#i need connection and closeness. i can get years of therapy

[bunnihearted]

therapy cant fix me because i will still go home and be alone after it

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)

[thebibliosphere]

I probably have hEDS, have had tense muscles since I was 8 and more and more of my joints started to be in constant pain, 10 years spine, 14 years hips, then hands at 19 and now all of them. And though I'm over 40 and don't practice any stretching, I still can contort myself in any direction.

But I don't know if it's worth the energy to fight for a diagnosis? Because it doesn't seem like there is any help, other than mild painkillers and physiotherapy, and I already get that. It is so much work to convince doctors to look into the source of joint pain, as soon as they can rule out rheumatoid arthritis they stop caring. And I don't belive I will get stronger painkillers even with a diagnosis anyway.

Do you think a diagnosis is woth the hassel?

For me, diagnosis was worth it because it meant getting the correct kind of physical therapy, which is often very different from the regular kind you usually get if the physical therapist is good at their job.

Regular PT used to damage my joints more. PT designed to target hypermobility has actually helped build joint stability, retrain my muscles, and reduce some of my pain by lessening the frequency of injuries.

It’s also good to know because hEDS affects more than just your joints.

I have a lot of problems with my internal organs due to how my connective tissue is affected, and my brother, who is undiagnosed but likely affected, suffered from spontaneous retina detachment twice. When I mentioned it to my eye doctor he said, “yeah, that happens to you zebras” and now I get my retinal health assessed every six months because fuck that.

It can also be good to know because of how it affects your care during things like surgery, ranging from which anesthesia they use to the type of sutures required.

When my mother had a mastectomy, she experienced several surgical complications, including not being able to get the wound site to close, so they kept dragging her back into surgery.

When I found out, I told my dad the surgical team needed to know my mother likely had hEDS because I did, and my mother and I are carbon copies of each other. When my dad told the surgeon, he apparently said, “Well, if I’d known that, I’d have done the whole thing differently!” and finally got my mother stitched up properly and into recovery.

In that regard, my diagnosis helped not just me but a family member, but also indicated the type of care I’ll likely need if I’m ever in the same situation.

So, yes, it's a hassle to get diagnosed and some (bad) doctors will frame it in terms of “there’s no cure so there’s no point.”

But for me, it’s not only been worth it but also vital to the management of the rest of my care. And let me be clear, there are some people for whom this is just a crappy joint disorder, and they are otherwise fine. But for many of us, we’re more than just our fucky joints. We’re an entire plethora of health problems that all cascade from our weak connective tissue, and it's important more people recognize that.

So is it worth it for you? That's a you decision. But it was very much worth it for me.

I wish you luck and fewer days of pain. This shit sucks.

[ticktokrobotsnot]

Vapor

This is Part 2

You can read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader 

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his not-so-shit-restaurant and gets invited over for family dinner. 

Word Count: 10k

__

The sky was blood orange and the reflection on the store window was mesmerizing. Y/n was supposed to be in the office getting ready for the full day ahead of her but she couldn’t resist slacking off for a bit, it was nice to finally enjoy the restaurant with no one inside. Y/n needed to be here early when a potential vendor came by to give some quotes. Carmen’s initial reaction was to stand his ground and act like some faux bodyguard because he couldn't fathom why some “sick fuck” would want to be alone with a woman in a restaurant at the ass crack of dawn without them having bad intentions—said it wasn't safe at all. Y/n had to inform him that the, “sick fuck” was a woman. And as soon as Carmen heard that, and realized they were going to be talking numbers for a while, he ran off to the farmer's market, wanting no part in that snooze fest. 

Y/n grabbed her laptop and started reviewing the binders she organized. Just as y/n was about to check her phone for any messages, she heard a knock at the door. A pretty blond woman looks at y/n with a bit of confusion. This woman wasn’t expecting to see y/n and y/n wasn't expecting to see this woman. Y/n walked to the door and opened a crack. 

“Who are you?” Y/n questioned. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” The women laughed but y/n wasn’t finding this funny.

“Natalie…” Y/n shook her head like a bouncer sending a teeager away without his fake ID.

“Natalie Berzatto.” She clarified and y/n recalled the name as a co-signer for The Beef, now The Bear. Y/n opened the door a bit more to let her in. 

Y/n gave her name but she didn’t know what else to say but Natalie was already filling the space. 

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you, Carmen won't stop talking about you. You really saved our asses. Especially with the file organizing stuff, I found the old payroll stuff in like a minute, you're a real savant with stuff like that. Carmy is a real sticker for cooking but he is a real shit-”. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Natalie was nervous.

Y/n knew that Natalie was a part of Carmen’s family but she didn’t know how they were connected. One plausible scenario was that she was Micheal’s widowed girlfriend or wife, which would explain why anyone would co-sign the disaster that Micheal had created and promptly left. Y/n wondered why Carmen would be getting so chummy with his widowed sister-in-law, but then again men have done worse. 

Y/n bit the bullet, “How do you know Carmen?”

“I'm his sister… Sugar?” Y/n was starting to feel like a real idiot for not being able to piece these easy deductions together, she was losing her edge because it was to fucking early in the morning.

“Yes, Richie told me that “Sugar” was going to stop by this week. What can I do for you?” Y/n didn’t mention that she thought Sugar was going to be a stripper because of the name. 

