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sunshinesfreckless · 22 days ago

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(Happy ?) Anniversary

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Pairing: Idol!Felix x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cursing, Felix says “fuck” like 7 times

Summary: Your busy boyfriend tends to forget important dates due to his schedule—but this time, it was the last straw for you.

A/N: Uhhh, very unrelated to the fic, but I want the fic requesters to know that I’m working on literally every fic you cuties requested. Please be patient—I hope you guys don’t have to wait too long. I’m doing my best hehe xx Ily all!

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She had prepared the flowers hours ago. White roses, trimmed with trembling hands, arranged carefully in the vase he once said reminded him of his mother’s home. Everything had to look perfect. She fluffed the pillows on the couch twice. Then again. The candles on the table flickered gently, casting soft golden shadows across the walls — warm and delicate, like the evening she had imagined so many times.

She adjusted the straps of her silk dress once more and she’d worn her hair the way he liked, like she hadn’t tried too hard, though she had. God, she had.

From the kitchen came the scent of the food she had made. The stew simmered low, the rice was fluffy and warm, and the side dish was plated like she had watched in that cooking video over and over again. It was all ready. She just needed him.

She picked up her phone again, screen lighting up with her own reflection, expectant and bright.

Y/N: The food is almost done. I can’t wait to see you tonight.

She smiled to herself. There was a nervous flutter in her chest. Two years. They had made it through so much.

She sat down on the edge of the sofa, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Her eyes flicked to the door every few minutes. Then to the clock. Then to her phone again.

Still no read receipt.

She bit the inside of her cheek and typed again.

Y/N: Are you on your way?

A beat.

Then another.

She waited. The stew began to cool. The candles burned lower.

She waited.

Seconds melted into minutes, minutes into nearly an hour. She checked the app again. Still no reply. Still no sign of him reading anything. She opened his location once — just for a second — then quickly closed it. She hated doing that. She hated that she had to.

She stood and began to pace, heels softly clicking against the wooden floor. Maybe he was caught up in rehearsal. Maybe there was an emergency. Maybe the manager needed him. Maybe—

But she knew. Deep down, she always knew. He wasn’t coming.

She sat back down, slower this time. The candles had nearly burnt to the bottom. The flowers had begun to wilt at the edges — or maybe it was just her vision blurring. She wasn’t sure anymore.

The dress suddenly felt tight. Like a costume for a part she hadn’t been chosen for. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard again, but this time she couldn’t think of anything to write that didn’t sound like begging.

So she stayed still. Alone in the quiet room she had tried so hard to fill with love. The room smelled like food nobody would eat. Music still played low in the background, a playlist he had once made for her.

Two years.

And still, she had never felt more invisible.

Her thumb hovered over the call button, hesitation curling in her stomach like smoke. But she tapped it anyway.

Changbin picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Bunny,” he greeted cheerfully, completely unaware of the ache she was holding in her chest.

She forced a smile he couldn’t see. “Hi Binnie…” Her voice was soft, hesitant. “Is, um… is Felix with you?”

There was a brief pause on the other end as he pulled the phone away and called out to the others in the background. Muffled voices responded, then a rustle as he returned to the line.

“No, he’s not. I thought he was with you — didn’t we all clear out of the dorm just so you guys could celebrate tonight?”

Her cheeks flushed with shame, though there was no one in the room to see it. She glanced at the untouched food, the dying candles, the table she’d poured her heart into.

“Yeah… I thought so too,” she said quickly, trying to cover her disappointment. “Maybe he got caught in traffic or something.”

They said their goodbyes, and she hung up. The silence settled again like a heavy coat on her shoulders.

Just as she sat back down, trying to swallow the sting in her throat, the front door creaked open.

She heard a familiar sniff — the kind he always did when he came in from the cold. Then the soft sound of his boots on the wooden floor. He stepped into the apartment, cheeks flushed pink from the winter air, a black beanie pulled low over his blonde hair. His glasses slid a little down his nose as he looked up.

“Oh, hey,” he said casually, giving her a faint smile. “Smells good in here.”

Then he saw her eyes.

Swollen. Red. Quiet in a way that wasn’t like her.

His smile faltered instantly.

“Wait… are you okay, babe?” he asked, concern blooming on his face as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. His eyes darted around. “Where are the guys?”

Of course. He still didn’t realize.

She stood slowly, her hands clenched at her sides. Her voice came out so small it barely carried across the room.

“Do you know what day it is today?”

He blinked, confused. “Yeah, I had that fitting today. For Nicolas—”

She let out a short breath, almost a scoff. “No, Felix.” Her voice cracked a little. “I mean our day.”

It hit him then.

His gaze snapped to the table — the candles now half-burned, the cold food still untouched, the carefully arranged white roses she had picked just for tonight. His face paled.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, breath catching. He dropped his bag to the floor like it weighed a thousand pounds. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I… I completely—”

She stepped back when he moved toward her.

“Don’t, Felix.”

He stopped mid-step, heart in his throat. “Please, baby. I swear I didn’t mean to forget. Things got so hectic and—”

She shook her head, eyes shining again with unshed tears. And this time, she didn’t hide them.

She stood there, arms loosely wrapped around herself as if trying to hold something inside from spilling out. Her voice was low, almost hollow, when she said it.

“Yeah. Obviously… This isn’t the first time.”

Felix froze in front of her. His hand hovered mid-air, like he had meant to reach out and touch her, but her words stopped him cold. His face crumpled for a second — just a flicker — before he tried to pull himself together.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I know.” She gave a small laugh, sharp and tired. “You never mean to. That’s the thing, Lix. It’s never cruel. It’s never deliberate. But it still hurts the same.”

The air between them grew heavy, a silence so loud it pressed on both their chests.

He swallowed hard.

“I had the fitting, and then Chan called and we had to—”

“I’m not asking for excuses,” she cut him off, voice trembling. “I’m not even asking for much, Felix. Just to matter a little more than whatever the hell always comes first.”

He flinched at that.

“That’s not fair,” he muttered.

“Isn’t it?”

He looked at her then — really looked. And for a terrifying second, she saw it in his face: the anger, the frustration. Not at her, not really, but at the impossible reality of his life. The life she had once told him she understood. Did she really ?

“You knew what this was,” he finally said, voice low and raw. “You knew what it meant to be with me. The schedule. The travel. The pressure. I don’t get to forget fittings or rehearsals or appearances. If I let people down, I don’t just apologize and move on — I lose everything.”

She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him with wide, wet eyes, like he’d just broken something that had already been cracking for far too long.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “but what about me, Felix?”

He went still.

“What do I lose?” she asked. “I sit here waiting, I make the dinner, I light the candles, I put on a fucking dress I haven’t worn in a year, and you… you don’t even remember. You walk in like it’s Tuesday.”

He took a shaky breath. “Baby, please…”

She stepped back before he could reach for her. “Do you know how humiliating it is? Calling Changbin just to ask where you are? Hoping maybe you were in traffic — begging the universe for a traffic jam to cover for the fact that you just forgot me?”

Felix’s eyes were glassy now. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“You’re everything to me,” he said finally, quietly. “You know that, right?”

She looked at him — her voice so soft it nearly shattered him.

“Then why do I feel like nothing?”

“Don’t say shit like that,” Felix snapped, voice tight, eyes burning. “You know that’s not fair. That’s bullshit.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, glossed with unshed tears. But she didn’t flinch.

“Well your excuses are bullshit too,” she shot back, breath trembling. “You always have a reason, don’t you? Always something more important.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “What the fuck is your problem?” he growled. “It’s not an excuse—I’m sorry for being late, and I’m fucking sorry for forgetting our fucking anniversary, alright?”

She took a small step back. Not out of fear—but because the volume in his voice hurt more than she’d expected.

“We’ve talked about this!” he shouted, pacing now, his emotions spiraling faster than he could stop them. “So many goddamn times. You know how busy I am. We’re planning a whole comeback right now. I’ve barely slept in days, but I still came home. And now I’m the bad guy for being human? For slipping up once?”

She didn’t say anything. Her hands were starting to shake, but she curled them into fists to keep it hidden.

He scoffed bitterly, and when he looked at her again, something cruel slipped past the desperation.

“You are so fucking clingy, you know that?” he spat. “Always fucking needing something. Always fucking complaining when I can’t give you every second of my life. You should be grateful I even made it home tonight.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the sting of his words blooming into something sharp and cold in her lungs. He’d never yelled at her before. Not like this. Not with that look on his face, like she was just another burden.

She blinked fast, trying to keep her tears from falling, voice cracking as she whispered,

“…Well. I’m sorry, then.”

The front door creaked open.

The boys stepped inside, loud with laughter at first, but it died instantly when they saw her — standing still in the center of the room like she’d been hit by a truck. Her eyes were wet. Her shoulders drawn in tight, like she was trying to make herself small.

Felix grabbed his bag off the floor in one sharp movement.

Chan reached out instinctively. “Felix—”

But he shoved past him, jaw clenched, and stormed out without another word, the door slamming behind him.

Silence again.

Hyunjin stepped forward carefully. “What… happened?”

Chan looked at her with quiet alarm. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look up.

Just wiped her cheek roughly with the back of her hand, and with a voice small and tired beyond her years, she said,

“Suit yourselves. The food’s cold. You can heat it up.”

Then she turned and went upstairs, footsteps slow, dragging.

And when her door closed, she finally let herself break.

────୨ৎ────

Lee Know was halfway through a bowl of cereal, hoodie hood pulled halfway over his face, when the front door creaked open.

Felix stepped in, eyes tired, the beanie from last night still on his head.

“Morning,” his deep voice mumbled, scratchy from lack of sleep—or maybe from all the shouting.

Lee Know looked up from the kitchen counter.

“Where were you all night?”

Felix shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Slept over at Wooyoung’s.”

A pause.

Lee Know set his spoon down slowly, expression unreadable.

“Well… your girlfriend’s gone.”

That made Felix freeze.

“What do you mean ‘gone’?”

Footsteps padded on the stairs behind him as Changbin came down, stretching.

“Good morning to you too,” he muttered sarcastically.

Chan came down next, already dressed and scrolling through his phone. He didn’t look up when he spoke.

“Where’s Y/N?” Felix asked, voice tight.

“Could ask you that,” Chan said flatly, opening the fridge and pulling out the orange juice.

There was no pity in their eyes. No sympathy for the wide-eyed confusion dawning on his face.

Felix dug into his pocket for his phone, unlocking it with fumbling fingers. He typed out a quick message.

Felix: Where did you go?

Felix: Baby please say something

Felix: I’m sorry.

Delivered. But no response.

His chest squeezed.

Last night had been a blur of anger and guilt, and he’d tried to bury both by disappearing into the safety of someone else’s couch and letting silence do the talking. But now that she was actually gone—really gone—it hit him like a truck.

He leaned on the kitchen counter, staring at his phone, jaw clenched.

“She left before sunrise,” Lee Know added, softer this time. “Didn’t even take breakfast.”

“Did you seriously not check on her before walking out?” Changbin’s voice held a quiet frustration now. “Not even a note? A text? After yelling at her like that?”

Felix didn’t answer.

Chan looked up finally, folding his arms. “You can’t just throw words like that at her and expect everything to be fine the next morning, Felix. You hurt her. Really hurt her.”

“She didn’t even cry when she said goodbye,” Lee Know added. “That’s how you know it was bad.”

Felix gripped the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I know I fucked up,” he muttered.

“Then fix it,” Chan snapped, frustration bubbling over. “Unless you’re okay with losing her. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” Felix said, almost yelling. Then quieter, like he was trying to convince himself, “Of course not.”

He opened her chat again. Still no reply.

Then he tried calling her.

Straight to voicemail.

He stared at the screen, jaw clenching tighter, guilt curling in his stomach like poison. He couldn’t even blame her. The words he’d thrown at her—he could still hear them in his own voice. Clingy. Grateful I came home. As if she hadn’t waited hours, set a table, built a moment for them to celebrate them—only to be made to feel like a burden.

And now she was gone.

Really gone.

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Felix paced the living room like a storm trapped in a bottle.

“Guys, please just tell me where she is,” he begged for the fifth time, turning to Han, who sat cross-legged on the floor tuning a guitar but hadn’t strummed a single string.

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” Han said without looking up. “She needs space, and you need to understand why.”

Felix ran a hand through his messy hair, breath shaky. His voice dropped into a quieter plea.

“I just want to say sorry. Really this time.”

Across the room, Lee Know was leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed, silent and brooding. His cereal was forgotten and soggy in the bowl beside him. He didn’t speak, just stared at the floor. He hadn’t touched his phone in a while either, and his usual apathy looked more like discomfort now.

Then, slowly, he pulled out his phone and unlocked it with a sigh.

Felix watched with wide eyes, frozen in place.

Lee Know didn’t meet his gaze. He just lifted the phone to his ear and waited.

It rang once. Twice.

And then—click.

“Hi, princess,” Lee Know said softly, the corners of his mouth twitching in a rare, gentle smile. “Where are you?”

Felix swallowed hard, heart hammering.

A pause.

“Mm… I see. With Ryujin?” He glanced up, eyes flickering to Felix.

Felix exhaled, slumping down onto the couch, his head falling into his hands, relief crashing through his chest like a wave. His voice cracked slightly:

“Thank God…”

Lee Know pressed the phone closer, lowering his voice. “You know he was worried about you, right? Wouldn’t sit down. Keeps asking for you like a lost puppy.”

There was a silence as she responded on the other end. Lee Know listened with a slight nod. Then, he murmured, “Yeah… he knows. He’s been beating himself up since sunrise.”

Felix lifted his head, searching Lee Know’s face for any hint of hope.

Another pause.

And then—click.

The call ended.

Lee Know let the phone fall to his side, then turned to Felix.

“She said she was gonna come by tonight. Just to pick up some clothes.”

Felix shot up straight. “She’s coming back?”

Lee Know gave him a warning look. “She thinks you’re not gonna be here.”

Felix stood up too quickly, pacing again. “This is my only chance, right?”

“It’s not a performance, Felix,” Lee Know said coolly. “Don’t do it because you’re panicking. Do it because you actually get it now.”

Chan walked in just then, arms crossed and gaze sharp.

“Did I hear that right?” he said. “She’s coming over?”

Felix nodded, eyes hopeful. “Tonight.”

Chan raised his brows and scoffed. “After what happened, I’m honestly surprised she even wants to walk into the same apartment again.”

“Hyung—”

“No. Shut up for a second.”

Chan’s tone dropped. Firm. Controlled. Not yelling—but somehow worse than that.

“Do you even understand why she left?” he said. “Do you know what it does to someone to make a space just for you—light candles, cook, set the table—just to be treated like she’s overreacting? Like she’s clingy for wanting one fucking evening with the person she loves?”

Felix lowered his head.

“You didn’t just forget the anniversary, Felix. You made her feel like she was a burden for caring. And that’s the shit that sticks. That’s what people remember when they think about whether they feel safe with someone or not.”

The room fell quiet.

Even Lee Know didn’t chime in.

Chan stared at him a beat longer before sighing and turning away.

“If she shows up tonight, don’t just say sorry. Show her you actually mean it.”

Felix stood there, chest rising and falling, the weight of Chan’s words heavy in his bones.

He looked at the couch where she used to curl up beside him, the kitchen where she’d probably stood hours decorating a table for a night he never showed up for.

His heart thudded like a warning.

Tonight would either make or break everything.

────୨ৎ────

She hadn’t even taken off her shoes.

The hallway felt too quiet when she stepped inside, her fingers still trembling around the key she’d almost dropped twice. It was dark, except for a faint amber light flickering from the living room. She’d told herself she’d just grab her things, maybe leave a note. Maybe cry in the car after. She didn’t expect him to be here.

But when she turned the corner, she froze.

There he was.

On the couch.

Waiting.

His hair was a mess, clothes wrinkled like he hadn’t changed in a day, and his eyes—God, his eyes looked ruined.

“Hi,” he whispered.

She stayed by the doorway, fingers tightening around the handle of the overnight bag she planned to fill. The room smelled like her favorite vanilla candle—he’d lit all of them. The table was set again, this time clumsy but clearly him. Two plates. A reheated attempt at the same meal she had made. A half-wilted flower placed carefully beside the napkin.

It was almost laughable.

But her chest ached too much to laugh.

“Minho said you weren’t home,” she said, quietly.

He stood up. Slowly. Like he was afraid she’d bolt if he moved too fast.

