi and Nancy.

First, picture this: your story is a movie, the rare one where the male character is the lead of the story although—let's face it—it's them everyone's reading this for. Not you, not your style, not nada and zip. Everyone is and always will be here for them:

Jeon Somi and Nancy McDonie. They're teen royalty. Only a few students ever get to say they held that title. Not that it's of any importance later in life but what matters more than the present? The juniors look at them green with envy, and with the seniors, the ones who are all proud in their recent age of adulthood, either like them but hate to say it and "hate" them but like them too much to say it. It's that simple. It’s that complicated, too, at the same time. 

And, admittedly, it’s… a lot to take in.

Strangely, you're not in either of those categories despite being a senior yourself. The difference is that you like them, and aren't afraid to say it. After all, you owe them a lot for helping you get out of your shell.

-

Well, not at first. But that’s how it works, right? You, Somi, and Nancy don’t immediately become friends right from the get-go. There has to be some kind of story behind it, and you’re willing to tell yours.

-

It all started… well, like this:

You enrolled into a new school sometime after your eighteenth or nineteenth birthday. Yep, you really couldn’t remember. It’s all been in a flash with them, makes you feel a little dumb. All you know was it was the worst present to have: being required to join an institution that was as unfamiliar as it was unwanted. Like, fucking hell—this early? You were just a kid! Well, not anymore, but there had to be some kind of consideration for this, right? An exception that could be made?

Unfortunately, signing up for a new school was not a subject up for debate. It wasn’t something you could bargain yourself out of. No promises to be good, no extra chores, nothing. Your parents were firm on deciding that you were in need of a fresh new start.

And it just sort of happened that this clean slate you had? You ruined it completely.

Oh, it was classic teenage rebellion. You did almost everything you could to buy your way out of circumstances that didn't go how you wanted them to. You wouldn't say it was totally uncalled for. You had friends at your old school you thought you'd forever be with—the way you saw it, no one could just pull that away from you.

Alas, here you were. You'd been in this classroom more times than you could remember. Neither you nor the presidents spoke. No one was willing to break the ice.

Finally, sun melted the cold and replaced the winter with a fiery, hot summer. "You again?" Nancy McDonie leaned on the edge of the teacher's desk. Her expression was that of someone who's going through a cruel cycle of same-shit-different-day. You knew what that's all about. "I swear, we see you here every Tuesday."

And what a privilege that was. Sarcasm? A little. 

"Oh?" you said. You did your own leaning on the backrest of the chair and put your arms behind your head. "Well, it's not like I enjoy it here."

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. To be truthful, you didn’t know either at the time, so… well—you’re left involved in another banter with the two leaders of the student government. You didn’t see why you had to be sent to them every time you did something even just the littlest bit of wrong, but here you were. This was routine already. As everyday and usual as brushing your teeth and showering.

Nancy squinted her eyes at you, and you stared right back unnervingly. Neither of you were going to give up a silent fight like that.

"If you did," Jeon Somi quipped, beside her best friend with her hands on her own hips, "we'd understand. I mean, look at us."

She didn't have to remind you. Both girls were prettier than they should be. ‘Cause look here for a minute: Nancy's got this long caramel hair going on for her, and it extends long beyond her shoulder blades, framing her amazing curves and slim arms. She's the push to Somi's pull—Nancy is the calmer one, the girl who takes things more seriously. 

To be fair, Somi does her own taking, too. Just not in the same way. She's blonder, bustier, more extroverted. She walks life with an unrestrained laugh unfit for such a gorgeous girl and feet clad with platform school shoes that always carry her in paces around the classroom. She's kind enough to cast a blind eye on some of your offenses, but too princess-y to keep her words about herself humble.

You say these in present tense because later on, when the circumstances change and so do the seasons, you'd find out that's truly who they are. Your relationship would change but they wouldn't. They're still the same Somi and Nancy who are always glued to each other, always giggling, always the it girls, always the most popular girls in school.

One day, the punishment for your routine offenses would be death caused by them, and even that you'd welcome. Oh, just imagine…

"Let me guess." The brunette girl tapped her finger on the desk surface. Lucky piece of wood. "You didn't pay the treasurer again?"

You sighed and fiddled with your pencil. Scratches from the pointed led were imprinted on the olden table attached to the seat. You bit back a remark about how the class treasurer was as corrupt as a politician withering away with the hope the graft charges would, too. "Wrong," you said, steadily. "I accidentally spray-painted miss Seo during arts.”

Your truth was met with silence.

“She looked like she came out of a unicorn's asshole," you helpfully added.

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Ah, well, of course you did—it was impossible to forget when it happened fifty fucking minutes ago. Yes, you counted down, because the surprise that took over you when you squeezed the nozzle of the can on a teacher you didn’t even know was behind you was everything to remember. Every color of the rainbow was soaking her dress pants and blouse, making her become the personification of a lively Pride parade.

(You didn’t leave that detail out for your poor victim not to hear, when you said: “Gay rights, anybody?”

Looking back, that was prooobably what got you into another meeting with the girls. The teachers had some real strange beliefs.)

Somi snorted, then started to laugh boisterously, so much that her body rocked downwards. To be fair, it started out as a small chuckle. Things went from this to that and suddenly it worked itself into a full cackle. 

She slapped Nancy on the shoulder and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologized; (it was useless), “but that shit’s so… fffucking—”

"It's not funny, Somi," Nancy said with a more solid voice than that of her friend’s. "Hey. Hey, it's not funny!"

“Just think about it, babe.” Somi, still snickering, tried to put some sense in her, tried to make her see what made it so funny. “Think of the gay flag. Now—listen—imagine it as mean old miss Seo. You see where I’m going?”

“Still not funny.”

"C'mon, prez," you told the unconvinced girl. You flung your hands in the air nonchalantly. "Live a little."

"Yeah, Nance," echoed Somi cheerfully, poking her best friend’s cheek. She was the only one who could ever do that to her. Any other person and they’d be found dead in a ditch alongside their reputation. And god, did it matter a lot to young’uns like you. "Live a little."

"Don't call me that.”

Somi shut her mouth. From what you noticed, she was the lesser contained of the two of them. She spoke with a sailor’s mouth that had the accent and vocabulary of a valley girl. Kind of true—she was filthy rich. You saw her parents during the senior acquaintance party and it wasn’t that hard to figure out she was wealthy when you saw her father slip her her allowance. Also, her mother was dressed in the best and latest trends, looking younger than she really was with how she held herself. Only rich people and really exemplary actresses could pull that off.

"And what was your offense the previous week?" Nancy went on. She was leaning forward now, unintentionally offering you the best view a horny senior could wish for: her bust struggling to be held inside her uniform blouse. 

A distraction, that's what it was. Oh, fuck, now Somi was doing it, too. Both girls are busty, full breasts begging to be freed from fabric. You should have really requested undressing them as your punishment, but it was clear that it was probably what they wanted and this was simply to coerce answers from you, unintentional or not. 

They still held their dynamics, even when they’re forcing words out of you. They went hand in hand, pairing up together like they were born to be friends: the angel that was Nancy, and the little devil Somi was; good cop (in a way) Somi, and bad cop Nancy.

You weren’t gonna say their methods didn’t work. You gulped. Since when did you sound like a shitty literotica author with two sales? "I started a food fight in the cafeteria."

"And the previous week?"

"I tripped mister Brown in the hallway because he failed me."

"And the week before that?"

"I started a campaign that Photoshopped Shrek onto teachers' faces."

Silence, as if all the world were a show that liked to take several beats.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” asked Nancy finally.

“You do,” you said. “You don’t think I can see you smiling?” There was something in her face that told you that hatred for you was not all there was to it. Something about the uplifted motion at the left end of her lips. Somi was barely hiding it with the giggles she was making.

“Don’t flatter yourself, dickhead.”

“Oooh, nice one for a first swear word.” You threw the pencil away and folded your hands together. Leaned forward, too, because if they were showing off their cleavages like that, you might as well do the same. “Got anything else for me?”

You promised you weren’t always this petty. These weekly meetings with the presidents just tired you out. It wasn’t your fault you were like this. It could all be traced back to your parents’ nth mistake: sending you off to this shithole of a school. For fuck’s sake, this wasn’t even where you envisioned yourself to be five years ago, when your teachers made you draw a visionary of yourself on white bond paper. Far from it, if you looked past your shitty skills at sketching.

“Detention, maybe,” Somi said helpfully after swallowing the last pieces of her laughs. “And a suspension.”

“Oh god.” You rolled your eyes. “Please, not you, too.”

“Yep. Real scary stuff, huh?” She smiled, raising her hands in claws before firing you a wink. Your breath shortened just for a while. Only just. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to go through all that if you behave.”

You smiled back. “Like a good boy?”

But there was your heart slipping into a knot as you said it. Joke-filled lines you exchanged with the girls were difficult not to stay upon when your hormonal brain kept each one dirty.

The two girls looked at each other for a moment. Then, they smiled. That was a rare one from Nancy. Somi, however, boasted her shining simper as she took a few steps forward to pat you on the shoulder.

"You're alright, newbie," was all she said. "You're alright."

-

A few months—

(Well, you could say it took fewer than that. Within a timespan of what seemed like seconds, Somi had you wrapped around the long hem of her ballroom gown. But she didn’t drag you around for long; she treated you like a fellow royal, helping you out with math though she had little time and greeting you in the hallways and therefore drawing looks, because why was the Jeon Somi talking to some random new kid? But attention was what came with being Somi and slash or being part of her life. It’s time you got used to it.)

—and a lot of bickering later—

(“You are the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met,” said Somi, fingers massaging her temple. “Who in goddess’ name doesn’t know dodos are extinct?”

You flipped the teacher’s copy shut. “Normal people,” was your answer to her, as you brooded over social studies homework at the library. 

“Shhhh!” the librarian, with her stereotypical glasses and graying hair, hissed at you from her desk. After a hateful glare, she was returning to her telenovela, which you argued was louder than your hushed conversation with your new friend.

Friend? What could you call this thing you had with Somi? She liked you, but that didn’t mean she was your friend or you were hers. You could like a modern abstract painting at the gallery and still not buy it. Maybe that was how she looked at you.

“The dodo is dead-o,” Somi said seriously. She looked at you with an equally resolute glare. 

“The dodo is dead-o,” you repeated. You could remember that.

“You’re so lying, did they never teach you that at your old school? Like at all?”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t spend time thinking if a stupid bird is alive or not.”

“See?” She raised her voice so that the poor juniors in the cluster behind you had to hear. “This, my friends, is what’s wrong in our society! Eighteen-year-olds in this prominent day and age are all like ‘I dunno what a dodo is!’!”

“For fuck’s sake, they’re all dead!” you yelled before the librarian could scold you again. “They won’t fucking care!”)

—things began to change.

-

She did say you were alright. You still had discourse over birds but in her eyes, you convinced yourself eventually you were alright. 

-

It wasn’t the case for Nancy. That smile she made back in that classroom apparently meant nothing. You were amusing to her, but that’s everything to it. Nothing more, nothing less. You were entertaining in a way a clown at a children’s party was: no one particularly cared about it days after.

“He’s tagging along?” she said. She looked you up and down suspiciously, as a guard would at an airport, then turned to Somi. “Somi, I thought we agreed on no boys on trips.”

And it—

… hurt you?

Not only that made you feel out of place, but the visible fact that both girls were dressed like they were about to go to a gala. They were both in skirts, wearing layers that vested upon expensive blouses and coats that even from miles away would look good. You, of course, were excluded in your simple tee and shorts. It was as if you didn’t even try to look presentable.

“Consider me one of the girls,” you said. You hoped that quick reply was witty enough, because if not, you were doomed. You already had a bad enough poor position to deal with. See? You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t want it.

And it wasn’t like going to the mall with them was something you wanted either. Somi texted you one day, having found your number through means that were probably illegal but were given a blind eye because oh look she’s Jeon Somi, and asked, hey, wanna come to the mall w me? 

Looking back, that message had a lot of undertones. 

You didn’t know Nancy was coming along, but you should have known that when the two girls were always together. Hoping that she would come along was what you did, and perhaps one of the reasons why you wanted to go (wait, you wanted to go? But didn’t you— never mind). Now that she had expressed clear distaste for your presence, you felt like an outcast again.

You didn’t want to go back to those days.

Somi nodded enthusiastically. Well, at least someone was happy to have you around. She was the first one to warm up to you, and you could say that you were friends with her now. Something told you she was okay with that. “Yeah, Nance! I promise he’s gonna be good, like super duper good. Just think that he’s Mina.”

“Don’t call me that. Oh, and remember what we did to Mina?” 

Everybody knew Kang Mina although she graduated a long time ago. She was a loner at first, but pretty. She didn’t know that she was beautiful, of course, not until she became friends with Somi and Nancy and suddenly—

“Oh no,” you said. You put up your hands. “No, no, no, no, no. You are not—”

“Giving you a makeover?” Nancy smirked, that being the first time of the day that she gave signs of a living smile. “Yeah, we are.”

The salon was right up ahead after the pavilion. You took a single look at it and saw its pink, glamoring state along with the hairdos it advertised, and knew that you were wholly, indefinitely, and irreparably fucked.

“God, what’re you gonna do to me?” you groaned as you were shoved into a disgustingly pink seat, accompanied by strange looks from strangers whose strangeness in their colored hairs and phrases shouldn’t give them any right to look at you like that. Masculinity this, masculinity that—but come on. It was… what year was it again?

“Hey, Jessa!” Somi called out loudly. Jessa was a plump, sweet woman with bayonetta glasses that made her slits for eyes look even smaller. “Make him look like everything.”

“Yeah!” Nancy actually looked enthusiastic. You tried not to curl up into a snail-like position when she brushed her fingers through your hair. “Like a dreamboat, that kind.”

Jessa smiled. “You two are always in some sort of BS, aren’t you?” Fondness graced her elderly tone. It was clear the two girls were frequent visitors.

She swiftly curled the chair into the vanity table’s direction. Your reflection in the star-studded mirror made you wince. You had cysts in all the inconvenient places, a bread crumb at the side of your mouth from the breakfast you had at that niche cafe, everything. Even Jessa looked like royalty compared to you. What more next to Somi and Nancy, whose skirted long legs towered over you and reminded you that they always held the better deck, the better position? 

“Call us the Bullshitter Bitches, then!” Somi began to tap dance on her heels. It was her hidden talent. Well, it wasn’t really hard to tap dance when she had those long legs. “‘We’re the Bullshitter Bitches / We shit on snitch—”

“Somi, that’s disgusting,” Nancy snapped sourly. She clicked a haircut apron around your neck. Great. Now you looked like a goddamned infant who’s growing up with a princess complex.

“Sorry.”

“Just so you know,” you said, as Jessa snipped away at your head, “I’m not paying for this. I don’t need a makeover.”

“‘Course you aren’t. It’s all on the house.”

Brushes swished on your face, hiding the beginning foundations of new hormonal pimples and blackheads. They hid away your imperfections with just one slide. You never saw them as such, not until you got into senior high and therefore compared yourself to the bigger guys, the cooler guys. The ones whose sweat wrung from their hair but still looked attractive enough to get the girls. Maybe this was what you needed. You were gonna have to think twice about the whole operation.

“Makeup?” you asked warily. Not that you were against it. but you never really tried it on before.

Somi’s hand made an L-shaped gesture and branded itself in front of her forehead. “Boo, come on, it’s the big year of”—redacted, with an exclamation at the end. Nobody needed to know when this happened. The time will come when everything will reveal itself. She painted powder that almost matched the shade of your skin and hued it on your cheeks and neck. “Who said guys can’t wear makeup?”

“Makeup is for everybody,” chirped Jessa in agreement. “And that’s right, sweetie, you don’t need a makeover. Just a touch up. And everyone gets them, even handsome guys like you.”

Nobody had ever called you handsome. The last time it ever happened was when your mother buttoned your polo for preschool. It’s flattery, you knew, but your chest still felt as if it were knotted.

“Ain’t that right,” Nancy stooped to your level and brushed your nose with the tip of her finger—her soft smile was gripping, “new boy.”

Another one, and a roundness at the edge(?) of your throat you couldn’t swallow. Your Adam’s apple bobbed yet it was useless at downing it. 

You had to look away. Did she just agree that you were good-looking? You knew Somi thought that, too, but this was Nancy. Nancy McDonie, the girl who didn’t care for you much and didn’t want you here.

She still didn’t like you. But maybe that would change.

(Spoiler alert: it did. That’s how the story went.)

You wondered how rich they actually were to pay Jessa to be so committed to making you look your best. Your hair was purple for a few minutes (“Fuck no!” you shouted) and was easily returned to the black with a quick dye. Then she gelled it in so many directions that you’d think your blunt mane was a car being controlled by an overexcited student driver. That was already thousands of won by itself. But it went on without stopping, and Somi and Nancy still weren’t satisfied.

“I’m telling you, Somi,” said the brunette girl, twirling your chair to the mirror again, “he looks good with that slicked back do!”

“Be serious with me.” Somi blew-dried your hair and ran her hand along your whiffed locks. “Grody as hell. Doesn’t he look like 90s’ Brendan Fraser?”

“He does,” Jessa said. She returned with tools that looked so unfamiliar to you that they might as well be surgeon’s supplies. Fuck, were they gonna take out your liver after all that trouble?

“Ha! See?”

“He has some nice eyebrows. Just needs a little trimming and he’s good to go.”

“Thank god,” you said. They all looked at you as if surprised to remember you weren’t a doll to practice hairstyling on. Your scalp already ached royally. “I need to get out of here.”

Nancy shook her head. “Nuh-uh. You’re not going anywhere, new boy. You’re ours for today.”

You gulped. God, okay. You were good with that. 

A light edged metal ran along the ends of your brows. You were afraid they were going to make you look like Megan Fox in Jennifer’s Body, but it actually turned out alright. 

After all the ruckus, you were there, staring at your reflection.You could pass for a guy richer than you actually were, cooler than you actually were. Your eyebrows were cleanly trimmed, in a steady and one-way direction, and your hair was cut yet splayed in a way that made you actually look flattering. Then you had your cheeks to look at, which were clear of any of your open pores and pimples. You looked like what they told you would: everything.

“I… I’m one of the girls now,” you said out of the blue. It was like a moment of truth for you.

“Yes you are,” Somi said proudly. “Now can we go get some ice cream?”

Nancy glanced at the clothing shop a few blocks down the tiled path and shook her head. Nope. Not a chance in any galaxy.

-

It was also later on, when you saw yourself in clothes from brands you never dreamed of buying, you knew that this thing you had with the presidents would go on forever, an eternity that would last long after—

-

Senior year, your golden age.

"Hey, hotshot," a clear voice says into your ear. She's on the phone with you yet her voice is loud enough for it to be easily assumed that she's physically present. "Up to see me after class?"

That's Somi, by the way. Yep, the leader of the student body who sanctioned you years ago. She's a real life Korean-Canadian doll. She'd be the stereotypical one, the face and brand—she's tall and slender, owning the hallways like she was the first step to ever be made in them. Blonde, too. You've met her years before and not once have you seen her natural color replace her dyed yellow.

The thing about her is that she's always just that shameless and energetic. She has one default personality and that is extroverted. 

She's also naturally flirtatious, and you know it doesn't mean anything else when she calls you derogatory names in sweet tones but you remain attached to her. We’ll just keep it at that.

"Aren't we meeting in social studies?" you chuckle. This girl can't get enough of being around people. Around you, to be more specific. But that's what friends do.

"Not enough, obvi.” 

“Right.”

“Is Nancy coming, too?"

"I think so."

"Darn it. I was hoping to…." 

You raise your brows in suspicion. "What?"

"Nothing. I said we're meeting up."

Let out a soft chuckle. "I didn't say yes," you inform her, just in case she forgot.

"And I didn't say that what you think about it matters, butthead. You know you want to see me. Tata!"

And it ends off with that. Click. 

Your smile is wide. That's Somi for you: a brat at heart, always getting what she wants one way or another, with a vocabulary that matches that of a spoiled heiress. Maybe she is one? You don't know but the branded clothes she often wears to school are getting a little suspicious. Among other things.

The locker space is packed with students, both juniors and seniors, male and female. They see you and start whispering among themselves. Some even make way. That wouldn't have been possible in your first year, but then Somi and Nancy happened. They made you the way you were. They made you a centerpiece. Do you like it? Admittedly, it strokes your ego well on some days.

Where's your locker key again? There it is. Click it into the padlock and swing the door open. Notes and trinkets from your two best friends are stuck to its walls. They said it was "for motivation." You let them believe that because it's true. Seeing Somi's wild happy calligraphy on the sticky note “Yep :) totally got it - Jeon <3”, compared to Nancy's more contained handwriting “Let’s get going!!!” always brightens your day.

Collect your social studies book as well as the mathematics one for the next period. Shut it, and a figure suddenly appears next to you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nancy!"

Oh yeah, that's how the scene opens to introduce the present Nancy McDonie. She's the brunette and calmer duplicate of Somi, but with an equally amazing body—

You won't go there. 

She has one arm pinned to the neighboring locker door and a small smile. "Language, handsome," she chides, patting your shoulder. "It's just me."

Oh, and the less sarcastic counterpart as well. Nancy calls you sweet pet names and means them. 

She’s grown fonder of you over the years. Nancy hates hard, but when she loves, she loves just as much. You’ve become so much better as a person and a newfound friend that she’s got no other choice but to keep you under her wing. 

So, it could be argued that she loves you.

Never the same way you do, like you started to right from the very beginning, when unfamiliarity stepped between you and kept your hearts away from each other.

"Hey there," you say, clutching your chest. It’s just Nancy, your other half. You've been friends with her a little after your makeover. Quite a long time, if you do say so yourself; it seems to have happened so long ago. Long enough to have you become one of the girls.