“Actually I came to pick some old tax stuff… Micheal’s tax returns.” Y/n guided her to the office. Even if she didn’t look back she knew that Natalie was spying on her binders and laptop laid out on the counter, trying to find out a bit about y/n. 

“So, Carmy tells me that you two used to work together back in New York.”

“Yeah it was only for a few years.”

“Were you close?” Natalie probed. 

“We were…strangers at best.” Y/n chose to leave out the messy parts of her and Carmen’s origins. 

Natalie shook her head in disbelief. "That can't be true, he actually came to my place one day, pretty late. You know why?" Y/n, not knowing the answer, simply shrugged her shoulders. 

"He said he needed to make an important phone call, someone from his old job. He said that he wanted to ask for a bit of help." Natalie continued, her voice tinged with wishfulness "I thought maybe he was finally going to therapy or something." Y/n felt a strange sensation, like she was staring directly into the sun, hope gave Natalie a beautiful glow. 

Natalie's smile softened as she added, "And you know what? He made that phone call right on our porch." Her words carried a touch of warmth. "Well, at least he's reaching out for help. It's a good thing, right?"

“I recommended therapy to him too but I think we would need to put a gun to his head for him to actually go." Natalie let out a humored exhale. 

There was a lull of silence after she handed the tax returns. Y/n could sense that Natalie wanted to talk some more so y/n directed her to the bar stools out front. She checked her phone and saw that her vendor had a family emergency and needed to reschedule. After shooting a quick ok, she directed herself to face Natalie. 

"You can ask me anything. I've got plenty of time to kill." Y/n offered, feeling generous considering the recent kiss shared with Natalie's brother just a week ago.

“I was here a few times but I never had a chance to meet you?”

“I was probably apartment hunting.” Natalie looked like she was debating asking her next question.   

“What did you think of Carmen when you guys were back in New York?”

“He was like every other chef.”

“Nothing else? No pulling force?”

“No pulling force.”

“You moved state lines for him and you're saying there was no pulling force?”

“He asked me for help and I gave him some.” 

“You chose to stay. There had to be a pull.”

“The restaurant spoke to my soul, I had to stay.” Y/n was bluffing. 

“Bullshit, there was a pull.” Natalie said with a self fulfilled smirk like she had won a point in their imaginary game.

Natalie continued, “You know, he won a Michelin star. A man who cooks…is not too bad.”

“I don’t eat gourmet food. It’s pretentious.” Y/n didn’t want to make too much out of the kiss and make Carmen panic.

“I'm sure he can make something you will like.” 

“I have yet to eat something of his that would warrant him having a Michelin star.”

“You don’t like his cooking?”

“I don’t like anyone’s cooking.” Natalie couldn’t come up with something else. Point to y/n. A smile spread across y/n’s face and Natalie was relieved to realize that y/n wasn’t being serious. 

“What do you like doing?” Natalie probed. 

“I spend most of my time working here but I also read.” 

“Why did you leave New York?” Natalie blurted out.

“I don’t like working with other people, my boss was all over me. I thought Chicago would be a nice change of pace.” 

Y/n saw Natalie unlock her phone to respond to a text from someone named Pete, who had a pink heart near his name. Y/n knew that memorizing people’s passwords was an invasion of their privacy but it was fun to be a bit nosy. 

Y/n was also tired of getting the third-degree, she was hoping for a few fun questions asking if she ever murdered anyone or if she ever was contacted to be a part of a bank heist. She would be lying if she wasn’t a bit afraid that whatever she said would be relayed to Carmen so she didn’t want to say anything too damning. 

“You read romance?” Y/n saw the book peeking out of Natalie’s bag, it was one that she had read before. 

“Yeah, they’re my guilty pleasure.”

“Mine too. I liked that one.” Y/n pointed at the book peaking out.

“I hate it, it's filled with miscommunication. I’m only finishing it to justify the 12 dollars I spent.” Natalie said with a fake pout. 

“I love miscommunication because I suck at talking to people too. Much better than the one I just finished.”

“What killed your book?”

“Third-act break up.” Natalie nodded her head, it seems like they agreed. 

Y/n couldn't help but feel relieved; while the nature of Y/n's relationship with Carmen remained uncertain, it was evident that Natalie would become a more integral part of the restaurant. Carmen's recent discovery of three hundred thousand dollars hidden in tomato cans had sparked ambitious plans for renovating the place. Even if she ended up being nothing serious with Carmen, she needed to secure a stable support who wouldn’t completely hate her if shit hit the fan. 

They continued to talk about a few books that they had read, a few so trashy that they had to hide their faces in embarrassment from each other when reading the summary out loud. 

The door chimed and both women looked over to Carmen who was holding a few bags of produce and baked goods. Y/n went over and plucked the receipts for the top of one of the bags, she didn’t bother helping Carmen because he wouldn’t have let her help anyways. Carmen was gracious enough to put all the receipts together so she wasn’t digging to find them, she kept a record of them to write them off as a business deduction. 

“Nat, you’re here early?” Carmen spared a glance before opening a box of croissants to share and then disappearing to the kitchen to put everything away. 

“Yeah I had to pick something up, y/n was so kind to help me so early in the morning. Isn’t she just the best?” 

“Yeah…How did it go with the vendor?” Carmen mindlessly mumbled while busying himself with a notebook of recipe ideas. 