“I wasn’t supposed to be,” he said, voice hoarse. “But I… I couldn’t let you come back to silence.”

She looked away.

“Y/N,” he stepped closer, but didn’t reach out. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Her eyes flickered to him, glossy already. She didn’t want to cry again. She really didn’t.

“You yelled at me,” she said. Her voice shook, the words barely above a whisper. “You’ve never done that before.”

He inhaled sharply like her words had sliced him.

“I know.” His voice broke. “I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

She looked at him then—really looked. His eyes were red, like he hadn’t slept. His hands trembled at his sides, and his lips were parted like he was still trying to find the right words to make everything right.

But there weren’t any.

So she said the thing that had haunted her the most.

“You made me feel small. Like I was annoying for loving you too much.”

He pressed his hands against his face, dragging them down in frustration before stepping forward again.

“No—no, baby, please. I never meant that. I never meant any of it.” His voice cracked. “You love me in the most beautiful way. You make spaces warm. You make days matter. I was stressed, and tired, and stupid—but I should’ve never, ever taken it out on you.”

Silence.

Her throat burned.

“I don’t want to be scared of you, Lix,” she said, and this time her voice broke. “I was scared when you yelled. I—I didn’t know what to do. You’ve never made me feel like that before and it…” She couldn’t finish.

He rushed to her then, falling to his knees in front of her.

“I swear to you,” he whispered, clutching the hem of her coat. “That’ll never happen again. I swear on everything—I’ll spend every day making sure you never feel that way. Please… please don’t give up on me.”

His eyes were shimmering, his fingers trembling against the fabric. She could feel the heat of his skin even through the coat.

“I miss you,” he said, choking the words out. “I miss you like my lungs miss air.”

She stood there for a long moment, heart in her throat, the space between them thick with unsaid hurt and love and regret.

Then she knelt too.

And wrapped her arms around him.

He broke.

Right there in her arms, the boy who had always held her like she was breakable shattered like glass in her embrace. He clung to her, face buried in her shoulder, breath ragged with sobs he no longer tried to hide.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” he kept whispering.

She stroked his hair gently, tears finally falling.

“I know,” she whispered back. “Just… don’t ever let me feel alone like that again.”

His arms tightened around her.

“Never,” he swore. “Not even for a second.”

And in that fragile moment, on the floor of their shared apartment, they started to put the pieces back together.

He held her like the world would collapse if he let go. And maybe, for him, it would have.

Still kneeling on the floor with her curled into his chest, Felix pressed his lips to her temple, voice thick but steady now. “I’ll do better. I swear.”

She didn’t answer, but he could feel the way her hand tightened at the back of his hoodie.

“I never meant to make you feel like an afterthought. And missing our anniversary—God, that’s on me. All of it is. You planned everything so beautifully, and I just… I wasn’t there. And I should’ve been.”

Her cheek pressed into his collarbone. He kissed the top of her head.

“From now on,” he whispered, “you’re part of everything. Not just the parts I have time for. I’ll make time. You shouldn’t have to beg for it.”

His words sank into her slowly, like balm on a bruise. And for once, she could tell he wasn’t just saying it—he meant it. He meant every word.

────୨ৎ────

It started small.

The next morning, he took her hand and asked if she’d come with him to the studio. Not just to drop him off. Not just for a coffee run. But to stay. With him.

She curled up on the couch. Watched the way he got lost in the music. Smiled every time he threw her a wink or made a goofy face mid-recording just to make her laugh.

The boys didn’t question it. Not once.

In fact, they loved it.

“You here for emotional support or to make sure he doesn’t forget your birthday too?” Changbin teased, and she threw a pillow at him while Felix grinned like an idiot behind his laptop.

She helped Hyunjin organize props for their SKZ Talker behind-the-scenes vlog. Chan gave her the camera once and let her film a whole segment herself. Felix kept sneaking in frames to kiss her cheek, until Lee Know pushed him out of the way with a deadpan, “Let her work, she’s better than you at this.”

Felix took her to late-night practice, where she watched them run the same choreo until their shirts clung to their backs. She clapped louder than anyone.

“I don’t care how tired I am,” he whispered during water breaks, forehead resting against hers. “As long as you’re here.”

She sat beside him at brand meetings, picked out outfits with the stylists, got a backstage pass to his world—and not once did he make her feel like she was in the way.

He asked her opinion.

He held her hand.

He told every staff member who looked surprised to see her, “She’s staying. That’s my girl.”

And every night when they got home, he’d wrap his arms around her and murmur:

“Thank you for not giving up on me.”

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

@sapphirewaves @bemyaehiweloveskz @velvetmoonlght

#felix #felix stray kids #felix x reader #felix yongbok #lee felix #skz felix #stray kids #lee felix smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #felix angst #lee felix angst #felix skz

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les4elliewilliams · 1 year ago

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Happy together.

Officer!Ellieㄨ fem reader

a/n: i honestly don't know how to feel about this but it took me ages to write so i'm going to post it anyway. also enjoy the trashy lil pic i edited of my wife😌// @sapphichotmess is gonna get soapy boobies pics for proofreading this. i love you you're amazing.

cw/wc: 17k ! murders/violence, mention of blood (I don't think it's that bad but if you're sensitive to this type of stuff just scroll), officer!ellie x waitress!reader, (tw) Eminem, smut, breeding kink, handcuffs😔, strap-on sex (r!receiving), thigh riding (e!receiving), use of pet names like (mama, princess, babe etc), and uhhh that's it i believe?? lmk if i missed something.

daily click・palestine masterpost・neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks.

The Police Station – Late Night – September 11th, 2018.

The auburnette released a heavy, exaggerated sigh, her weariness palpable as she delicately brushed the rough, calloused palms of her hands against her fatigued face, a few stray strands of hair cascading gently across her features, capturing the attention of her colleague. His eyes lifted towards his friend, a concerned furrow appearing on his face as he took in the haunting purple shadows under her eyes, a poignant reflection of her exhaustion.

"You look like shit, man," He suddenly exclaimed, the tips of his fingers dancing on the smooth plastic caps of his laptop.

"Awh, thanks, that's so sweet," She reclined in her office chair, the weight of the day's paperwork momentarily forgotten. It felt as though she had been sitting there for an eternity, each and every cell of her body yearning and longing for her wife. With her shift drawing to a close, she could hardly contain her anticipation of returning home to you, just so that she could feel the warmth of your embrace and perhaps resume the intimate and passionate encounters you had shared last night.

The boy leaned back in his chair, and a smug smirk spread across his face. "You look like you haven't slept," His gaze shifted back to his friend, who was sitting at her desk across the room, her eyes tired and her shoulders slumped.

"'Cause I haven't," she uttered, shaking her head. A light, airy puff of air escaped her chapped lips as her fingers danced through her locks, coaxing burnished stray strands away from her face.

"How are things going with your girl?" He gave her a questioning look, as if silently asking what was going on. It struck him that she hadn't complained about her marriage in a while.

Her response was a mere nod as she admitted, "Pretty good, actually." However, her gaze remained unfocused, her mind elsewhere as she replayed the previous night's memories in her head. Your moans echoed in her ears while the image of your ecstatic expressions played on repeat, like a broken video tape stuck on a single scene.

"Really?"

He was the one she trusted wholeheartedly. In the darkest hours of her marital struggles, she sought refuge in Jesse's ever-present presence. Hours would slip away as she poured out her heart to him until the early light of dawn or until their shift was over. Yet, he never seemed to mind 'cause his friends' problems were his problems.

After a great four years together, where you and she shared an uncanny kinship and complemented each other like two puzzle pieces, things took a gradual turn for the worse. Heated arguments began to erupt frequently, fueled by petty disagreements about insignificant matters such as the shoes left by the door, piles of unwashed dishes on the living room coffee table, or the kitchen table. Over time, both of you grew tired of this never-ending cycle of conflict.

Dr. Diaz was remarkable in his ability to guide both of you in honing your communication skills and learning how to make each other feel truly heard. It felt like a fresh start with someone you already knew so well and had shared countless memories with. Initially, walking out of your first session was an uncomfortable experience, leaving you feeling almost overly exposed, as if you had revealed too much. The ride back home was filled with an awkward silence that was unfamiliar, never in your life you felt awkward around her, not even once. A few small sighs escaped occasionally, both of you remaining silent until you finally returned home.

"Yeah."

His warm smile spoke volumes as he offered reassuring words to her, "Told you it was just a matter of time. Dina and I have been through it, too, before."

She sat comfortably in her weathered chair, leaning back slightly as she pushed herself away from her sturdy wooden desk. "Speaking of Dina, how's she holdin’ up?" her mind suddenly shifted to a very pregnant Dina who was already eight months along and was about to explode at any second.

The raven-haired man imperceptibly shrugged his shoulders "Y'know, pregnancy hormones—what the doctor said."

She let out a soft snort, a half-smile gracing her lips. "Have you settled on the names?" she inquired.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "We keep fighting over it," he admitted, "She wants to name him-" before he could finish his sentence, an announcement echoing through the hallway of the department caught Ellie's and his attention simultaneously. They stood up abruptly, exchanging concerned glances and rushed out of the small room with a sense of urgency.

"A 140, where?" Ellie's voice quivered, her heart hoping against hope that she had misheard the news. Worry painted itself across her freckled face, etching lines of concern amidst the constellation of her pretty freckles.

It couldn't be. No, it couldn't.

Color drained from her face, and she grew paler than the moon, the realization hitting her like a sudden storm. It was the same diner where you worked, and worry consumed her like a relentless tide.

They made their way towards Jesse's car with lightning speed, both fully aware that Ellie was in no condition to get behind the wheel. She urged Jesse to drive faster, her heart thudding like crazy in her ribcage. She tried to call you countless times, but you never answered. Her palms turned clammy, her hands trembling like fragile leaves in the wind.

"Fuckin' hurry up." The car swerved erratically, anxiety emanating from every pore of her skin. Her voice grew louder and more forceful as she shouted at Jesse, who held the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"We’re gonna crash if we go any faster than this," he raised his voice back at her, feeling all the pressure and tension of the world on his shoulders, but at the same time, he couldn't blame her.

The Diner – Late Night – September 11th, 2018.

As they reached the crime scene, her eyes were immediately drawn to the stark sight of yellow tape cordoning off the area. The tape fluttered gently in the breeze, creating an almost surreal barrier. Beyond it, the solemn figures of police officers moved with purpose, their expressions a mix of determination and concern.

A lone officer stood at the forefront, diligently jotting down notes, while another leaned in to share crucial details about the tragic event. Their hushed conversations hinted at the weight of the situation as they sought to unravel the enigma of the killer's intentions. "I've never seen anything like this 'round here before. The killer must have acted out of rage or passion. There must be a reason," The freckled girl strained to hear the officers' hushed conversation, her stomach sinking with each word.

As she moved closer, they swiftly barred her way. The scene unfolded like a haunting painting—the diner's floor marked by crimson footsteps. She couldn't tell if it was the officer's grim descriptions or the frigid night air that sent shivers down her spine.

"Williams, they are already taking care of it, just wait here and-"

"No, no, no, listen—I have to go in there. My wife works here." She desperately attempted to push through the two middle-aged men, but they held her back with ease. Her voice quivered with fear as she begged to reach you. Were you harmed? Were you in pain? Were you...alive?

Her face was like a canvas of worry, etched with lines of concern. With a graceful shrug, she brushed off the unwelcome hands on her shoulders, "Who's the victim?" she feared what the answer to her question would be, but she needed to know. Her brows were furrowed with worry as she waited for a response, her eyes brimming with fear. "Pleaseplease—Tell me it's not her." She pleaded with such desperation and worry on your behalf that the two men couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. They saw the depth of her love and concern for you, and what touched them the most was that they knew you.

Every day, you would lovingly pack a lunch, a sweet treat, or even a hearty dinner to bring to her at work. Your kindness shone through like a warm beam of sunlight, always in a cheerful mood with a genuine smile on your face as you chatted with her colleagues, asking them about their day and thanking them for their service before returning to your routine.

Ellie stood before the men, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. One of the men heaved a deep, mournful sigh that echoed in the stillness, and he shook his head gravely, his lips drawn into a tight, sorrowful frown.

"Your wife is currently being interrogated as she was present when the murder occurred," Officer Johnson explained to the younger girl, his voice low and measured. She let out a long sigh of relief as his words reached her ears, finally being able to remove the image of you lying in a pool of blood from her mind.

While she felt guilty about it, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that it wasn't you the one who had been brutally murdered. It was a twisted and sick feeling, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders even though a girl had been brutally murdered. She was grateful that you were still alive, safe, and healthy, at least as far as she knew. She longed to be there for her wife, to wrap her arms around you and hold you tight. She wanted to comfort you, to reassure you that everything would be okay, even though she wasn't entirely sure herself.

"Please, I need to see her." She kept pleading and pleading until her colleagues finally relented and let her slip past the bright plastic tape. She raced into the diner and quickly scanned the scene. Blood stained the floor, and the door to the back room was left wide open. Blood was pooled on the floor, with a corpse lying beneath a white sheet. Vanessa Harding was now a lifeless corpse. As Ellie surveyed the carnage, her heart ached at the sight of you sobbing on the retro sofa as an investigator tried to coax answers out of you. But you seemed completely lost in your own world, clearly shaken.

The sound of her voice calling out your name as she approached you with a mix of eagerness and concern seemed to blend with the rest of the background chatter as you found yourself unable to shake off your daze. Her trembling hands found their place on your shoulders, gently pushing the agent who was interrogating you aside. A glimpse of concern crossed her eyes as she took in the blood stains on your once-blue waitress uniform. Her heart ached at the sight of you. She hesitated, fighting the urge to pull you into a comforting hug, knowing that maintaining some distance was best in such moments. What mattered was that you were okay, healthy, at least.

The investigator began to speak, but Ellie quickly turned her head towards him, fixing him with a death glare. Her body stiffened as she shielded you from his view. "Can't you see she's having a full-on mental breakdown? We're not supposed to interrogate people in this state," she stated firmly, her voice cold and harsh.

The officer took a step back, sighing in frustration. "I'll be back in a minute." He announced, and with that, he left the room, leaving the two of you alone beside a few medical examiners and other colleagues doing their job, the light chatting becoming a white noise for the both of you.

You sat there, absentmindedly consumed by your thoughts, when a melodic voice penetrated your haze. You lifted your gaze to find a concerned Ellie standing before you, her presence initially unnoticed. Despite her ongoing comforting words, you were too engrossed in your own thoughts to truly register her. It wasn't until she drew a chair and sat right in front of you that your focus shifted completely. When your vacant eyes now met hers, you broke down again.

Your voice quivered as you whispered, "E-ellie..." as tears streamed down your face and your bottom lip trembled. You felt a sudden wave of relief as her hands gently cupped your face, and her thumb caressed your cheekbone.

Her comforting voice soothed your soul as she whispered, "I was so worried, baby. I'm here now, ‘m here." You cried harder, but this time, it was tears of gratitude and love. Her presence made you feel like nothing could hurt you anymore because she was there. You felt safe in her embrace like everything was going to be okay.

"I was getting off my- and she… she... I tried, I really tried-" Your words were tangled and muttered, barely above a whisper. You shook profusely, completely consumed by the traumatic event that had just unfolded. Ellie could sense the terror and dread in your voice, and she swiftly drew you closer, encircling you in a comforting embrace. She held you tight, her palm soothingly stroking your head, creating a soothing effect that gradually calmed your trembling. She whispered gentle words of reassurance in your ear, imploring you to calm down and promising safety. Her voice was a soothing balm, its effect helping to assuage your rattled nerves. It was all you needed, she was all you needed.

It was as if she had an uncanny knack for dispelling your fears and nerves "Shhhshh" She quieted you gently, her words evoking a profound sense of gratitude within you for having someone so attuned to your emotions in your life. "You're safe, you're safe." As she drew back, she slipped off her jacket and gently draped it over your shoulders, ensuring you were warm and at ease, hoping to stop your turmoil. "S'okay…I gotchu." She continued to softly whisper reassurances in your ear, soothing your worries away with the knowledge that everything would turn out alright. In that instant, the entire world seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in the present moment.

After a few moments had passed, you had noticeably calmed down, prompting Ellie to allow the officer who had been interrogating you earlier to resume his task. She stood closely beside him as he launched into a string of questions, his pen scrawling diligently on his notebook.