It's not derogatory, like other boys would think. Being friends with the girls is more fun than hanging out with the vulgar rebels from your old school. For what it's worth, being one of Somi's and Nancy's is a huge compliment. Not everybody could say they were friends with the popular kids.

Gulp. It’s so hard to act normal in front of her when she’s naturally charming, and her uniform’s made to hug every bit of her curves, including her exceptional ass. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re strongly and sexually attracted to her a long time ago, but it still proves to be a challenge not to stare. 

Besides, she trusts you. You’re her best friend. If you make a move on her, everybody would know and ruin your life for it, even if you’re fairly popular yourself. You’d be surprised by how quick people turn against others.

You’re not going to lie: she’s gorgeous, and the last thing that would be able to scare you is her beautiful face, but she can’t just show up like that out of the blue. That little pet name gets your gears going though. Your spirits are already afloat.

"Hey." She pats you on the head and peeks at the schedule taped to your locker. "Oh, you got social studies, too?"

"Y-you got that right."

"With Somi?"

"Yeah, sure. So?" 

Nancy, sweet as a lollipop, shakes her head cheerfully. "Nothing," she says. "I guess I'll see you there."

"See ya there." 

Offer her a two-finger salute and walk as quickly as you could although you're leaving with her. It's strange how she has your heart all bunched up when she shows up. She's pretty, yeah, but there's a certain aura about her calm demeanor that captures your stomach and keeps it tight. You hope no one gets you wrong—you like Somi, too, but Nancy has you wrapped around her little finger. She could tell you to jump off a cliff and you’d rush to buy out parachute stores.

And you’re staring at her as you switch classrooms. Your eyes are locked to her smile, her every move, her charm. Nancy was the last person you thought you’d ever be in love with—after all, she was the one who gave you sanction after sanction whenever you showed up at her classroom. Somi’s the one who went gentle with you, right?

But things happen. Plus, in a way, she’s changed you for the better. 

Your style wasn’t the only thing they made over. They helped you with your studies, your personal problems, and everything they could. Your grades went up, much to the surprise of your teachers, and you stopped your troublemaking. That was also to the surprise of your educators, but also relief. You couldn’t be more grateful. It was comforting to find new friends in a place so new. And from the girls you least expected, too.

Nancy looks at you twice, then laughs. “Why are you looking at me like you’re in love with me or something?” she says, slapping the back of your head.

Well, what do you know? She’s not far off. You could say that you’re in love.

Just the tiniest, most speckling bit in love.

“Maybe I am.”

“Stud,” Nancy says under her breath. 

She wouldn’t have dared say that in a nicer tone years ago.

The roll of her gorgeous eyes has you thinking of a scenario where it’s caused by something other than your flirtatious remarks. It would start with a flirtatious remark, then evolve into something more. Something beyond that.

Abstain from that thought. Instead, you gasp as if you belonged to the theater club with Jiwoo. “Did you just call me a slut?” you ask her. Raise your voice higher. You really hang out with Somi too much. “Everyone! Nancy McDonie just slutshamed me! I repeat, president Nancy McDonie just slut—”

A rough shove to your shoulder that neither you or Nancy expected blocks your words before they create controversy. Blonde fills your eyes as its Rapunzel owner says, “Get out of my way, creep.”

It’s such a low snarl that it alarms you. What made you a creep? Do you have to fight?

When you look up, you see that it’s no other girl than Somi. Despite what she said, she wears a cheeky, large smile. Return the grin and make it as Somi-like as possible; right, how could you forget the thing you and she have going on? 

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” you say, crossing your arms in faux annoyance. Yeah, you really should have tried out for that play. You could make it big as an actor.

“Oh yeah?” Somi looks you up and down. Is that bite on her lip also part of the act? “Why should I? I don’t even know your name.”

“I don’t know yours either. Is it ‘bottle blonde’?”

“Shut the fuck up. 2008 called and said they wanted their My Chemical Romance hairdo back.”

Nancy covers her face embarrassedly. She’s too proud to join the joke you and Somi have, so she’s left having to deal with the unnecessary attention your fake fights warrant. It happens almost twice every other day and people still look on to find out what’s happening. It’s what amuses you and her blonde counterpart. She and Somi are alike in many ways, all except the latter’s thirst for childish fun.

“Madams. Sir,” the teacher says. She’s miss Kim Sejeong, your social studies teacher whom you swear has been here before you were even born. The university students and graduates who’ve found their tune visit often and talk about her fondly, yet despite their ages ranging, she looks like she isn’t more than twenty-three years old. Her gaze is stern yet amused. “Do you plan on getting in? The air-conditioner’s expensive.”

While Nancy blushes in humiliation, the class erupts into giggles, and you and Somi can’t help but do the same. Each repetition of your rivalry routine is funnier than the previous one. It might be corny, especially to the other students who despise you for no reason, but it keeps your friendship solid. And what’s a better friendship than one with a few inside jokes? A strange routine?

It’s an unspoken and universal law in every classroom that even if there isn’t any official seating arrangement as to who’s sitting next to who, you still choose the ones you first sat at the beginning of the year. You’re a proud follower of that rule, and that’s why you’ve been sitting here in the front of the class with Somi and Nancy for ages. You have a secret stenciled artwork under this specific chair with an equation of your trio’s initials. It would mark long after you’ve graduated and went to pass on that you three were once best friends, and nothing could change that.

Somi leans against your arm before turning her head to glare at you. “‘Bottle Blonde,’ huh?” she says spitefully.

“Not as bad as ‘My Chemical Romance,’” you reply. That one stung a little. Does your hair really need a cut?

“Fuck you. I don’t fucking care what you say, I’ll be a blondie as much as I want.”

“And I suppose I’m emo now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Her brows curl together at the sight of Nancy looking sour in the seat to your left. “You aight, Nancy?”

The girl nods. There’s red coloring her cheeks and ears. Kind of cute, actually. “Still alive,” she says, “after the shit you pulled there. Surprisingly.”

You and Somi bump fists. This is how it is with her. Opposed to you and Nancy acting like best friends just two steps away from being a couple, you’re more of a teasing older friend to her. You act like brother and sister, though your bond is much deeper than that. There’s something lingering in the air between you, and Somi seems to have caught it. What could it be?

You don’t have to think about that for now, not when your arms are around your two best friends in the world and now keenly listening to Kim Sejeong. That wouldn’t have been possible in your first year of high school, when things were completely different.

But, like you said, things happen. Things change. It’s just how they work, and it’s about time you get used to it being like that. You wouldn’t have had it any other way with your two friends, though. 

Sejeong waits for the three of you to get settled, then smiles welcomingly. “Now that we all have ourselves safely in our seats,” a stress there as she looks at you pointedly, “I suppose we should get on with your missed activities.”

Wince. You’re crossing your fingers, praying and begging that one particular girl doesn’t—

“What about the declamation?” Nancy asks innocently. “I thought it was due a month ago.”

A collective groan. You’ve gathered the class before to develop a plan to stall the feared exercise. Popularity, you believe, ought to be used correctly and for the common good. Keeping that declamation away is for the benefit of all. Not only is it an individual performance, but it makes up forty percent of your grade. It takes a hell of an effort to do it instantly.

No effort, so it seems, to Nancy McDonie. She’s the gooder girl of the duo, the perfect angel in all the right ways. She’s still right for this one—a lot of you just don’t like that truth.

“I thought we all agreed—”

“Somi!” you cut in, but she goes on shamelessly.

Somi stands up and looks at the class with genuine disappointment in her eyes. “—not to remind miss Kim about it. My god, you guys are, like, absolutely two-faced.”

It doesn’t take a while for the realization to set in with your teacher. Her stare is, as always, something that cuts straight to the soul. It sheds your dignity and leaves you bare for the eagle to eat of you. To be clear, there’s a reason why she was one of the teachers you never dared mess with. She was quiet but stern—a deadly combination.

"Oh. You kids are too smart for me, huh?" Sejeong laughs sarcastically. Her smile strips you of any attempt to wash her scolding off with a laugh. Can’t resort to that. Again, Kim Sejeong isn’t one to mess with. “That was more disappointing than anything the other classes have done. Do you think that just because you’re popular you can suddenly hold it against me?”

She uses the same lines you’ve heard back in your troublemaker days. Each word untaps a memory. 

You all stay silent. Somi doesn’t for long, when she’s called up to go first with the declamation since “you thought of the plan, miss Jeon,” according to Sejeong.

“But, but, but it wasn’t even—” the girl protests. Her pupils are wide with rage. She’s so used to saying anything and getting away with it. She can’t believe it won’t work out like that for her today.

“Now.”

She groans dramatically, and rises with slumped shoulders so odd to be seen on such a duchess-like, pampered girl like her. After all, she’s the stereotypical rich, blonde teen with impeccable fashion and manners that range from the sweetest to the meanest. Right now, she’s veering in the middle of the scale as she gets to the front center.

You mouth her a deserved, and she says I’m sooo gonna punch you in the balls later.

“Now, miss Jeon,” says Sejeong, arms furled in front of her chest. Yep, she isn’t backing down. “What is your solution to poverty here in this country?”

Nancy raises her hand. “May I go first instead?” she offers in hopes to save her friend. 

“You may not. Miss Jeon, please be brief. Start.”

Somi pouts, but faces the class with steady eyes. She’s ready for this. Mostly. Wringing out a pink bubble gum from her pink lips with pink-polished nails, she begins.

“So, you know how there are a lot of poor people. A lot. I know because I see a whole bunch outside the clubhouse and middle classers are always like, ‘Oh nooo, don’t give money to them, they’re gonna use it for drugs!’. And I’m just there going, ‘Gag me with a friggin’ spoon, Becky. Where the hell can you find drugs for a dime? Where?’.” She pauses for dramatic effect, then nods smugly. “Yep, that’s what I thought.”

Nancy brings her palm to her face. You’re giggling in your seat, muffling it with a few fingers. Sejeong’s eyes are wide and appalled.

“Okay,” the confident Somi continues, “for example, there’re a lot of poor people somewhere. Let’s say fifty. Oh, maybe ninety! That's super many, right?”

You and your classmates look at each other. You’re not certain where she’s going with this.

“You can’t have too many people at the same place, like that time I had all of my geometrics class for my nineteenth and it was a total flop. You have to keep them fed, y’know. So I had to walk my pretty self to the bakers which is like ten minutes away then ask them for more chocolate cake. My daddy was super mad at me for maxing out his credit card, but by the end of the day, we had more cake! More cake equals less hunger equals more dessert equals less poor people.”

The jocks at the back nod in agreement, cheering her on. She acknowledges their reassurances with a flirty wave.

"So, if the government just maxed out their credit cards and let poor people eat cake,” she says, with real conviction for someone who’s dragging her chewed gum out of her mouth coyly, “I believe with all my heart that there will be no poverty in America. Who’s with me?”

The modern Marie Antoinette. You raise your hand proudly. Try to get Nancy to raise hers as well but she’s red in the face again. 

“And to conclude,” Somi adds finally, “it should be everyone’s knowledge that there's no law in this beautiful country that says ‘Republic Act Anti-Poor People and Rich People Eating Cake Together Bunch of Numbers.’ I offer dessert for all to help eradicate poor people– I mean, poverty, led by our government and me, Jeon Somi. That will be all, thank you.”

The whole class gets up on their feet and applauds her. Like the princess she is, your blonde friend waves and bows, even blowing kisses. Meanwhile, Sejeong contemplates retirement and realizes she’s actually considering it, salary and all.

-

"You killed it, Somi. You fucking killed it." 

That's what you say to your friend after leaving the classroom with her and Nancy. You mean it—you've never had a belly laugh that rocked your body that hard before. She deserved an A instead of that disappointing C-.

Sejeong’s sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. Somi’s speech was impactful, it seems. So impactful that it has her fingers jotting down a lengthy text message to… the principal? What’s that for? The speech was great!

Your classmates have filed out to go to computer shops or study. They tell Somi she did great with her declamation, which you’re pretty sure is intended to humiliate her, but Jeon Somi only ever thinks of anything said to her as a compliment. That’s why she blows them kisses and flirtatiously cocks her brows. Yep, that’s her. Nancy’s a different story—always quiet and reserved, but daring enough to hold Somi back before she causes more chaos. But the lid of Pandora’s box has already been lifted.

You three are already far behind your classmates when they go out, but you don’t mind. You like it when it’s just you. No computer shop or mall could compare to being in the hallways with your best friends, trading jokes and stories.

"Killed what? Poverty?" Nancy asks, still in a dilemma over the drama in the social studies classroom. "Somi, you really have to start minding your words."

Somi blows a satiric raspberry. She raises her hands in dismissal as she walks faster then turns around anyway to face her. "Blah blah, who cares? It was an awesome declamation."

Chuckle. "I feel like that's up for debate," you say. "Did you see miss Kim's face?"

It was a look of judgment and disappointment. While everyone cheered and whistled for the other half of the McDonie-Jeon duo, your teacher had a look on her face that could be likened to the one you make after smelling something bad. Laughs were passed around the classroom but her eyebrows and squinted eyes etched an expression of real concern. 

"What if someone recorded that?" Nancy says. She has a hand on her shoulder to try and make her see the darker but truthful side. "You could ruin your chances of getting to a good college forever."

In these four walls of the corridor, your heart twists. Right—you only have a few months until you’re done with senior year. That means having to choose a course and college to go to. You didn’t think time would pass by that fast. By then, would you still be friends with Somi and Nancy?

You hope so. You look at their pretty faces and their hands in yours and wish high school would just last forever. You’d choose them over your standing, your popularity, everything. Sure, being friends with them brings inescapable attention, but you’d be fine without it if it means you could still be with them.

You sit down at the bottom step of the staircase. They follow, too. Open your textbook to skim through it, hoping that your stock knowledge for science would suffice.

“Ugh, college schmollege,” Somi says, crossing her legs and throwing her head back. When her pretty face comes back to view it’s mocking your other friend already. "Have you seen student debt? College just makes people poor. How’ll that help with poverty?”

You wonder how Jeon Somi could sound so knowledgeable yet so insensitive at the same time. It’s a feat that couldn’t be done by others. It’s like it’s her trademark: to be the wealthy girl who always says the wrong and right things that therefore blends into one, confusing mixture. Should you be offended? Happy? Anything?

Nancy leans on your shoulder with a sigh that blows the runaway strands on her face back with their kind. Sometimes Somi could be too much for her. It’s like she trades places with you and realizes how a beautiful girl could be a handful. That’s why you two are particularly close: you understand each other. You’re close with Somi, too, but you just have a deeper bond with the calmer girl. You still don’t know how it happened when she hated you at the start for filling her schedule because of your troubles. Some things just change as time goes on. 

“You just can’t be fixed, Somi,” you tell her. “You’re always going to be insane.”

You know you’re right. She knows it, too. It would take years and years of maturity for Somi to grow out of her flirtatious personality. She’d be the girl in college whose laughable questions somehow also awaken strange inquiries of your own. She’s a little weird, to be honest, but she’s pretty and confident. Smart, too—she just has her own way of showing it.

“I’m a simple gal, what can I say?” She stops before she could go on, as if she’s just caught a memory in the slip of her hands. “Oh, and I forgot to do something.”

“And that is?”

Somi lifts a fist and heavily plows it into your crotch. You yowl in pain as opposed to her grin that could reach the ends of the earth. Where did she learn that? That hurt like hell!

Nancy’s jaw drops to the floor. “Somi!” she says, genuinely shocked.

“What the fuck was that for!” you screech in the midst of your laughs, clutching your core and glaring at the convict of the crime which is assaulting your balls.

The fact that the criminal’s too pretty is an unfair advantage. “I did say I was gonna punch your balls earlier.”

“You owe me one, Jeon Somi!” 

“Hey, I wouldn’t have had to do it if McDonie here wasn’t a grody teacher’s pet.”

Nancy blushes. She's forgotten she's involved in the mess, too. “I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice. 

“I bet you are.” Somi shoves her shoulder playfully. “Cause and effect, Nance. C’mon, if you didn’t want to be a good girl so bad, I wouldn’t have declaimed or anything. Not that it wasn’t amazing.”

What a ridiculous conversation to have. You place your arms around both girls and pull them close. “Alright,” you declare, still wincing, “fuck, you’re both at fault. Nancy made a butterfly effect that ended up getting my balls aching. I’m the poor girls’ guy that got pulled into everything. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Somi floats her fingers on her cheek, thinking a little. It’s like a bulb lit above her head when her eyes suddenly brighten. You hope that it’s a good idea this time because when she makes that look, it isn’t for any good at all. 

“Nancy and I will discuss this, if you don’t mind,” she says, rising to her feet and tugging Nancy up, too.

“Me?” 

“Yep!”

She pauses. “Jeon Somi,” the latter sighs halfheartedly, “what are you planning now?”

Yeah, what is she planning? You have no idea and honestly, it scares you. Somi can be unpredictable with her quick wit and schemes, but with Nancy’s added ideas? Whatever she’s dreaming up, it can’t be anything you’d expect.

“The perfect apology. Meet us at my house after school. See you later, cutie.”

-

Your classes are filled with sprites of anxiety that are unusual when compared to your daily jokes and butt-ins. Your head’s filled with plenty of questions, and you try to answer them as you go about the rest of the school day:

First of all, why did the apology have to take place at Somi’s house?

Maybe they’ll buy a cake for you from the bakery she cited in her speech. She has plenty of money to go around so a cake might actually be possible. If it weren’t a cake, maybe an apology combined with balloons and confetti that you’d laugh about years from now. All these possibilities you sift through and yet they don’t seem to be what’s in store for you.

Second, why did the planning that had to occur without you?

They might be planning a big surprise. Perhaps that’s it. But then—

Why such a big surprise for an apology that could’ve been done simply?

That’s where your mind goes blank. You don’t know. You have no idea, not even the tiniest bit. You’ve been friends with Nancy and Somi for years but they still have that mystery around them. You know everything about them, from their interests to what makes the three of you click, but never what they plan to do. That always remains shrouded.

So, when Nancy texts your group chat the plan’s done!!! ♥ ️ be ready & meet us where youre supposed to :), you move like a snail. You take your time playing and talking to other students, buying food from the cafeteria, everything. When you get on the bus to commute from your school to Somi’s home, you’re wrecked by hesitation. All this anxiety and nervousness for a damned apology. 

Maybe it’s because you’ve never had friends like them before, especially that pretty. 

You would never intend to act on your feelings for them if they don’t want you to, even if you’re hormonal as fuck, but what if that’s what they’re planning? To have an intimate night with them, just like in the movies? 

Or, hopefully, finally let you have something deeper: a love that fits three?

Nope, two wishes that’ll never come true, whatever star you make them upon.

Drag your heavy feet down the road. Sounds like Somi’s rich-ass neighbors are partying again. Take your precious time leering at them, noticing the manner they hold their wine glasses and the music only being stolen off Spotify’s Most Popular Songs playlist. It’s all a headache, honestly. You’ve never connected well with rich people, not until you met the girls. That’s where it all starts and ends, right? Them: Somi and Nancy, the yin and yang?

“You’re here!” shouts Somi gleefully, throwing her arms around you. She’s dressed in this tiny shirt that looks cute and simple but you’re sure costs more than a few thousand won. It also shouldn’t be worth that much when it’s too little for her anyway. “Why did you take so long?”

Nancy goes in for the kill. She comes in with only a camisole and the undershorts of her uniform plaid skirt, and it hugs right where it maims and shoots you. No, keep your mind holy. She’s your best friend. Also your crush but that doesn't matter here. “Bet he was scared to come.”

“Was not,” you reply too quickly. Tighten your jaw. “I—I got held up by traffic.”

“It’s a Wednesday.”

“Yes, but—” Pause. You realize you don’t have a proper justification. “Just get to it, will you? The apology?”

“‘Kay ‘kay,” says Somi, wrapping an arm around your waist, literally keeping you at arm’s length just in case you try to scamper away, “the apology is a girls and boy’s night. Here. Just to get away from everything. We all need it.”

“Who’s ordering the soju?”

“Soju?” Nancy asks indignantly, eyes all round and wide like she was a deer caught in headlights. You and Somi are like that to her: flashing lights, crashing into an unsuspecting her with a brightness a notch too much. No apologies when you don’t plan to change. This is what makes you young.

“What’re you, a nun? We’re adults, Nance!” Somi says. Her thumbs tap away at her phone screen, the familiar pink lights flashing back at her indicating she’s already ordering. “It’s on me.”

Of course. Who other than Jeon Somi? Of course, you can’t let that moment slip away without a snarky remark from your end.

“Must be nice having access to your billionaire dad’s bank account.”

Somi twirls her fingers in her hair and squints her eyes at you spitefully. “I’m using my mom’s, poophead.”

“Oh wow,” you reply, your statement blank of any emotion.

“Guys,” cuts in Nancy. Her voice is strained. She feels like a mother trying to contain two kids who just know how to push her buttons. “We can’t have soju delivery. Or beer. Or whatever alcoholic drinks there are. We can get in trouble. Think about our grades. The suspensions!”

Ah, sweet Nancy, always the one to pull you back down to sense. But when has that ever worked?

“Alright.” Somi clicks her device shut and throws it on the sofa space you’ve left empty beside her. “Fine.”

Wait—what?

Her best friend twists her head in shock. “Really?” 

Nancy simply can’t believe that this girl, whose whole trademark is being a spoiled brat, actually follows sensible orders. You're surprised yourself; you can’t believe it more than she does. Is it finally time for Somi to perform her arc of being the mature, behaved girl she simply isn’t?

“Yep. You won.” Somi rises and waltzes her way to the exit of her mansion. “I’m just gonna buy some myself from the convenience store.” 

“Somi!”

“Hey, you only said no delivery! You didn’t say I can’t buy some face-to-face!”

“Well, now I’m making it official. No—”

“See you later, alligators!” 

The door slams shut. 

Nancy groans loudly. Of course, the little brat. 