“Rescheduled.” Y/n didn’t look up, engrossed in cataloging some expensive mushrooms for record keeping. $268.43 for some mushrooms was honestly so ridiculous y/n needed to squint to see if she was seeing this right. 

“I need to return the favor.” Natalie started.

“It was just a few folders, you really don’t-”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner on friday?” Y/n felt like she was performing front and center.

“I couldn’t-.” 

“Please, Pete never wants to talk to me about…” Natalie was raising her eyebrows in the most unsubtle way possible so she didn’t expose y/n's softer side and her penchant for reading romance novels. Y/n couldn’t help but hide her face in embarrassment, “Yeah…fine. Just tell me what time.”

Observing the exchange, Carmen couldn't help but wonder if this was how dogs felt when humans engaged in their own incomprehensible conversations.

Y/n was starting to feel like she was edging closer and closer to Carmen’s limit. Kissing in the back alley of a restaurant and on the car ride to and from work was very different from being invited to his sister’s house for dinner. It carried a weight of intimacy, commitment, and solidity that made Y/n slightly uneasy, wondering if this was too much for Carmen. She waited for the other shoe to drop, Carmen would subtly show his discontent by telling Natalie that she shouldn’t force y/n to go to that dinner, which was just an excuse to create some distance. Y/n was surprised when Carmen asked what type of desert he should bring instead. 

Y/n kept her cool and excused herself to go to the office so she could get back to work. 

Carmen and Natalie moved to the kitchen where Carmen would experiment for a bit. Natalie sat on a stool next to Carmen who started washing produce. 

“She is very smart.” Natalie whispered. She took a glance at the closed office door.

“Yeah. Great with the books.” Carmen peeled and diced some garlic. 

“Nice too.”

“She is very nice.” Carmen started cutting some nepitella. The additional “very” caused some alarm bells to ring in Natalie’s head. She hid her smirk. 

“Everything about her is nice,” Natalie made sure to pay close attention to Carmen’s face, “Nice personality, nice face-” Carmen took a worried glance at the office door and then looked up at Natalie with wide eyes.

“Why, why, what are you-?” He was flustered. 

“I’m just sharing my observations. You don’t think she has a nice face-?”

“This is a business, we try to keep professional.” Carmen hid his fumble with fake professionality, unfortunately Natalie saw right through it. 

“Try?” Natalie teased. Carmen looked away to pretend to look for some dried porcini. He felt like an idiot. He understood why people used to see him as an easy target when he was younger, he basically showed everyone his buttons, and asked them to get pushed. Carmen continued to chop in silence. 

“I'm sorry, I just got a bit excited. I won't push.” Natalie gave her brother the benefit of the doubt, she always thought he would never get into a serious relationship but he liked y/n and y/n seemed like the serious girlfriend type. Natalie couldn’t help but nudge Carmen in the right direction. 

Carmen chopped in silence for a few minutes, debating if he should tell Natalie about the kiss. In his mind, he didn’t know if it was too soon for him to introduce his girlfriend to his family. Calling y/n his girlfriend felt unreal, past him wouldn’t believe it even if he saw it.  

He handed his notebook to Natalie so she could read measurements to him, he wanted her here for just a bit longer till he gained the courage to tell her about y/n. 

Tagliatelle with porcini mushrooms was the first test item of the morning, and he had to soak the dried porcini for 30 minutes, he was bummed that the market didn't have the fresh kind but he knew he would get the real shit when y/n got a hold of that vendor. He looked up at Natalie and tilted his head to indicate that they should leave. Carmen avoided the alley because he knew that y/n would look there first and he didn’t want her to overhear anything. They walked over to a nearby supermarket and started roaming the aisles. It was nearly empty because it was six in the morning. 

“I did something…and I need you to not…just listen and don’t make it a big deal.”

“I got it, Carmy.” 

“A while ago, I…” Carmen looked at all the different types of instant noodles they had on display. “So, we were in deep shit with these pre-orders and I was a mess and y/n and I were talking after…” Carmen moved over to the boxed pasta, he didn't intend to buy anything but he did read the nutritional facts.

“I umm, asked her to…” Jesus, Carmen wondered, why he didn’t make more friends so he didn’t have to talk to his older sister about something like this. Richie didn’t seem capable of giving any advice that wasn’t, “Just Do It”.

 “We ki…” Natalie kept her face hard but the second that Carmen turned around to look at a box of elbow pasta, she couldn't help herself but let out a small, barely audible squeal of delight. Her eyes widened, and a grin threatened to break through her determined facade. Natalie quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her elation, making sure not to let Carmen catch a glimpse. She stifled her excitement with every fiber of her being, preserving the illusion of calmness for when Carmen turned back around, none the wiser.

“It’s been a while, and we k…” Carmen didn’t know how he was supposed to maturely ask for advice when he couldn’t even say a kiss in front of his sister while cringing. Carmen couldn’t do this, it was too open, too vulnerable. 

Nat cut him some slack and started asking questions instead, “Was it a one time thing?” Carmen subtly shook his head no. Her lips parted as she squeezed a jar of Pego to contain herself. 

“Do you regret it?” Carmen didn’t respond but that didn’t mean no, that ment that she was getting closer to the root of the problem.

“Do you think she’s going to regret it?” Carmen’s shoulder’s raised slightly, bingo. 