"So you got off your shift, you returned to retrieve your keys, and found her dead, is that correct?" The old man recapitulated your statement, his gaze shifting between your barely exposed uniform beneath your wife's jacket and the bloodstains marking your clothing. He further inquired, "And you slipped on the blood?" His eyes remained fixated on the bloodstains that adorned your uniform, while your gaze remained locked on the bloodied footprints on the floor, you responded with a small shake of your head.

"I was kneeling in the blood, trying to bring her back, but there was no heartbeat. I freaked out. I wanted to do something, anything, but she was already gone"

"Any additional details that you recall?" he questioned, his eyebrows arching inquisitively in your direction.

"There was a..." In a feeble voice, you began to reply, only for it to falter and crack. You cleared your throat, attempting to regain your composure before speaking in a firmer tone, "There was a man." You sniffed, looking up at him with a frown tugging at the corners of your lips "He had his hood up, so I couldn't see his face. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, and he looked to be about 5'7," You strained to extract every possible detail, and he diligently recorded them in quick succession.

The only sound filling the crowded diner was the scratching of his pen against the paper, while the ambient chatter of the other patrons added a surreal yet comforting hum in the background. The scene felt utterly unreal, like some messed up vivid dream.

"Sir, there are no files from the security cameras' system. Whoever it was made sure to leave no traces," another officer interjected, halting the ongoing interrogation.

"Was anyone else there? besides you and well… Vanessa." He gazed at you with a furrowed brow, and you responded with a subtle shake of your head. Your lips formed a taut line as you revisited every fleeting moment preceding the end of your shift.

"I was about to finish my shift, and usually, no one shows up around that time. Before he arrived, there was a lady with a kid, but I don't think they saw each other." You explained, taking a moment to glance at your wife, hoping to find comfort in her eyes. A faint smile appeared on her face, accompanied by a small, supportive nod. She was there for you.

The officer hastily transcribed all the details, his pen scratching against the paper. "I'll give you a moment," he said, casting a furtive glance at Ellie before quietly exiting the room, making his departure alongside his steadfast colleague.

She stepped closer to you with a gentle grace, reaching out to lift your chin with the utmost care. Her touch was as light as a feather, almost as if she feared causing you any harm. "You're doing great, pretty. We're almost done, okay? Just hang on," She gazed down at you with a smile that could light up the darkest sky, her eyes filled with tenderness and warmth. Your gaze met hers, and in that moment, it felt like time stood still. Her delicate touch traced the contours of your face, evoking a sense of serenity that enveloped you. As you closed your eyes, a gentle sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned into her caress, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

After a few moments, Jesse entered the crowded diner, his footsteps echoing softly on the floor. He exchanged a few words with the man who had been interrogating you the entire time. Ellie briefly glanced at him, and a faint smile graced her lips as they locked eyes, holding each other's gaze in that fleeting moment.

"So whatcha wanna do when we get back home?" she asked in an attempt to steer your thoughts away from the stress and chaos.

"I don't know... I wanna sleep," you pouted, your words soft and heavy with weariness. She looked down at you with tenderness, gently brushing a stray piece of hair out of the way and tucking it behind your ear.

"Tempting. But I was thinking of your favorite movie and pizza?" she suggested, her hopeful gaze meeting yours, her voice carrying a whisper of warmth.

You forced a half smile at her suggestion, your eyes still looking more tired than ever. "What about tacos? You know that Mexican place down the street?" You recalled the Mexican restaurant that recently opened down the street. For about two weeks, you had been telling her you wanted to try it, yet you still hadn't gotten the chance to.

She brushed your hair with her fingers, each gentle stroke feeling like a soft caress. A gentle smile formed on her lips, making the apples of her cheeks more pronounced. "Good idea, babe," she praised, her voice as soothing as a summer breeze, as tender as her touch, and you couldn't help but smile back at her, feeling the warmth of her affection enveloping you like a soft blanket.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally let you go, and Ellie refused to leave your side for even a moment. Jesse drove you both home in solemn silence, punctuated only by the occasional light banter between him and Ellie. The weight of the impending visit to the police station loomed over you, and you couldn't fathom the reason behind the barrage of questions that awaited you. Perhaps it was due to the absence of eyewitnesses, but you were ready to cooperate nonetheless. That night, she held you gently, wrapping you in a comforting hug until you fell asleep.

The Police Station – September 12th, 2018.

The very next day, your wife stood by your side as you both headed to the police station. Her hand gently rested on your thigh throughout the entire ride, silently expressing her unwavering love and support. The warm sunbeams that usually provided comfort through the car windows didn't have the same effect on your nerves. Your stomach felt heavy, as if a knot had formed within you. Anxiety and restlessness consumed you. Her green emerald eyes frequently flickered towards you as she attempted to soothe your nerves with soft whispers, promising to stay by your side the entire time.

"It's going to be okay, honey." Her lips, delicate as rose petals, gently pressed against your forehead. She reluctantly let you go, watching you disappear into the interrogation room. Her colleagues' words echoed in the air, emphasizing the need for her to stay out so she would not interfere in any way.

"How did you sleep y/n?" the detective in front of you asked, turning on the recorder player before reaching for a pencil and starting scribbling on her papers.

"Awful," you exhaled, the weight of the word hanging heavy in the air. Your index finger delicately traced the arch of your brow as you gazed downwards, lost in a moment of profound contemplation.

"It must've been a traumatizing experience for you."

You nodded barely, your tired eyes meeting hers, "It was." Your face was less radiant than usual. The detective had seen you countless times before in this exact station, searching for your wife to deliver her something. Sometimes, it was a carefully prepared meal, other times, it was a bouquet of her favorite flowers or simply a thoughtful gift. And then there were the times you were there just to check up on her, your unexpected visits filled with love and concern.

"Let's attempt to retrace your steps together. Shall we?"

"Okay"

"Let's start from the beginning," she said, giving you the chance to speak at your own pace, without any pressure, so that you could fully elaborate on your memories and feelings.

////////////////////

The Diner – Early Night – September 11th, 2018.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling utterly exhausted from the long hours of the shift. You had barely slept the day before, managing a measly 3 hours of restless sleep that did little to ease the heavy weariness on your tired shoulders. Every inch of you ached for the comforting embrace of your bed, and your eyes longed to shut for just a moment.

As you wiped the counter clean, you glanced towards the door that seemed to swing open all too rarely during this late hour. The clock ticked closer to 4:04 am, and you knew it was unusual for people to come around this time of night. Just a few customers here and there was all you could expect, and you preferred it that way.

The background noise of chatter in the late-night diner was enough to lull you to sleep, but you kept going on autopilot, moving to the sink to wash the few dishes that awaited you. Another heavy sigh escaped your lips as you thought about the hours that separated you from your pillow's comfort—the night seemed to stretch on infinitely.

"Ready to run back home to get laid?" the shorter girl teased you playfully, nudging you with her elbow as a small smile played on her red lips. She noticed the exhaustion written on your face, the fatigue in your heavy eyelids, and the dark circles under your eyes. You let out a dry chuckle, trying to hide the exhaustion that had settled deep within you.

"Just wanna go to bed," you responded with a weak but playful smile

"Right. go to bed with your hot wife—wonder what y'all freaks will do." Vanessa continued to playfully tease you, her liking for your wife a little too evident in her words. Ever since Ellie stepped into this diner for the first time, the brunette set her eyes on her. However, Ellie had always made the fact that she wasn't interested obvious. Your friend was pretty unlucky in this sort of thing; the best she would get was a phone number scribbled on a piece of paper by a middle-aged, beer-bellied man, who was likely just looking for a quick hook-up. And despite her initial attempts to draw Ellie's attention, Vanessa could sense that her interest was unreciprocated, leaving her feelings unreturned for the time being.

You couldn't help but let out a small giggle at Vanessa's words, and you nudged her lightly with your hip as a playful gesture. She moved closer, taking over the task of drying the dishes you had just washed, her hands methodically working alongside yours to complete the chore "Oh, handcuff me, Ellie, I've been such a bad, bad girl." She imitated you in a high-pitched voice that was nothing like yours, and you responded with a dramatic gasp, feigning shock and surprise at her teasing. The exaggerated reaction only seemed to amuse her more, and she broke into a wide grin, her laughter echoing through the diner.

"Oh my god, shut up!"

She burst into a fit of laughter, her amusement so intense that it drew the attention of the few remaining customers in the retro-looking diner. Some of them shot her strange looks, narrowing their eyes disapprovingly at the disturbance, while others simply ignored her and continued with their conversations.

"I swear, you shouldn't even be allowed here. You're embarrassing.” You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her, secretly appreciating her exuberant spirit. Her laughter died down; her blue eyes shifted toward the table where an older woman and her child had just finished their meal. The brunette approached the table, wiping it clean and pocketing the generous tip the woman had left her. She shot a wide smile her way, thanking her before returning to your side behind the counters.

"Hey, not fair," you complained, turning off the faucet with a huff and drying your hands on a cloth before facing her. "Let's split."

She grinned at you unapologetically, "Sorry, finders keepers." You sighed, turning towards her with one hand on your hip, with a playful disappointment on your face.

"Whatever—my shift is almost over anyways. Guess who's gonna be stuck here for a while longer? Hah! Not me." The lighthearted taunts cut short as a man suddenly entered the diner, his dark clothes and raised hood casting an eerie shadow over his features. You exchanged a glance with your coworker, silently agreeing that the stranger's appearance was suspicious, but decided to brush it off.

"Liz is gonna be here in a bit. Want me to wait here with you until she arrives?" you offered thoughtfully, your fingers skillfully untying the frilly white fabric that had been wrapped around your waist throughout the entire shift. Your eyes darted discreetly towards the man sitting at one of the tables, completely engrossed by his phone as he typed feverishly, his fingers dancing across the screen. The dim lighting of the diner cast shadows on his face, making it difficult to discern his expressions or intent.

“Naaah, I'll be fine.” she gave you a reassuring smile, and you nodded in acknowledgment, murmuring a quick "alright" before disappearing into the back room. The sound of the door creaking echoed softly in your ears as you entered the staff area, immediately shedding your frilly apron and gathering your personal belongings.

When you exited the small room, you saw Vanessa pouring steaming coffee into the mysterious man's cup. Navigating your way towards the exit, your shoulder bumped against hers, and she whispered playfully, “Eminem wannabe,” and you couldn't help but chuckle.

You had barely made it halfway down the road when the sickening realization hit you like a brick—you had left your keys at the diner. Ellie wouldn't be home anytime soon, so there was no way you could get in. You cursed under your breath before reluctantly turning your car around, determined to retrieve your keys. But when you returned to the diner, the scene that greeted you was surreal and terrifying. Vanessa's lifeless body lay on the floor, a gruesome tableau of violence that seemed to defy imagination, and there was no trace of the Eminem look-alike she had jested about only moments ago.

With a sense of dread and disbelief, you cautiously approached her body, the pool of blood surrounding her seeming to glow a disturbingly bright shade of red in the low light of the back room. You succumbed to the weight of the situation, the strength leaving your body as you sank to your knees. After calling out her name and shaking her in vain, the cold reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. No pulse, no breathing, no nothing. The sticky, warm liquid of her blood staining your bare knees was a chilling reminder of the horror that had played out in the dark corners of the diner. The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your labored breathing as you sat there in shock and the broken sobs that escaped your wobbly lips, echoing in the now-empty diner. It was a moment that you would never forget, a nightmare that would haunt you for the rest of the days.

“911, what's your emergency?”

////////////////////

The Police Station – September 12th, 2018.

Your face is stained with grief and regret. “I wish I waited with her, I had a gut feeling and-” You hiccupped, your voice choked with emotion, “I regret not listening to it.” The blonde woman before you nodded in understanding, her gaze filled with a mixture of empathy and professional detachment. After a moment, she reached out to turn off the recorder, the soft click cutting off the audio of your emotional confession.

The detective stood up, her words a mere formality in the face of your emotional turmoil. "That is it, y/n. Thank you for your cooperation." With a final nod, she turned and left the room, leaving you with your emotions and thoughts.

In a flash of movement, Ellie entered the room, her steps quick and purposeful as she slid in just as the detective stepped out. Her eyes softened as she took in your tear-stained face.

"Hey," she whispered softly, her words reaching your ears and bringing a brief moment of comfort. You mustered a weak "Hey" in response. The weight of the situation was heavy on your shoulders, and you felt a deep sense of vulnerability in her presence, the trauma of the past few hours still lingering in your mind.

“You did pretty good, ma.” She stood right behind you, her touch gentle and reassuring as she rubbed your shoulders. Her presence was strong and supportive, even though you couldn't bring yourself to meet her gaze. But she was there by your side as always, and it was the only guarantee you needed in that moment.

"Just wanna go home." You murmured, your voice barely audible, earning a nod from her; her silent response conveying her understanding of your unspoken need for comfort.

"I'll take you," she offered softly, her voice a gentle reassurance. You tried to protest, not wanting to add to her burden. She was working, after all, and the last thing you wanted was to keep your hot wife from fulfilling her responsibilities.

"No, it's fine," you said hurriedly. "You're working anyways." But Ellie's insistence was unwavering, her tone firm yet compassionate.

"It's fine, I promise," she assured you, her words leaving no room for argument. All she wanted to do was linger by your side and stay home with you, but duty called, and right after dropping you home, she returned to her workplace.

Police Station – September 15th, 2018.

The raven-haired man approached Ellie, his voice serious as he announced, "Things don't look too good, El." He quickly locked the door behind him before continuing to spill some private matters everyone had kept from her.

The atmosphere in the room turned tense as Jesse placed his hands on the edge of Ellie's desk and leaned closer to her. His serious expression left no doubt that he wasn't joking around. "Are you on ‘shrooms again?" she asked sarcastically, but when he didn't break into a smile, she set down her pen and looked up at him, her expression turning serious. "I'm gonna take that as a no," she said cautiously, her voice still laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Ellie's tentative words broke the silence again, "So? You gonna tell me what's up, or you just gonna stand there and look stupid?" But her playful remark was again met with the man's serious and troubled expression. He shook his head slowly, sighing as if he was carefully considering the right words to use. He leaned closer to her, his voice now a low, hushed tone.

"They think your girl has something to do with it." The seriousness in his voice left no doubt that it was a situation that could not be taken lightly.

Ellie's defensive and aggravated tone filled the room as she stood up from her worn-out office chair, abruptly raising her voice. "What?! That's fuckin’ absurd!" she snapped, "They can't accuse her of that—she didn't do it!" Jesse raised his hand to beckon her to keep it quiet, his expression serious as he tried to keep the conversation from escalating.

"Listen, don't let them know that you know,” he explained, his voice hushed. "They weren't going to tell you because they think you'll get involved and mess up the investigation.”

The freckled girl's face contorted with a mix of disbelief, anger, and fear as her friend described the situation to her. Her fists clenched as she took in the news, her mind racing with a hundred thoughts at once.

"What do the police think they have on her?" she interrogated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jesse sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to figure out how to answer her question. "Nothing. They said they won't say anything until they find evidence.” The more she pondered the situation, the faster her heart raced, and her palms grew damp with perspiration. It almost felt like a betrayal of trust. These were people who had known you for years, yet they didn't hesitate to place you at the top of their list of suspects despite lacking any evidence.

Ellie's agitation was palpable as she paced back and forth, "So what if they don't find anything, hm?" she demanded, her frustration clear in her voice. "That's complete bullshit, Jesse—My wife… Why would they even think that?" Her voice was low and harsh, filled with a mix of outrage and defensiveness, Jesse visibly tensed at the harshness of her tone. “Just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time? Well, guess what! It's nothing she can control. She simply happens to work at the diner, for fuck’s sake!" Her outburst reverberated off the walls of the small office, the frustration and anger practically tangible in the air as she forcefully slammed her hand down on the polished wooden desk.

Jesse gently but firmly placed his hands on Ellie's shoulders, his gaze locking with hers "Keep it quiet, dude. You tryna get both of us in trouble? I wasn't even supposed to tell you, but I thought you deserved to know," He hushed her, slightly shaking her to emphasize his point. He understood the sensitive nature of the situation, after all, they were not talking about any other girl. They were talking about Ellie's wife. Jesse's years as a police officer had taught him that stress management was key to handling these situations effectively, something Ellie seemed to lack sometimes.

Her green emeralds bored into his as she shook her head slowly, attempting to regain her composure. "Sorry," she sighed.

"Listen, there's nothing to worry about unless they find evidence." He reassured her in a soothing tone, releasing her shoulders.

"Well, I can assure you they won't find anything." She stated confidently, her tone still stern as her brows furrowed, and he nodded.