She lets herself fall to the floor in defeat. The massaging of her fingers on the sides of her head doesn’t do enough to cast away the stress. How in the world is she going to control Somi? She knows the two of you are practically twins, the same in every way when planning schemes to make her freak out. She has to play babysitter again. How many nights has it been since the start of her unpaid duty?

On your end, you're thinking. You’ve been friends with her for longer than you think yet you don’t know how to say the right thing in situations like these. Maybe with Somi it would have been easier to say the comforting words. After all, she’s the most extroverted and blunt person you know. But with Nancy, it’s different. Nancy McDonie is never blue. At least, not to the point where she’s on the floor and moping.

It’s always different between the two of them and you still remain unable to pick who you love more.

It takes a while to get the words out, but better late than never. God, you’re such a bad friend. Do you even deserve her? “It’s fine, Nancy,” you say, sitting down beside her. You rub her knee. “Like she said, we’re adults.”

“I know, but…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out another groan that twists as it reaches your eardrums. “It’s just so scary.”

“Tell me.”

“What if someone posted photos of us drinking? You know the school handbook, right? All that talk about maintaining a good and clean self inside and outside the school. If someone finds out—”

"Yeah? Well, nobody will."

"Yeah, but there's always the possibility…"

You sometimes pray that Nancy's allowed a day without worry, that she doesn't stress over things for once. She's precious—you don't want her to feel bad about anything. This strange protectiveness always takes you when you're with her. 

“Hey.” You massage her shoulder. She whines, and it’s so cute hearing her unusual sulking that you just want to wrap a blanket around her and kiss her on the forehead. Again, urges. Simply urges. Don’t mind those. “There’s only three of us here. As long as we don’t post pics online or boast about it, we’re safe. So don’t worry about it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Not when you’re with a dreamboat like me.”

You just humiliated yourself with that. Hell, you probably gave everyone who knows and will know this story of yours secondhand embarrassment. It’s worth it all, however, when Nancy smiles. And oh, could you get lost in it. Her eyes curl up at the corners and emit all this gorgeous, positive brightness that you think everyone should get a chance to see. She’s so serious and reserved in school that a smile from her is closer to impossible than thunder coming before lightning.

“God, you’re such a gigantic ass sometimes,” she mutters, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Did you just say I had a huge ass?”

“Keep your mouth shut.” She pushes you, joining you in your laughs, then opens her arms invitingly anyway. “Oh, forget it. Come here, you.”

You can’t even pretend to not want a hug when it’s all you’ve ever fantasized about: being in the warm, filled embrace of Nancy McDonie. You’ve fantasized about things that extend deeper than that, but you could settle for this. There’s Nancy burying her head in your neck and her hold being a little too tight for it to be a casual touch between friends. You’re delusional, but who wouldn’t be when you had a best friend this pretty? This… curvaceous?

God, you don’t know how to say that you like this girl without sounding like another one of the weirdos who stalk her at school. Are you just like them? No, you can’t be. You’ve liked Nancy and known her more than they could. It’s what you tell yourself to keep your sanity. 

“You know,” she says, still rocking the two of you side to side, “they did say not to trust first impressions. ‘You better take advice. Never trust first impressions.’”

“Didn’t Michael Jordan say that?” 

“Did he?” She looks up curiously. 

“Never mind,” you say, waving it off. You pull away. Lean against the curve of Somi’s sofa so that your ass doesn’t slide like a mop on her floor. "What’s with first impressions? What was your first impression of me?”

“You really want to know?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for the first reason…” Nancy hugs her knees and looks at you pointedly. “Not a lot of people would love to know that they were a real fucking pain in the ass.”

You burst out laughing. There’s chances as slim as a ballerina that Nancy curses, but when she does, she sounds hilarious. She doesn’t even say them a certain way; it’s just the instance by itself of her daring to use words deemed as bad that gets your tears of laughter flowing. 

To add to that, there’s that matter-of-fact statement she made that’s as honest as Somi’s everyday talk that makes you think they switched souls for a second. You laugh harder with that in mind. The next thing you know, you’re curled up on the floor busting out cackles that reach pitches you can’t even shout in.

“Seriously!” she says. She’s laughing as well as she shakes her head in disbelief. “I was always trying to keep the seniors in place, you know, being president and everything. And then I found out this new kid just spammed middle finger emojis to sir Fernandez in the Zoom chat after he made him answer a question. And I was like, ‘Hooo boy.’”

“Well, he shouldn’t have called on me while I was playing a game!”

“You’re so immature, he’s a teacher and you’re in class! He’s supposed to do that!” Nancy squeals, a hand on her mouth to muffle her rambunctious cackles.

“Fine, fair point.” You somehow manage to make a successful attempt to halt your laughs. “And then what happened?”

There's a lot of secret lore between you and her. You want to uncover all of them, especially knowing that Somi's gonna tease you to hell about if she heard. Her getting soju was a blessing underneath another blessing—you got alone time with your crush and some nice alcohol to ignite your system.

Nancy looks around at her friend's house. She admires every perfect painting bought for millions, every chandelier that mistletoes whoever stands beneath all its glory. They help her form her next statement.

"To be honest," she says, choosing her words carefully, "I thought you were in it to blackmail money out of Somi. To manipulate her. I love the girl, you know. She acts like she's all that, and she is, but she's… fragile. So I never let her be alone with you."

"Damn.” You admit that your heart sank a little, like a ship doomed by the ocean. “Am I really an ugly creep?" 

"No, it wasn't that. I was just afraid you were a player. Like one of the jocks who bully Somi but don't ever get to her because she's too naïve to see that they're doing it. And you're not ugly, you know. You're…"

She's looking at you strangely, in that strategic little way she locks on artwork flashed in a Powerpoint from a projector in school. She's looking at you as if you were a complex, layered painting she couldn't wrap her head around. But being unable to pick you apart thrills her; there's a smile on her face.

"I'm what?" you ask, ever the dumbass. Or poophead—you take whatever.

"Don't make me say it. You're so full of yourself already."

"Respectfully, Nancy,” you declare, “I have no idea what you're saying. How can I when I didn't even know what a dodo was before eleventh grade?"

"You're handsome, okay?" Her cheeks get into this furious red color that she tries miserably to hide with her palms, hide with a dismissive laugh. "Good-looking. Attractive. Whatever."

Chew at the end of your lip to fight back a giddy grin. Did she really say that? A star out there in the looming night just granted your wish. "Well, you gave me the makeover back at Jessa's."

"Look at you being the patron saint of humility."

"I'm serious. I looked like a loser before you came in like a storm and rained that magic in my life."

“And now you’re Shakespeare.”

“When a girl like you comes into a guy’s life,” you say, leaning forward, “who wouldn’t be?”

"Well." Nancy huddles her chin into her palm. Her voice is as soft as cotton. "With a guy like you, you could say I never looked back."

But her voice dips, and there's a hidden subliminal message in it that causes you to look up. You could read it clear off her face there, off Nancy, off her soul that's never looked more clear.

Nancy, with her chestnut brown hair, ever the princess of autumn.

Nancy, with her comforting eyes full of resoluteness, as if she's wanted this to happen.

Nancy, with her lips barely a breath away from—

“Who the freak locked the door?” shrieks a familiar voice from outside. Well, not too outside when its volume closes in on the interior vicinity of the large mansion. “This is my house! Let me in or else I’ll call the cops—”

Sigh. Fucking cockblocker brat. You rise from the floor and approach the doorway. This time, you spare no time—you don’t want to look back and identify the look in Nancy’s eyes as you walk away.

“Calm down, the neighbors could hear you,” you laugh as you let the blonde girl in. You’re a little disappointed that she interrupted what was beginning to happen, but there’s time for that later. Can’t spare her an annoyed look, though. It melts when you see the cans of beer in plastic bags.

Nancy takes a bag from her sullenly. “No drinking past twelve.”

“No promises.” Empty a can into your open mouth. Somi claps her hands happily and almost drops all the alcohol she bought.

You help the girls stock the cans and bottles into the fridge. It’s the large, two-door one that could fit an entire person. Wait, it can contain all of you three? You’ve been to Somi’s so many times and only noticed it now. 

But that’s the last thing you take note of, for here's what's new: ice cream overflows Somi’s freezer, yet a lot of them haven’t even had a crumb consumed from them. Somi says it’s because she keeps them for cheat days. 

“Is today considered a cheat day?” you wonder out loud.

“Go crazy.” Indifferent, Somi gives you a tub each. Chocolate. Vanilla. Double dutch for her. “It’s not like Walmart’s gonna disappear unless the aliens come to Earth and have the bright idea to go wacka over there. Nope, Walmart’s always gonna have some more.”

“Aren’t you the best, Somi.” Ruffle her hair fondly while you scoop a humongous chunk of ice cream into your mouth. Alcohol and ice cream are delicious together, but your stomach turns around. It strangely stays intact, as if preparing for what might happen later tonight.

“Of course I am, are you buggin' or what?” 

Somi licks the spoon of its sweetness, staring right at you. You don’t know how to react—her tongue’s gliding all over the utensil perfectly, collecting the studded white with nothing but clean performance. Her eyes don’t let up in their strong, connected gaze. Your breath gets lost somewhere in your airway.

Nancy watches amusedly. Okay, so maybe she does smile more than you think—it’s unlike any other one though. This one of hers is lined to the edges with smugness. “There’s our princess,” she remarks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The spoon catches somewhere sandwiched between Somi’s words. 

Nancy shrugs with a serene calmness. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

She walks away without another word or gesture. Suddenly tense in the bones, you and Somi close up together for reasons unknown.

“Is that just me being majorly freaky,” says Somi, eyes following her best friend with a new, imminent gaze, “or was that kinda hot?”

You don’t answer, but you think she knows. The two of you bond over shared experiences, and this one is about finding out how hot Nancy McDonie truly is. It’s not an unknown fact, but it’s the way her pupils settle over someone and linger just long enough to have them wondering; the way she commands a classroom; the way she rarely is vulnerable—it’s all that which leads to the very moment she leaned against the fridge door and watched silently, attracting the two of you even without the need for many words.

You’re droning again. Drowning, too, in her. In both of them—as you walk behind Somi, you can see that there isn’t a bra strap lining an imprint on her shirt and her ass is sticking out under her shorts. You barely could get yourself out of the waves as you wade your way to the stairs. 

At least that’s a familiar high place you could seek refuge from: the loft. It’s kind of like an attic, but you don’t really care. It’s where you hang out and watch all the movies with them from a crappy projector. You don’t care about the films due to your conversations with them eventually proving to be more interesting.

“Roof?” Somi asks. She peeks out of the triangular window pane. “The stars are pretty tonight.”

Never been there before. Not that you aren’t willing to try. “Just don’t fall off,” you warn, though you’re nervous yourself to get there. 

She slides a chair to you and then you’re climbing through a square-shaped gap at the low ceiling. You help the girls up onto the roof and become literally starstruck because—

Whoa.

Feels like a different world. The night is as vast as it is beautiful. Shining lights are embedded into the sky, the gray clouds barely visible with how they blend in with the color of the atmosphere. Each star has their own glimmer, but all of which share a common brightness—when partnered up with that large, pot-bellied moon, they become more perfect. The soft yet distinct sounds of the cicadas echo in your ears.

“Will anyone see us up here?” asks Nancy. Her vision is filled with shining galaxies, and her tone sounds dreamy. She says it in a way that isn’t out of concern for possible consequent trouble, but an appreciative one, as if she were wondering if anybody else could see how pretty it is up here.

“No one.” You shut the trapdoor and sit upon the curved edges of the roof. “It’s just us.”

“It’s just us,” she repeats this thoughtfully. You think that she’s smiling again, but you can’t be too sure.

Yes, it’s just you three. This intimate moment includes only you and the girls who turned your life around. Nobody else could get to bask in the simple happiness of hanging out all the way up here. This is for you, and no one else. Nobody could ever be friends with the girls the way you are.

You three take in the beauty of the night. All the way up here, the hills look higher than they already are. The sound of partying neighbors becomes static in the background. It becomes like foreign words in an uninteresting song—it’s nothing in comparison to the view of sloping roads, tall homes, and the trees swaying to the beat of the night wind. It can try its best to break your immersion and every attempt would be fruitless.

“Care for some double dutch?” Somi asks you. She juts out her tub of half-eaten chunks of ice cream. Appealing.

“As long as you don’t use the spoon you gave a blowjob to.”

Nancy snickers. She shoves your knee in reprimand, taking care not to put in so much force so you don’t topple down the roof and onto the main road. 

“I’ll give BJs to any spoon I want, thank you very much, but alright. Do what you want. No ice cream for you, more for me.”

“I could go for some.” Nancy parts her lips.

“Glad to see we still have someone with a brain around here.” Somi shakes her head at you disapprovingly.

You squint your eyes while she feeds Nancy some double dutch. Note dutifully that she uses the same spoon she violated. Well, that’s one thing you didn’t expect. But they’re best friends—they’ve been there for each other through thick and thin, bad and good. Sometimes simple gestures like that show that there’s something in the midst of them that beats mere friendship.

But then you see the way they look at you, and you’re briefly toying with the idea that whatever they have, they got it with you, too.

“I still remember the first time we brought you here,” Somi says, leaning in front of you so she can get to wiping some cream from Nancy’s lips. “You tried to act cool, but you were really starstruck. Like the house was Zendaya’s or something.”

“I guess so.” You freeze up when she holds your hand. “I mean, I’m not exactly the richest.”

You think of your own house—sweet little place with a tall tree and a low gate, nothing special—then compare it to hers: a mansion with six floors and rooms that could substitute for hotel clients. Nancy’s is amazing, too. But you don’t really care about that. It’s a whole other thing that bothers you about it.

Nancy shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re our friend. We’ll share it with you as much as you want.”

You’re finally able to name the thing. For months you’ve thought about it, but you never realized until this moment that it’s exactly what keeps you insecure about your friendship with them. That’s another thing they make you find out, besides style and bond.  

“Yeah, I get it. But, but I’m a loser. I was a punk who made school life hell for you. I’m broke. Stupid. I don’t get what made you want to be friends with me.”

Maybe you're like Somi, too. You act like a king in school with a red carpet draped down on the floor for you, but you fear that your crown is undeserved. Sometimes you feel like you're a peasant deluded by dreams of status and strength.

“Besides you being stupidly hot,” Somi says, albeit sincerely—there’s no sarcasm or flirtatiousness in her pitch, “you’re not in it for the cash. You’re not in it just to say you’re besties with us.”

“And trust me,” adds Nancy, “that makes you a prodigy among others.”

They're right. You aren't in it for the popularity, the fame, not even the everyday free treats and outings you get. You just… like them. Somi's bright confidence inspires you; you've never seen a girl more self-aware than her. And Nancy's someone who takes her studies seriously, an example you should follow, while still maintaining a social life. 

"What makes you so sure?" you say teasingly. They might've had some doubts along the way. 

"I dunno," Somi says with a shrug. Her eyes curve north. "We just are."

They just are. Short and simple, but it somehow explains everything.

Stars in the sky, stars in their eyes—they’re truly something else. Shouldn’t they be up there themselves? They glimmer too bright to be left here on earth, with a guy like you who can’t hold a flame to them.

But maybe you’re one yourself. Stars only ever mingle with their own kind. So there's the possibility that the three of you are stardust, simmered onto this world to shine in other places where they need it. It’s a laughable way to put it, almost cliche. But when you look at them, you realize you’re not far off.

"And I guess we know a lot more about you than we think." Nancy twirls her fingertips along your thigh. "Because we want to show we're grateful. And, y'know, sorry for the ruckus we caused back there."

"You already have. The soju, the ice cream… I'm already good."

She smiles. "You really don't get it, do you?"

Your mind can't keep up. What don't you get here? 

Somi leans forward and flashes you a smile that raises your suspicions. "You're completely clueless. Like, if it danced in front of you in a housewife apron, you would still order your dumb poophead ass some chicken wings."

"What? Why the hell would a hint be wearing an apro—"

You don't know why or how, but she's kissing you like you got the point she's been pushing across.

Now you do.

-

"Call this… a friend's sincere apology."

Somi's pushed you down on the old mattress of the loft, with a new look on her face that tells you tonight would be everything you expected and didn't.

"Two friends' sincere apology," adds Nancy. Her shorts are off? You didn't notice in the dark, but you can make out the supple shape of her hips and thighs, full and meaty in all the right ways. "Question is: would you let us do it?"

Your answer is locked and loaded in your throat. Can't pull the trigger when her ass muffles your face.

Alright, perhaps—just perhaps, you aren't saying it's real—you've devoted a few seconds of your time appreciating when the wind picks up her skirt at school. You tried not to be perverted because, of course, she's your friend. Your best friend.

A best friend doesn't push hers down a mattress with the weight of her core on his face. She doesn't let him feel her full cheeks suffocate him, or start to move like she would please a lover.

So what are you and Nancy when she's doing each of those things? 

Definitely not just friends.

"Fuck." The word leaves Nancy's mouth like a prayer. She doesn't pray often, but she religiously grinds her hips to and fro on top of you. The flat of your tongue massages her labia and tickles her prone clit. She's so wet that your lips quickly become coated. She looks back and moves her ass with stressed slides. "Your mouth is so good. So fucking good."

"Already?" Somi chuckles. She's not just your best friend either; her thighs hug one of yours and, like the girl she's always seen giggling and whispering with, she's grinding. Her movements are admittedly more fluid, but who's keeping note? "You talk real dirty for a prude."

Your pants slide off your legs as she finds the bare skin more appealing than denim. You flex and send a moan from her so carnal it might have literally clawed its way out of her throat. It's sharp. Needy. Wanton. Somi doesn’t speak like the rich princess she is when she moans for cock.

"I'm not a prude," Nancy says. Her breath is tinged to the tone with air. She's gasping as you tongue her and lick at her lips. "I just like being chaste."

"Please, sweetheart, you're aaanything but chaste."

"S-says the one who's sucking him off."

Both girls have mouths on them. Somi in particular. It's word-for-word how her lips trap your cock and start off with a strong suction. You moan right into Nancy's pussy. Said girl cries out when your lips strengthen their merciless suction on her pearl.

If you were to consider everything like a butterfly effect, you'd say Somi started it all: the sucking and moans. She's the one who's massaging your cock with those pink lips, effectively causing you to lose control and take it all out on Nancy. Poor Nancy, always the one to take it all. Now it's for good; she's squeezing her breasts and riding your mouth like a saddle. 

"Blowjobs don't count!" Somi quips. You moan again; the tip of her tongue toys with your balls. It's like she lit a fire there no wetness can put out. (Well, you still have to see about that.) "We'll show him how real good girls say sorry later. You know what I mean, right, babe?"

That fucked nickname does things to you, even if it's not meant for you, because it foretells the sight you have to fight to see with Nancy's back blocking it: Somi placing her hands on her best friend's hips and guiding her movements on your mouth. 

"Y-yes." You're surprised at how submissive Nancy sounds. So different from the commanding tone she assumes in morning assemblies. 

You didn’t expect you’d be in this position. Another thing you didn’t expect was how wet Nancy is, and how she tastes. She’s tangy yet sweet, filling your mouth like a new favorite flavor. She also moans a lot, which is strange when she doesn’t really talk much outside of this setting. You’ve changed her, too. Just not in the way like she did taking you to Jessa’s. No, this is your way: keeping her drenched little pussy filled with a soft muscle that’s hard enough to have her legs shaking. 

"That's right. Move that fat ass for him." Somi sits on the side with one hand on one side of Nancy's waist and another on your cock. She jerks you off hard, with a grip that's both too tight and too good. "Your nipples are sooo hard, Nancy. Just a hunch of mine, but I think you want me to suck on them. Make you cum on his handsome face."

Precum dribbles from your cockhead. How could Somi, the girl who speaks in coy accents, talk so filthy? She knows the time and place for that mouth, and it's right now and on Nancy's waiting breast.

Your length goes through bouts of impossible tightness induced by Somi's fist while your mouth (gladly) suffers another burden, which is Nancy's pussy and ass gyrating down on you. Your tongue doesn't know where to go so it goes everywhere: licking a wet line on her slit, diving into her drenched hole, teasing her clit. Nancy's thighs slam with your head in between. 

"Fuck!" Her moans are straight up pornographic. "Oh, oh, it feels so good, don't stop!"

Somi runs a teasing finger on your slit, keeping the heat in one place before resuming having her palm wrap your dick. "Who says we're stopping? Yep, nobody. Just keep moving those hips, lovie. We still got so much to give him."

You didn't think it was possible, but yes. Nancy does sprawl out more, her outed pussy lips all puffy and sore from your doings. You’re ruining her with how you lick and let her push down. Her core must be strong for her to keep a good stance in the midst of it all.

It’s not like you’re left out. Somi’s to thank for that, with her hand not stopping as it pumps and pumps and pumps. The pace is dangerous like a feared waterfall that’s got signs telling travelers to be wary around it. She pulled you into it. It isn’t that you wanted to suffer under the rapidity when you feel comfortable with the descent and rise.

"Ah. Ahhh, please!" 

Nancy never begs. She's above that, just like she is with everything else. But listen to her pleas and begs for more, for you to keep licking and sucking at the right places, for your hands not to pause in their journeys roaming the land of her perfect, curvy body. 

Somi spanks her, and you quite literally feel her cheeks bounce in your face. You'd actually be okay with going out this way. Heaven could be found in Nancy's full ass.

Oh, right, and Somi’s hand. You’ve never taken Somi as the kind to get around a lot even when she acts overly sexual sometimes, but she must have learned those skills somewhere. Her hand is neither too tight nor too loose—it’s just the perfect grip for you to almost cum into her fingers. She’s determined to wring a climax out of you, too, with how harsh she slams her hand down on your core.