“Why don’t I gauge how she is feeling at dinner.” Nat knew he was about to run away from her for exposing too much and she had to give him an incentive to not follow his instincts. 

She continued, “We talked earlier, she said she hates your cooking.” Carmen’s head snapped up, Nat knew that y/n was just joking but it was still a bit funny to mess with Carmen. 

The look of shock transported her back to when she was eight sitting next to Carmy and watching Micheal convince him to finish a glass of milk or else he would lose all of his teeth to a calcium deficiency. This wasn’t the time to reminisce but it made her heart warm knowing that even after going through so much, there was still a part of young Carmy that persevered. She was feeling the burning in the back of her eyes, her hormones were making her sentimental. 

“Yeah she said that your food fucking blows.” Carmen caught on and let out a small laugh.

They both roamed in the aisle moving on to juices. Sugar free, diet, pineapple, orange. Carmen’s eyebrows raised when he saw the price of orange juice before putting it down and deciding to just make his own. 

Carmen started, “She isn’t the type of person who changes her mind easily,” but if she can make that shift to see him in a good light, maybe she'll stick around and eventually see the real Carmen—a pathetic, insecure loser. All he did was make a promise to her but he knew it meant nothing without actions, and he was unsure if he could control his anger or keep his obsessiveness in check when something especially difficult happened. If another shit storm made its rounds in the kitchen, would he really be able to be the bigger person? Carmen doubted it. 

Carmen just ripped off the bandaid, “I don’t know how to…I want her to not hate me. I know I'm going to..” Carmen waited till a child next to them moved to the other end of teh aisle towards his dad, “..fuck it up, but I dont want that to happen.” 

“What makes you think she is going to hate you?”

“When we were talking…she told me that I should have done better. And that I…needed to be “stable”, but I don’t know how to be that for myself, let alone someone else.”

“She isn’t asking you to do it for her, she wants you to do it for yourself.” Natalie offered. 

“Its like having to solve a word search to answer a stupid fucking puzzle. I don’t…” Carmen sighed in defeat. Nat knew that he was strong and it was impossible for her to fix this for him but that still made her palms itch seeing him struggle like this. She racked her brain, desperately seeking any glimmer of a solution that could offer him even a shred of relief. 

They both walked out the market towards the restaurant. “It's really hard…and it's not that I don’t want to, it just feels impossible.” Carmen muttered, he was close to giving up. 

A burning sensation welled up in the back of Natalie's throat, and she instinctively placed her hand on Carmen's shoulder as a gesture of support and to her surprise Carmen looked at her, saw her glassy eyes and hugged her. The shock knocked a few tears from her eyes.. 

Carmy was not a selfish person but Nat noticed that he was becoming a bit more aware that he takes up much more space then he originally thought he did. He now knew that his presence was big enough to be able to tear people down but was also big enough to offer meaningful support. He had come to understand his own significance, and this realization struck Natalie like a tidal wave, causing her to burst into uncontrollable sobs. 

“Does crying mean I'm fucked, Sugar?” Carmen asked, his voice tinged with humor and uncertainty, as he gently rubbed Natalie's back for comfort. Nat shook her head no.

“You'll be okay. You always are.” Nat wiped her face before continuing to walk back to the restaurant. 

Carmen snuck a few glances to see what was making his sister a sobbing mess, she wasn’t the type to break down like that, “Are you good?” Natalie nodded her head.

“Everything good at home?” It felt strange to say the word home, even after visiting multiple countries and living in many different apartments, Carmen couldn’t really call any place home. Home was supposed to be a sanctuary of warmth, Carmen's closest experience to that feeling was back in his family house—a place where the warmth was scalding and suffocating. Where it was a constant waiting game, anticipating the intense heat to escalate and cause everything, and everyone, to boil over. 

Carmen was acutely aware that he would never have a home quite like Sugar's. He couldn't help but wonder if he had what it took to be like Pete for someone else—always helpful, kind, and perhaps a little too accommodating. He questioned whether he had the capacity to fulfill that role and maintain his own sense of self. Granted, what about his “self” was worth preserving?

Natalie nodded her head but Carmen wasn’t convinced. “It's just a lot, you know. Seeing the place getting renovated. I used to hate that place, but..” She sighed, “...I picked up Micheal’s tax returns, I didn’t even need them for anything…I just wanted to see them to know what he was going through towards the…'' end. She didn’t need to finish for Carmen to know what she was talking about. They were in front of the restaurant and Carmen gave her a side hug and against his better judgment he tried his hand in verbal reassurance so he could be there for her, fully. 

“I think he tried his best to make everything look fine, and it’s nice to know that he was at least able to pretend till the...end.” Sugar looked up at him and didn’t comment on his successful attempt to be her support, not wanting to scare him. 

They wordlessly walked in the restaurant and Carmen finished up his dish. He made enough for one plate because he was expecting to have to remake it a few times. He grabbed a small plate and served a separate plate for y/n before knocking on her door. She looked up at him, not hearing him and gave him a “hmm” which echoed in his chest. She sat with them in the kitchen, taking her laptop with her. They all took the first bite together. Carmen watched both women’s reactions to gauge their uncensored reactions. Natalie’s eyebrows raised and she gave him a nod of approval. 

Y/n took a bite and looked up from her plate so see Carmen staring at her. “Why are you staring?”