"I know. I know she has nothing to do with it." He truly couldn't wrap his head around it. How could they ever think someone like you had something to do with it? You were probably one of the kindest people he knew.

St. John's Health | Hospital – September 27th, 2018.

Eventually, the investigators turned their attention away from you, their focus shifting to the mysterious man you had described as the killer. There was no evidence whatsoever linking you to the brutal murder of Vanessa; why would you even harm someone you considered a friend? The text messages between you and your coworker revealed a purely friendly relationship, and there was no apparent motive for the crime. With no evidence to incriminate you, they dropped all suspects within three days. They all witnessed your evident grief when you discovered your friend’s lifeless body, shock and devastation overwhelming you, making them feel… off-track.

You stopped going to work, and even if you had the choice, there was no use; the diner remained shut, never to be reopened after the tragic accident, and the entire town of once quiet and peaceful community seemed unsettled and frightened by the series of murders that followed the diner accident. The once lively eatery now lay abandoned, a somber reminder of the tragedy that had befallen the town.

They had been trying everything, but the police found themselves chasing shadows. The one consistent detail from witnesses was the description of a man wearing a hood that covered his face, yet no one managed to catch a glimpse of his identity. So the authorities tried diligently interrogating individuals with a history of violence or abusive behavior, but each suspect appeared innocent, their alibis providing a strong defense, and none of them really fit the description.

Residents began locking themselves in at night, their evenings filled with unease and terror. Pretty soon, the killer and his murders became the main topic of conversation everywhere. It seemed like everyone was completely shaken up and fixated on the news surrounding the mysterious figure. Even the media jumped on the bandwagon, naming him the 'Shadow Killer,' a name that perfectly captured the eerie and unsettling nature of his attacks.

The baby's shrill cries and soft coos filled the hospital room as Jesse turned off the TV, muttering, "This shit’s crazy" under his breath. Ellie nodded in agreement, her gaze momentarily lingering on the news report before returning her focus to you, holding Dina's bundle of joy with love and care. The thought of having kids had never really crossed her mind, but something about seeing you with the baby, making silly faces to coax laughter out of him while rocking him gently, filled her with a desire to try and another type of desire.

She felt like building a family with you would complete her, despite having said that she considered you her everything and that she needed nothing else. While it was partially true, seeing your maternal instincts kicking in made her feel like everything clicked, like that was the final piece to your marriage and relationship—one she didn’t even know was missing.

A warm smile graced Ellie's face as she observed you interacting with JJ, gushing over the baby boy with a soft voice, claiming he was the most adorable thing you've ever set your eyes on.

“He's perfect, Dee,” you stated for the millionth time.

The brunette chuckled in response, jokingly telling you, “He's all yours.”

Jesse chimed in with a jest, bumping the shorter girl's shoulder “You're next,” earning a puzzled look from her. He cleared his throat and clarified, “First–they’re holding someone’s kid and next thing you know, they're asking for one.” Raising her scarred brows, Ellie scoffed at the teasing comment, but when her crystalline emeralds returned to you, she realized he wasn’t wrong. The sparkle in your eyes as you held the baby, a look that spoke volumes to your wife, who had known you for years. She could see the unmistakable signs of love and adoration on your face and she knew that sooner or later, you were going to bring it up.

She approached you, her heart melting under the warmth of your soft smile, peering over your shoulder to look at the pretty boy in your arms, ��El, look at him,” you whispered, gently cradling JJ in your arms.

“He's got Jesse's eyes,” she remarked, studying the little one's features.

Jesse couldn't help but burst into laughter, correcting her playfully, “He looks Asian, you mean.” eliciting a burst of laughter from Ellie.

“Totally what I meant.” she retorted sarcastically.

"Dunno, looks like the baby from the Ice Age movie t'me"

Your Apartment – October 2nd, 2018.

Ever since that “fateful” night at the hospital, you became the only thought that occupied her mind. Sure, she was your wife, and it was supposed to be that way, but there was one specific thought that consumed every cell of her brain. You, pregnant. Pregnant with her baby, your tummy swelling with the precious life growing inside you and your skin radiating a warm, ethereal glow. It was something that played in her mind nonstop, especially during sex. Especially when she was rutting against your pussy.

The thought of your juices mingling together, the thought of filling you up with her essence, was something that didn't seem to want to leave her mind anytime soon. And she couldn't seem to keep her hands off of you, always finding excuses to touch you, caress you, grope you, or even grind against the push of your butt when you were most distracted with chores.

You noticed something inside her had shifted, and on the other hand, she felt like a middle schooler all over again, sex occupying her mind all night, all day like a horny teenager in their puberty. Almost as if she felt the need to claim you and make you entirely hers in every possible way. But you didn't mind. No, of course, you didn't. How could you when she was fucking you so good and hard? How could you mind it when she pounded into you until the early hours of the morning?

"So good with kids...so, so good," velvety murmurs caressed your sensitive skin, leaving a trail of intimate kisses along the length of your neck. You tilted your head, granting her even greater access to explore you. Her fiery, vibrant locks, reminiscent of autumn leaves, intertwined effortlessly with your fingers as you gently pulled her closer.

"Hmmm." A soft, muffled sound escaped your lips in response "Does that turn you on?" Your voice dropped to a hushed whisper, accompanied by a dreamy giggle that found its way to her ears, prompting a smile to grace her lips against your skin.

"Does that turn me on?" She echoed your words with a sultry tone; her voice saturated with desire as she intentionally ground against your thigh. Your hands swiftly drew her nearer, firmly grasping her by the waist, the tips of your fingers danced suggestively along the hem of her Calvin Klein boxers.

"I'll take that as a yes." A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you gently led her to grind against you once more, eliciting a gasp from her as your fingertips tightened on her buttocks. A delicate sigh fell from her lips, caressing you like a gentle breeze, her parched lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a tantalizing shiver down your spine.

"You'd be such a good mama" the words seemed to slip out of her mouth without conscious thought, tangled up in the web of her own fantasies that had been tormenting her for quite some time.

"You really think so?" Your voice was as silky as cotton, a stark contrast to the firm yet gentle grip of your hands on her hips as you guided her increasingly urgent motions against your thighs. Soft, languid moans poured against your neck, planting a trail of heated kisses along the length of your neck, her mouth working with a voracious appetite as she suckled on your sensitive skin like a starving bloodsucker, marking you. A low, sultry hum was all you received from her in response. Your nude skin pressed against her, her clad breasts grazing yours, her hardened nipples stimulating yours through the thin fabric of her black bralette.

"You should put a baby in me."

The words seemed to halt her in her tracks. She leaned back slightly, studying your expression intently, her gaze locking with yours. A playful twinkle danced in her eyes, and a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Amusement and surprise mixed in her freckled-dusted features. "Strip." with a soft but unyieldingly firm tone, her features utterly devoid of emotion except for the subtle arch of her brows, making you break into a fit of giggles.

"Oh? just like that?"

With fervent anticipation, you stripped off the remaining garments still clinging to your body, your eyes intensely fixated on the sight before you. The vision of her adorned in the black strap, one of the numerous items you and your wife possessed, never failed to make your pussy clench, leaving your stomach in knots. Such a luscious spectacle. And you were the lucky girl who got to witness all this. Your body sank into the plush embrace of the mattress as you watched her gracefully position herself between your legs, straddling them. With a tender squeeze of your knee, her other hand gently pressed the tip of the silicone toy against your sensitive nub, sending an electric jolt of pressure through you. The unexpected sensation, even in its softness, coaxed a squirming response from you, your hips instinctively trying to pull away.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured, the tip of her cock rubbing through your folds, her slender fingers coating and preparing her silicone dick with your slickness. She groaned softly, lost in the alluring haze of her own touch, almost as if the toy were an extension of herself “It’s so pathetic how much of a slut you are for me.” Her actions prompted a whimper to escape your lips.

“Fuck you, stop teasing,” you retorted, tinged with a mix of annoyance and desperation, betraying the aching desire that consumed you. The sight of your drenched and soaked pussy made Ellie almost salivate, feeling eager to destroy it and make a mess of you. She loved knowing that even after years of being together your desire for her was burning as fierce as ever. You had never once failed to make her feel wanted, and how could you when she was simply this fine?

A dry, mirthless chuckle slipped out from between her lips as a self-satisfied smirk adorned her features. The soft moonlight delicately highlighted her cheekbones, enhancing her already stunning appearance and making her seem as if she were personally blessed by the moon herself “What, can’t handle a little teasing?” she responded with a playful taunt, she felt her own arousal growing, the back of her strap dampened with her own slickness, feeling a desperate need of friction.

“This is not teasing, you’re just being a little bitch” you pouted, your body arching eagerly as your pussy sought the sensation of her cock stretching you so amazingly. As she abruptly thrust forward, a high-pitched squeal was wrenched from your lips, and your breath caught in your throat. Her expression was a mask of amusement, witnessing your visceral reaction to her every touch, a reminder of the power she held over you.

“What were you saying? Didn't quite catch the last part,” With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she taunted you, her hands gently claiming your hips as she leaned down, her gaze taking in every angle of your contorted face.

“I said-” You attempted to speak once more, but another plunging thrust stole the breath from your lungs, leaving you speechless.

“Yeah, said what?”

“Hmmpphh.” You could feel her going deeper into you, your eyes shut close and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, arching into her, she looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, licking her lips before pressing damp kisses on your jawline and your throat, savoring all the pretty moans and whimpers you gave her.

"So pretty," she murmured, a note of possessiveness lacing her words, "And mine. All mine." She captured your lips in a passionate and messy kiss, her tongue tangling with yours as she continued to slide in and out of you, each movement causing you to moan into the kiss, and she gladly swallowed each one of them. You had taken such meticulous care of her, preparing her meals, doing the laundry, and handling the household chores with diligence that she just felt the need to reciprocate and fuck you as you deserved.

Such a good fucking housewife, she couldn't ask for better.

“Babe, fuuuck,” You cried out, your brows drawing together as her pace intensified. Your breath caught in your throat, and your body writhed in response.

“Want me to get you pregnant you said, yeah?” With a strained, breathy voice, she whispered, each movement meticulously targeted to hit the exact spot inside you that made sparks fly behind your eyelids and your toes curl. You nodded eagerly, a chorus of whimpers and whines escaping your lips “Then you’ll have to take my cock as deep as you can–want you to feel it all the way up in your womb.” she grunted, pushing the strap in as deep as it could go, feeling your walls clench around it. “But you’ll be a good girl and take it, won’t you?” she purred, her lips leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your collarbone and down the valley between your breasts. Unable to form a coherent sentence, all you could manage was an enthusiastic nod in response, which was clearly not enough for her. A slap was delivered to the sensitive flesh of your thigh, causing you to squeak in surprise “Words, mama.” She demanded, completely captivated by your heavenly expressions and the bouncing of your tits.

“Y-yes… ’ll be good,” you babbled out incoherently; the sinful sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room. Each movement, each touch perfectly calculated, your body writhing with each thrust.

“Mmm, fucking love how you take it.” She whispered, her breath coming in shallow huffs as her tongue and teeth worked their magic on one of your sensitive nubs, drawing out strained whimpers from you. Your fingers coiled in her hair, craving the closeness and seeking an anchor in the sea of pleasure that swelled between your legs. Your cunt wrapped around her so perfectly, and she had your legs shaking like crazy—that’s how she knew you were close.

“Gonna fill you up so good, baby.” whispering filthy promises into your ear, leaning back and burying all her length inside your womb, the tip of her fake cock rubbing your g-spot deliciously, making your eyes roll in the back of your head as she ground against the base of the strap, desperately chasing her own pleasure.

“Need your babies, pleaseplease…cum inside me,” you whined, the words catching in your throat as you gasped for breath, wrapping your legs around her waist with an urgent need to keep her close, both of your throbbing clits grinding against the base of her strap.

“Fuckfuck..’m coming.” Ellie’s grunts grew louder, a guttural melody that echoed in your ears. Her head arched back, the muscles in her body trembling and tensing as she slammed her dick inside you, urging you to cum with her

“Ellie, fuuuck.” Your body rocked wildly against hers, the movement becoming erratic as the heel of your foot pressed firmly into her glutes, trapping her between your soft thighs as waves of pleasure coursed through you. Sweet and breathy mewls escaped your swollen lips, your back arching into her almost painfully.

Dr. Diaz was right after all, you just needed to try new things with your wife, explore your fantasies with her.

Typically, she made you feel so good, and you gladly reciprocated the pleasure she gave you, but tonight, the tables had turned. She was solely fixated on making you feel loved and worshiped, determined to pull a fifth orgasm from your worn-out body. Your legs shook uncontrollably, and your core ached from the relentless onslaught of overstimulation, and she showed no signs of slowing down or stopping anytime soon. Your arms were pinned firmly behind your back, the cold, hard steel of the handcuffs digging into the delicate skin of your wrists with a biting force. You twitched and writhed involuntarily, the restrictive hold making you feel helpless and vulnerable; it was driving you insane. It was Ellie's idea, and you cursed yourself for agreeing to try something new.

“Babe, please…let me touch you.” A pathetic whine escaped your lips, quickly followed by a guttural whimper as her calloused hands skillfully controlled your every move. You were growing more desperate each second, yearning to play with those perky tits just lying there, right beneath you. They looked so lonely and neglected, it was such a shame. Rough palms find purchase on the softness of your hips, adjusting and re-adjusting your position to her liking. You struggled vainly against the cuffs, trying to squirm free, but the tight binds held strong, leaving you utterly at her mercy. You couldn’t move, and if you could, you know she wouldn’t let you. You were hers, hers to fuck and destroy like a doll.

A mischievous grin spread across her features, a mixture of pride and amusement, knowing she was the cause of your current state, leaving you deliciously wrecked, her darkened eyes fixed on the milky white ring encircling the base of the black strap, your wetness coating her. “Thought you said you wanted me to fuck a baby into you?” Her voice was husky and strained, the words escaping her lips in a gravelly purr that seemed to vibrate through your very core, your walls squeezing her cock almost to trap her inside.

“I do,” you choked out. “Ellie, please,” you were so fucking desperate. Ridiculously desperate to play with her nipples, touch her, perhaps wrap your hand around her neck, something that she seemed to enjoy, but what she was enjoying the most was the helpless expressions on your face as you looked down at her, pouting. You were always needy and she could easily put you in your place, but this needy? She was sure she had never seen you this desperate. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t touch her, and she was forcing you to ride her because you needed to earn ‘it.’ You needed to earn her babies, needed to earn her cum inside you. In all honesty, it was just a fucking excuse, and who could blame her? the sight of you riding her strap like a fucking pornstar with your hands handcuffed behind your back was everything, it was all she needed.

“C’mon ma, ride me like you always do. Don’t you want me to fill that pretty pussy of yours, hm?” As your hips started to move, taking her in inch by inch, a dry chuckle escaped her throat, her gaze flicking up to meet your pretty tits as they bounced in her face “Just like that…good giiirl,” the praise dripping with saccharine sweetness mingling with the slick, wet sounds of your pussy, the echoes of your moans and breathless gasps filling the room like a lewd harmony. “Needa work for it, princess,” Ellie says, her hands leaving your hips and finding a new home on your boobs; her thumbs danced across your hardened nubs, teasing and flicking them with a ruthless skill that caused you to writhe and squirm in her hands.

“Please, p-please,” you managed to croak out, begging and pleading for her to fill you up with her babies as if she could. You gasped and whined when the black tip of her strap kissed your cervix, going deeper into your womb.

“Take every inch of it, baby,” her words flowed like liquid heat against the delicate shell of your ear as you collapsed into her embrace, completely consumed by her slow yet harsh thrusts, your eyes fluttering shut in blissful surrender.

“Ahhhh-” you gasped helplessly.

“Gonna be such a perfect mama,” She growled, her palms eagerly squeezing your ass before delivering a sharp smack that drew a startled yelp from you.

“Cum inside me,” you quaked into the crook of her shoulder, warm puffs of your breath caressing her freckled skin.

“You dirty little slut, you like that, don’t you?” She let out a husky chuckle, her hand delivering another sharp spank before her firm grip found purchase on your hips, running up and down your soft skin as she guided your movements.

“Mmmhhmmm” you adjusted your position and began to slowly bounce on her cock, ensuring her clit rubbed against the base of the toy, your movements deliberately aimed at eliciting a response from her. Your gaze locked onto the contours of her stomach, entranced by the way each muscle contracted with each painful roll of your hips, causing her breath to hitch in her throat, her chest rising and falling in sharp pants. The soft freckles scattered across her cheeks standing out vividly against the rosy hue, sweat trickled down her scarred brow, mingling with strands of baby hair that clung to her damp skin.