It’s a cycle of pleasure that has no means of ending. With Somi fingering herself, you getting the best handjob you’ve ever had, and Nancy having her pussy eaten out, none of you are left to waste away. It’s sin, that’s what it is. It’s an act that, if anyone had caught sight of, would have guaranteed a swift suspension—maybe even the chance of getting expelled.

But in this warm moment, all of you forget about that. Even Nancy has that off her mind when all she’s thinking about is your tongue delightfully fucking her wet hole. 

“I’m… I’m cumming!” she wails. Her riding on your face spirals out of control, and again and again you’re blessed with her ass suffocating you. 

It’s too much for one girl to take: a mouth going crazy on her pussy and another doing the same, if not crazier, on her tit. Your sucks and Somi’s own increasing when she announces her imminent bliss doesn’t help her case either. But maybe it does—she’s never felt this good. Whenever she secretly, scandalously toyed with her pussy under the covers at night, none of those porn videos and literotica made her cum as hard as you and Somi have. It feels like a large bubble has burst inside her when she finally releases, tensing up and freezing similar to if a frostbitten cold finally took its last toll on her.

She sighs heavily while she comes down. Her thighs shake and you have to pin them down the creaky mattress to keep eating of her. She shudders and pushes you down. You stop, like she hinted.

“You alright, Nancy?” You remember Somi asking a similar question earlier, in a situation that’s nothing compared to this. Yep, far from it. A continent away. You weren’t eating her out like a last meal in the classroom, were you?

Well, you would have wanted to if you’d discovered prior that her ass is really as nice as it looks.

“Yes,” she replies weakly. 

You’re glad.

“I might have to try and get you to eat me out, too,” Somi says to you. She helps Nancy to get off your face after you got her off. “She was screaming, did you hear? You’d think somebody was like getting killed and– oh, wait, of course you couldn’t hear. Her thighs are just the perfect things to have wrapped around your head, right?”

Nancy blushes and looks away..

“But I think we should take the lead." Somi stops jerking you off. What quickly washes away your disappointment is when she takes her shirt off. "We’re the ones giving back.” 

The recoil of her large chest is amazing; it rises as it’s hindered by the tight hem of her clothing, and settles back into its natural position after she rids herself of the fabric. Her rosy nipples are things work gawking at; they’re as stiff and hard as diamonds, telling you of how much she wants this. And you think you’ve seen a few of Somi’s diamonds she could purchase a whole mine of, but you’d still have a desire similar to the blonde’s: you want her more.

“I’ve seen you looking at them. Don’t pretend and go all ‘oh nooo, that’s not true.’” She gives her own gifted bosom a firm grope. Her head throws back due to the pleasure. “You stare all the time. It makes me kinda assume that you want me to do something with them.”

“And what could that be?” you ask in a futile attempt to match her cockiness. Should’ve known that it’s a losing game trying to beat Jeon Somi in being a brat. It’s a god-given gift, a skill that needs no honing. She’s just like that.

“Duh. Like I said, I’ll show, not tell. This isn’t primary school.”

She shows a hefty amount, you’ll tell her that. Your mouth falls out at what happens. She takes her tits into her hands and leans down to envelope your cock in them. She seals it tight around your girth. 

Fuck.

She then starts to move. Up and down she goes, toying with her nipples on the way. It makes her core more drenched than it already is.

She’s the master of eye contact. She picked it up with her natural confidence. Why do you think she walks the hallways with a gaze that’s only directed straight ahead? Talks to new kids like she already knows them? She’s never seen weak, and tonight is no exception. Her fierce eyes speak of lust and strength of knowing she’s having her way. 

Jeon Somi always gets what she wants.

Again, this time is no exception. 

“Fuck, Somi…” you say in quiet groans. 

Someone needs to pinch you. This can’t be real. Never did you think what you’ve been dreaming would actually come true. The nights you touch yourself to the frequent sight of her tits practically bursting out of her uniform, you think of this same exact thing. You think of using her breasts like a toy, and now you’re experiencing it for real.

Perhaps one of the stars out there really took one for the team and granted two of your wishes at the same time.

Are you in wonderland? The movement of her tits provide a solid pace that’s hard to keep up with. Its warm, slick embrace has you on the edge of the mattress. You don’t ever want to run away from this feeling. It’s slick and tight yet rough, giving you a pleasure that’s confusing just as it is enjoyable.

“How’re you doing there?”

“I like it. More than like,” you breathe. Swallow what’s already been said.

Somi’s tits are a dream. They might as well have been made out of clouds with how soft they are, even when hugging your dick. You see yourself disappear between them and moan. Look up at Somi and see her seductively bite her lip; moan harder. Who knew all that barky flirtatiousness had a bite to them?

“Really?” she asks. She stops for a regretful moment to slap your cock against the side of her boob. The curve of your length heats up. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

She resumes, and you couldn’t be more thankful. The friction is everything to live for, and you’re a man who’s had no wish to die. Somi’s pale chest, guided by her hands trapping your cock between the massiveness in front of you, propels you to a close orgasm.

You switch your focus briefly to Nancy. She hums from afar. You notice that her fingers are in between her legs. She’s enjoying it as much as you are. “Could you stop being a brat for like, one second?” she chuckles, though it twists between her moans.

She’s sitting on the floor with her well-eaten pussy splayed to welcome her digits, and they definitely are welcome visitors. Her mouth is open though no more words come out.

“What? He likes it.” Somi jumps the pace to a rapidity you cry out for, and smiles that smile. The smile she only does when she’s doing or will be doing something she shouldn’t be. Explains a lot—if you two were just best friends, she wouldn’t be titfucking you. “And this is an apology, right? I’m saying sorry for punching him in the balls.”

“God,” you laugh out loud in spite of it all. “If this is the way you apologize, I’d have you punch my balls everyday.”

“I could do that. Say your apologies, too, Nancy. The way you’ll know he likes it.”

It’s as if she made your wet dream and worst nightmare come true. Can you even take more? It’s a question that apparently is disregarded of its answer; Nancy crawls over to the edge of the old, discarded mattress to suck on your swollen balls whenever Somi’s tits rise. 

They’re arsonists, and your whole body is the unfortunate victim. Although they attend only to your crotch except for the here-and-there brushes on your stomach and legs, your toes and arms burn. Somi and Nancy are sending heat waves everywhere. You twist and turn and propel and cry—none of those banish it. And it’s for the better because you’ve never felt closer to paradise.

You have to groan loudly. It can’t be muffled when the sensations are coming at you all at the same time. You can feel Nancy’s tongue dragging its edge along your sensitive flesh and her friend’s tits bouncing around you; see the two students’ sultry looks never breaking; hear one girl’s grunts as she fucks you with her bosom and the other’s moans; touch the mane of Nancy’s autumn hair to pull her deeper into your crotch; taste an orgasm that couldn’t really just come now when it’s this close—

“Oh shit, fuck!” The most senseless of curses come out of you after Somi’s titjob provokes a messy, violent orgasm. You’d be more coherent than that if she were letting up. Not possible when she doesn’t; she keeps bouncing up and down to jerk your cock off with her deep cleavage.

Somi hums delightfully at the never ending spray of cum on her tits. Nancy stops suckling harshly at your left testicle in order for her to be able to do it instead to the rod beside it. 

“Nancy, fuck, so good—” you say, hissing as your hips rise up.

You’re inadvertently facefucking her like this. Your hips move with their own will. They push up hard into Nancy’s beautiful lips. She in turn reacts with spontaneous downward drives of her head, welcoming you into her tight throat and letting you savor her mouth.

Somi fixes the girl’s hair into a ponytail of brown. She could see the bulge you’re making on her throat. She nods her on whenever Nancy looks at her with hesitation, and rubs your thigh to get your sensitivity levels to an all-time peak. She certainly got what she wanted and expected, as per usual, for you’re moaning with the tone of someone who gets paid to do it; shivering though it’s anything but cold here in this loft that’s gotten warm for other reasons besides the fireplace.

Nancy gags as she pulls away. Now she’s poured on by the white rain, too; some get into her hair while the others find a landing place on her shirt. God, that must have been expensive. You’re not here to make reparations, just to remind yourself; this is for you. They gave you this opportunity.

However, your heart pumps with anxiety hearing Nancy hack and cough. You quickly get to the floor, knees shaking on the way. “Hey,” you start, with a thumb on her chin, “you want to keep going?”

It doesn’t look like it for a second, but then those beautiful dark eyes connect with yours and suddenly all the discomfort is away. She smiles.“Y-yeah!” she says with a half-giggle. “All okay here.”

“Awesome.” Somi pats her back repeatedly and strokes her hair. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t get you to suck on my tits.”

You look at said tits and gulp. Yeah, that beautiful chest covered with your release is tempting to be gawked at. But still, time and place even for jokes. Nancy’s about to have a goddamned asthma attack.

“You are so out of line sometimes,” you say to Somi disapprovingly. 

“It’s alright.” Nancy grins. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nobody said apologies weren’t hard to do.”

The look of defiance and mischief softens on Somi’s face. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m sure he won’t mind, right, oppa?”

“Yeah,” you butt in, something you would have done even without Somi’s jab at your shin. Dear god, is the girl a bodybuilder in disguise or something? That hurt almost as much as the punch to your balls. “Nancy, I appreciate it and everything, but if you want to back out—”

Look, this is everything you wished for. You wanted to have intimate moments with them probably since  just a few months before the friendship was sealed. They’re beautiful girls, and you love Nancy especially closely. However, if they want to stop, you have to. Not to become a white knight or anything, but that’s natural law. You don’t force anybody into it.

“It’s okay, seriously.” Nancy’s relieving words now pass more smoothly through her lips. “Are you liking it so far?”

Alright, another thing to analyze. What else is there to answer? “Yes” is a painfully obvious reply to her question. You’ve had her ass on your face and Somi’s tits screwing an orgasm out of you. This is what wet dreams are made of, except that the white leak doesn’t end up on the fabric of your sheets anymore. 

It ends up on Somi’s amazing chest. Any man would die to catch sight of them. They’re round and full, settling at the perfect position whenever she breathes while covered from areola to nipple with your sticky load. Your semen even slides down to her midriff. You’re more convinced that she’s a bodybuilder—for this, it’s more obvious: her abs are hard and firm. You’ve worked out a lot and have not once gotten to that point of solidness.

Your cock can’t say the same.

“I loved it. You?”

“I liked it, and, and I—” 

“You want to answer him, brunette-ie?” Somi asks mockingly, swirling white on her collarbone. Yet another wonder to gawk at.

“That doesn’t work for other hair colors,” points out Nancy with a giggle.

“It does when I say so.”

Nancy tilts her head. Her smile suddenly doesn’t look too playful anymore. “Not everything’s gonna go your way tonight, blondie.”

“Is that so?” Somi curls her hair from her shoulders and tilts that pretty little head they hold. “Because if I have to say it again, McDonie, it’s—”

Nancy knows there’s no point arguing with her. It’s not the right occasion today. Fortunately, she has better ways of making Somi shut up.

It’s not completely shutting her up when all it does is make her create more noises. These are more pleasant to the ears in comparison. When Nancy attaches her pretty lips to her best friend’s tit, Somi’s words freeze in midair. You could see all her brattiness melt drop by drop. Her eyes are wide and she lets out a whimper. 

If your cock was flaccid already from the raunchy sex (because you started it all off with a bang, literally,) it isn’t now. It perks up hard upon seeing the most beautiful girls you know engaging in such obscene acts. Nancy’s already shown you how talented her mouth is, but she’s only hanging the knowledge out for everyone to see with how she cleans Somi’s right breast of your cum. The nipple she performs on is stiff, and she takes special care in gently guiding her teeth along it. 

“Fuck,” Somi says, voice breathy. All those little signs—her breathing shortening whenever Nancy dares to suckle a little bit harsher, bite a little harder; her legs suddenly shaking and weakening—lead you to a conclusion: they’ve done this before. Whether for rehearsal for this moment or for just mere curiosity, it’s hot nevertheless.

“Now will you shut that dirty mouth up?” Nancy uses that exact voice in the classroom, and hearing her use it in this moment makes her sound so much sexier. Gone is the passive prude that she is (or is pretending to be? That voice can’t be birthed from just leadership skills)—she knows how to put a brat in her place.

“If you think,” says Somi, with a laugh that’s too pitchy to be genuine in its sarcasm, “that sucking my boobs’ll make me a good little bitch, then you’re wrong.”

Is Nancy wrong? Probably. Somi’s the most defiant, outspoken girl you know. Nothing has stopped her from getting her way. You bet if Armageddon came into reality and all the world went to shit, Somi would be commanding the demons to get her a pumpkin spice latte and the angels to call her a limo.

“So you don’t want to be good and get on his cock?” 

Nancy stands up. You’re once again reminded of the eternally truthful fact that her ass is amazing. She shimmies it on your cock, slipping it between her cheeks but never really allowing penetration, and afterwards starts to bounce her butt beautifully for you. 

You can’t help but run your hands all over the perfect fat thing. You  lift the cheeks to let them ripple photogenically as they settle down, going as far as well to give her a few spanks. You’re lost in this sex-filled dream. You’re in a coma seeing the too-good-to-be-true ass of Nancy McDonie.

Somi twitches her mouth to one side. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t want to feel his big fat cock inside you,” and Nancy’s more dangerous than you think—she takes your cock and starts to tease its head on her lips and asshole, “and really get a taste of how he stretches you out?”

You bite your lip, enjoying what she’s doing to you and Somi. Your other friend has never looked more needy—large, rabbit eyes peer jealously at Nancy getting to have you for herself. Or is it the other way around? The looks she gives Nancy’s drenched pussy and your solid cock are equally full of hunger. 

“You want to answer, blondie?” An echoed statement, but it doesn’t lose its effect on Somi.

Nancy smirks. She’s a natural-born leader, often managing to fight her way to be in charge. It isn’t the same for the other, who’s been raised to have everything her heart desires. Right now, seeing you hint to fucking her best friend is making her needy. Really needy. She wants you for herself, too.

Nancy shrugs at Somi’s continued refusal to answer. “Suit yourself,” she says. She twists around to face you and commands, in a loud whisper, “I want it in my ass, oppa.”

“No!” Somi finally breaks. Her cheeks are pink. “I mean, like, not yet. Fine. Whatever, f-fine, I’ll be good. Just let me have him, too.”

“That’s more like it.” Nancy kisses her, a feat that has you blushing regardless of you not being the recipient of that gesture. “He and I can do that later.”

Somi scrambles to her feet the second Nancy leaves your lap. With no hesitation whatsoever, she plops herself down on you, filling herself to the hilt all at once. Her toned back is turned, but you can paint a picture of her face as she moans. Her mouth parts widely to cry out, and you could imagine her staring at the black insides of her eyelids as the wonderful filling results in getting her to see stars.

“Ohhh my god,” she drawls out. Her legs shake. “You were gonna fill your ass with something this big?”

You reach up from behind her to squeeze her tits. You can’t believe your dick had the chance to feel them before you did—they could do a role as stress balls; they’re soft, large, and you’d love to squeeze them any time of the day. Yep, also on the times you aren’t stressed in the first place. That’s how perfect Somi’s alluring breasts are.

Her pussy is the main attraction to all of this, however. She’s obviously so turned on—her wetness is like an avalanche of need on your cock for it floods your shaft without the need for an orgasm. Not that you aren’t gonna give it to her. When her pussy’s this snug and warm, this wet and tight, how are you going to do anything but make her cum?

You start to hump her rabidly. Your hips send her bouncing up and down on your lap, making it so that whatever happens, her starting point and ending point is always your cock. Somi’s moans cut and break into emphasized cries. In your hands, her tits make gravity look so appealing; they bob high in the air and rest heavily into your palms. There’s always a sharp rebound, a sharp cry from her. Her moans just make fucking your school’s signature brat a five-star experience.

“What did I tell you? I’m not a prude,” Nancy replies smugly. She spreads Somi’s legs to the point that she’s technically doing a split on your dick. “I also know how to suck on this little nub right here. Like I did to your big tits, remember?”

At first, Somi doesn’t get what she means. But then Nancy licks quickly at her vulnerable clit, and she understands it fully. “F-fuck, Nancy unnie!” she cries out.

She tenses up in your lap. As an effect, she gets impossibly tighter. You fight it with sharp thrusts, but she always ends up closing around you. You pierce her tightening walls and find that no amount of wetness and slick could get her to part her walls. 

“‘Unnie’?” Nancy licks up and down. In the face of it all the run of her voice remains gentle. You splay Somi’s pussy lips to help her out. “You never call me that. Do I have to suck your clit everyday to get you to have some manners?”

Oh, but Somi can’t be taught manners. Just a few licks around and on her bundle of nerves has her forgetting to use a proper inside voice. It’s hopeless when she’s screaming and writhing all over the place. That’s what the combination of your thrusts and her fellow council president’s tongue does to her: it turns her into this crazed nympho just begging to be touched and used.

She’s lucky to have friends like you and Nancy who are willing to be patient in teaching her. Your methods aren’t the most orthodox, you’ll admit—what kind of friend would team up with another in ruining her cunt?

“The princess here needs to learn a lesson, after all,” you whisper in her ear. Your hands on Somi’s wide hips, your fire pumps harshly into her without daring to slip out. Nope, you’re staying inside her forever. “You’re gonna be a good girl, aren’t you, Somi? You’re gonna let us fuck you into being a good girl?”

“You sound so stupid, you know that? Like you came from friggin’ Fifty Shades of Gray or something.” Somi sticks her tongue out at you, then it idly hangs from her lips after you reprimand her with a few scolding thrusts. She begins to whimper, eyes filling with tears of need. 

“Tell us to stop then.” You aren’t fazed. You know what that face she makes means too well. 

You propel up into her with the force of one who almost hates her to be fucking her like that. You spread her legs wider. Bury your face into her hair because she’s your blondie.

She says nothing.

You toy with her nipples, flicking and pinching them.

She utters not a single word.

Nancy slips her tongue inside for a brief moment, joining you, then places kisses on her inner thighs. 

She finally makes a noise, and it’s a couple sounds stringed into whines. 

It’s not the childish one she makes whenever she’s refused something as miniscule as a bite of a doughnut, but one of real weakness. She just showed the two of you where her Achilles spots lay. She’s a sucker for this, and all the same, you’re a sucker for her neck and shoulders that always smell of lilies. Take it all in before leaving love bites all over the pale, prone skin.

She takes deep breaths.

Nancy asks her if she’s cumming, and she screams—

“Yes yes yes! Just keep eating me out, Nancy unnie, keep fucking me, oppa! I’m gonna cum so hard!”

Nancy makes a show of licking the underside of your entering and exiting cock all the way up to Somi’s pussy lips. The two of you groan ecstatically. This she repeats until your precum starts to wet Somi’s walls and Somi’s clit is practically quivering from the abuse. It doesn’t stop there. She grabs Somi’s tiny waist and pushes the girl’s core into her mouth. 

“Shit, Nancy!” Somi gasps lewdly. The new position gives you ample space to take time in withdrawing then slamming every inch into her aching body. “I’m gonna cum, gonna c-c-cum, please—fuck!”

There she goes. She falters heavily into you as her orgasm takes over. 

You caress her rising and falling midriff, suddenly wrapped into the need to help her come down. You kiss the back of her ear and her neck. Whisper sweet everythings there (because you mean each one: you’ll take care of her all the way). Nancy stops eating her and rubs her thigh comfortingly. 

Through it all, Somi’s still your baby. The girl you tend to because you know she loses herself sometimes.

This is the calm after the storm. For a moment, it’s all soft. Somi may remain with her pussy filled with your length, but it doesn’t change the tenderness you have for her. For Nancy. For the relationship the three of you have.

“Are you all bright and happy there?” 

“Fuck you, of course I am.” That tells you she’s not tapering off lust-induced insanity that much. If she were, though, she’d still maintain that feistiness. “I can’t believe we did that. And I can’t believe you didn’t cum inside me.”

“Safe sex, princess.” Nancy’s back to her serious yet half-joking self. She brushes Somi’s nose playfully. “Didn’t you listen to sir Lars?”

“I’m safe today, though…” 

“Hmm. Next time?”

“Next time,” replies Somi with a bit more satisfaction. “For now, I want to see you get your ass fucked.”

Maybe it’s going too fast, like an amateur author’s prodded pacing with a debut novel, but in the flash of the moment you find that you don’t care. You and Nancy share one look and just know tonight is going to be different than all the other ones with hookups, exes, everything. This one runs deeper—it’ll define who you are for the rest of the evening.

Somi sits down at what used to be the headboard of the mattress. She’s good with just watching after the violent orgasm she had. Nancy really went all-out. Must have still been thinking about that speech she made.

Your mind stalls on Nancy right now. She’s on her hands and knees, and she’s looking back at you with this nervous yet crazed desire. It’s written clear on her face. Then there’s the rest of her beautiful body—that back, her full thighs, that ass. You knew she was beautiful with a great body to go with it, but you didn’t really figure it was an unfiltered truth until now.

“I—I brought lube,” she says timidly. She looks away, and it’s so unlike her to be this meek that your instinctive reply is a laugh.

“You came prepared.” 

Somi throws you the bottle, and while you lather some of its content on Nancy’s asshole, you’re faced with millions of questions. “I assume you planned this? Or do you just bring lube whenever I’m around?”

Nancy rolls her eyes. God, do you love to make them do that. You were born to. You were made to make her roll her eyes at you between her laughs. “Stud,” she whispers.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She still hasn’t figured out it isn’t derogatory with you. Or with any guy for that matter. You chuckle softly. Love how her hole closes tighter the second you wipe some of the handy liquid on it. “Ready?”

She nods. There’s hesitation, but the upward perk of her ass can’t mean anything else than transparent want. 

“Boooring!” Somi yells out, arms in an “X”-sign in front of her. You’re the actors, and she’s the disapproving film critic. And god knows how insufferable film critics are. “Ever heard of porn without plot, you absolute doodooheads?”