“Do you not like it?” 

“It’s good.” Y/n put her fork down and propped up her head on her hand. 

“But, you didn’t-”

“I’m not really a foodie, so food is never like…” Y/n made an explosion sound and flicked her hands open, “Good, is the best you going to get out of me.” Natalie wondered how a chef and an anti-gourmet foodie were going to work. 

“Is all food just ”good”?” Y/n looked up and tried to think of food that was better than good.

“I like mom's cooking.” 

“What is her food like?”

“Intense…subtly in food doesn’t mean anything to me because I don’t taste the difference.” Carmen was waiting for more for y/n.

“I ate a lot of spicy, sour and bitter food growing up. My mom didn’t think that kids should eat different things than everyone else, so I guess pasta and mushrooms will always be just “good”.” Y/n felt like she was just shitting all over his profession but he asked for her opinion so he couldn’t get offended now. 

Carmen nodded his head before walking away. Y/n pierced her lips and looked over to Natalie wondering if she hurt Carmen’s feelings. Natalie looked just as bewildered. Just as y/n was about to find Carmen, he came out with a few more ingredients.

“What are you making?” 

“Something you will like.” 

“I liked what you made-” 

“Good is not enough.” 

“Come on, Carmen, it's something that everyone will like, it’s going to kill opening day.”

“But you have to like it.” Y/n sighed before indicating that he should continue. 

“You won’t be able to serve the food I like to eat, it would be considered a biological weapon.” Y/n was warning him but Carmen thought she was teasing him. He would learn to listen to her warning in the future. He put the porcini mushrooms to the side before getting started on some penne all’arrabbiata. 

Y/n laughed at him knowing that he wouldn’t have the courage to spice up a dish to her standard before grabbing her laptop so she could get some work done and also talk to Natalie about contractors. 

While Carmen chopped and stirred, y/n subtly glanced up at his flexing back and strong arms. She thought she was hiding it well but when she went to check if Natalie noticed she saw that Natalie was already watching her. Natalie snickered as y/n hid her face behind her laptop to hide her embarrassment. Carmen turned around to see what was so funny but was just met with the view of both of them with their faces hiding behind their hands. 

Y/n felt someone pass behind her and knew it was Sydney without having to look up. “Hey guys, what are we making?” She took a bite out of the pasta, which was slightly cooled but she still nodded her head. 

“It’s fire, chef. It would be great if it was hot, I want to remake it to see what it was supposed to taste like.”

Y/n couldn’t say that she completely forgave Sydney but y/n did respect that she went to Richie to give some type of apology after a while. Y/n could accept that the two of them wouldn’t be best friends, they just needed to be able to work together. 

Y/n went to Carmen’s locker before pulling out a few Tums for everyone, it looks like today was going to be pasta day because of her and she didn’t want to send everyone home with a stomach ache.

Carmen continued with his pasta, and served it in front of y/n. All the women took a bite,

“It’s got a kick to it.” Natalie said while reaching for a food container filled with water while wiping sweat from her brow. Sydney gave Carmen a, “This is fire, chef.” Y/n couldn't help but cringe inwardly at the comment because she knew she couldn't quite match their shared vernacular and the ease with which they expressed themselves with food. What private passion did y/n and Carmen share?

Carmen stared y/n down as she took a bite.

“It’s good.” Carmen waited for her to elaborate. “It’s too subtle.” 

Carmen smirked, “Yeah, next time I'll just make you a ball of fire for you to enjoy.” Y/n gave him a shit eating grin, it was just too fun not to mess with him, and when she saw him smile back she felt a bit of imaginary nostalgia, this was what she longed for back in New York. 

The restaurant was still closed for renovations and after a while a few other crew members came by to do some demo. Y/n was stuck on hold with the inspector's office when she was approached by Natalie, “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment so I've got to go, I’ll see you on Friday at eight.” 

The rest of the week flew by because they were on a very strict time crunch to open in a few months. Y/n wasn’t very worried but she could feel the nerves from everyone else and she knew it would be in bad taste to tell them to toughen up, so she let them be grown ups and deal with their own anxieties. 

On Friday, y/n left early to get ready for dinner, she opened an old moving box and pulled out a dress that she wore to an old work function. It was very tasteful because it was freezing outside. Y/n grabbed her gifts before running into Carmen’s car. Y/n took one look at Carmen and had to do a double take to make sure that she went into the right person’s car. Carmen’s hair was lighty slicked back, probably with pomade, and he was wearing a deep blue sweater with a white collar. 

“I didn’t know you had clothes other than aprons and Dickies.”

“You look..” Carmen marveled at the way her eyes sparkled with an inner radiance, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He knew he wasn’t able to get the full picture yet because they were in a dark car but he could only imagine what she would do to him when they went to the well lit house. “..great.” Carmen wanted to punch himself for being so unoriginal but he couldn’t focus on anything. 

“Thank you, you look good too. Blue is definitely your color..” Carmen’s fingers loosened around the steering wheel, compliments had always made him uneasy; he spent the majority of his life trying to make himself as small as possible and now he was pushed into the spotlight and he wondered if he even liked it?

“Carmen, can you look at me for a second?” And when he swiveled his head towards y/n, she squished his face lighty before giving his puckered lips a soft kiss. Just as she was about to lean back into her seat, Carmen, unable to resist, slipped his hand beneath her hair, grasping the back of her neck and drawing her in for a deeper, more passionate second kiss. 