“Look at your fucking—god… your fucking cunt, taking every inch of…hmmm… me” And oh, how absolutely mesmerizing she was when she was right where you wanted her. The epitome of perfection, a fantasy that surely haunted the dreams of many.

“Please, El… wanna cum with you.” You couldn't help the plaintive and slutty whine that slipped past your lips, her breath stuttered and grew ragged, and her hands, firm and sure, set a rhythm on your hips, expertly guiding you with a purpose. Her own slickness soaked the pastel blue cotton sheets beneath her. Your hazy, half-lidded eyes met hers, “Close?” Your voice came out weak and breathless as you looked down at her, your pace quickening as you ground against her desperately. She nodded frenetically; you could feel your climax approaching like a crashing wave, and you desperately bit down on your bottom lip to muffle the whimpers that threatened to escape, knowing it wouldn't be much longer before you came again.

She steadied you with each languid roll of your hips, selfishly using you to get off. Each motion a perfect counterpoint to her own, and you could feel sweat dripping down your bare back.

"Hmmm...I love when you're inside me"

That was all it took. In a single fluid motion, she pulled you closer, sealing her lips against yours in a kiss that was more desperate and unhinged than any before it, coming simultaneously and swallowing every sweet sound you gave her.

Finally, as you came back down to Earth, you collapsed onto her, your handcuffed hands still immobile behind your back.

"It’s okay, pretty, I gotchu," she says, her voice raw and raspy from the intensity of her orgasm. She reached for the keys to the cuffs on the bedside table. You slowly sat up, the toy still nestling comfortably inside you, and she released your wrists from their tight embrace, allowing you to massage the sensitive, bruised skin with a tender touch. With a weary but satisfied sigh, you slowly extricate yourself from her, leaving behind a trail of your essence covering her whole length. You collapsed onto the soft sheets beside her, and she swiftly discarded the strap somewhere on the floor. You snuggled closer to her, your body molding against hers as you kissed her cheek tenderly. Her lips curled upwards in a contented smile, and she gently pulled you on top of her, holding you close in her strong embrace.

“Did so good, princess. I love you.” She placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, her heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears as you lay snuggled against her bare chest.

“I love you more,” you echoed back softly.

"Don't forget to leave a 5 star review on the app for the ride-" you couldn't help but erupt into a fit of laughter, your body shaking softly as you gazed up at her.

"God, you're so embarrassing." You gave her arm a playful slap, a grin still spread across your face as you both laughed together.

"Yet you're still riding my cock." Her eyebrows arched upwards, a cocky smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Only because I have to." You rolled your eyes at her

"It’s not like you're being held at gunpoint—fuck me or I'll shoot you. Pew pew," she aimed and fired at imaginary enemies with her fingers.

"I'm dating a fucking kid." You let out a dramatic sigh, feigning disappointment but unable to keep a smile from forming on your lips

“And that makes you a what?” She retorted sarcastically, arching a single brow at you with a smug expression on her face.

“Okay” you replied with a deadpan, “I think it’s your bedtime,” you added in a fake serious tone, making her giggle.

“Nooo, I wanna snuggle,” she groaned in mock protest, her lips pouting as she pulled you closer.

The two of you embraced each other, intertwining your limbs as you whispered sweet nothings to one another. The soft hum of the TV filled the air around you, and the cool night air from the open window sent chills down your spine. Both of you gently lulled into a peaceful slumber.

"This is a news flash update! We have received news of yet another fatal stabbing, this time in a local motel. A 25-year-old woman was found dead in her room, brutally stabbed to death. This is the third murder reported in the last month, causing a great deal of panic and concern amongst the town's inhabitants. Police investigations are currently underway, and residents are advised to take caution and keep their doors and windows locked at all times. Now over to our reporter on the scene for further details."

Your Apartment – October 19th, 2018.

Holding Dina's baby for the first time in the hospital was an experience that felt more like signing a contract with an invisible ink pen. You hadn't realized it then, but the moment your arms cradled JJ's tiny, warm body, you became an integral part of his life and his babysitter whenever the couple was too busy or needed some peace. The trust Dina placed in you was immediate and profound, and you were the first person she called when she needed someone reliable to watch over her precious baby potato.

And how could you ever say no? JJ was an angel wrapped in soft blankets, with eyes that sparkled with curiosity and a giggle that could melt even the hardest of hearts made of stone. Sure, he had his moments of frustration, his small fists clenching in tantrums every now and then, but those were fleeting storms in an otherwise sunny disposition. Most of the time, JJ was a remarkably well-behaved child, a rarity in the world of toddlers.

His tiny hands would reach out for you, his laughter echoing like a sweet melody in the air, filling your apartment. The way he looked at you with pure, unfiltered trust made every impromptu babysitting session feel less like an obligation and more like a cherished opportunity, something you truly enjoyed. And in all honesty, after the diner you worked at was shut, looking after JJ was something that kept you busy and distracted. And a distraction is always nice.

"I'll come pick him up at… is 11 too late?" Jesse asked tentatively, gently rocking his son in his arms. He looked down at JJ, shooting a few silly grins that made the baby gurgle with delight.

You shook your head profusely, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "Absolutely not. You know I'm a night owl," you reminded him with a gentle smile. Your eyes softened as you extended your arms, ready to cradle the potato-shaped boy.

Jesse handed JJ over, his small weight settling comfortably against you. You could feel the warmth of his tiny body through his onesie, the baby-soft skin of his tiny hand brushing against your cheek as you adjusted him in your arms. His dad's shoulders relaxed, knowing his son was in safe hands. "Thanks, you're a lifesaver," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. You simply smiled, looking down at JJ, who was now cooing contentedly, his little hand grasping your finger with surprising strength.

"Anytime," you replied softly, feeling a swell of affection for the tiny being in your arms. His chubby cheeks and his cute tiny hands were the most adorable things in the world. Who was gonna tell Ellie that you wanted a kid now?

“Dina really needs to rest, and I can’t be there to help because of work.” You nodded, feeling bad for the brunette, knowing she was home alone with her son most of the time.

"Tell Dina I said hi," you added as Jesse adjusted his uniform jacket.

"Will do—Ellie's gonna get off her shift at 3 AM," he informed you, his voice tinged with fatigue but still warm, the bags under his eyes said it all; becoming a parent surely wasn’t a walk in the park.

You nodded at his words, then suddenly remembered something. "Oh wait—I almost forgot!" Your eyes widened as you turned your back, hurrying to retrieve a small bag from the kitchen. You returned to the front door, holding the bag out to Jesse, who was now leaning casually against the door frame.

"Oh! What would she do without you?" he exclaimed in a teasing manner, deep down finding the gesture sweet and thoughtful. It was endearing how you always looked after your wife, preparing her meals while she worked tirelessly at the police station, ensuring she wouldn't skip the most important part of the day and that she was well-nourished.

You chuckled at his words. "What would you do without me, actually," you corrected him with a playful smile. "Two chicken sandwiches, one for you, one for her, no tomatoes for you. There's some apples and a few chocolate bars, too,"

Jesse swiftly grabbed the paper bag from your hand and peeked inside. "You're amazing," he said with a grin on his face. "Hope JJ won't be too much trouble," he added, his chocolate eyes shifting to his son in your arms.

"I'll be fine—be careful, alright?" you warned him, your tone turning slightly serious.

He nodded, appreciating your concern. "Always am. See you at 11," he said, turning around to walk away from your doorstep, the bag of food swinging gently at his side.

You spent the whole evening with JJ, you dedicated your time to caring for the baby boy. You carefully prepared his meal and then proceeded to give him a relaxing bubble bath, hoping the latter would make him somewhat sleepy and ready to go to bed. Little plastic ducks floating on the surface add a whimsy touch to the whole scene. Suddenly, your phone rang, breaking the peaceful atmosphere. With JJ cradled in the bathtub, you quickly reached for your phone, ensuring your free hand was dry after patting it with the folded towel placed conveniently within your reach.

“El?”

“Hi baby,” her warm and affectionate voice flowed through the speaker; you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and joy.

A soft smile graced your lips, “Hey gorgeous,” your voice was filled with a playful tone, and the sound of Mr. Potato giggling could be heard in the background.

Her voice was husky as she asked, “How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know, just giving stinky-boy a bath.” The endearing nickname that escaped your lips elicited an uncontrollable, joyous laughter from the pretty boy. Despite being just a baby, his insatiable curiosity and discerning intelligence were truly impressive, definitely something he hadn’t inherited from his dad. The infectious giggle emanating from the baby brought a warm chuckle from auburnette. “How’s it going for you?” you took the chance to ask back.

“Jus’ stuck with paperwork while Jesse gets all the fun tasks.” Her dry lips parted slightly, releasing a barely audible, airy exhale. “Sucks you’re not here with me,” she added

“Sounds pretty homophobic if you ask me,” You quipped with a charming grin, though she couldn't see it. “Should be sitting on your lap right now.” Ellie let out a low sigh, her breath hitching as your words sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. You knew it didn't take much to get her worked up, and perhaps it was the memories from last night that made her even more susceptible to your tease

“Yeah. I’ll be home in four hours.” A soft huff escaped her lips, a subtle sign of her growing impatience and yearning for your touch

“I knowwww,” You drawled, switching your phone to speaker mode as you carefully lifted JJ out of the bath and wrapped him snugly in a warm, fluffy towel. Soft giggles and coos echoed through the room, “I’ll stay up for you,” you told her

“You must be tired, you should go to bed earl-”

“No,” you adamantly insisted, your tone unyielding “I miss you”

“Miss you too,” she responded swiftly, her tone matching yours

“See you soon?”

“Alright, mama, I'll see you soon.” she exhaled. “The sandwich was delicious, by the way,” Ellie adds, gratitude resonating in her words

A proud grin spread across your face as you replied cockily, “You’re welcome,” savoring the compliment on your cooking skills. She had always appreciated it immensely when you cooked for her, and she never wasted a chance to lavish compliments on your culinary skills. God, if she loved you more than anything.

“Love you.”

“Love you.” And with that, you ended the call.

You couldn't help but gaze adoringly at the little burrito in your arms, wrapped up in a beautiful pastel blue towel. The tranquil, content expression on his face spoke volumes of his relaxed state, a peaceful lull radiating from his tiny form. “Daddy’s gonna pick you up soon, let’s get dressed, yeah?” you cooed affectionately, tracing the bridge of his little nose with your index finger, inciting a gummy grin from the cutie as he batted his long lashes at you. You retrieved the bag Jesse had left at your place a few days ago, it was crammed with everything a baby might require and a few extra outfits for JJ. You changed him into a charming giraffe-patterned pjs and wrapped him cozily in a small blanket. Just as you finished, the doorbell rang, signaling Jesse's arrival.

“Howdy!” Jesse stood at your door, visibly exhausted. Wordlessly, you gestured for him to enter the disorganized apartment. His weary eyes immediately settled on the baby in your arms, noting how JJ's eyelids appeared heavy and threatened to flutter shut at any moment. The newborn had been keeping him and Dina up for nights on end, and on top of that, his demanding job had further drained his energy. The stress was evident in his drawn features, making it clear that the past few days had taken a toll on him.

“He was an angel,” you softly told him with a gentle smile.

“Oh really?” his voice held a hint of amusement as he raised his brows in disbelief, marveling at how your description of JJ as a 'complete angel' contradicted his own experience. He couldn't tell if his little one was behaving so well out of genuine good nature or if you were exaggerating the truth a bit cause he could sure be a little troublemaker with him and Dina. “Glad he wasn’t much of a fuss,” he chuckled tiredly.

“I already gave him a bath and all; he’s ready for bed,” you informed him, and he nodded in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, y/n. I owe you one.” A weary sigh escaped his lips. “Mind if I go to the toilet real quick?” he asked.

“No, sure. go ahead”

A subtle change in Jesse's demeanor was evident as he reappeared moments later. His eyes flickered away from yours, and a tense, forced smile adorned his face, giving the impression that something was troubling him.

“You good?” You questioned him, carefully placing the sleeping bean in his arms to avoid waking the little one. A hint of concern tinged your voice as you attempted to discern the reason behind his anxious demeanor. He was fine just a minute ago.

“Yeah, yeah. just tired, is all,” he responded evasively, leaving you to raise an eyebrow in skepticism, but you decided not to dwell on it.

He must be tired, you thought.

Jesse tenderly held his son, cradling him in his strong, protective arms “Thank you again for watching over him”

“I told you, it’s no bother, he’s such a cute kid,” You responded fondly, gently caressing the baby boy's soft, round cheek as he rested contentedly in his father's embrace.

“Alright, have a good night,” he gave you a faint smile

“You too, Jess.” You remained at the doorstep, leaning against it as you watched him leave, his silhouette gradually fading from sight.

When Jesse returned home, he cautiously unlocked the front door, cradling a sleeping JJ in his arm. As he entered, his gaze fell upon Dina, softly snoring on the couch, her mouth slightly parted in peaceful slumber. He watched her for a moment, a tender smile on his lips as he appreciated the sight. Closing the door gently so as not to wake her, he approached her, his footsteps silent on the floor. Seeing her there, asleep as she had waited for him, filled him with warmth and love.

“Honey, I’m home”

The Police station – October 27th, 2018.

Jesse rubbed his eyes with the rough palms of his hands, longing to be home with his family. He absorbed the animated discussions among his colleagues, who were fervently speculating about the identity of the elusive killer. With no substantial evidence to support their theories, their efforts felt akin to chasing a phantom. The killer had a remarkable ability to erase all traces, executing each action with meticulous precision.

“What if he's not left-handed and is good with both hands?” As one of the individuals engaged in the discussion took a contemplative sip of his steaming coffee, Jesse's gaze meandered over to the clock adorning the pristine white brick wall.

2:26 AM.

He should be home, in his bed.

He continued to endure the ceaseless barrage of hypothetical scenarios conjured up by his colleagues. Normally, they wouldn't have been included in such sensitive investigations, but they were frustrated and exhausted from pursuing an elusive individual who appeared to never make any mistakes. There had to be something, but no. No fucking slip-ups.

“The slit starts from right to left, meaning he slayed the first victim—Vanessa—using his left hand,” The woman in her forties leaned back in her swivel office chair, gesturing towards the raw pictures they had taken of the first victim as she explained the details to her coworker.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t add up—Giselle Caddel,” he countered by swiftly sifting through additional files and photographs to substantiate his theory. “See? Left to right.” he softly tapped his index finger on the images and the text printed on the pages that held every necessary information.

The woman let out a frustrated sigh and absentmindedly hummed to herself as she examined the pictures and the papers for the millionth time “Okay, maybe he is dominant with both hands,” she conceded, agreeing with his hypothesis. But again, it didn't make sense how the third victim had been brutalized, shot with an unknown weapon, leaving them with more questions than answers. The lack of registration for the gun only deepened the mystery, leaving them lost on how to proceed.

“Why do we assume we're going after a guy?” Jesse suddenly spoke up, drawing puzzled looks from all his colleagues, who had nearly forgotten he was even there. They gazed at him with a mixture of confusion and surprise, unsure if they had just heard something absurd or brilliant. He couldn't discern the thoughts racing through their minds. But he couldn't help but wonder… was it truly inconceivable for a woman to be capable of committing such a brutal act of violence?

“What are you implying?” dirty blonde brows arched inquisitively, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What if it’s a woman we should be looking for?” he elaborated

“A woman?” She responded with a mix of surprise and mock disbelief, her voice laced with a hint of humor. “Everyone claims they’ve seen a man at each crime scene before the murders occurred,”

“But they’ve never seen ‘his’ face, have they?” He replied with heavy sarcasm, making air quotes while emphasizing the word 'his.'

“Ma’am, we don’t have proof that it is a man,” another coworker pondered the situation and concurred with Jesse's theory.

“He’s too brutal, too raw, too strong. A woman can’t be that strong,” she stated, still skeptical. The detective's thoughts raced through possible motives for the brutal murders. It was difficult to fathom how the female perpetrator could commit such heinous crimes without any apparent remorse. Could there be a common connection between the victims, such as… a shared romantic history with the same individual? The officer's mind was filled with questions, struggling to understand the motivations behind the cold-hearted acts. she pondered, the sinister theory making her stomach turn uncomfortably.