“Porn without plot? You read way too much fanfiction, Somi. Like, way too much.”

“Hello? Peepee in the poopoo hole now, if you please.”

You give her a tired look in spite of your small laughs. “Can you make it sound any less sexy?”

“She’s right,” Nancy says in a tiny voice. “I want you now.”

There’s the (with a trademark after that) look again, somber and wide. She needs you. You need her. So why are you stalling? Idiot. You need to put yourself together.

Slip past the defiance of Nancy’s asshole, and curse immediately. It isn’t even halfway in and you’re already close. She’s too tight that it almost beats the tightness of Somi’s pussy. You’re not sure you’re ready for this. Run your hand along Nancy's back and feel the sweat stick to your hand. She’s nervous. In pain. At least, you assume so.

“Need to breathe?”

Nancy winces and nods. “A few seconds.”

It’s hell itself trying not to give in to your instincts and pound away into her ass. It’s just so perfect, the way it trembles and shakes and unintentionally sends vibrations your way. Sends those full cheeks bouncing.

Even in a state of need-to-get-it-together, Nancy still looks her prime. Her hair, all those chestnut locks, sticks to her back as she pants. Her face has never looked prettier. She’s gorgeous as could be, and you realize that it’s these moments—not her beauty pageants where she’s all dolled up by attending stylists, not when she manages a glow-up (when she already is the most beautiful woman you know) weeks before class pictures are taken—that take your breath away. She’s just there, just existing, and you maintain your preposition: down bad.

“Tell me if you lovebirds need to stop,” says Somi. “Because what I’m seeing here is– oh my.”

Nancy starts to fuck herself on you. She wants to do this—Somi’s words are her motivation. Her ass constricts tighter and tighter as you penetrate her, but you make it work. Make it fit. She’s so stretched out but she doesn’t stop. It makes you temporarily heed the idea that a glitching robot is controlling her. The recoil and push of her ass are too rough.

“Fuck,” she whispers, eyes squeezed shut firmly. “Feels so fucking good.”

If you’re making Nancy curse, it’s either really good or really bad. You’re betting on the former. Her ass rotates and circles before you, welcoming her into its depths, and you can’t find your breath again. You must have lost it, lost it somewhere in the atmosphere that smells of sex and sweat.

There isn’t even any foreplay to go by. She simply pushes back and takes every inch of your dick. While you lost hold of your breath, Nancy’s found hers, and puts it to good use with her moans. 

“You’re… opening me up so much,” gasps Nancy. She looks back to see that you’re forming a steady reciprocal rhythm that’s starting to gape her hole. 

“Should I go slower?” you ask hesitantly. You slip a hand to her mound then settle a thumb over her clit. It throbs, still sensitive from the sucking.

“No, god, no. Go faster. Please.” Her words are broken off like blunt phrases, but you catch on to her meaning. She wants it fast even for the first time.

It’s lucky you took your time rubbing lube on your shaft and her hole. As time goes by, Nancy’s ass only grows tighter. It clings to you, afraid to let go. Her legs shake yet they’re strong enough to push and pull, receiving you into her backside.

The mattress starts to creak. Its old springs are resurrected and the first thing they do is make squeaking sounds. It’s drowned out by the sound of Somi touching herself. Her wet pussy is slick as her finger rubs firmly on her own clit and her mind runs with the idea of her being in Nancy’s place. Her toes are already curled tightly.

Nancy’s words don’t lose their eccentric tone even if she’s being plowed from behind. The broken mirror discarded to the corner reflects her expressions. One minute she’s smiling drunkenly, and the second minute her eyes are dazed, as if she were taken straight out of an 18+ anime magazine. The next minute she’s suddenly gasping for air. No, air isn’t what she needs. Everything that’s essential is hidden right inside your cock, and she’s going to get it.

“Need it, need it, need it.” 

She squeezes tighter, and you wince. It feels good. Too good, in fact, that you chase after the feeling with quick pumps. 

“H-hah, I know you want to do it,” she says, turning to you. She kisses you and smiles weakly. “So cum in me. Cum in my ass, I need it so fucking bad—”

She interrupts herself with a sharp draw of breath. Your fingers have entered her and are frantically moving, filling her over and over and jabbing at her walls. You take advantage of her sensitivity more than you should, and she loves it. 

Nancy cries out. She folds herself over the mattress more, muffling her face in its olden softness. She feels so full. With your cock stuffing her sweaty ass and your fingers wiggling around inside her, there’s only one path this is destined for. But she wants to make the journey last. She doesn’t want it to end too soon.

“P-please, I can’t take it,” she whines.  She muffles a scream. It doesn’t help; her next words are shouty. They don’t sound so intimidating when they come out pitchy and needy. “I’m going to cum all over you, for you, just please do the same. Please. Please, oh—”

Perhaps it’s your natural way of catering to whatever Nancy requires, which is to mean what you do everyday, but you end up exploding inside her. She moans happily, and you feel her drip a little as she comes to her climax as well. The little leak grows stronger as you firmly rub her clit. Your thighs soon suffer the damages of her flood.

Whimpering and overstimulated, Nancy’s screams almost make the windows shatter. Through all this, she pounds herself back into you, and you do the same. None of you want this to end.

Be that as it may, nothing lasts forever. It could be that it’s a gift, for when you pull out of your crush and spray the remaining shots of cum onto her beautiful back, you realize you’re stark exhausted.

-

“Cinnamon rolls, anybody?”

Here’s how it goes after that: the three of you showered and are ready to go rest. You couldn’t try for shower sex, not when all of you are spent. You’ve sprayed and fucked and came too many times to count that it’s for the common good that you take a break. 

Bruises litter your jaw but it’s alright. Nothing a little makeover can’t fix. Nancy still worriedly brushes it with a tender finger.

“I swear, Nancy,” you laugh, “I’m fine. You should be worried about yourself.”

Nancy nods obediently, but her eyes still linger on the purple spot.

“God, get a room,” says Somi with a groan, handing you your dessert. Is this her way of aftercare? “Oops, you already did. Silly me.”

You’re all wrapped in comfortable bathrobes. They’re the ones with the really silky fabric, the kind that feels like clouds dropped from heaven and onto you. They settle comfortably on your sore bodies. You go to the roof even with only those “clothes” on. Not one of you cares for decency; considering what you did earlier, it’d be hypocritical to try and salvage some self-respect.

Oh, who minds anyway? Not you three. All you want is some rest.

“Not funny,” Nancy says. She takes a careful bite of her roll, licking her lips with a glare.

“My bad. Should try again the next time we stop fucking.”

You stop chewing. “Wait… so you’re saying we’re doing that again?” you ask, suddenly flustered. 

You’re not complaining. It only took a few minutes for you to discover that sex with the duo is the perfect mix of soft and rough. Exactly your kind. Okay, so maybe the rough part outweighs the other, but you aren’t turning back. Your concern is your friendship—would you still see each other as reliable people, or would that be warped by lust?

You’re young. Nothing is permanent—that’s what you’re taught. What if that counts for the relationship you have, too?

“You don’t want to do it?” Somi asks in a voice so small you barely could make out the words.

“No, no, I do.” Scratch the back of your neck. How do you say this without sounding super attached? (You are.) “But… are we still friends? Are we still good with each other?”

Nancy gives you an amused look. “Why wouldn’t we be?” she inquires, genuinely curious.

“I—I thought—”

“Look, we all know what we feel.” Somi takes your hand and presses it to her thigh. Her face portrays a solemn yet caring look. It feels foreign seeing such a serious face on such a spunky girl. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends along the way. You’re still our Frankenstein. We made you.”

“Is the alcohol plus hot choco combo doing something to you or what? Frankenstein is the name of the crea—”

Somi groans and mashes you in the face with her cinnamon roll. “Get outta here with your nerd BS,” she says. She’s smiling, though. 

“Get out of here with your own dodo BS, bottle blonde.”

“Dodos are essential knowledge, not some facts about a stupid ass mon—”

“If you two don’t stop,” says Nancy, knowing when a playful fight starts and how to stop it before it does, “you’re both getting out.”

Are these the girls you fucked in that small loft just a few hours prior? They don’t ever change, do they? They might be hot as hell, but they’re still Jeon and McDonie, the girls you’re friends with. Your hearts remain in the places they were before.

But maybe deeper, delving into the core of your chests.

Somi directs her eyes up at the moon floating in the night sky and smiles. You’ve always loved it when she smiles, menacing as it could be sometimes. She looks like a giddy girl who was just taken to a candy store. There’s this pure, sweet grace to it that infectiously makes you grin, too.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” she says dreamily.

“It is,” Nancy agrees. She’s looking cute herself; her cheeks are stuffed with cinnamon rolls. 

You look up as well. They’re right. The moon does look prettier tonight. You’re no selenophile, but you swear the large spots of gray and black on its rounded curves make it look more serene. It feels like a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“Well,” you say, smiling, “I can die happy.”

It was supposed to end like that. You all know what you meant. This was supposed to be a memory you’d keep stowed in the drawers of your minds to look fondly at later in life. But you just had to ruin the moment by suddenly sitting up straight and staring with wide eyes at your hands. What have you done? You can’t believe you could do such a thing.

“H-hey, Nancy…”

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asks.

“You know that quote you said earlier about first impressions?”

“Yeah?”

“And how I said Michael Jordan was smart for saying it?”

“What are you getting at here?”

“I remembered it wrong.” You gulp. “Michael Jackson said it, not Michael Jordan.”

“Are you in your right mind? How could you even think that?” asks Somi, cackling. She almost topples down the roof. “Like, seriously, oppa, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, opp—”

“For fuck’s sake—”

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

[honeytonedhottie]

what i learned during my reflection period⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧖🏽‍♀️🎀

as you may or may not have noticed, i've been hiatus for most of the month now. and i disappeared because of personal reasons, and one of those reasons being that i felt i needed to reflect. here are some things that i've learned and realized during my reflection time.

this is quite personal to me, but i wanted to kind of have a heart to heart with you guys and im sure that someone is probably struggling with what i mention in this post so i hope this is comforting...💬🎀

WHY I FELT STUCK IN MY LOA JOURNEY ;

i was literally doing the most and it felt like such a chore at the time. i would force myself to affirm in ways that felt unnatural, i was letting myself get bullied by the 3D, even though i KNOW i dont have to do a thing. i was putting way too much effort in the wrong way.

WHAT'D I DO ABOUT IT ;

i took a step back and RELAXED. i did what felt natural again and enjoyed manifesting again and because of that i've had success story after success story...💬🎀

DOING A SELF AUDIT ;

i wanted to take a second and expose toxic behaviors and patterns that i noticed i exhibit and that have started to affect not only my physical but my mental in a very very negative way.

i'd been struggling with regulating my emotions and managing them so i was a walking ball of stress 💀. a beautiful ball of stress but stress nonetheless. i just felt so stuck.

WHAT'D I DO ABOUT IT ;

i went through the motions and after having a total meltdown and doing a bit of journalling i released everything, giving myself a completely clean slate once more.

i did a bit of a refresh and did miscellaneous things to make myself feel like im starting again. things like self concept work, changing the theme of my phone, taking an everything shower + bubble bath, having a pinterest makeover and getting a trim on my hair.

i forced myself to drink more water, and go for long walks not only to get some sunlight but to get my heart pumping and push myself out of the depressive rot that i had been in for months internally, but had pushed itself out as soon as summer started.

THE DEATH OF A SITUATIONSHIP ;

i got really attached to this boy 😭 but he was such a piece of work. like he did that hot and cold shit, but i rly rly liked him so i ignored the obvious red flags. but i got to a point where i just felt used and embarrassed. upon further reflection i think i didn't wanna let him go because he was so fine 💀, like 6'5 muscular kind of fine.

no matter how handsome a guy is if he has an ugly personality or if he just treats u badly then hes not fine at all...💬🎀

WHAT'D I DO ABOUT IT ;

i went no contact. thats like the easiest way to get over someone i think lol. i went no contact and i just manifested better things for myself. like being asked out by a bunch of guys and wingstop to comfort myself 🧋

also i focused on what i got out of the whole thing. i got the redirection that i wanted, PLUS i was filled with inspiration for my song writing.

SONG RECOMMENDATIONS ;

i want war (BUT I NEED PEACE) - kali uchis

eternal sunshine - jhene aiko

let you go - clara la san

needy - ariana grande

AT THE END OF THE DAY ;

i wanted to include this section as a reminder that everyone goes through shit. things happen. its okay to be affected by it and its okay to be sad. the most important thing is to not dwell on it too long. remember that you are not a victim and remember how amazing you are BECAUSE YOU ARE. you are amazing and no matter what happens, regardless of anything your gonna be okay and your gonna be in a much better place, it starts with putting one foot in front of the other...💬🎀 (love honey)

[myusuchaa]

Ikemen Villains: When He is Jealous: part II

What happens when they see you with someone else?

༊·˚ ELLIS

Similar to the feeling of watching a sunset turn to dusk, his twilight eyes darken to a glowing violet when his jealousy shines through. Chasing after you, running to see you as soon as he finishes work at the trading company. To make sure you’re fine - that no one is making you as happy as he is. He reaches toward you, out of breath and slightly blushing. Cornering you against the wall, he raises his arm above you, completely towering over your small frame.

“Don’t smile at anyone other than me. Don’t laugh with anyone other than me. Forget about everything and think only of me.”

Though his curse can bound your wrists and ankles together with sharp thorns, the prickly sensation it leaves fills you with pleasure, and the kisses he plants on your sore skin never felt sweeter.

༊·˚ JUDE

One thing about Jude - he will always mark and take what’s his. He will let everyone he deals with know that you are his woman, that handling you is not to be taken lightly. Though he prefers his lady to be feisty and independent, he will not hesitate to step in and show ownership when need be. When he finds out the gangs that are after him have been plotting to take you away, he tells you there’s two lessons he needs to teach:

“The first lesson I’ll show ‘em is to keep their damn paws to themselves ‘n mind their own damn business, those pricks.”

He hisses this as he slowly circles you, checking your body for injuries. He then leans into your neck, grabs it with one hand, and whispers,

“The second lesson… I’ll have to show ya in private. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

༊·˚ ROGER

For starters, he probably wouldn’t let you get into a situation where anyone could put a move on you in the first place. He can hear advances plotted against you before you even knew where they were coming from. But perhaps he doesn't care so much what other men do toward you. Rather, he wants to continuously show you what he can do for you. To you.

“I wont apologize for what I did to you last night... and I might not be able to hold back next time."

Despite his brusque appearance, his ego bruises easily. To make up for it, he reminds you exactly who he is. Him, the hunter, and you, his prey.

༊·˚ VICTOR

You always knew he chose to not share his innermost self with just anyone. He was warm, he was vibrant. He was eccentric. But like all entertainers, the mask he wears has to come off eventually. And when it's off, he desires you fiercely.

"I want to be the only man you choose. I want you to come back, to me." You watch the beauty mark on his lip rise and fall as he sensually mutters these words to you, who lay in his embrace.

As mysterious as a crescent moon behind the clouds, the looming scent of oncoming rain, Victor's envy creeps up on you. Until you no longer recognize the man before you.

༊·˚ RING

"You taught me how good this feels..." His hand caresses your cheek and slides to the back of your head, tugging your hair softly.

"Teach me more…" breathless and raspy, he pushes you down on all fours. Novelty begs attention, and his palate is a clean slate.

Behind his steadfast demeanor is a man pining for affection. For your touch. Your scent. The way you make his heart leap is unlike anything he has felt before. To anyone who would hurt you, take you, long for you - he will cut them down. The loyal dog has one master, after all.

༊·˚ DARIUS

Cold as he is, with a scornful look in his eyes, his calculating nature is easily pit against anyone who attempts to take you from him. He's called you an "interesting being", a "common bird". Something that usually doesn't pique his interest. And yet a hungry curiosity wells up in him when he gazes upon you in his hands.

His arm wraps around your stomach as he holds you in place from behind. "Be careful, little bird.. you may just get eaten up."

A magician with more than one trick up his sleeve. What is it about you that entrances him so? To ensure no one else finds out, he intends to never let you go.

༊·˚ NIKA

As his current plaything, you are to please him at will. You tempt his urges, and if there is someone in the way, he'll manipulate the situation and the sentiments to get what he wants. And he does not hold back from doing that to you. When he holds your hands in his, an overwhelming surge of affection, yearning, as thick and warm as the mind-numbing effects of a drug, shakes you down to your core.

"Come now, my sweet. Can't you show me who you want? Who makes you feel good?"

The intensity of emotion he can sway you with is used like a weapon. At his mercy, you melt in his hands.

Read Part I here

[paradiseprincesss]

i want you | jonathan crane

wrote this because i see a lot of tropes where the reader is innocent or never really had a boyfriend before...but what if the reader has an extensive list of ex's? then what? i had to write it lol this was an attempt to make MYSELF feel better about that!!

summary: jonathan wants to show you how devoted he is to you, regardless of how rocky your past relationships (and trust me, there were a handful) have been.

warnings: smut, p in v, swearing, kissing, a smidge of body worshipping cus i discovered how much i like it lol, overall adult content lol, MDNI 18+ ONLY

word count: 2k

masterlist

don’t we all come with some baggage? yes — the answer is yes. 

you clung onto jonathan’s arm, walking right by his side as he talked to a plethora of socialites. tonight, you and him were attending a charity gala hosted at wayne manor for publicity reasons. i mean, when you’re dating one of the most notoriously successful men of gotham, it was expected. 

jonathan knew that you loved him; you made that abundantly clear every chance you got. tonight, however, jonathan had lost count of the number of men who’d approached you.

normally, he wouldn’t care — this wasn’t unusual by any means. jonathan knew that having a girlfriend as beautiful as you came with strings attached. the strings being men drooling over you everywhere you went, but this was different.

tonight, jonathan was feeling a little jealous. 

it turned out that the majority of the men that had approached you tonight had a past with you — as in a romantic past. 

“it’s so good to see you!” 

“you look stunning like always.” 

“how have you been these days?” 

“remember when we—“

jonathan had enough of it, but alas, he had to pretend that he didn’t care. he had to play the role of the loving boyfriend — which he was, don’t get me wrong, but he also wanted to dose every man who spoke to you with an extra concentrated version of his fear toxin. 

the night of socializing and mingling (and one too many glasses of champagne) had eventually come to an end, and you were exhausted by the time you got home with jonathan.

“you’re certainly popular.” jonathan said as the two of you walked through your shared apartment's front door. 

“i— what?” you said back in confusion. glancing over at jonathan, you saw that he looked a little irritated — jaw clenched and all. 

“all those guys,” jonathan clarified as he took his glasses off, “i didn’t know you’d dated so…many people before me.” 

you sighed and walked over to him, running your hand up and down his bicep. “you’ve never brought this up to me before, jonathan. i wish you’d said something sooner—“

“usually i wouldn’t be so agitated about it, but i just— you had a history with a handful of the men there.” he interrupted, clearly upset. “you never told me.” 

“i didn’t think i needed to,” you sighed, “and i’m sorry.” 

your dating history wasn’t exactly a clean slate, but it wasn’t that bad — there was just a few extra names on your metaphorical list than most people had. you were young and having fun, plus commitment wasn’t exactly on your mind until you’d met jonathan.

in all honesty, it was a good thing — you’d never been interested in being serious with anybody until jonathan. usually, you were the first to pack your bags and run; leaving a trail of broken hearts behind you before moving onto the next like spitfire.

and sure, you may have been what some would call a  “serial heartbreaker” before jonathan, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t change. you liked your options — was that so wrong? 

well, two is company and three is a crowd — as they say. 

as for every man you’ve dated, you’d never really been sure of someone before — except jonathan. you were sure he was the one, the man you’d spend the rest of eternity with. 

“am i just another guy to you?” jonathan suddenly asked rather bitterly, completely catching you off guard. 

“what? no,” you shook your head, “god, no. you— you’re the first guy i’ve ever been so sure about.” 

“am i, though?”

“i love you, jonathan. you know i do.” you insisted, tugging at his arm while he remained stoic. “you’re the first man i've ever loved.”

though he hated to admit it — he got jealous sometimes. he would never say it aloud, but when your ex’s had approached you and struck up a conversation, he was borderline livid. it took an immense amount of self-control for him to not strangle any of them upon sight, if he was being honest.

and just between you and me, he may have been feeling a little insecure, too. 

“i’m still trying to break some habits.” you said softly, looking up at him with a gentle gaze. “i’m not perfect, but—“ 

“i’m being ridiculous.” he interrupted, taking your hand in his. “i’m sorry, darling. i’m acting immaturely, i just felt…inadequate for a moment.”

“you don’t have to try and rationalize anything with me.” you assure him softly. “whether or not you stay or turn and walk away, the way i feel will never change. i want you — and only you.” 

but isn’t that the beautiful thing about baggage? you can learn to unpack it — together.

“you’re heavenly,” jonathan sighed, “i love you and your past, your flaws, all of it. you’re so perfectly…you.”

though you mentioned that he didn’t have to rationalize his actions with you — he was a psychiatrist, so naturally, he did. he knew he was being immature, letting your past bite him like that; it was silly. he knew he was lucky that you were so understanding. 

he pulled you into the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. “i want to show you just how much i love you — worship you.” he whispered lowly. “lay back on the bed for me, beautiful.” 

you do as you’re told, scrambling to get onto the bed. “i’d do anything for you,” he breathed, “i hardly think i deserve someone as perfect as you, darling.” 

you let out a shaky breath as your boyfriend helped you out of your garment, his hands immediately going to paw at your breasts — since you didn’t wear a bra tonight with your dress. 

a soft moan left your mouth as your head dropped backwards. jonathan swore he saw stars at just the sounds of your pleasure. he attached his mouth to one of your nipples, running his tongue on the hard bud gently as his fingers tweaked the other one. 