Yeah, he liked it.

“We are going to be late.” Y/n whispered before giving him one last peck. Carmen, still in a daze, fiddled with the radio so he could get his head straight. The ride to his sister’s house was quiet barring the soft jazz. Y/n was very nervous, they never had that conversation that said that they were official and for all she knew she was just a friend that Carmen kissed from time to time. She resisted the urge to ask right now because she was scared to find out that they were nothing more. She would savor the few minutes before she was inevitably introduced as a friend, or worse a co-worker. 

They pulled into Natalie’s driveway and got out of the car, y/n grabbed the bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine and they rang the doorbell. 

"Why are you holding the tray like that?" Y/n asked, noticing how Carmen clung to it like a shield. Before she could receive a response, Natalie opened the door with a warm greeting, inviting them inside. Y/n handed over the gifts, but Carmen still clung onto his belongings. Just then, Peter descended the stairs, seemingly about to approach Carmen for a hug before his gaze landed on Carmen's protective tray. He hesitated and stepped back, realizing it was acting as a barrier. Y/n stifled a laugh, biting her cheek to prevent herself from laughing at Carmen’s immaturity.

Carmen greeted, “Pete.” Y/n could feel the dislike and she felt bad for Pete because he seemed nice.

“Carmen, it’s good to see you, man.”

“This is my girlfriend, y/n.” A sense of numbness overwhelmed her. It was like when people get run over by a semi and say that they don’t feel anything. Y/n extended her hand to shake Pete's, and she followed him into the living room. 

Carmen went into the kitchen to help Natalie and y/n made pleasant conversation with Pete, he seemed a bit soft but she could understand why Natalie might want someone like him. Y/n pretended to be interested when he showed her his Cubs memorabilia, she initially thought the Cubs were a fictional sports team made by the New Girl writers. 

Y/n and Pete walked over to the kitchen and asked if they needed any help. Pete looked like he wanted to actually be helpful but y/n had her fingers crossed hoping she didn’t have to do any cooking. It was weird to see Carmen let someone else take the lead while he watched. Even with Sydney, he still watched over everything like a hawk, not because he didn’t trust her, it's just because he wouldn’t let her fail. 

Y/n watched as everyone spoke and she wondered where she fit in. Natalie and Carmen were obviously close and Pete was doing his best to get close to Carmen, trying to bridge the obvious gap between them. Y/n had to stop herself from telling Carmen to either be nicer or for Pete to drop it.

Other than being Carmen’s new “girlfriend” and sharing small talk, what else was there for her to talk about? Y/n didn’t know them well but she could tell there was a lot of subtext between the three of them that added weight to their interactions that she wasn’t privy to yet. She was a flame trying to suck in any bubble of oxygen so she could ignite, she needed more information before she could actually join them.

 It felt like she was reading Dune for the first time, being dropped in the middle of an already moving plot and she was scrambling to play catch up. Carmen had a lot of triggers and she wondered if Natalie was the same. Even if they acted completely differently, y/n could tell that they were sidestepping something, like they were avoiding talking about a gaping bullet wound, and if siblings were acting like that it means that it's a problem with the parents. Despite the fact that they were in the kitchen, the three of them weren’t talking about the food. Y/n made a mental checklist of a few rules; 1. Don’t bring up parents 2. Don't mention food because it's a trigger 3. Pay attention to Natalie because she was not as good at hiding her feelings as Carmen. 

Dinner was served and they all took a seat, y/n took slow sips of wine and saw that Natalie’s wine was slightly darker than hers. Y/n was sitting across Natalie so she recognized the smell too, apple. She was drinking sparkling apple cider. Y/n hid her smirk by talking another sip, she would be a spy or something because she was killing it in the recon department. 

Dinner was starting to feel stiff, y/n took a deep breath and turned to Natalie, “Your cooking is to die for.” Natalie tucked in her lips but couldn’t help but hide her smile, y/n never told Carmen anything like that, barring the first day she got to Chicago, it was a petty way of getting back at him for blindsiding her by calling her his girlfriend. 

“Thanks, It's a family recipe.” Y/n wanted to stab herself with the fork, she just broke rule one and two. Just as y/n was about to make some asinine comment to change topics, Carmen did it for her.

“Can you pass me the bread, Sugar?” Y/n found her opening.

“Sugar, that’s a nice nickname, what’s the story?” 

Natalie paused and y/n had a feeling she fucked up, “We were having this Chrismas family thing and I added a cup of sugar into the gravy instead of salt. The name just stuck.” Y/n definitely fucked up, she was breaking rules left and right. Y/n scrabbled to put herself in the same level as Natalie.

“I’ve been there. My parents were having a few co-worker over for lunch and they brought a box of these expensive mangos and I was told to make some smoothies because it was boiling that day. I filled up the sugar container with salt without noticing and made them smoothies with a ton of salt.” Y/n saw that all eyes were on her and she didn’t allow herself to be nervous because she was trying to get a deeper point across.

Y/n continued, “I have never heard that many people gag all at once.” Their faces broke into a smile.

“What did your mom say?” Bingo, looks like the taboo parent could be narrowed down to their mother. 

“She didn’t say anything bad, she and her co-workers just laughed. I mean I was a kid and we all make mistakes. I ended up making lemonade instead.”