“Adrenaline has that effect on everyone,” he stood his ground, refusing to back down from his idea. The room went silent as the towering blonde woman abruptly stood, drawing a deep breath of air into her lungs.

“You might be onto something,” she declared firmly, her voice carrying a hint of authority. Without further elaboration, she turned and strode out of the investigation room, leaving the officers to grapple with the weight of her words.

He leaned back, feeling the tension ease slightly as she disappeared from view. Perhaps, just perhaps, they were finally on the right track. But even then, uncertainty lingered in the air. They needed tangible evidence, something concrete to confirm their suspicions.

Jesse’s House – November 6th, 2018.

The chill of the night still lingered in the air as Jesse's eyes snapped open, his breath quickening as remnants of a brutal nightmare clung to his consciousness. A sense of disorientation washed over him, but he quickly gathered his bearings, the familiar sights of his surroundings grounding him back to reality.

He was home, he was safe. He mentally reassured himself

Turning his head ever so slightly, he beheld the tranquil scene before him. Dina lay peacefully beside him, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, a serene expression adorning her sleeping face. JJ, nestled between them, let out a soft snore, blissfully unaware of the world around him, tiny hands curled into fists.

With utmost care, Jesse shifted, his movements slow and deliberate as he extracted himself from the warmth of the duvet. The soft material whispered against his skin, a comforting presence in the quiet of the night. As he sat up, a sense of protectiveness washed over him, a silent vow to safeguard the fragile tranquility of the moment. Every rustle of fabric, every creak of the bed frame was muffled by the hush of the night, a sacred stillness enveloping the room like a cocoon. Jesse's gaze lingered on the precious sight before him, the love he felt for his family swelling within his chest; he felt so grateful for them, he would've done anything for them.

He lovingly tucked his wife into bed, her arm instinctively reaching for him in her sleep, seeking the warmth of his presence as it slowly slipped away. Jesse quietly padded to the kitchen, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible in the stillness of the night. Glancing at the clock, he noticed the time and let out an exhausted sigh, the back of his hand moving to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead. Opening the cupboards, he reached for a glass, the cool touch of it bringing a sense of relief as he filled it with fresh water, his mouth feeling as dry as the Sahara desert.

It was only 4 AM.

He quickly downed the glass of water, the cool liquid quenching his thirst, before placing it on the granite countertop. This was his usual routine. He was fortunate if he managed to get four hours of sleep, but more often than not, it was only three before he would wake up, haunted by vivid nightmares of the killer, unable to fall back asleep.

As he strolled his way to the living room, he couldn’t help but notice the pillows strewn across the floor and JJ’s countless plush toys scattered in every corner. Dina had a habit of showering JJ with toys, much to Jesse’s bemusement. He didn't need all those toys; a few were sufficient, and most of them were left unused. There was one particular elephant plush that caught the baby boy's attention. He seemed to be incredibly attached to it, never leaving it alone, carrying it around everywhere, and if he ever misplaced it, he would throw a tantrum until Dina found it.

The living room bore silent witness to their daily chaos. JJ’s little kingdom, with plush animals ranging from lions to bears, was a vibrant display of color against the muted tones of the furniture. Jesse picked up a few toys, absentmindedly placing them back in their basket.

He sank into the worn, stained couch, feeling the dampness of the fabric from the water JJ had accidentally spilled earlier. The gentle, barely perceptible hum of the refrigerator filled the air, creating a soothing backdrop to the faint sounds of the city beginning to stir from its slumber. He leaned back, his thoughts drifting. Those were the moments when his mind just wouldn't stop buzzing with thoughts. The relentless pursuit of a cunning killer had started to weigh heavily on his mind, leaving him feeling utterly powerless.

He felt like he was letting everyone down–his family, Dina. It absolutely infuriated him that he couldn't do more to protect them. Especially now that JJ had arrived, his paternal instincts seemed to kick in and his desire to protect his family had intensified, amplifying the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He let his eyes drift aimlessly around the room until they settled on his laptop resting on the scarred coffee table. It was at that moment that a sudden realization popped into his mind.

The missing hard disk.

Jesse’s mind raced as he remembered that day, the rush of events blending together in a haze. He had been at your place and gone to the toilet when he spotted the hard disk tucked away on a shelf. Something about it had struck him as odd. It wasn’t just any brand; it was the exact match to the equipment used at the crime scene. His heart skipped a beat when he realized the potential importance of what he had stumbled upon. He was sure it was just a coincidence 'cause why would you have it? Why would you be possibly hiding it?

It didn't make sense.

He wasn’t proud of slipping it into his pocket, a pang of guilt gnawing at him for doubting you even for a second and for stealing from you. But his instincts told him it was something worth looking into. Now, as he sat there on the couch, the memory of that discovery resurfaced with a new urgency. Something seemed to scream at him to check it, go through all the files, if it had any. So, he got up to grab it from his desk drawers in the small room that Dina had turned into a cozy office just for her husband. It was his own little space, off-limits to everyone else.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, the late-night quiet amplifying the soft clicks as he navigated through files. His hands slightly trembled as he connected the drive to the laptop. The screen flickered to life, and he began sifting through its contents. The hard disk had been gathering dust in his desk drawer for weeks, forgotten in the whirlwind of everyday life. But now, the potential it held was too significant to ignore. What secrets did it hold? What answers might it provide in the tangled web of this investigation?

With a deep breath, he clicked on the first file, hoping it would shine a light on the darkness they had been chasing for so long.

The last files were recorded the same day of the murder.

Jackpot.

He eagerly clicked on the very last file, skipping through a few hours, fast-forwarding past the mundane bustle of customers and staff. His eyes were glued to the timestamp, searching for the crucial moment. The diner’s atmosphere, usually so lively, felt eerie and heavy through the security camera's lens as if it held its breath for the impending doom.

Minutes ticked by in a blur of motion, the clock on the screen edging closer to the time he knew everything changed. Jesse’s fingers ghosted over the keys, ready to pause at any sign of something unusual. The familiar faces of regulars came and went, oblivious to the dark shadow about to come.

And then, there it was. The whole truth.

He watched the video, his eyes never leaving your grainy silhouette. The footage played out silently, no audio, no nothing. He saw the woman with the kid leave the diner, and Vanessa picking up the tip from the table as you stayed behind the counter. His heart pounded in his chest, the anticipation gnawing at him.

Moments later, the mysterious man walked in, his face obscured by a hood, just as you had described. Jesse's pulse quickened, a sense of foreboding creeping up his spine, "There he is..." he mumbled to himself. The man's movements were deliberate, his presence unsettling even through the grainy footage.

When the man left, Jesse's focus shifted back to Vanessa as she walked into the back room. You swiftly made your way to the front door, turning the sign to ‘closed’ and locking the doors with a practiced motion. His eyes followed you intensely as you walked back behind the counter, your actions precise and unwavering.

There was something almost poetic in the way you moved, a quiet determination that made his breath hitch. He watched as you retrieved a knife, the gleaming blade catching the dim light of the diner. With a sense of purpose, you followed Vanessa into the back room.

"No, no, no, no," he kept whispering over and over again, like some sort of prayer.

Jesse's mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together—it all felt surreal, as if he were watching a scene from a movie rather than real life.

The footage left him cold and shaking to the core. He felt a knot in his stomach. How could the woman he once knew as a kind-hearted soul be a serial killer? How could he have trusted a killer, a psychopath, all along? Fear rippled through his veins as he realized the danger he had exposed his son and wife to. He knew he had to act to bring this evidence to his team, but he needed to get Ellie first.

She needed to get out of that goddamn house immediately.

Without a moment to spare, he grabbed his jacket and his gun and swiftly left his home. He then drove hastily to Ellie's place, frantically calling her repeatedly, but she never picked up even though he was sure she was off her shift and definitely home.

“Ellie? Fuck, Ellie, answer your fucking phone! You home yet? You need to get out of there, man. Pleas-” His voice quivered, his clammy hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. His nerves were palpable as fear and anxiety coursed through his veins

“Please, if you’re listening to this, get out of that fucking house, don’t tell y/n anything. She’s not who you think she is. She is extremely dangerous. Call me ba-” Jesse's frustration heightened as the beep signified the end of the voicemail, “FUCK” he shouted, slamming his hand onto the steering wheel.

Your Apartment, 5:06 AM – November 6th, 2018.

When he finally arrived at the apartment building, he quickly bounded towards the door, rapping against it frantically. Ellie opened the door, a puzzled expression on her face. Jesse sighed, relief washing over him as he saw Ellie safe and sound.

“My fucking god, are you–are you alright?” his tone was agitated as he spoke, though Ellie appeared confused, chuckling softly in response.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She asked, scarred brows arched in confusion as she struggled to comprehend the reason behind her friend's agitated demeanor, making an unexpected appearance at her doorstep at such an ungodly hour

“Look, we gotta go, you’re not safe” He urgently grabbed her arm, attempting to forcefully pull her out of her house but she was quick to snatch her arm away from his grasp, her annoyance evident.

Surprise, concern, and annoyance colored Ellie's face as she exclaimed, “What’s gotten into you, dude?”

Your wife is a serial killer, he wanted to shout at her, exposing you for the monster you were, but he knew better. He knew that Ellie would struggle to believe him if he presented it bluntly, attacking what she cared about the most, so he needed to tread carefully and it felt like walking on legos, not even eggshells. He couldn’t risk Ellie getting mad at him or, even worse–shutting the door in his face. If something happened to her, the guilt would haunt him forever.

“You have an idea of what time it is?” Her emeralds darted towards the clock on the living room wall for a brief second—nearly 5 am.

“Look, we don’t have time for-” he began to speak, suddenly struck silent as his friend turned around for a fleeting moment “Is y/n home?” He inquired with a concerned expression, his complexion noticeably paler than usual. His hands trembled as he nervously peered over Ellie's shoulder, desperate to catch a glimpse of you, but the auburnette blocked his way, shaking her head.

“No, why?” Her voice was calm and composed, a stark contrast to his agitated and tumultuous tone

“I’ve been calling you, where the fuck is your phone?”

“It died,” she responded curtly, running her fingers through her hair, a thoughtful expression crossing her face, lips pressing together. “Wanna explain to me what the fuck are you on?” her hands were firmly placed on her hips; her attentive eyes fixated on Jesse's agitated state—the furrowed brows, clenched fists, and the restlessness emanating from him. Pretty unusual.

“We need to go; I’ll explain everything on the way,” his voice tinged with a mix of desperation and urgency that Ellie had never heard from him. He tugged at her sweatshirt, but she didn't budge, retreating a step backward, distancing herself from him. She let out a deep sigh before reluctantly acquiescing to his request.

“Let me get my stuff first,” she said, disappearing inside, leaving his restless figure waiting on the doorstep.

He waited and waited and waited, the minutes stretching into what felt like an eternity. With each passing second, a gnawing sense of unease began to take hold. "Ellie?" he called out impatiently, his voice slicing through the silence, but there was no response.

"Ellie?" he tried again, louder this time, the name echoing eerily through the empty apartment. Still nothing. He let out a shaky exhale, feeling the tension coil tighter in his chest. His hand hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open wider, revealing more of the still and silent space. "Fuck," he mumbled under his breath, his pulse quickening. Reaching for his gun, he stepped inside cautiously, every sense on high alert.

The living room was eerily quiet, devoid of any signs of life. He moved through it slowly, each step deliberate and measured. His eyes scanned the room, searching for any clue, any hint of where his friend might be. Nothing. His gaze flickering to the pictures hanging on the wall, captured moments of joy and celebration, memories of your wedding day, now seeming almost like relics from another lifetime.

“...Ellie?” he called out again, his voice softer now, almost a plea. The word hung in the air, unanswered, as he continued his careful sweep of the apartment. He checked the kitchen and the bathroom—his mind raced with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last. It was as if Ellie had simply vanished into thin air. His grip tightened on the gun, the cold metal reassuring in his hand, the silence almost oppressive, pressing in on him from all sides.

Just as he made his way back to the living room, standing in the center of the room, trying to think clearly, a loud thump reverberated through the hallway, and before he could react, his body crumpled to the floor. Lifeless. Blood began to pool beneath him, a dark and viscous river flowing from the neat, round hole between his eyes.

You were humming a soft tune as you turned off the water, stepping out of the box shower and reaching for the towel hung nearby. The bathroom air was cool, and the contrast with your damp skin made you shiver, goosebumps rising in a wave across your arms and legs. A sharp hiss escaped your lips as the chill settled in.

You froze momentarily, ears perking up when you heard the unmistakable sound of the door shutting loudly from the living room. It wasn’t a sound you were expecting, and a flicker of unease sparked in your chest.

Did she leave the house without telling you?

Quickly, you wrapped the towel around your body, the soft fabric absorbing the droplets that still clung to your skin. You could feel them running in rivulets, leaving trails down your back and legs.

Leaving the bathroom, your bare feet left wet footsteps on the floor, as you made your way towards the living room, you began to hear strange, muffled noises—something between a rustle and a low murmur. Your heartbeat quickened, thudding loudly in your ears. The apartment was usually a sanctuary, but now it felt different, charged with an unfamiliar tension.

“El?” you called out, your voice tentative as it broke the silence. You listened intently, but heavy silence was all you got in response.

It was only when you stood by the doorframe of the living room that you saw her knelt down on the floor. You found yourself unable to move, every muscle tensed as if you were being turned to stone by the piercing gaze of Medusa herself. Her eyes were ice cold, piercing right through you, as Jesse's body lay lifeless at her feet. The sight of his still form and the pool of blood around him made your stomach churn.

Ellie stood abruptly, her movement sudden and jarring. Your smooth forehead creased into a furrow, the lines forming a delicate map of concern, both of you staring at each other without daring to say a word. The silence stretched out, thick and suffocating, each heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears. Your grip tightened on the towel, knuckles white with tension, as you stepped forward

“Right on the fucking rug?!” you burst out, your voice raising slightly. Ellie winced, the sharpness of your tone cutting through the tension.

“Baby, I’m sor—” she began, but you harshly cut her off, marching closer to her, careful not to step on the warm crimson liquid staining the fluffy white rug.

“You better fucking scrub that shit clean,” you snapped, pointing your finger at her, eyes narrowing. Your gaze shifted to the lifeless body of Jesse, lying awkwardly with a dark, spreading pool beneath him.

Despite the gruesome sight, you felt a strange calm; you knew there was a reason behind her actions; there always was. And you trusted her to death, so no questions were asked, the only thing that bothered you was the thought of having to throw away your favorite carpet of the house.

Ellie nodded vigorously at your demand, her face a mask of determination. You could see the guilt and resolve warring in her eyes, but you knew she would handle it.

“Look,” she mumbled, her voice steady as she knelt down, reaching into Jesse’s jeans pocket. She pulled out a small hard drive, leaving bloody fingerprints on it.

“Ah shit,” you cursed, snatching it from her stained hands. The tiny data storage device felt deceptively light in your palm, its importance weighing heavily on your mind. “Wonder when he stole it,” you mumbled, turning the hard drive over, examining it closely.

“He had always been a sneaky little bitch,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. She kicked his thigh, her pretty features scrunched up in anger. The casual violence of the gesture made your skin crawl, but you couldn’t deny the truth in her words. Jesse had been a liability, a snake in the grass.

“Do you think he told anyone else?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Fear flickered in your eyes, the thought of getting caught sending a wave of nausea through you. You couldn’t risk that; no, no, you couldn’t.

Ellie shook her head, reassuring you, “he came here as soon as he found out—left a bunch of voicemails,” she explained. You exhaled slowly, a weight lifting from your shoulders. Relief washed over you; no one else would find out. The bond between you felt stronger than ever. She had always been there for you, protecting you no matter what, hiding evidence you clumsily left behind.

You stood by her side, looking down at the mess she had made. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. Both of you were lost in your own worlds, your thoughts racing in different directions, her mind already strategizing the next steps while your own thoughts swirled in another direction.

“I really want a baby” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop them, a soft pout forming on your lips. She turned towards you, her face breaking into a brilliant smile that illuminated the dimly lit room.

At that moment, her emerald eyes shimmered with a newfound glimmer, a blend of delight and astonishment that took your breath away, feeling a fluttering in her stomach. “Fuck- are you forreal?”

You nod your head slightly, unable to contain the matching smile that formed on your own lips “Yes, I thought abou-” you started to explain, but before you could finish, bloody hands moved in a swift motion, pulling you closer by the waist.