“o-oh.” you breathed out, chest heaving as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud. “jonathan…”

“mm.” he hummed softly, mouth still attached to your breast. you let a few more moans slip out, whispering his name softly as you felt yourself soak through your underwear. 

“perfect fucking tits,” he groaned, “i could do this all day long, darling.”

he moved over to your other breast, giving the other side the same treatment as you felt yourself dripping, cunt clenching around nothing. once he decided that he’d teased you enough, he finally started to undress, slowly undoing his belt buckle.

you were desperate at this point, your cunt needing to be filled and fucked by jonathan’s thick cock. he seemed to sense your neediness though (it’s not like you were being coy by any means), and he took his cock out. 

it sprung out against his stomach, the tip flushed pink and sticky with pre-cum. your mouth watered at the sight as your back arched slightly off the bed. you looked up at him with pleading eyes, and he looked back at you with the same intensity.

those impossibly blue eyes of his turned you to putty within seconds, melting in his grasp.

jonathan stroked his cock a few times before lining himself with your sticky folds, teasing you with the tip as you whined. before you had the chance to get mouthy with him though, he pushed himself into your sopping cunt, stretching you out deliciously. 

you let out a guttural moan, and once he had bottomed out inside your cunt, his hand snaked down to play with your clit. he started to rut his hips against yours quickly, brows furrowed in concentration as his dark hair was slightly tousled. 

“f-fuck! y-yes, jonathan—” you mewled, mouth hanging open as he plowed into your soaked cunt. 

“you’re so heavenly,” he breathed, thrusting faster, “fuck, so tight — i could watch you like this forever.” 

suddenly, he hoisted your leg over his shoulder, causing the wind to get knocked out of you as he fucked you harder than before. the new angle gave him access to the deepest parts of your dripping hole, and he watched you as your head fell back onto the pillows again.

jonathan could watch this play on a loop endlessly — the view of his perfect girl losing herself in the pleasure that he was bringing her. god, it was a dream come true, getting to have you all to himself. 

looks like a certain doctor managed to score big time, hm?

“i love this pretty pussy.” jonathan growled through gritted teeth. “all mine — m’so fucking lucky, fuuuck. love you.”

“m-mmhm! a-all yours,” you mindlessly babbled out, cunt clenching around jonathan’s length, “always.”

“that’s right angel, nobody can fuck you the way i do.” he said in a sultry tone, his fingers pressed up against your bundle of nerves as you approached your release quickly. “shit, keep clenching my cock like that—”

“y-yes!” you wailed, “i’m co–ming!”

jonathan moaned as he felt you cream his thick cock, watching your face scrunched in pleasure — there was something so beautiful about it. you, his darling girl, drenching him as he brought you to the highest peaks of pleasure. 

“gorgeous,” he groaned softly, “absolute fucking perfection — that’s, fuuuck, that’s what you are, my love. perfection.” 

the praise and compliments had you blushing, your cheeks heating up as he continued to ram into your hole mercilessly. sure, he was sweet during sex but he was basically worshiping you tonight in bed; not that you were complaining by any means, though.

“j-jon!” you squeaked out, getting overstimulated quickly as his hand continued to rub your clit. “i-i— ugh!”

“gon’ cum, fuck — gonna fill you up, my goddess.” he groaned, and you opened your eyes to look up at him in surprise as the words fell from his lips.

that was new. 

he rutted his hips into you a few more times harshly before he was slowing down, eventually coming to a stop as he buried his face into your neck. gently, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as hot ropes of cum painted your walls white. 

the two of you were silent for a moment, just basking in the silence peacefully. after a minute or two, jonathan pulled out, causing you to wince. 

“sorry, angel,” he whispered softly, “i know, baby. i know.” 

once his softening cock was out of you, he helped you get cleaned up as his cum started to seep from your spent hole. the aftercare with jonathan was always sweet — he was a loving man, truly. taking care of you every chance he got. 

“feeling extra affectionate today, hey?” you teased lightheartedly, making him smile softly at you as he wiped his cum up from around your thighs.

“just love you, s’all.” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he tossed the towel aside. 

“i love you too,” you assured him, “more than anything.” 

he came to lay down beside you in your shared bed, pulling you close as he placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “i just can't believe you’re all mine,” he sighed, “m’blessed.” 

“so you’ve said,” you giggled.

“did you mean what you said earlier?”

“about what?”

jonathan looked over at you, his hand gently holding yours. his eyes were full of love, admiring your every feature as he smiled softly. “when you said your feelings would never change.” he clarified. “did you mean it?”

“yes,” you said without hesitation, “i want you — you and only you.” 

“...i got jealous, to be honest.” he confessed with a chuckle, shaking his head. “i know i have no reason to be, but i also know how badly other guys wish to call you theirs.” 

“i could tell, you weren’t exactly hiding it very well.” you told him, snuggling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, much tighter this time. he held onto you as if he was afraid to let go — as if you’d ever stray from him. “nothing will change the way i feel about you.” 

“good,” he said softly, “because no matter who you’ve dated, or who you have a past with, you’re mine now — and that’s all that’ll ever matter to me.” 

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues

[bittersuitejacobs]

• an unhealthy obsession •

{Nate Jacobs/Original Character}

Ophelia is no stranger to wanting. For most of her life it's all she'd been allowed to do, trapped on the outside looking in, window shopping for normal experiences. Ophelia is also no stranger to obsession. Books, movies, TV shows; a terribly ill child who never even had the chance to make a real friend, she took what she could from fiction. All she'd ever wanted growing up, the thing she obsessed over, was someone who could save her, from her life, from herself. Someone who could make her feel alive.

So when her attention is caught by a beautiful, awful boy with a saviour complex, Ophelia vows not to remain a stranger to him either, no matter the cost.

Ophelia may no longer need to be saved, but Nate Jacobs makes her feel so damn alive, so she will turn herself into the kind of girl he wants, needs, and obsesses over too.

• in which Ophelia and Nate are somehow not the worst things to ever happen to each other. •

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Mutual Obsession, Stalking, Manipulative Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Infidelity/Cheating, Drinking, Violence, Non-Consensual Drug Use & Sexual Assault, Childhood Parental Abuse (Medical/Psychological/Emotional). Chapters will contain specific warnings.

{ fic playlist }

+ IN PROGRESS +

[ Season One ]

1. spectacle

2. the slate cleaned

3. knight in shining armour

4. according to plan

5. unexpected ink

6. daddy's angel

7. a week of turtlenecks

8. like and subscribe

9. dirty little secret

10. praise kink

11. deja vu

12. little black dress

13. fight flight fawn freeze

14. the aftermath of violence

15. boot theory

16. i quite enjoy ruining your day

17. mutually assured destruction

18. detriments of the modern age

19. justly serv'd

20. sanctuary

21. paper stars

[ Season Two ]

22. resolutions

23. bpm

+ ...

[ Alternate Universe ]

cool for the summer

Nate's been best friends with Lee Chase for as long as he can remember, and Lee's little sister Ophelia has always been... there. The best thing about her is how easy she is to ignore.

But everything changes between them when Lee and his dad go to Fiji for the Summer before their Junior year, and Nate and Lee's moms decide to spend that time holidaying together up the coast, taking the rest of their children with them.

So now, much to Nate's chagrin, he's forced to share a bed with his best friend's sixteen year old sister, who he's barely even had a full conversation with before in his life. But he quickly realises that she's bolder than he gave her credit for. Maybe it's a good thing her brother's on the other side of the world.

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Possessive Behaviour, Underage Drinking, Ongoing Parental Neglect/Emotional Abuse, Compulsive Over exercising as a Form of Self Harm, Mental Healthy & Unreality Struggles. Chapters will contain specific warnings.

1. Reintroduce

2. Reinvent

3. Recontextualise

4. Reconfigure

5. Realise

6. Revitalise

7. Reiterate

8. Reconnect

9. Restring

+ ...

Posting of completed chapters for the main fic will begin in the next few days.

Posting of the AU will begin after Chapter 10 of the main fic and will alternate.

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN !

(just message or comment to be added; I'll add you to the taglist for both unless you let me know you only wanna be tagged for updates from one)

[keesdarlin]

☆// striking midnight (MDNI, 18+)

info! cayde-6 / fluff + gender neutral reader

cw! n/a

notes! just a silly little idea i had. also new year's eve has been a little bit rough, so i'm writing this to cope a little bit lol. enjoy :]

in all honesty, what you were doing probably seemed pretty sketchy to someone who was uninformed. or maybe even someone who knew what you were doing. to the unsuspecting eye, it probably looked like-

“are you rigging a bomb? what are you doing, guardian?” your ghost asked, hovering anxiously over your shoulder. 

“no, i’m not rigging a bomb,” you retorted, moving around some wires attached to your little contraption. it was colorful and roughly the size of a backpack, mostly metal cylinders and colorful tubing with wires attached. you sighed to yourself, still fiddling with it. “...they’re fireworks.”

“ah. a colorful bomb,” your ghost replied, an air of disappointment in their tone. 

“no, no. it’s a light show. we’re gonna send these off to celebrate the new year,” you explained, not looking up as you screwed in a loose part. 

“but why do we need to celebrate again? it’s just another completed revolution of the earth around the sun. there’s been a ton of these; it’s nothing new.”

you sighed. you had set up a display leaning against a trash can to the left side of the little alley you’d set up shop in, your headphones connected wirelessly. on the screen played a sort of podcast – two humans sitting together at a table, reflecting on the year with music playing in the background. the viewer count in one corner of the screen read a measly 24, not that you really minded. a countdown to midnight sat in the other corner. the hosts wore no armor, just civilian clothes. you yourself wore minimal armor. probably not the smartest decision considering that you were currently working with explosives, but you wanted to honor the holiday. not quite in your civvies, but not in any kind of battle suit either.

your screen glitched where it leaned against the trash can, the hosts’ voices becoming momentarily distorted. you leaned over, hitting the side a few times. the screen corrected itself. old tech. “because of what it means,” you began, focusing back on the work at hand. “a new year is a fresh start, a clean slate. holds new opportunities. think the light of a new day and all that shit. symbolism.” a beat passed as you rearranged some wires, and then, “i learned that we used to celebrate it before the going got tough. guess i got a little bit sentimental.”

your ghost hummed somewhere behind you, their shell rotating curiously. “well, i think that’s quite nice, guardian.”

“thank you,” you mumbled appreciatively, distracted with your work.

a thud sounded behind you, but you didn’t think much of it. if it turned out to be a threat, you had confidence in yourself to handle it. do you stayed the course, twisting and rearranging and soldering quietly as you hummed along to the music on your livestream. at least it’s nice out. all chilly and calm, just like winter should be. not a peep. judging from your ghost’s silence, they didn’t detect a threat either.

“whatcha got there?” a robotic voice asked from behind you.

you looked over your shoulder to find none other than cayde-6 leaning against the wall of the alley, watching you work. one of his hands lingered near his hand cannon, the other draped across his torso, blue eyes glowing in the dim light.

“a bomb,” your ghost answered easily, shell spinning.

“not a bomb,” you rushed to assure the hunter vanguard. “and not funny,” you directed at your ghost before turning back to the exo. “they’re fireworks.”

“ah,” cayde nodded. “pretty bombs.”

“they’re not bombs,” you corrected, standing to face him. “they shoot up in the air, they’re not gonna hurt anyone.”

“oh, relax. i’m not here to snitch on you or anything like that,” he said nonchalantly.

you looked at him again, gazing pointedly at the hand that lingered near the gun resting in his holster. “mhm,” you said, tone disbelieving.

cayde coughed awkwardly, bringing that arm up to cross the other over his chest. “say, do i know you from somewhere?”

you sized him up, somewhat offended. “i work at the tower. i’m a weapons expert.” i’ve actually worked on the ace of spades, you thought, but left it unsaid.

“of course i knew that,” he assured, nodding. sundance thrummed by his ear, observing.

you nodded too, half-heartedly affirming him.

“so what’s with the bombs?”

“am i the only one that celebrates new year’s eve around here?” you asked lightly, tone bordering on a laugh. 

cayde whistled. “from what i’ve heard, yes.”

you frowned to yourself, shoulders slumping. “that is so disappointing.”

“i suppose so,” he agreed. “how are you planning on celebrating?”

you pointed to the podcast playing on your monitor. “once that timer hits midnight, i’m gonna get off the fireworks. probably get a bite to eat after.”

“sounds… interesting.”

“care to join?” you offered, giving him a lopsided grin.

cayde seemed to think on it a moment and then shrugged. “i mean, why not? as long as no one gets hurt, of course.”

“great!” you smiled, turning back to your machine. you quickly went back to soldering and tweaking various parts of it.

cayde came up, crouched down next to you. “so how long do we have until it’s time to set this sucker off?”

you spared a glance to your screen, checking the countdown timer. “a couple minutes.”

“a couple minutes? and you’re still working on it?!” 

you waved him off. “calm down, i know what i’m doing,” you muttered.

“you’re sure?” cayde checked.

you turned to him, eyes narrowed. “if you don’t trust it, leave.” when he didn’t, you turned back to your work. a few more sparks flew before you finally stood up, setting your hands on your hips. “there.”

cayde hummed, standing up beside you. “okay, great! now what?”

you gestured to the screen. the timer in the corner stood at only 11 seconds. the both of you watched as midnight grew closer. “5… 4… 3… 2… 1…”

the timer hit zero and you pushed a button on the contraption with your foot, stepping back. thankfully cayde followed suit because, a moment later, a barrage of fireworks went up in the air. both of you watched as they exploded in a colorful, booming display of sparks. “wow,” he whispered breathily. 

grinning, you turned your gaze to him, nudged him with your elbow. “happy new year.”

although it seemed a little hesitant, cayde smiled back, eyes glowing a little brighter. “happy new year.”

“now…” you trailed off, grabbing your display screen and dropping it into your bag. another troop of fireworks went up and your grin seemed to gleam a little brighter around the edges. “we should probably run before we get in trouble.”

cayde blinked at you. “what?”

you laughed, staring at him a moment before taking off down the alley. “we should go! you think i got permission from this?”

and then he startled into the realization. you jerk. he broke into a sprint after you, watching the fireworks over his shoulder as he went. “i guess i assumed!”

“no way!” you called, mischief clear in your voice.

he shook his head, following you around a corner. “you owe me ramen for this, kid!”

[blackdollette]

"find me in the club." | spencer reid

a&w. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: so what if you were a serial killer? a charming smile and a nice pair of tits were all it took to clean your slate.

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords @hiireadstuff

⊹₊⋆ pairing: unsub!stripper!female!reader x spencer

⊹₊⋆ word count: 897

⊹₊⋆ contents: smutty, no sex (sorry folks)

stripclub murders. risque, barbarous, and frankly, yet another reason added to many of why you should’ve quit that job a long time ago. but you didn’t think you were in the wrong for slashing a few throats in order to get to the top.

“is there a problem here, officer?” the batting of your mascara-coated eyelashes, the syrupy sweetness melting your words together, and the way you sat prettily on the barstool at the corner of the club, putting on a perfect mask of innocence as the FBI agent stood in front of you, hands shoved in his pockets. 

spencer had always been a sucker for pretty girls. hell, he couldn’t even count how many times it had landed him in trouble. a pair of pretty eyes and a nicer pair of knockers were all it took to sweep the boy-genius off his feet.

he cleared his throat, pulling out his badge and credentials as he introduced himself. “i’m dr spencer reid, with the fbi. i’m sorry to interrupt your…” he hesitated, the flashing lights and head-throbbing music surrounding him throwing him off slightly. “...business, but i’m here to discuss and ask a few questions about a few murders of your co-workers.”

you feigned an expression of shock, one of deep disturbance and fear. you’d even managed to add a perfect quiver to your voice. “oh gosh… i don’t know how any guy could do something like that.”

that simple statement should’ve been red flag number one: there had been no mention of gender in any of his previous statements. usually he’d pick up on the in the blink of an eye, but how could he with the way your raunchy “clothing” went out of it’s way to reveal a sinful amount of your cleavage, the way you leaned forward with faux-interest making your chest appeal to him all the more. it was almost painful for him to tear his eyes away.

you were almost unable to bite back your smirk. men were simple creatures, no matter how smart they claimed to be. and you couldn’t deny how satisfying it was watching the boy’s IQ slash into pieces.

he cleared his throat, speaking again after an over-extended silence. “um, i hope you don’t mind me asking but would it be possible if we could possibly step outside and you… maybe wear a jacket or something..?”

his self-control was impressive, but murder wasn’t the only thing that got you to become the hottest girl at the function.

you narrowed your eyes slightly, deciding to play the “fake-offense” card. “do you have a problem with all this, doctor? because i can assure you i get slut-shamed by more than enough assholes and don’t need someone like you joining in.”

he shook his head frantically, sputtering out protests. “n-no, not at all, ma’am. i’m from vegas, this is nothing new.”

your eyebrows inched upward. “vegas, huh? then i guess you wouldn’t mind sitting down and having a drink with me while we have this little… discussion.”

his rejection of your offer got caught in his teeth as you subtly pressed your chest together with your elbows. he subconsciously sat down next to you, like a marionette obeying it’s master. you had been talking for less than two minutes and already had him completely whipped. 

you poured him a generous glass of red wine, pushing it over to him with one finger while holding blood-boiling eye contact with him the entire time, your gaze boring into his like you were daring him to accuse you of murder. 

but the boy simply brushed his chestnut-brown hair out of his face, eyes fixated on your features as he struggled to formulate the questions that he had been assigned to ask. and that was your ticket out of this interaction.

you pouted your lustrous lips, slowly trailing your manicured fingers along the rim of his glass, not tearing your eyes away from his for a second. 

“you know, doctor, it’s such a relief having people like you around.” you shamelessly leaned toward him just an inch more, his eyes now glued to your breasts as he let out soft pants and gasps, cheeks tinted with pink. you continued. “i oughta do something in return. to thank you for going out of your way to keep me… us safe.”

you picked up his wine glass, bringing it up to your lips and draining the whole thing in one gulp. a stray drop of the deep red liquid cascaded down your neck, pulling him into a hypnotic state as he watched it disappear into the skimpy fabric of your bra.

“if you ever wanna see me out of work hours, stop by and ask for me. i’d happily treat you to a little something, free of charge.”

a stupid little grin and a blank nod was all spencer could manage to muster as you sauntered away, drool threatening to pour down his lip as the image of you tattooed itself in his brain. if only he could do something about the boner that was now pressing against his pants, pleading for release.

until it was as if an authoritative hand had slapped some sense back into him, and he realized what he had done. 

“hey, wait..!”

he called out into the abyss of loud music and bright lights that had just let the perfect killer get away.

author's note: bon appetitty

[goddess-of-green]

Platonic Yandere!Wild x Companion!Reader

(Request:) Hiiiii do you do platonic yanderes? If you do is it alright if I request platonic yandere who also wakes up from that 100 year power nap (idk maybe they were placed there since Wild used to look after them before being placed in the shrine of resurrection) so they set off on their adventure together but the reader gradually starts trying to leave

(A/N:) I haven't written platonic content before but I'm open to it! I hope you like it 💚

Synopsis: Wild was your protector before the Calamity, and he did his very best to shield you until the end. When you both wake up, 100 years later, he is unwilling to let go of the one thing he has left.

Contains: "Wild" is used but the "LU" setting is interpretive, gender-neutral reader, yandere content, queer-platonic relationship, possessive and manipulative behavior, mentions of blood and violence

Word Count: 1.5k

Waking up was tough. 

Getting back into the groove of…being alive wasn’t something Wild ever thought he’d have to do. It wasn’t as if he remembered anything from his time asleep, but something inside him could just feel the passage of time, and it had ebbed away at his being. 

He felt like he had to learn to be a human again. It was as if someone had switched his dominant hand suddenly. Of course he still knew how to be a person. He knew how to live and eat and communicate, but it was so…off. He just felt so uncoordinated in every aspect of his life. 

The worst part was that he hardly had any idea of what he was supposed to be. Sure he could be human and alive, but could he really be him? 

He was left with his life, and yet so very, very little. 

One of the only things he had left was you. 

You had, according to what few memories he could grasp, “died” with him. He’d given his life to protect you, but you both suffered lethal wounds. In an effort to salvage anything they could of your lives, you both were placed in the Shrine of Resurrection. 

Your face was the first thing he saw when he woke up. 

It wasn’t a face that he remembered, but it was one that he liked. 

Words couldn’t even begin to describe the anxiousness and cluelessness he felt after waking up. All he had was a voice in his head and a trail to follow. It was as if his brain had been completely washed. Like he was a slate that had been wiped clean. 

But you were there. A guiding light, a lantern in the darkness. You remembered hardly any more than he did, but you were there. You, more than anyone else, knew what he was going through, and you were a constant. 

You helped him climb trees for a single apple, swam with him to fish with your bare hands, swung around branches with him while he desperately tried to find his strength again. You were his light. He couldn’t have possibly done anything without you. He would’ve broken down completely, the second he saw the ruins of Hyrule. 

The sight was taxing enough. Looking out at the grown-over landscape for the first time. Tears had pricked at his eyes, and he had no idea why. 

But you were there. There to take his hand and keep him going. You were his voice of reason. And you were the companionship he desperately needed after being alone for so, so long. 

You’d climbed mountains with him, bundled up with him in the unforgiving cold, helped him catch horses. You even suffered through every shitty meal he cooked, while he was still learning what was edible. 

You were his best friend. His favorite person. His soulmate. 

But now, much to his dismay, things were starting to change. 

You could say you were both on your feet now. You’d been with each other for a couple months, traveling and doing your best to settle the Divine Beasts, as Princess Zelda intended. You had both started to regain your abilities and could more than take care of yourselves against monsters and other challenges to be faced. You were much different than the scrambling weaklings you’d been only months prior. 

Throughout the entire journey, Wild had never actually considered the possibility of you two separating. It simply wasn’t something that ever crossed his mind. In the back of his head, he sort of just thought you two would be together forever. 