Natalie’s eyes lit up,“It’s a shame that all those mangos went to waste.” Natalie joked. 

“Waste?” Y/n had a fake offense, “I drank the rest to prove that it wasn’t that bad.”

“Was it that bad?” Pete asked.

“My blood pressure was through the roof. It was the first time I ever got a headache.” 

The rest of dinner was a bit more relaxed, y/n was expecting Carmen to talk a bit more because these were his people but it looked like she would have to do the talking for the both of them. They finished up dinner and y/n got up to help them clean up. It was y/n and Carmen alone in the kitchen while Natalie went upstairs to check on something, aka she needed some rest and Pete went to check up on her. 

As Carmen washed the dishes, Y/n stood by, towel in hand, drying them. The domestic scene felt comfortable, yet she couldn't determine if she truly enjoyed this newfound domesticity. She wondered if in Carmen’s eyes she was merely playing the role of the perfect partner – someone who could effortlessly navigate his family dynamics, fix his business, and be his own manic pixie dream girl. 

A selfish thought crossed Y/n's mind. What was she truly gaining from this relationship? She had been too afraid to make a move with Carmen after the kiss, fearing that one misstep could lead her to being shut out completely. She hesitated to voice her preferences about his food, to ask about the nature of their relationship, or to discuss their future plans if this relationship fell through. Y/n wasn't one to dwell in discomfort, except for her previous job, and she felt frustrated that she had to jump through so many hoops just to ensure that Carmen wouldn't leave.

They finished the dishes and y/n could tell that Carmen wanted to check on Natalie but he didn’t want to leave y/n alone. Y/n being a supportive girlfriend, practically pushed him up the steps before walking out the front door and leaning on the porch. Y/n grabbed her jacket and walked out. She underestimated the frigid Chicago air which felt like a sharp slap to her face, serving as a wake-up call. It reminded her that the warm and fuzzy feeling she had been battling within herself was merely fleeting, and that the reality of the world could be much harsher and more painful. 

Y/n couldn’t help but wonder why Carmen was even bothering with her, they had nothing in common but the restaurant. Work was everything for him and Sydney, their shared connection always pulled them together despite both of their volatile personalities. What pulled y/n and Carmen together? They both worked in the restaurant but Carmen didn’t have a passion for running said restaurant, it was a mere obligation that y/n took from him. If she stopped working there, what else did they have in common? 

Y/n came to the daunting realization that Carmen picked Sydney because he saw potential in her, a chance to let both him and her grow. However, he didn’t pick y/n because he saw something deeper in her, it was an act of embarrassed desperation. 

Was she just a means to help Carmen get his shit together? The restaurant meant a lot to Micheal and after he died Carmen stopped seeing the restaurant as something that was out of his reach but as something to connect him to his brother, a small thread connecting the estranged brothers. Y/n was there to hold up the connection in the vaguest of ways, she kept the restaurant afloat so Carmen could come to terms with Micheals’s legacy, good and bad.

She was lost in thought when she heard the door close, she turned her head to see Carmen was already lighting a cigarette. It was difficult for her to be objective when Carmen locked eyes with her with such intensity. Y/n ripped her eyes from him and faced forward looking at the neighbor's yard, they had nice shrubs. 

“I thought you left.” Carmen started as he leaned on the railing with y/n. He looked forward to see what was so interesting that y/n couldn’t look him in the face, it was just some trees.

“I needed some air.”

“You could catch a cold.” 

“I don’t get sick, sick is a mindset.” Y/n was obviously joking. 

She lowered her head so that she could feel the cold metal on her forehead, maybe a different type of pain would make this conversation easier. Her forehead landed on something warm, the back of Carmen’s hand. She turned her head to its side but remained connected to Carmen’s hand. The warmth radiating on her cheek was making her stomach do backflips. Even if she knew she shouldn’t be indulging like this she couldn’t help it. He felt too good and y/n was getting more and more greedy. 

“Hey, Carmen?” Carmen was still staring at y/n. “What do we have in common?” He looked taken aback.

“We like each other…” He was starting to feel the slow slitter of nausea because he knew the other shoe was about to drop.

“If we don’t have much in common, what do we talk about?” 

“We can talk about whatever we like. It’s nice to…be with someone who isn't wrapped up in the same things as me.” Carmen expressed a genuine warmth in his voice. Carmen wanted to say that she made him feel like the roof wasn’t going to collapse on him and that the small things weren’t going to destroy him but it felt selfish to describe how much he cared for her based on how she made him feel and not on facts about her. 

“I don’t care about fancy food.” Y/n blurted out.

Carmen chuckled, “You know about the vendors, where the supplies are sourced, how much they cost, and a bunch of other stuff. You do care, just in a different way than I do.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It gives me perspective. It’s very realistic and grounded.” Y/n knew he was calling her realistic and grounded. 

“I like hearing you talk about my food.” Carmen offered.

“Even if it’s just “good”?”

“Especially if it's just "good". That means you're telling me the truth.” Carmen recalled a ninth grade world history lesson about the Rosetta Stone, an artifact written in three different languages and made it possible to translate some ancient language. Though he hadn't fully paid attention during the lesson, Carmen now saw the parallel. If Y/n had the courage to express her opinions on his food, it meant she was being honest with him about everything else. 