Her lips pressed against yours, the kiss urgent and full of emotion. You melted into her embrace, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her even closer. Your fingers tangled in her ember-hued locks, the softness of her hair contrasting with the gritty reality of the moment. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the overwhelming sense of connection and the shared excitement of a future you both wanted. Ellie's grip on your waist tightened, her hands staining the pink fabric of the towel still wrapped around your body.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, you rested your forehead against hers. The room around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared dreams and possibilities.

No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be

The only one for me is you, and you for me

So happy together-

"Alexa, shut it," you commanded, pulling a giggle out of Ellie, her cheeks heating up with a pink hue that only added to her beauty. Your thumb gently stroked her cheekbone, and her slender fingers reached out to teasingly play with the towel still clinging to your body, their silken touch sending a shiver down your spine as they danced along the contours of the soft fabric.

"I was thinking…" she began slowly and sultrily, a mischievous smirk adorning her face, "How about we keep tryin’ for that baby?" Her tone was innocent, almost as if she were asking you to play a simple game of cards.

"You spoke my mind," you replied, pressing a quick peck on her smirk. Her hands quickly moved down to your butt, making you jump in her arms and wrap your legs around her waist.

Your soft giggle was interrupted by her lips once again, kissing you passionately, and her hands, strong yet tender, held you securely. You could feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric and the cool air of the room contrasting deliciously with your heated skin, making you shiver. Her lips moved with an urgency that matched your own, she was starved, she needed more.

You pulled back for a breath, your foreheads resting together. Her eyes, filled with love and desire, searched yours. "I love you," she whispered, her voice husky with emotion.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I love you more."

With a shared laugh, she carried you towards the bedroom, your bodies intertwined and hearts beating in unison, falling in love with each other all over again.

No one would ever come between you, and no one would ever know what had happened here. Ellie had your back, and you had hers. Always.

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you

For all my life

taglist: @aouiaa

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sirfrogsworth · 29 days ago

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The original image is stupid. That's a given. I guess they are trying to ask why the Moon doesn't have a bright spot and dark edges.

But the Community Note isn't much better.

The short answer is... the Moon is bumpy and the Sun is far away.

The long answer requires me to do some math. So I apologize in advance if I get some numbers wrong. But I promise you will learn some neat things about light if you are into that.

First, I have no idea why they brought retroreflectiveness into this.

Retroreflection is when light is reflected back at the angle of incidence. Meaning no matter what angle you shine light from, it will always reflect straight back to you.

It's a bit of an optical magic trick. It is how street signs and highway markers work.

Weirdly enough, astronauts placed a manmade retroreflector on the Moon which people can use to reflect lasers and disprove the fake Moon landing theory.

The Moon may have retroreflective properties, but that effect would only really be noticeable if you were to shine a tight beam of light like a laser or something. Retroreflection would be more apparent from the perspective of the Sun, not the Earth.

You know what, I should just read the source and see what they are talking about.

"The edges of the full moon seem as bright as the center, without limb darkening, because of the reflective properties of lunar soil, which retroreflects light more towards the Sun than in other directions."

Hey, I was right about the Sun.

But this is a bad explanation. A rare L for Wikipedia. I even checked the primary reference and it doesn't even talk about retroreflectance. It does seem to be a factor, especially for the very outer edges, but looking at other sources my initial answer of the Moon being bumpy and the Sun being far away is much better.

So... let's learn some shit about light.

First we should talk about surface texture as mentioned. You have glossy surfaces and matte surfaces and a spectrum in between.

A glossy surface reflects light very directly (specular). A matte surface scatters light in many directions (diffused). This has to do with how smooth or bumpy the surface is.

The Moon is very rocky and bumpy and dusty, so it has a very matte surface. And I'm guessing since some rays bounce back toward the Sun, we don't get as many direct reflections that would add specularity. Perhaps there is a Moon expert who can weigh in on how much that actually diffuses the light beyond the matte surface texture.

And the reason the Moon is so evenly lit has to do with the distance of the light source. Again, the Sun is super duper far away.

When light is very close to something, it falls off very quickly.

When light is far away, the falloff is very gradual.

From the camera's perspective, the edges of the sphere are farther away than the center. When the light is closer, the edges of the sphere appear darker. But when the light is farther away, the edges of the sphere appear to have a similar intensity compared to the center.

The surface of the Moon is not a consistent distance from us. It is a spheroid so the edges are nearly a thousand miles farther away than the center. But the edges don't fall off into shadow from our perspective.

This is a property of the inverse square law.

Let's say you wanted to light two people and the light was very close—one person might end up in the light's falloff.

But if you move the light farther away and crank up the power, the two people will seem evenly lit.

You can think of light a bit like a shotgun in a video game. When you are close to something the shotgun has a very tight spread and is more lethal. When farther away, it has a larger spread but the lethality is decreased.

The first shotgun blast is very intense directly in the center but has no effect on the edges. The second blast has more even coverage, but the intensity is spread out and diminished.

From a point light source, light starts out very concentrated but the photons spread out over a distance. This dilutes the intensity of the light. The inverse square law says for every doubling of distance, the light becomes 1/4th as bright.

You have the same amount of photons but a larger area to light up. So coverage increases but intensity decreases.

Check out the background in these images.

In the first photo, the light is very close to her face. The intensity of the light is very concentrated. From the perspective of the camera, her face is super bright, but the background is very dim in comparison.

But as you move the light farther away, the photons spread out. If you leave the light on the same power and the camera at the same exposure, the photo on the right would look very dim—probably just pure black. So you'd have to compensate by increasing the power of the light (more photons) or adjusting the exposure of the camera (higher sensitivity) or both. But once you make those adjustments the background and her face seem very evenly lit.

In the first photo, relative to the light source, the background is far away compared to her face. The light might be 5 feet from her face but 10 feet from the background. It has to travel double the distance to hit the background so the intensity of the light hitting the background is 75% darker than the light hitting her face.

The majority of photons are hitting the face and only a few are escaping to the background.

But if the light is 20 feet from her face and 25 feet from the background, the light only travels 25% farther to hit the background. So the background is only 36% darker than the light hitting her face.

To achieve the same exposure the number of photons is increased substantially, but they are spread out and not concentrated in one area.

If you increase the distance enough, the difference gets less and less perceptible.

Now imagine the light is 93 million miles away. The background would only be 0.0000000004% darker than her face.

From the Earth's perspective, the edge of the Moon is roughly 1000 miles farther away from the center of the Moon. And about 0.001075% farther from the Sun. The falloff of light would be impossible for our eyeballs to detect.

To review, the Moon has edge-to-edge lighting with no specular highlights because the surface is bumpy and scatters light and the Sun is ridiculously far away. I'm sure there are other optical effects at play due to the atmosphere and reflective properties mentioned, but by and large, that is what's going on.

It's the same reason the face of a large boulder in direct sunlight doesn't have any bright spots or quick shadow falloff.

Can you use this knowledge to help your photography?

Yes!

Lighting indoor group photos can be very tricky.

You often have several rows of people. If your light source is too close, you may have difficulty getting a good exposure on all of their faces because of the varied distances involved. The back row of people may appear very dark. But if the light is too far away, you may end up getting harsh shadows.

Large light sources produce softer, more flattering light.

Small light sources produce harder, harsher light.

Distant light sources produce even light.

Distant light sources have a smaller apparent size.

Which means you need really big modifiers so you can put the light far enough away to get soft AND even lighting. You have to make the light sources bigger to compensate for the distance.

If all you have is a flash, you can bounce it off the ceiling or a large white wall to increase the size of your light source. Just make sure it is far enough away from everyone to get a proper exposure of all their smiling faces.

#long post #light

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monicfever · 18 days ago

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mine before you knew it. 𝜗𝜚 ben poindexter.

dex has been watching you long before you ever noticed him. every post, every route, every person you talk to; he's documented it all. when someone flirts with you at a party, he decides it’s time to make himself known. you don’t remember inviting him in, but he’s already in your house, and he doesn’t plan on leaving.

cw ᝰ .ᐟ canon dex behaviour ,, stalker!dex ,, obsessive tendencies ,, gn!reader (you/your) ,, drinking ,, jealousy ,, dark themes

you didn’t notice him at first.

that part used to bother him. not that you were careless, he never thought that, but that you didn’t see him. not in the way he saw you. maybe you caught glimpses, brushed past him in crowded halls or skimmed over his name in comment sections or replies, maybe you liked a message he left, once. that was enough to ruin him for days.

he still remembers the first time you looked through him like he wasn’t there. it was raining. you had one hand over your phone, shielding the screen from the drizzle, scrolling — laughing — and he watched you laugh at something someone else had said. not him. not yet. that’s when he knew it couldn’t stay like this.

you needed someone who would keep track of things when you didn’t. someone to notice the people getting a little too close. someone who pays attention. dex pays attention like it’s religion. your posts, your playlists, the way you smile with closed lips when you're tired. he has it all. every route you take home, every photo tagged, every drink you order even though you never finish it. he keeps it like it’s sacred. like it matters.

because to him, it does.

he doesn’t sleep much anymore. not since he found you, not since your presence became a constant static in his brain. sleep feels like missing something. like letting go of a thread that he's wound too tightly around his fingers to ever want undone.

he scrolls through your stories with the kind of reverence people reserve for prayer. slows down when you’re on camera. pauses. rewatches. the way your lashes cast shadows when you glance down, the flicker of your fingers tucking hair behind your ear. background noise doesn’t matter. no one else matters, it’s always been just you.

your laugh — he has audio saved. cropped clean, renamed, catalogued by date. you laughed differently last week. more tired. he noticed. that’s why he’s here, why he’s watching. someone needs to be paying attention.

the air in his room is dim and dust-heavy, lit only by the screen glow, your face reflected faintly in the dark glass of his monitor. next to it a corkboard cluttered with ticket stubs, receipts, blurry polaroids. things you touched, things you threw away. he kept them all.

there’s a looped video playing in the background. you’re walking down a street, wrapped in a jacket that isn’t warm enough. he knows that jacket. it’s the one you always wear when you’re anxious. he has another video from two weeks later, where you don’t wear it. he replays both, side by side. wonders what changed.

he knows you’re throwing a party tonight.

you posted about it two hours ago, tagged someone he doesn’t recognize. he’s already on his way before the story expires. he screenshotted it anyway, just in case.

the train is mostly empty, flickering overhead lights, a low mechanical drone, the soft murmur of strangers behind cracked earbuds. dex doesn’t look at anyone; no one looks at him. he prefers it this way. he sits near the back, hoodie up, one leg jittering faintly with the rhythm of the tracks, the motion sharp, nervous, hungry.

his phone is still in his hand, thumb brushing over the curve of your smile on his screen like it’s fragile, like it might disappear if he presses too hard. you’re wearing the little silver necklace again. the one you always wear. he remembers when you got it. remembers the caption. “felt like treating myself.”

he wonders if you knew how that would make him feel. if you had any idea how that sentence would spiral in his head for weeks.

treating yourself.

as if anyone else should be allowed to.

he closes the story, scrolls down. reads the comments again. a few are harmless. some are not. one stands out. someone calling you baby like they have the right. he’s seen that username before, already looked them up. his grip on the phone tightens.

the train slows, brakes shriek like metal in pain. the lights flicker again, a little too long this time. he doesn’t mind the sound. it covers the noise in his head.

he’s only three stops away now. he could walk it, if he needed to. he already mapped the route, just in case. just in case something like this happened. you getting touched by hands that don’t deserve you. you laughing like that for someone who isn’t him. he can’t have that. not when he’s been so patient.

not when he’s already memorized the way you say hello, how it changes depending on the time of day. not when he’s tracked every shift in your mood, the songs you post at 3 a.m., the spacing in your texts when you’re lonely but pretending not to be. not when he’s so close now.

three stops away. three blocks out. he steps off the train with a precision that doesn’t look like purpose, but is. rain clings to the sidewalk in thin, reflective puddles. city lights warp inside them like oil spills. it’s cold enough to sting, but he doesn’t notice. he’s too busy thinking about you — what you’ll be wearing, how your voice will sound layered over music, laughter, other people’s noise.

he hates that part. the other people part. you shine too easily in crowds.

he tugs his hood tighter. passes lit windows, strangers smoking under awnings, the occasional blur of passing traffic. your building is a few minutes from here. he’s made the walk before. not often. not too often. just enough to understand what kind of locks are on your front door, how long your hallway light stays on, which window belongs to you.

he wonders if you’ve had a drink yet. if your cheeks are flushed. if you’ve smiled at someone the way you used to smile at your camera — soft and a little distant, like the world couldn’t quite reach you.

he checks his phone again. the story is down. your name still sits at the top of his screen like it belongs there. you tagged someone he didn’t know, and that alone was enough to bring him here. he scrolls down again, rereads the comment. the one that didn’t sit right. the one with a nickname you never gave him. it burns a little.

everything does lately.

he crosses the last street, the building is already in view now — faint music spilling from the windows, warm yellow light pooling on the sidewalk. people inside, silhouettes moving, laughing, forgetting themselves. he wonders if you feel different tonight. he wonders if you know you’re being watched.

not by the strangers in the room, not by the guy trying too hard to impress you with a joke he stole off twitter, but by someone who knows you better than they ever could. he pauses just short of the entrance. watches. listens.

the music is too loud, the kind of song people only pretend to like when they’re drunk. someone’s shouting over it, slurring a story no one cares to hear. he lets it all blur. his eyes flicker past the doorway, over unfamiliar faces, a haze of movement. not you. not yet. but he knows you’re here. he steps inside like the house was built for him, like the party was always meant to be watched from behind his eyes. no one looks twice.

he moves slow, slides through the crush of people like smoke, like a shadow with a pulse. a girl bumps into him, her perfume clings for a second too long. he doesn’t react. his hands stay in the pockets of his jacket. his phone, warm against his palm, vibrates once — a notification from the account he uses just to track your likes. he doesn’t need to open it. he knows whatever it is, it’s about you.

the apartment is bigger than it looked from the outside. open floor plan, too many candles, too much fake gold and velvet. he catches fragments of laughter, bits of voices — but none of them belong to you.

he keeps walking. not frantic, never that. he’s patient. he always finds you in the end. you’re here, somewhere. he can feel it in his chest like gravity.

the air inside clings heavy, sweetened with spilled liquor, candle smoke, too many perfumes layered over sweat and skin. everything feels a little slow, like the whole night is being seen through a fogged window. ben moves through the rooms like he’s underwater. his eyes flicker over faces, details.

the chipped black nail polish on a girl’s fingers as she flicks her lighter. a boy leaning too close into someone else’s space. laugh lines deepened by wine. none of it is you.

still, he watches. catalogues.

there’s a mirror on the wall near the hallway. big, gold-framed, antique but fake. he stops in front of it. not to look at himself — he knows what he looks like — but to study the room reflected behind him. you’re not in the mirror, either.

he can hear someone playing with the music in the next room, skipping too fast through a playlist that doesn’t know what it wants to be. bass fades into bedroom pop, then dissolves into silence — someone laughs, and for a split second, he thinks it’s you. his stomach pulls. but it’s not. he knows the shape of your laugh. he knows the way it folds when you’re drunk, the way it curls when you’re trying to hide something.

this one’s too loud. too shallow. not yours.

he moves on.

past bodies slouched across velvet couches, half-finished drinks sweating on coffee tables, a cigarette smoldering in someone’s untouched hand. the party is bleeding at the edges, he can feel it. that late-night looseness, when everything starts to fray and people forget how they’re supposed to behave. how they’re supposed to watch themselves. he wonders if you’ve already started to drift. if your mind is somewhere else. he wonders if anyone else would notice. not like he would, of course.

they don’t know how your eyes get distant when you’re overwhelmed. how your fingers twitch when you want to leave but don’t say it. he’d know. he’d make everyone leave the party for you.

he moves down the hallway now, the one that leads to the kitchen — then the bedrooms, and then the back balcony where you sometimes go when you need air but don’t want to say it out loud. he’s memorized the layout of your apartment down to the way the floorboards creak by the bookshelf. he’s only ever seen parts of it in your photos, your stories, glimpses over your shoulder on video calls. but he knows it. he knows it like it belongs to him.

the kitchen is a mess — half-empty bottles, a bowl of melting ice, three wine glasses with smudged lipstick rings. someone he doesn’t recognize is leaning against your counter like they belong there. they don’t. he stares long enough for them to feel it. long enough for them to shift, unease creeping into their shoulders before they look away.

good.

he likes that they’re uncomfortable.