But you weren’t the hero. You weren’t the one destined to save Hyrule. It wasn’t your job, it wasn’t your responsibility to face such a burden. And he would never expect it to be. If anything, as you grew closer to each other, he found himself forming an aversion to your involvement in combat altogether. 

He’d walk ahead of you on the road, head on a swivel so he could always be the first to engage any potential threats. He’d give you the best long range equipment, subtly encouraging you out of close-quarters with any monsters. He’d even asked you to stay in the village whenever he’d calm the Divine Beasts. After a few close-calls on Vah Naboris, he felt far too uneasy to let you aid him with any of them. 

You’d resisted the subtle safe-guards at first, trying to do your best to help him and be on equal ground with him, but eventually you fell into it. Now though, you were starting to pull away completely. You’d started to grow more independent, and that was the opposite of his desired effect. 

He wanted to keep you safe, and if possible, completely reliant on him. However, you were starting to get very comfortable with the idea of working as a separate force from him, and he hated it. Every time you spoke of your future, as if he wasn’t a part of it, it wounded him. Saying things such as “When we go our separate ways–” or “After we find our own paths–”. It made him want to pull his hair out with anxiety. 

He never wanted to go a “separate way.” He didn’t want to “find his own path,” because he knew that it was with you. You were his person, his companion, his partner. He didn’t want to even think about facing anything without you. For Goddesses' sake, you experienced your comas together! How could you get any more bonded than that? 

You had begun to grow closer to others. Bantering with Lady Riju, laughing with Prince Sidon, chatting pleasantly with Teba. And he wanted to spill blood when Bozai asked you to go out with him. He was trying to take you, his best friend, away from him. 

Couldn’t that pathetic failure of a man see that you didn’t want anything to do with him? That you didn’t want to go anywhere with anybody when you had someone like Wild? He prided himself on being a level-headed and amicable person, but things like this made his blood boil. 

Why couldn’t he just have you to himself? Didn’t he deserve that, at least? All the shit he went through and that you went through, everything that was stolen from him and all the people that he lost; didn’t he at least deserve something? Something to stay by him for once, to be his rock, and his light. He couldn’t lose you too. Especially not to another person. 

It wasn’t all that difficult to distract you from others, though. Spending so much time together was a benefit, when it came to that. Even if you weren’t as…he doesn’t want to say it, attached to him as he was to you, you cared about him deeply. It was easy to just crumple in your arms at night, with tears and sobs that demanded your attention. 

Even if the tears weren’t real, his frustration was. His utter desperation and fear of losing you, his pent-up exhaustion and stress from everything he was expected to face, it all came crashing down until his sobs felt as real as they looked. And you couldn’t just leave him like that, of course you couldn’t. Because you were such a caring person, such a good friend. You held him and comforted him, wiping away his tears while he clung to you. 

But even so, as you fought together, ate together, and slept together, he couldn’t get you to stay. You’d talk of parting ways and traveling south. Potentially settling in Lurelin, maybe even leaving Hyrule altogether. He didn’t know how to make you stay. How to get you to stay by him. He would follow you to the ends of the Earth had you let him, but he couldn’t defeat Calamity Ganon without you. 

Of course, he wouldn’t want you to have anything to do with the fight itself. But he wasn’t sure he could keep going, knowing you were no longer standing by him. Simply the thought that you weren’t with him was enough to make him start shutting down. 

Showing his dependence towards you wasn’t enough. It was a band-aid on a bullet wound and he could not figure out a way to keep you with him without compromising your autonomy. 

Feeling like you had no choice was the absolute worst. From what little he had managed to glean of his past, that was what his life was before. And he hated it. He wasn’t that person anymore. He was his own being, with thoughts and feelings and freedom. 

As someone whose destiny was thrust upon him at such a young age, he couldn’t forgive someone for taking that from him. Not again. 

So how could he possibly do that to you? 

…

He looked silently at your restful face, smushed (comfortably, he hoped) against your sleeping mat. He wouldn’t sleep, not when you were so vulnerable out in the open like this. 

See? You needed him. What would you do if you were all on your own, camping and asleep out in the open? Anyone or anything could get you, and you’d be completely unable to stop it. 

No, he definitely couldn’t let you leave him. It wasn’t safe. Taking away your free will was the last thing he ever wanted to do…

But he was getting desperate. 

I hope I characterized him well here. I became a bit stuck between the characterization of Breath of the Wild's "Link" and Linked Universe's "Wild," as they very much have different idiosyncrasies.

In addition, I am inexperienced with platonically obsessive character content. I attempted to capture the complexities of Wild's feelings without straying too far from his character, so I hope that was successful.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

So, reader is a huge softy that has many talents in various carework, for bots and kids. They are hired as the new Daycare Assistant/Handler and/or jack-of-all-trades for the Pizzaplex and the first interaction they have with any of the bots is respectful and kind. Reader has no judgement on them for not being human and considers them just as much a person as anyone else.

This includes every Staff bot they meet. They call them by their serial code (Hey there, M-1056!) or a nickname if they know them well enough. They help any Staff bot they see when the bot can't do it by themselves, with prior consent ofc. Getting magnets unstuck to them, helping clean up with them, even helping Map-bot with handing out maps. So, when some parent that isn't listed on the pickup list starts yelling at the reader and getting aggressive towards the increasingly uncomfortable Reader, the Staff bots are...displeased. Their AI isn't as developed as the glamrocks or the daycare attendant, but that is their friend. Their honorary handler. So, imagine the shock when some of the staff bots did their best to push the aggressive parent back from Reader and get Reader to safety. Security flashlight beams into their eyes, mop tripping them over, the works. After everything, the Reader is just so happy because "I didn't expect to gain such good friends!"

You can add whatever other bots that react to it happening in front of them/told to them later, but I'd like Sun's and Moon's reaction if you could. Thank you.

It was late in the evening when the Attendant needed some extra help cleaning up Superstar Daycare. But lucky for him, you were working tonight and provided him with some STAFF bots to assist.

You didn’t exactly program them to do that, but rather asked them politely. Of course it was their duty as janitors, guards, and many other things, though you still treated them as if you would the Glamrocks or any other advanced animatronic.

Your respect towards robots goes beyond the superstars of the Plex--that especially included the STAFF bots.

Because of this, you became the sort of “jack of all trades” handler. From helping a Glamrock get ready for a birthday party to assisting a Map Bot who’s passing out maps by elevator....you could do it all.

Sure, the STAFF bots didn’t have very eccentric personalities or voices, nor were they configured to have complex thoughts or emotional processes. But they all seemed to enjoy your presence--getting tasks done for you faster, saying “thank you” for helping them out of sticky situations, and more.

Some coworkers didn’t know why you cared so much about those “blank slate” bots, considering they replaced a majority of their friends and colleagues. Though nobody ever got on your case about it.

Even management noticed how you’ve kept them in tip-top shape, helping the company cut back on repair and/or replacement costs.

It turns out they needed you more than you needed them.

So you were quite content with your role.

In the daycare tonight, you had a few Mop Bots and a pair of Security Bots to sweep the place while you stayed at the security station, looking over the pickup list on the computer and finding only one child remained on it. She was with Sun, who would keep her entertained with a puppet show while waiting for her parent to arrive.

Soon enough, someone did and approached your desk. 

“Hi, I’m here to pick up my daughter.”

Looking up, you smiled at them. “Good evening. May I just have your name, please?”

They told you exactly that, but much to your confusion..the name they gave didn’t match what was on the list. You checked the date and sure enough, it was today’s, so you were looking at the correct one.

“Ah, unfortunately I have a completely different name listed here.” You told them, seeing their slight frown. 

“Really? I could’ve sworn I gave it to that stupid grinning robot...” Their eyes flickered to Sun. “Unless it glitched and changed it entirely.”

You noticed he was silent now, staring over at you both. While you didn’t take too kindly to this person calling him “stupid”, you stayed calm. “I can assure you that’s not possible. Our Daycare Attendant has the highest level of security and protects the data of all visitors-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I don’t need you to explain it to me. Can I just get my kid over there?” They huffed, suddenly having a thin amount of patience. “It’s a school night and I got here late, so I’m kinda in a rush.”

“Sure thing, could you just confirm her name for me?”

And they did just that, too, but you were still adamant about releasing them to this person. Glitches that completely changed somebody’s name in the daycare’s database simply didn’t happen. 

So you decided to ask them one more question to be sure. “And for safety reasons, may I also ask what school she goes to?”

They immediately looked at you with disgust, caught off-guard. “Why? Do you need to know every little thing about her? Does this place need her blood type, too?” They sneered.

“...no, but every parent is given a form to fill out, and they’re required to include their child’s school.” You pointed out. “I would assume you did that when you dropped her off today.” 

“.....ohh, uh..I-I’m actually just a family friend.” They abruptly changed their entire story, looking a little nervous as they did so. “Her parents asked me to pick her up so I didn’t sign any form.”

You just stared at them like they were the dumbest person on the planet. Did they seriously think you’ll believe that?

As uncomfortable as you were, you tried to stay calm. “I’m sorry but your name isn’t listed anywhere on the child’s emergency contact list, so I can’t release her to-”

“God what is this, Fort Knox?!!” They suddenly snapped. “I didn’t drive all the way to this shitty place just for you to hold her hostage!! Just call her goddamn parents and they’ll be able to tell you!”

You flinched slightly. Even Sun and a few STAFF bots began looking back your way, though you did your best to get this guest out of here asap. You’ve rarely dealt with irate parents, so your nerves were getting worked up. “Hey, there’s no need to use that language in the daycar-”

“Sorry. It’s just....look, I get it,” they huffed. “This company has a history of kidnappings and shit, but you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“..and it’s for that exact reason that I can’t let you leave with her. You telling me you’re her parent, and then a family friend is just a little suspicious. You can’t be both-”

“Jesus..am I gonna have to snatch her from that robot myself?! I see why they replaced you all with those stupid machines..they wouldn’t give me all this crap!”

At this point, your hands were growing shaky as you reached for the security button. This person was clearly attempting a kidnapping, only getting angry because they got caught in a lie.

Meanwhile, Sun was extremely concerned over the aggressive guest, especially since the little girl didn’t seem to know that person at all. At that point, he was ready to let Moon take over so he could deal with this “parent” himself.

Though before any of that could happen, he noticed all the STAFF bots in the play area suddenly cease their duties, making their way over to you.

Now that they were more in-tune with human emotions, they could sense your discomfort and the guest’s growing hostilities. And seeing you being harassed was..displeasing to witness.

You were their friend. Their handler. You treated them all with the utmost respect.

You didn’t deserve anything less than that.

So they came to the rescue, as a Security Bot tapped the guest on the shoulder and spoke in a rather annoyed monotone voice. “Hello, friend. Profanity and aggression towards staff are against our rules-”

“Don’t touch me you-!!”

But as the stranger turned around to scream at the bot next, they were met with a bright light shining directly in their eyes. They yelled in slight pain, going completely blind for a moment as they backed away from your desk.

Then a Mop Bot positioned themselves behind them and “accidentally” stuck out their broom too far, making them trip and fall onto the mat, sending some party canister crashing down.

“OW! Son of a--what’s wrong with your damn robots?!” They shouted in panic, getting up and rubbing their eyes right as two more Security Bots took them by the arms. “HEY! Let go!! This is j-just a misunderstanding, alright?! I-I didn’t mean to shout at your employee!”

They looked to you, hoping you could give them another chance. But you simply smiled and waved as they were forcefully escorted out of the daycare.

Only when the large doors slammed shut did you breathe a sigh of relief.

‘Thank god that’s over..’

“Are you alright, [y/n]?”

Looking to the Security Bot now standing by you, you smiled and nodded. You couldn’t believe they came to your defense so quickly--without even being ordered to. “I am now. Thank you, S-0032.”

“Head of security has been notified. This guest will be permanently banned. Effective immediately.”

“Amazing..I’ve never seen them be so..protective before.”

You saw Moon jump onto the desk, gazing down at you curiously. But his smile seemed a lot bigger now. “I got a mess to clean up..but I’ll let you slide. Just this once.” He wagged a finger at the bot, before leaping away to attend to other matters.

In the meantime, you just laughed, seeing a Mop Bot approach you as well.  “I didn’t expect to gain such good friends. That was a great one, M0-1056.”

“Always happy to help, [y/n].” They nodded respectfully.

Even though neither of them could smile, you had a feeling they would be if it were possible.

[casasupernovas]

thing is.

the doctor in series 3 is a lot more complex people give him credit for.

when he gets mad at martha at the end of 'smith and jones' it's not because he's offended at her flirting, annoyed at her insinuations, 'how dare she'. no. he's mad because she sussed him out, right down to the blue suit.

in 'smith and jones' the doctor has a clean slate, he has reinvented himself. and this version has no baggage.

this doctor hasn't got a brown suit it's blue, this doctor is flirtaious, romantic, even does the 'honourable' thing of making sure she knows the kiss he will give her means nothing. she won't get attatched that way when he sacrifices himself to draw out the plasmavore.

but this doctor is also a bit callous, he's excited by the thrill and danger, dimissing very real distress from people around him in favour for the facts. he only pulls himself back upon his conversation with martha.

in fact, it's no coincidence the kiss happens after martha commemorates the dead, her old mentor.

the problem is however, martha is too clever, too observant, too confident to completely be won over by this entirely. when he tells her he is the doctor, just the doctor, at first she refuses to call him by this. he has to earn it. sonic screwdriver? lol, got an electric spanner too? she asks if he has help because surely he didn't come to this hospital because he thought something was wrong on his own?

that's why he says stuff like this. he's like why are you poking holes in the illusion. i'm *this* person now, don't take me back to my reality.

but he's not quite done. they both could have died on the moon but she saves his life so, he gets another chance. incomes the reinvented doctor part two. [you can argue the doctor always knew they would make it because martha told him she saw him in a moment that had happened for her but not yet for him.]

so part 2 commences but he's turning it all the way up because he wants her as his companion.

so he's smooth talking her, but even then she's still not letting him get one over on her. "not pompous at all." so better turn it up some more, and he time travels, a 'cheap trick' to impress her more.

until his newly formed version of himself gets a hole poked in once again after martha inadvertantly makes him remember rose. and he clams up, decides it will only be one trip in a pretty aloof, defensive and abrupt way. shuts down any path that could lead to something more, testing to see if she can do the same - "i only go for humans" - she can and away we go. he's racing about the tardis back to semi-normal and they are off.

it's why he's so having mood swings all throughout 'the shakespeare code,' flip flopping between annoyance and dismissal at her questions, she's ruining how it was supposed to go in his head. she wasn't supposed to ask *this* many questions, she was just supposed to be impressed. but she went and reminded me of rose so this can't work now, it's gonna be one trip. but then flipping back to this need to impress and to just fall back into step to how they were, running around and having an adventure. how he's supposed to be.

and he decides i don't want this to end. im extending the trip. but yet again martha pokes another hole - his home. but the doctor holds onto the pretense for as long as he can. he doesn't just say "we can't go to my home and please don't ask me why because it's painful." he just lies. and this pretense now takes on a new form, because it directly references rose with choosing new earth. see, he starts by reminiscing on gallifrey when he describes it to her then chooses someone else to reminisce on. rose. all with little regard to how martha would feel about being used in this way. but unfortunately for the doctor, this takes a dramatic change for the worse as taking martha here directly leads to her abduction.

now, despite martha's olive branch after the death of the face of boe, the doctor still doesn't tell her the truth. until she sits down, and really hones in on his lies and the people of new new york began to sing for the dead. and the doctor looks at martha, the human, listening to the humans commeorate the dead. and tells her the truth. that he lied because he liked it. because he could pretend. pretend that his reality was not true. he was not the last timelord.

intriguingly enough, by the time we get to the lazarus experiment, the doctor seems determined to play out how the story was supposed to go. yet again disregarding martha's feelings. find a new companion. travel for a bit, then bring her home safe and sound. and not one year later. no ties, a nice thanks then goodbye. no heartbreak, no tears. but he comes back. because he doesn't want it to end yet, offers her another trip. and here goes martha again. telling him he needs to be clear in what he wants right now. he's not someone who can just breeze in and out of her life without a second thought. is she his companion or is she a passenger?

and the pretense is over. mostly anyway, and the doctor is at his mlst vulnerable due to the circumstances of '42' and by its end, it's like a refreshed smith and jones.

but now he doesn't feel the need to lie, he's not fully there yet. but he's more comfortable, he doesn't need to pretend.

perhaps too comfortable.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

LEGACY ~ 9

LEGACY MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,742ish

Summary: You were taken by Ultron. Vision is born.

Notes: This one is more of a filler chapter. Hope you still enjoy it!

Natasha and Clint honestly thought that they would be verbally assaulted when they returned with the cradle and news that Ultron had kidnapped you. Instead, Tony’s response was even more frightening. He was completely silent. His face was like a blank slate, giving nothing away.

“Tony,” Natasha carefully took a step toward her friend, “we will find her. I promise.”

“You better find her,” Tony’s voice grew louder and angrier with each word, “or else.”

Clint and Natasha quickly went downstairs to find where Ultron had taken you.

“Tony,” Bruce walked over to the man. “Clint and Nat are probably the best to be looking for her. They will find her. We will handle the cradle.”

“If they don’t find her, I will kill them.”

~~~

You groaned as you began becoming conscious. Your head was pounding, mostly due to the hit you had taken. Looking around, you noticed that you were in an old cell in some old base. Ultron was standing outside of it. There were hundreds of Ultron bots being built around him.

“I wasn’t sure you’d wake up,” Ultron admitted. “I hoped you would, I wanted to show you something. I don’t have anyone else.”

“Maybe that’s a sign that you’re on the wrong path,” you grumbled as you pushed yourself to sit up.

Ultron scoffed. “Maybe it’s a sign that everyone else is… I think a lot about meteors, the purity of them. Boom! The end, start again. The world made clean for the new man to rebuild. I was meant to be new. I was meant to be beautiful. The world would’ve looked to the sky and seen hope, seen mercy.”

“They still can.” You stood up. “You can change direction before it’s too late.”

“AH! That’s what you think. Instead of hope and mercy, they’ll look up in horror because of you and your Avengers. You’ve wounded me. I give you full marks for that. But like the man said, ‘What doesn’t kill me–” Suddenly a larger Ultron came up from behind and destroyed the smaller one, “--just makes me stronger.” You backed up against the wall, though there were bars separating you from him. “The same could be said for you… Too bad I’ve decided that you’re not worth it anymore.”

Ultron turned around and walked off. You were slightly relieved that he had decided to leave you alone. Looking around the room, you tried to find something that you could use to somehow get a message to the Tower. There was old radio equipment in the cell. Maybe you could throw something together. You knew that the Team would be looking for you, Tony wouldn’t stop until you were found.

You began to pull apart the equipment and fix it into something new. You were thankful for the time you spent in the lab with Tony, though you felt your ability to do this quickly and accurately had to do with more than just lab time.

Using two wires and an old SHIELD frequency that you somehow knew about, you began sending a message in morse code. You wouldn’t stop until someone was on their way.

~~~

“This framework is not compatible,” Tony stated. 

After sending Nat and Clint off to search for you, he knew it needed to be prepared to fight. He convinced Bruce to place JARVIS, who he had found at Nexus, in the body in the cradle. Whatever Ultron was building, could also be the way to defeat him and bring you home.

“The genetic coding tower’s at ninety seven percent,” Bruce informed. “You have got to upload that schematic in the next three minutes.”

Suddenly, Steve and the Maximoff twins appeared in the lab.

“I’m gonna say this once,” Steve warned.

“How about ‘nonce’?” Tony retorted.

“Shut it down!”

“Nope, not gonna happen.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“And you do?” Bruce asked, clearly angry. “She’s not in your head?”

“I know you’re angry—“ Wanda said, stepping up.

“Oh, we’re way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade.”

“Banner,” Steve called, “after everything that’s happened—“

“That’s nothing compared to what’s coming!” Tony argued.

“You don't know what’s in there!” Wanda retorted.

“This isn’t a game,” Steve said.

“Oh, I know it’s not,” Tony’s anger was getting the best of him. “My daughter’s life is not a game.” Guilt was gnawing away at Steve.

“The creature–” Wanda was quickly cut off by Pietro speeding around to destroy the lab equipment.

A shot suddenly came up through the class floor. Clint had shot the bullet, shattering the floor, and causing Pietro to fall through it. Clint and Natasha stepped on his legs, holding him in place.

“Pietro!” Wanda yelled.

“What?” Clint said. “You didn’t see that coming?”

The computers in the lab and the cradle began beeping. 

“I’m rerouting the upload,” Tony said, hurrying to the computers.

Steve threw his shield at the equipment, stopping Tony. Tony threw an arm out, a gauntlet flew into the room and formed around his arm. It charged quickly and he sent a blast Steve’s way, knocking the Captain down. Bruce rushed behind Wanda, holding her in a choke hold.

“Go ahead,” he whispered to her, “piss me off.”

Clint and Natasha rushed up the stairs, guns in hands. Steve jumped up and headed for Tony. There was a sudden crash, causing everyone to look in the direction of it. Thor slid into the lab, jumped onto the cradle, lifted up his hammer, and began to summon lightning. 

“Wait!” Bruce yelled.

With the hammer fuming with lightning, Thor hit the cradle. He stopped as soon as the cradle began beeping. Everyone stood there, waiting for something to happen. The cradle exploded open a few moments later, sending Thor flying backwards and the red-skinned body appeared from the cradle. The body straightened up and flew at Thor. Thor tossed him out of the lab’s glass wall and into the living room. Thor and Steve jumped out behind him.

The body stopped at the main window, hovering. It stared at its own reflection as the others exited the lad and made their way to the main room. Thor set his hammer down and slowly made his way towards the body. It flew down next to Thor, changing its appearance to seem like it was wearing clothes.