they should be.

he doesn’t see you here either, but your presence is everywhere. your handwriting on a sticky note near the fridge. your playlist still looping in the background, quiet under the thrum of conversation. your jacket — draped over the arm of the couch in the other room. you were here.

he can feel the ghost of your warmth in the space, like breath in cold air. he takes a slow breath. your house. your party. your people — though none of them matter, not really. you’ve let them in, yes. but he knows you didn’t mean to let everyone in. not like that. they’re all just passing through. just noise. he’s the one who stays. he’s the one who sees everything.

then he hears it. your laugh. it floats in from the living room, warm and real and unmistakable. cut sharp through the hum of chatter and music and clinking glass. like a thread tugged through the air. like fate snapping its fingers. his whole body stills. his eyes close for half a second, just to feel it better. to let it sink in. you’re close. he doesn’t rush toward it, he just moves. like a tide pulling in.

he slips past the doorway, brushing shoulders with someone who doesn’t even register him. doesn’t matter. they never do.

the laugh comes again. closer this time. a little louder, a little messier. you’re not alone. his jaw tightens and he keeps moving.

your voice. your real voice, not filtered through a screen or muffled in headphones. alive. unguarded. glowing at the edges. he follows the sound around the corner, weaving through bodies, until — he sees you. finally.

you’re in the den, low-ceilinged, warm with too many bodies, lights strung haphazardly along the curtain rods like someone tried to make it feel magical and forgot halfway through. someone opened the window a crack and the cold drifts in lazily, mixing with the warmth of too many people, too much perfume, the sharp bite of citrusy liquor poured too generously.

you’re sitting on the edge of the couch, one leg folded underneath you, the other dangling lazily, like you’ve forgotten how beautiful you look just existing. your drink is sweating in your hand. your smile is tilted — soft, glossy, and just a little reckless. you’re laughing. at him.

the boy beside you is leaning in too close, smiling too wide, saying something that makes you tilt your head, your mouth parting like you’re about to say something clever. you touch his arm. ben watches — still, from the doorway.

the rest of the party falls away.

his breath halts in his throat. just for a moment. just long enough to feel it catch, raw and bitter behind his teeth. you’re smiling like you mean it, laughing like this is easy, like you’ve done this before. maybe you have.

he doesn’t move closer yet; he watches. his eyes trace the shape of you — your bare shoulders, the little twist of your mouth when you sip from your drink, the way you tuck your foot under yourself when you're starting to get too comfortable.

he knows what that means. you’re not thinking about leaving.

his hands curl slowly into fists inside his jacket pockets. the guy next to you — he’s talking too much. too confident. too unaware. he doesn’t know that everything about this room has been witnessed. that ben has watched your smile a thousand times and knows the difference between real and polite. between safe and open. between yours and not theirs.

dex has studied this exact angle of your face in grainy videos and bathroom-mirror selfies, he’s memorized the way your smile falters when you start to get tired, the way you hold eye contact for half a second longer when you’re flirting. and this boy — this idiot — is reading it all wrong.

he’s acting like you belong to anyone.

like you’re available to be touched, to be offered drinks, to be read like you haven’t already been written, rewritten, underlined, and claimed in the quiet corners of def’ mind.

he steps into the room quietly, his presence pressing into the space like a shift in weather. he doesn’t look at you right away. doesn’t storm over. no, that would be obvious. that would give too much away. dex knows how to play this game better than anyone.

he lingers near the bookcase. pretends to scan the spines like he's looking for something — maybe a title, maybe a reason to be here that isn’t you— but it’s all for show. he already knows every book you own. alphabetical order, dog-eared corners, broken spines where you reread the same passage over and over. he’s traced them all in your photos, in your videos, in the background of the life you unknowingly broadcast to him.

his jaw tenses when you laugh again. he can’t help it. it bubbles up inside him — something low and burning and dangerous. the guy beside you touches your arm. light, casual. dex sees red.

he moves. not toward you yet, just into orbit. close enough to cast a shadow.

he brushes past a girl holding a half-full drink, and in a motion so precise it almost looks accidental, his shoulder clips her just enough. her arm jolts. vodka cranberry arcs mid-air in a pink-red blur. direct hit. the guy flinches, sputters, curses. his shirt clings to his chest, stained, dripping.

people turn. there’s a murmur. laughter, a few oof’s. a half-hearted apology from the girl, too dazed to question how it happened. the guy’s face flushes. annoyed. embarrassed. he stands up quickly, muttering something about towels.

just like that he’s gone. dex doesn’t look at him, doesn’t have to. he’s already shifting toward you now. eyes soft, smile subtle, hands still in his pockets. harmless.

“that looked messy.” he offers, low enough for only you to hear, voice a perfect calm. as if he didn’t cause it. as if he hadn’t orchestrated it down to the second.

his voice is easy. it should sound casual, but it doesn’t. not to you. not when you turn your head to look at him, eyebrows raised in a mix of surprise and curiosity, and for a brief moment, he sees the way your lips part, your eyes narrowing slightly, like you’re about to ask him if he did that on purpose.

did he?

he swallows. the thought nearly chokes him. but then you laugh — light, effortless, that same soft sound that wraps around him like a ribbon. just like that the world outside of you starts to blur again. your laugh hangs in the air like smoke, curling into his lungs, filling up his chest. it’s everything, and it's nowhere, all at once. the sound of you, the way you look when you’re talking, the way your eyes sparkle when you’re this close, it’s too much.

his heart hammers in his chest. a slow thump. and another. and another. it’s getting louder. faster. pounding like it’s trying to escape.

you’re still talking. he hears the words now, but they’re slipping off the edges of his mind. the way your mouth moves, the softness of your voice — the jealousy tightening around his throat, squeezing, coiling like a snake, suffocating his every breath.

why were you laughing with him?

why was he touching you?

you don’t need him.

you should be looking at me.

im the one who sees you.

his fingers twitch, the barest tremor sliding through his hands, and for a second, he wants to reach out. wants to pull you away. to wrap his hands around your wrist and just drag you into another room where he can lock the door and forget this whole damn night ever happened.

the softness of your gaze, the glint in your eyes, it’s all hazy. it’s blurring. everything around him blurs. his stomach twists. then the silence cuts through. you stop talking. you’re looking at him now.

there’s a sudden sharpness in your gaze, like you’ve noticed something in him that wasn’t there a moment ago. that thought is the one thing that brings him crashing back to the surface. the room is still too loud, the bodies around you, shifting, laughing, lost in their own worlds — none of it matters.

none of it is real. not when you’re looking at him like that.

your voice, still soft and questioning, breaks through the chaos in his head. “hey” you’re a little unsure, a little confused. “are you okay?”

it’s just a question. it’s a simple question. but the way it lands, the way it cuts through the fog in his brain, it’s enough to make him stop. he swallows hard. focuses.

calm down.

control yourself.

“yeah — yeah, i’m fine.” he finally speaks, voice light. he rolls his shoulders back like he’s just shaking something off, like the air hasn’t gone razor-sharp behind his ribs. lets out a half-laugh, even adds a slight smirk for effect. “think your friend took the worst of it, honestly.” he nods toward the direction the guy disappeared, all soaked and humiliated. his tone is teasing, like they’re sharing some inside joke. “he okay?”

you blink up at him — eyes glassy, glossy, just a little hazy around the edges. he notices the way your pupils flutter when you try to focus, how your smile pulls wider than it needs to. you’re tipsy. not gone, but warm. soft around the edges.

“he’s fine,” you giggle, waving your drink a little carelessly. “drama queen. probably just didn’t wanna ruin his shoes.” you take a sip like punctuation, the rim of the cup tilting a little too far before you catch it. your fingers are relaxed, loose, the way they get when you’re floating a few drinks in, weightless, like nothing could go wrong.

dex watches you over the edge of his smile. it’s still there — half-curved, practiced, soft enough to look harmless. but his eyes are too steady, too still. “drama queen?” he lets the words roll off his tongue, amused. “gonna start calling him that to his face? or is that a secret between us now?”

you laugh again — louder this time. your head tips back just slightly, and dex watches the curve of your throat with something sharp behind his teeth. “maybe,” you say, grinning. “depends if you’re fun enough to keep around.”

it’s a joke. just a tipsy, casual joke. it hits him like a match dragged across dry skin. “i can be,” he says softly. “but you might find out i’m hard to get rid of.”

your smile twitches like you’re not sure if he’s kidding. you don’t ask, just sip again. someone in the kitchen laughs too loud. someone else trips on the rug and swears under their breath. here, in the den, it feels quieter. smaller. just the two of you — your knee nearly touching his now, your body turned toward him without even thinking about it.

your drink’s almost gone. he notices. “need a refill?” he offers, voice all honeyed charm now. you nod, too quickly, eyes bright. he takes the cup from your hand with a little smirk. “stay right here,” he says. “i’ll be right back.”

he moves through the kitchen with a calm that’s far too deliberate. people brush past him — laughing, shouting, spilling little drops of glittering liquid onto the tile. his fingers tighten slightly around the plastic cup. your cup. he doesn’t need to put anything in it. doesn’t need to force it. you’re already leaning in. already smiling, already tilting toward him like flowers stretch toward sunlight.

you just need one more drink. maybe two. enough to loosen you further, enough to peel back the little walls that sober you wears so politely.

he finds the half-empty bottle you left on the counter — cheap vodka with a citrus twist, already sweating in the warmth of too many bodies. he pours carefully, fills the cup just a little more than he should. adds the mixer — orange soda, too sweet, too fluorescent — and stirs it with the back of a plastic spoon.

his movements are precise, methodical. like he’s done this before. like he’s practiced. someone tries to talk to him, some guy he doesn’t know, doesn’t care to know, asking if he’s new here, if he came with someone. dex smiles. nods. says nothing. he’s already turning away before the guy finishes his sentence. you’re waiting.

when he steps back into the den you’re still there. sitting curled into the couch, legs tucked beneath you, drinkless and a little flushed. you glance up when you see him, and your smile stretches across your face like the lights strung behind you.

he holds out the cup like a peace offering. “as requested,” he smirks. “one dangerously unmeasured refill.” you take it from him without hesitation, fingers brushing his, no suspicion in your eyes.

“you trying to get me drunk?” you tease, raising an eyebrow as you take a sip. your voice is lighter now, playful. but you don’t stop drinking.

dex lets out a short laugh. “just trying to be fun enough for you, right?” you hum around the rim of the cup, then sip again, deeper this time. the buzz in your bloodstream is louder now. he can see it. the way your posture softens, the way your eyes linger longer on his mouth when he speaks. “so,” he says, voice low, conversational. “you throw parties like this often? or just when your friends need somewhere to spill drinks and ruin their shoes?”

you laugh again. you’re doing that more around him now. he files that away. your drink swirls lazily in your hand. “not really,” you admit, tilting your head, letting it rest against the back of the couch. “i’m not really... a party girl or whatever.” you make a vague gesture toward the crowd, nose wrinkling just slightly. “this isn’t really my scene. i’m just—” you pause, then smile, a little crooked.“my friend’s going through it. breakup. needed noise and a reason to wear too much eyeliner.”

dex already knew that.

of course he did. he saw the post two days ago— a bathroom mirror pic with your friend pouting and a caption like he didn’t deserve me anyway. he’d clocked the timeline, the comments, the playlist you posted that same night — sad girl summer with three ironic heart emojis.

but hearing you say it? hearing it in your voice, seeing the soft little twitch of sympathy on your face, the way you care for people who don’t even notice how tired you look when you host for their sake — it makes his jaw tighten behind the curve of his smile. that’s nice of you,” he leans in just slightly. “throwing a whole party for someone else. not a lot of people would do that.”

you shrug, sipping again, eyes flicking down to your lap. “i don’t mind. i like making people feel okay.” then, after a pause: “i guess i like when things are light, even if it’s not really for me.”

that hits him harder than he expects. he watches you fiddle with the edge of your cup. you don’t realize how much you’ve already said. how much you’ve given away. “people ever do that for you?” he asks. it’s casual, tossed out like small talk, but it lands heavy.

you blink. surprised, maybe. then smile again, but this one’s thinner. “not really,” you say after a second. “but it’s fine. i don’t really need that kind of thing.”

he hums. doesn’t say anything right away. lets the moment breathe. because this is the part he’s been waiting for. — when your voice goes softer. when your walls start to dip, just slightly, when the noise of the party becomes background and you forget, for just a moment, that you barely know him.

“well,” he responds, voice smooth now, low and certain, “you deserve that kind of thing.” his eyes stay locked on yours. no smile now — just honesty, or something that feels close to it. “someone should look out for you the way you look out for everyone else.”

you blink slowly at him, eyes a little heavy now, the edges of your thoughts all syrupy-sweet. his words settle into you like warmth, like something you didn’t know you were cold without. the way he’s looking at you — it’s not like the others.

“you’re tall,” you murmur, not quite accusing, but enough to wrinkle your nose a little. you lean your head further back against the couch to keep him in your line of sight. “it’s annoying. my neck’s gonna lock up.” he huffs a laugh, and there’s something else in it — something softer. something dangerous. he watches you blink at him, lazy and flushed, lips curved with amusement. “maybe you should sit down.” you add, your voice slipping into something half-teasing. you pat the empty spot beside you with a kind of innocent finality, like you’re making a perfectly reasonable request and not handing him exactly what he wants. “i’m not gonna yell across the room just to flirt with you.”

dex moves before the words fully register. controlled, like he’s done this a hundred times in a hundred different dreams. he sinks into the couch next to you — slow enough to seem effortless, close enough that your shoulders nearly brush. the cushion shifts beneath his weight. your drink wobbles a little in your hand, but you don’t move. he can smell your perfume from here now. soft and a little worn-in, like you sprayed it hours ago but it clung to your skin anyway.

“flirting?” he repeats, tilting his head just slightly toward you. his voice is still soft, still careful, but it’s edged now — sharp in a way that makes your skin prickle. “is that what this is?”

you shrug, sipping again, but your mouth twitches with a smile. “maybe. depends on if you’re good at it.” you’re drunk enough to say it without thinking. and maybe brave enough to mean it.

dex watches your lips wrap around the rim of the cup. he doesn’t blink. “i guess you’ll have to let me know.” he says. his knee bumps yours intentionally. then, after a beat — light, offhanded, but not really: “what about your friend?” he glances toward the hallway, toward the space the guy disappeared into earlier, soaked and sulking.

you snort. “him?” you wave a hand, dismissive. a little sloppier now. “he’s not my friend friend. he’s just someone who flirts like it’s his job.” you laugh again, that lazy tipsy sound, and lean a little closer, elbow brushing ben’s. “he always tries it when he’s drunk. it’s harmless.”

harmless.

the word sticks.

dex swallows the taste of it like something sour. harmless. like a mosquito. like background noise. like someone you don’t really see. he forces a smile. nods slowly. “mm,” he hums, “looked like more than harmless from where i was standing.”

you raise an eyebrow, amused. “jealous?”

you mean it like a joke. but dex just looks at you, gaze steady, unreadable for a second too long.

“should i be?”

he watches you process them in real time, your lips parting like a response was about to come out but stalled somewhere behind your teeth. you shift in your seat. not away from him — toward.

your knee presses into his now, not accidental this time. your body leans just slightly closer, like gravity’s tugging you into the shape of the moment. “i mean…” you blink, a slow flutter like you’re thinking it through. you smile, a little sideways. “only if you were trying to flirt with me first.” it’s teasing. but your voice is lower now, breathier.

dex feels it under his skin, feels it in that locked place behind his ribs where every part of him has been coiled since the second he saw you tonight. he hums. his eyes drag over your face. your lashes. your cheek flushed from the alcohol. “and if i was?”

it’s not really a question. it’s a challenge. a confession folded in silk. you breathe a laugh like it’s just for him.

your fingers twist the rim of your cup absently, but you don’t look away. “then maybe you’re doing okay,” you praise, eyes warm, a little hazy, “for a guy who showed up at my house with no name and suspiciously good timing.”

he lets the smile pull slow across his lips. not wide. not safe.

“dex.” he says, like it’s nothing. like it’s the most normal thing in the world. his voice dips with it, like the name itself carries weight. “and i don’t believe in accidents.”

you blink again. you laugh, but it's nervous now — barely there. and god, it’s pretty.

he leans back just slightly, but his gaze never breaks from yours. his hand rests on the couch between you — close. almost touching. you don’t move.

“your turn.” he says.

and you have no idea that he’s been waiting for it to finally be his.