“I am sorry,” the body spoke up, sounding like JARVIS. “This was… odd.” He looked at Thor. “Thank you.”

“Thor,” Steve’s authoritative voice rang through the room. “You helped create this?”

“I had a vision,” Thor explained. “A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life, and at its center is that.” He pointed to the gem in the man's head.

“What?” Bruce questioned. “The gem?”

“It’s the Mind Stone. It’s one of the six Infinity Stones. The greatest power in the universe, unparalleled in its destructive capabilities.”

“Then why would you bring—“ Steve started.

“Because Stark is right.” 

“Ooh, it’s definitely the end times,” Bruce muttered.

“The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron.”

“Not alone,” the newly made mad added.

“Why does your vision sound like JARVIS?” Steve asked.

“We… we reconfigured JARVIS’ matrix to create something new,” Tony replied. He walked around the man, studying him carefully. 

“I think I’ve had my fill of new.”

“You think I’m a child of Ultron?” The man asked.

“You’re not?” Natasha asked.

“I’m not Ultron. I’m not JARVIS. I am… I am…”

“I looked in your head and saw annihilation,” the Maximoff girl said, stepping forward. 

“Look again.”

“Yeah,” Clint spoke up. “Her seal of approval means jack to me.”

“Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself, they all came from the Mind Stone,” Thor informed, “and they’re nothing compared to what it can unleash. But with it on our side—“

“Is it? Are you? On our side?” Steve questioned.

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” the man stated.

“Well it better get real simple real soon,” Clint warned.

“I am on the side of life. Ultron isn’t, he will end it all.”

“What’s he waiting for?” asked Natasha.

“You.” 

“Where?” Bruce wondered.

“Sokovia,” Clint jumped in.

“He’s got Y/N there too,” Natasha said.

“You found her?” Tony’s attention was quickly drawn to the two assassins. 

“She’s smart. Sent a message through old SHIELD channels.”

“That’s my girl… Wait, old SHIELD channels?”

“It was one we knew that HYDRA had access to.”

“Oh.” Tony was starting to grow concerned about what things your memory was bringing forth.

Bruce brought the attention back onto the new guy, “If we’re wrong about you, if you’re the monster that Ultron made you to be…”

“What will you do?” The man asked. He looked around at the group. “I don’t want to kill Ultron. He’s unique, and he’s in pain. But that pain will roll over the earth. So he must be destroyed. Every form he’s built, every trace of his presence on the net, we have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others. Maybe I am a monster. I don’t think I’d know if I were one. I’m not what you are, and not what you intended. So there may be no way to make you trust me.” Then he lifted up Thor’s hammer and offered it to him. “But we need to go.” 

The group stood in shock as Thor took the hammer from him. The man then walked off.

“Right…” Thor nervously said. He walked over and gave Tony a pat on the shoulder. “Well done.”

“Three minutes,” Steve commanded. “Get what you need.”

~~~

Steve, Bruce, and Tony fought themselves at the quinjet, waiting for the others.

“No way we all get through this,” Tony noted. “If even one tin soldier is left standing, we’ve lost. It’s gonna be blood on the floor.”

“I’ve got no plans tomorrow night,” Steve responded with a small smirk.

“I get first crack at the big guy. Iron Man’s the one he’s waiting for.”

“That’s true,” the new guy said, walking past, “he hates you the most.”

“I’ll get Y/N first then I’ll–”

“I’ll go,” Steve said. “I was supposed to watch her. I should bring her back.”

“I’m her father.”

“You are also the one that Ultron’s expecting. This could be a giant trap.”

“Fine. But I swear to God, Rogers, if you don’t bring her back home alive, I will have your head.”

“I’m surprised you don’t already.”

next chapter >

[angelofchaos001]

Meet Shale!

Okay I made a proper introductory post for Shale! (Schist will come once I figure out their design) I'll make them a separate post for all the dialogue I came up with.

some spoilers for the game but not a lot, also tagging time: @doodlebug091 @mellow-mooon @sawyer-is-eepy @a-crawling-chaos (Just poking at my followers/moots who I know like Outer Wilds)

Alright! Let's start the bidding at this beauty of a reference. I know it's got some messy colors and no I don't know which layer the two random dots are on to erase them, but I'm proud because I drew this without needing to reference someone else's posing art. I just used my own arms and legs to figure it out and winged it and it looks like a person. I'm proud.

While we're on the topic, I might as well discuss my thought process for their design. This is Shale when they're not busy exploring dangerous ice asteroids. I tried to make the design look comfortable, and that's the main thought behind it. Shale likes scarves. They like fingerless gloves. They like baggier shorts. They despise long pants. They don't like wearing bright colors. They like grays and browns. It's Shale in their peak of comfort.

And then we've got this one! Also done without a pose reference. I actually did draw a whole spacesuit originally, but then covered it up with that big coat they're wearing. Anyway, Shale's suit is designed to be bulky, thick, insulted, everything they'd need to explore space properly. But to add onto that, they brought the scarf and coat for extra warmth on the Interloper. A lot of their patchwork fixes were done by them on the fly, and they even made their viola case all on their own. Shale uses yellow as their bright coloration because they hate the color orange. They have a ton of rope, ice picks, and grippy boots because they knew they were going to an ice place. And that antennae on their helmet is meant to pick up distant signals, so far it has not picked up anything new.

Now it's time for what nobody came here for, the infodump about their history and personality!

Shale developed a fascination with space at a very young age. Extremely young. All it took was young Shale getting one look through a telescope to become completely obsessed with the idea that they, someday, would join the well-known travelers out there and do something legendary. Sometimes, when things lined up right, Shale got to opportunity to talk to the travelers over radio. They loved hearing stories of Feldspar's glory and dreamed to be immortalized like they were.

Once they were allowed to join Outer Wilds Ventures and start learning how to be an astronaut, Shale wasted no time being both a delight to teach and an absolute headache to watch over. Whenever they weren't learning or doing their part in the village (Shale helped keep the observatory clean), they were working on their own little project. With some help from Slate, they attempted to make a jetpack just like the spacesuits had. They got precisely two attempts at this before they were shut down, but the first attempt went off mostly fine. Despite the device not working, Shale landed mostly safely in the water and their only injuries were some scrapes and a sprained ankle.

Shale never stopped writing new ideas, but didn't physically attempt any more jetpacks for a while. Instead, they focused on studying and getting closer to the other trainees they were learning alongside. They did grow close to the protagonist, and another recruit named Tin, though weren't able to click as well with the slightly older hearthians, Schist and Bismuth. Most of their time was still spent with their mentors, but whenever hatchling wasn't working with Hal on the translator, Shale liked to be around them.

When they were a little older and nearing the end of their training, Shale made their second attempt at the jetpack, and came out with a promising result. However, this attempt went far poorer than the previous one. For one, they moved the attempt location to avoid being caught by anyone, sneaking away to some of the further-out geysers with Tin (in case something impossibly went wrong). They even snuck a spacesuit (yoinked from the Zero-G cave), since their plan was to launch from a geyser and leave the planet, just for a moment (They didn't take the jetpack there because the entire point here was testing theirs).

The plan went smoothly, with Shale indeed getting launched from the geyser and coming close to leaving the orbit of the planet, except for the part where their jetpack failed. Catastrophically. It actually exploded on their back, pretty much destroying the "borrowed" suit, but more critically, burning Shale badly. Luckily, they had brought someone else with them, so Tin was able to (try and) catch them so the fall wouldn't kill 'em and then get help for them.

Shale got taken to be medically treated, and everyone agrees they're incredibly lucky to have survived as well as they did. In spite of the massive burns, the suit protected them from the worst of it and it was really only their back that got hurt severely. While the smaller burns along their neck and arms healed fine, much of their back burns scarred and took a lot of time and effort to heal.

So. Obviously Shale got in massive trouble.

Such trouble that not only did they move their launch date back (both for recovery reasons and punishment reasons) significantly, but the others considered forcing Shale out of the space program. In the end, Shale was allowed to stay a recruit as long as they 1) Did not try that again 2) Agreed not to sneak around again 3) Helped repair the suit they'd broken and 4) Spent some time after healing not being in the program (think getting suspended). While in this suspension period, Shale got to watch Schist launch off, still fantasizing about that being them.

Shortly after Schist was Bismuth, and as Shale's own launch date approached they were eager. Tin launched a few days before their own, and so Shale spent a lot of time reassuring them that it'd be fine and they'd do great things. Eventually, it was finally Shale's turn. After camping with Slate (and having an amazing conversation about 'Why did you do the stupid thing' - 'Why did you let me do the stupid thing'), they set off for their ambition: The Interloper. They were determined to find out where it came from.

This ambition proved harder than they'd thought, but it didn't deter Shale from their goal. They became an avid studier of ghost matter by extension of their Interloper studies, and theorized a lot about what happened to the core of the asteroid and it's origins. They also spent some time studying how to make ships designed for deep space, hoping that the frozen Nomai ship they found on the asteroid could hold the answer for that.

Some time later, Tin sent everyone frantic radio messages to come back to Timber Hearth and that they'd discovered something new. Tin desperately tried to explain how they'd found a new hidden spinning disk thing, but as time passed with Tin being unable to provide real evidence, Hearthians began dismissing their claims. Shale was one of the last to give up on Tin's ideas, but eventually waved them off as mad like everyone else. They feel bad for Tin and their situation, but don't disagree with their grounding and truly believe their friend went a little crazy.

After that, some time passed, and then we hit the events of the game. They did radio Hatchling plenty of reassuring words before their launch, though!

[drabbles-mc]

Take It Down

Sydney Adamu x Richie Jerimovich Carmen Berzatto & Neil Fak

For @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo 2023! Prompt: decorations Also completely inspired by @withmyteeth, like so many of my favorite fics are

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Shout-out to Cricket for always having a never-ending supply of inspiration for all of my fictional faves. I owe you my life and also like 50% of my masterlist lmao. This is just a fun and silly little something-something!

The Bear Taglist: @garbinge @hausofmamadas @darqchilddaydreamz @ashlingnarcos @narcolini @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It wasn’t Christmas yet. There were still a couple weeks to go before it would be Christmas. The rest of the world was in full holiday swing, but stepping into The Bear wiped that entire slate clean. There were no decorations up in the dining room—it looked classy and beautiful the way that it always did, but it wasn’t festive. No one found the lack of décor surprising, per se, because they all knew Carmy and they knew enough about the history of Berzatto Christmas Bullshit to know that he wasn’t going to be decking the halls of the restaurant.

Just because Carmy had a deficit of Christmas spirit, though, didn’t mean that everyone else was in the same boat. No one was feeling bold enough to try and throw a tree up in the dining area, but apparently someone had been bold enough to sprinkle some holiday cheer back in the kitchen.

“What the fuck is this?” Carmen asked, standing directly below the light that was previously hanging perfectly centered above the expo.

Everyone turned to see what he was looking at. Richie stepped over to him, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked at the same spot. “Looks like mistle—”

“I know what it is, cousin,” Carmy cut him off.

“You asked,” Richie shot back with a scoff.

Carmy shook his head. Looking over at Richie, he gestured to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. “How, how the—who put this here?”

Richie held his hands up in surrender, was halfway through taking a breath to try and defend himself from the accusations he knew were about to come his way, when he heard someone giggling in the midst of everyone. He dropped his hands back down to his sides, brows coming together as he turned and looked to see who it was, not that it was really much of a question to anyone if they thought about it for more than five seconds.

“Neil Geoff,” Richie said, trying to sound annoyed with him the way that he usually did but struggling because the only thing he enjoyed more than harassing Fak was anyone harassing Carmy. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

He forced himself to get his giggles under control as he shrugged. “I don’t need to say anything for myself.” He gestured above their heads. “It’s mistletoe!”

“Yeah, we know what it is, Fak,” Carmy said. He looked like he was ready to grab a chair from the dining room so he could climb up and take it down himself. “Why did you hang it up?”

“C’mon, it’s almost Christmas! Have some holiday cheer.”

“What the fuck does mistletoe have to do with holiday cheer?” he shot back, running his hand along his browbone like he was going to flatten the stress out of himself.

Richie piped in before Fak could. “Maybe he thought if someone planted one on you, you might loosen the fuck up a little bit.”

Carmy waved him off. “Shut the fuck up.” Looking at Fak, he pointed at him and then up at the mistletoe. “Take it down.”

“I can’t!”

“You can’t?”

“Someone’s gotta kiss under it, Carm! If I take it down before that it’s bad luck!” Fak argued.

“We don’t need more bad luck,” Richie agreed, his tone so coated with sarcastic seriousness it was hard for everyone around them not to laugh.

Carmy was looking back and forth between both of them. “You’re both gonna have some bad luck if no one takes this shit—”

“We need to open,” Sydney begrudgingly inserted herself into the conversation, “so if we could finish this argument after dinner service, that would be ideal, I think.”

“I’m not leaving that shit up for all of dinner service,” Carmy said as he shook his head.

“Why?” Richie asked with a laugh. “Afraid no one is gonna wanna step up and kiss you?”

“Or he’s afraid that everyone is gonna be too busy kissing each other to do their work,” Fak chimed in before Carmy could answer.

“I’m not afraid,” he tried to stop both of them. “I’m fuckin’ annoyed. Take it down!”

“I can’t!”

Syd rolled her eyes throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Oh my god! No one cares!” She turned to Carmy. “We open in three. Can we just let it go?”

“No. I’m not leaving it up there. It’s, it’s fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Richie muttered.

Carmy’s gaze snapped over to Richie. “Cousin, I swear to—”

“Two minutes,” Sydney cut him off.

Carmy looked back over at Fak. “Take it down.”

“It’s bad luck!”

Carmy almost wanted to argue that there was no such thing as bad luck, but there was too much in his life and the lives of those around him that pointed to the contrary. However, he didn’t think that his luck, good or bad, was influenced by something as simple and silly as mistletoe hanging over their goddamn expo. But he also knew that if he said something to that effect, Richie was going to come right back with some comment about how he shouldn’t be so sure about that since his love life was either a fucking mess or completely nonexistent.

They also had about sixty seconds left until they had to open.

“Oh my god,” Sydney said as she looked over at Fak. “Neil, please. Just, take it down.”

“Can’t do it. Not until someone does the thing!”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Fuck me. We don’t have all day!” Stepping in, he placed his hands on the outsides of Sydney’s arms and pulled her up and into a kiss. It was short, almost harsh in the way that it knocked the wind out of Sydney’s lungs. It was over almost as soon as it started and Richie wasn’t even looking at Sydney when it was over, immediately turning to Fak and Carmy. “There! We all happy now?”

Carmy smacked Richie, the back of his hand colliding harshly with Richie’s shoulder. “Cousin! You can’t just fuckin—that’s sexual harassment! Don’t just fuckin’ take her and—”

Sydney cut him short, still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. “Stop, Chef. It’s, uh, it’s fine. I’m good. Let’s just,” she turned to Richie, “let’s just open? Alright? We can do that now?”

Carmy sighed, shaking his head as he stared at Sydney in disbelief. He thought that if anyone was going to be on his side about Richie’s behavior it was going to be her. But there was no time to get into it all. He also had the feeling that the more he talked about it, the angrier he was going to get about it, and the more that Richie was going to give him a hard time.

“Fine, fine. Yeah.” He looked at Richie. “Go ahead and open, cousin.”

Richie nodded, the self-satisfied grin on his face enough to make Carmy want to hit him again only this time with a closed fist to his jaw. “Yes, Chef.”

Once Richie was heading out to the dining area, Carmy turned back to Fak. “Take that shit down. Now.”

“Alright! Alright. Now I can.” He fell into his half-muttering. “No more bad luck now. Would be nice if you had some holiday cheer but—”

“Fak!” Carmy shouted to stop him.

“Taking it down!” Fak said, finally stepping away to get his ladder so he could restore the kitchen to its former glory.

Carmy dismissed the rest of the small crowd that had gathered, telling them to get back to wherever the fuck they were before everything started. They were about to have people coming in to eat, after all, and none of the customers were going to wait or give a shit about their arguments back in the kitchen.

When everyone else had dispersed, Carmy returned his attention to Sydney. “Sorry about that. You, uh, you good?” He knew there must’ve been a more graceful way to ask that question but grace hadn’t ever been his strong suit.

“I’m fine,” she said, giving a small and dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m fine and we’re open now so I really gotta…” she trailed off and gestured towards where the orders were about to start flowing in.

“Right, right.”

He stepped out of the way, acutely aware that there were about a thousand other things that he could have and should have been doing, but he couldn’t quite pry himself away. He stared at her for another moment, gaze flicking over to the glass pane that let him see out into the dining area. He watched as Richie saw people to their seats, and he would have easily wasted much more time looking back and forth between the two of them if Fak hadn’t reappeared with a ladder.

“Here to strip away the only piece of Christmas The Bear has ever—”

“Just take it down,” Carmy stopped his sentence short.

“I’m going!”

Sydney was trying not to laugh at the two of them and was barely successful. She wasn’t laughing but she was still smiling. “Can’t believe you’re making him take that down now when we’re about to start—”

“I figured you of all people would want it gone,” Carmy argued, defensive already. “Keep you from getting fuckin’ harassed by Richie again.”

Syd was shaking her head as she finished getting herself settled and organized. “I’m just saying maybe it’s not the best time.”

“Am I leaving this up here?” Fak asked from the top of the ladder. “Because I’ll leave it up here.”

“No!” they both answered in unison.

“Dammit!” Fak made no move to hide his exasperation and disappointment.

Richie strode back into the kitchen just in time to hear Fak voice his feelings. He couldn’t help but to laugh. “If you want me to kiss you, Neil Geoff, you’re gonna have to find another way.”

“Yeah, right,” Fak said as he got down from the ladder, mistletoe in his hand, “like I would ever want to kiss you.” He shoved the small plant with its pretty red bow right into Richie’s chest. “Not even to avoid bad luck.”

Fak was walking away before Richie could try and come back with a clever response. Instead, Richie looked over at Carmy, waiting for him to say something. He must’ve also been struggling to come up with something pithy and cutting to say, because he just gave one last shake of his head in Richie’s direction before turning on his heel so he could go do his actual job. The one that had nothing to do with holiday decorations.

Richie looked down at the mistletoe in his hand and then looked over at Sydney who was already immersed in her work. Walking over, he stopped so that he was standing right next to her. Sydney had watched the whole thing happen in her peripheral and had made a concentrated effort to not say anything to him about anything, let alone what had happened before. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was still thinking about it, that she had any type of feeling in the wake of it.

“Want the good luck charm?” Richie asked with a laugh. He dangled the mistletoe in front of her, watching her shake her head and try not to burst into laughter. “Something to remember me by? Maybe even cash in on later?”

“There are plenty of things that you need to be doing right now that aren’t this, Chef,” she replied but avoided answering the question.

“Want me to leave it in your locker?” he teased.

Sydney hated the fact that she could feel warmth creeping up her neck and into her face. “Richie.”

Richie laughed and clapped her lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll leave it in your locker.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then can you run these plates?” she called after him.

“Sure thing, Chef!” he yelled back, laughing the entire time.

[syerkrustydawgz]

‼️SPOILERS (If you haven't watched Prime yet)‼️

Why were people so quick to call Nine a villain-- Sonic was unaware he had been 'using' Nine to get the shards back into place and had gotten agitated by the fact Nine had the last shard- (He also gets hissy fits and agitated when things stop going his way and very VERY impatient because he's desperate to fix what he broke and this only led to more damage) As someone once said, indirect positive manipulation. So much praise came out of Sonic's mouth and yet he failed to see that it was negative at the same time. It could be seen as pity, lying- all that junk.

"Whoa Tails looks upset-" "Tails is never upset-"

Because he doesn't show it around people. As others say, he's supposed to be the 'smarty'. Tails never told anyone else but Sonic how he felt about things. He already has self doubt and compares himself to Sonic a lot anyways. (Frontiers) Whatever Sonic does, he does. Nine however, had all the little hints click as soon as Sonic opened his mouth at the end of the last episode.

Sonic has never told Nine the real reason behind collecting shards. Nine lashed out because Sonic can't stop seeing him as 'Tails', someone he isn't. I think it's so stupid and messed up to paint someone as a bad guy because they got their hopes up on having a literal person in their life only to be backstabbed. He's aware that he'll cease to exist if the shards are put back together, that's only one of the reasons he took the shards. I'd do the same if I knew everybody would 'die' just so someone's friends I'm compared to can exist again.

Nine didn't deserve what he had went through. He already got caught, almost got Sonic killed with Chaos Sonic, the Knuckles & Rouge of New Yoke don't even trust him because they misunderstood the reason for why he did what he did. This is the second time Nine has taken a shard and been labeled as a bad guy yet again because nobody understood how he felt-

He literally and I mean literally got pissed at the sight of Tails and even mentioned it- 'I AM REAL- just not your real friend'

He is h u r t i n g- he is conflicted- he and I quote cannot trust anyone but himself-

It's so painful to see people see the points of interactions just to ignore it 😭

edit: I'm also gonna add this. At the beginning of prime when Sonic and Nine first met, Nine was not very trusting of him. In response to Nine's trauma he brings up how things were with him and Tails. This does not make Nine feel better, it's still Sonic believing Nine is Tails. Nine was led to believe that if Tails had a chance then maybe he did too, even if how they met was completely different and at the worst timings. This is why Nine feels constantly hurt whenever Sonic denies or compares him. Sonic never gets Nine's name right, he says "Tails Nine" and Nine has to constantly correct him. The fact he adds Tails only makes Nine more agitated.

He only wanted a clean slate because he believes that with Sonic his life could be better too. Just like Tails'. He wants what Tails has. He thinks he's better than Tails. But he is aware now that it won't happen because again, all he was to Sonic was 'Tails'. A Tails that needed to be 'guided' and put back in his 'place'.