Y/n cracked a smile before covering her mouth and started laughing. It was a jarring sound, Carmen couldn’t pinpoint what the laugh was meant to convey but he knew it wasn’t good. 

“What?” Carmen asked, Y/n rubbed her face with her cold hands. 

“You said that you were scared of me a while back but now…” Y/n's laughter softened into a smaller chuckle, conveying a mix of amusement and irony.

“I’m scared of you.” The weight was lifted off her shoulders and slammed down on Carmen's. Y/n wondered if this is how the rest of their relationship was going to be; one person transferring their hurt to the other till the weight became too much to bear. 

"It's... I want to bring so many things up to you but..." Y/n wondered if this counted as an accusation. "..you’re so flighty. I don't know what to say that won't make you..." Y/n struggled to find a word that didn't feel so definitive, but the only word that felt honest was, "...leave."

The porch fell into an uneasy silence, both of them grappling with the weight of Y/n's vulnerability.

"I...I didn't realize..." Carmen stammered, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. "I would never just... leave." They both stared in silence, they knew that wasn’t true. Y/n lifted her head leaving the warmth behind, she knew this wouldn’t work if he made false promises. And against everything telling her to just accept his promise as law and ignore any doubts, she couldn’t fool herself like that. 

“That’s such bullshit.” Y/n lighty giggled. It felt as though a shark had promised to stop swimming—it was ingrained in their nature. In that lighthearted moment, a mischievous thought crossed Y/n's mind: What would happen if Carmen actually stopped running away? Would he cease to exist, like a fish in space? 

Her playful musings, though immature, offered a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. It was a temporary escape, a way to diffuse the tension. Y/n noticed that she brought all this shit up to comfort herself but she was giggling to make him feel safe. Even when she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn't help but try to make him feel better. 

As the laughter subsided, Y/n met Carmen's eyes, she forced herself to ignore the emotions he was conveying and instead tried to match his eyes with things she had seen in the past. If this ended poorly, she would miss his eyes the most and she wanted to know what else could match in intensity in case she never got to see him like this ever again, nothing came to mind.

Carmen felt like he was backed into a corner, he couldn’t promise her anything without her, justifiably, doubting him. 

"I don't want to leave you," Carmen offered, his voice carrying a mixture of sincerity and vulnerability. It was the most honest response he could offer at that moment. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't feel the urge to run, to escape when things got tough, but he had a genuine desire to stay. 

Y/n's eyes met Carmen's, her expression softened. She knew it wasn't a perfect answer, but it was a step forward. It was enough to know that he acknowledged his own complexities and still chose to be present with her.

They stood in the quiet watching neighbors turn off their living room lights and go upstairs. She wanted to test out whether, “They could talk about whatever they wanted too.” 

“What do you think they’re doing?” Y/n asked, Carmen parted his lips and turned his face to look at y/n so see if she was serious, she was.

“I think they go to bed and she has this super long night time routine and he is already asleep by the time she gets to bed. You?” Y/n knew that if they ever slept over at each other’s place, that’s exactly what would happen between them. 

“She probably got home from a shit day and she starts reading an easy romance book…Do you read any books?”

“They are mostly cooking stuff.” He took a drag from his cigarette.

“You read cookbooks for entertainment?”

“Sometimes, it's a part of the craft.” Carmen realized how fucking pretentious he sounded and was a bit ashamed but seeing y/n refrain from teasing him by bitting her lips made him not want to crawl into a hole and die of shame, her smile was addicting. “…but there is a lot of history and science too. '' Carmen knew he sucked at conversation but he would do anything to keep talking. 

“What was your last book?” 

Y/n and Carmen kept talking till they lost track of time and eventually when they had reached a comfortable lull, y/n could confidently say that they were in fact capable of holding a conversation about mundane shit. 

Against every fiber of her being telling her to end their conversation like this, she couldn’t help but ask, “What happens…if this ends?” Y/n didn’t know if she was supposed to use “if” or “when”; one was cautious, the other was a prophecy. 

Carmen didn’t look back at her, instead giving her, “You’ll still have a job…I’m not a dick…all the time.” Y/n lips curved upwards. 

“Will you be able to work with someone you’ve been in a relationship with?” 

“Yes.” Carmen wondered if the answer could ever be anything other than yes. 

Y/n knew that if this ended badly she would be allowed to stick around so that Carmen would have an excuse to throw himself at his work. She would be the catalyst to merge him from an individual to a vague reflection of Micheal’s legacy. 

Whether or not Carmen knew it, Micheal was a huge influence in his life and just like Micheal began to isolate himself towards the end, Carmen would do the same if they drifted apart. It was his inherent weakness and a relationship gone sour that would make it difficult for him to break the cycle that Micheal had started. 

“I won’t stay if it hurts you, Carmen.”

“I would want you to stay, y/n.”

“There is no trophy that comes with going through unnecessary shit.”

“I know, I would still need you.” Carmen hesitated but eventually placed his hand top on y/n's. 

“Because I can do the books?” Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly. 

“No…you do more than that. You are…” Carmen read books with a shit ton of adjectives, they had to be descriptive to describe food through text. Despite that, he was at a loss for words to describe her.

"You are..." he began again, this time his voice was a little gentler than before. He took a deep breath, hoping that he could find those words that would express everything he felt.

"You are very important to me,". His voice was soft like he was realizing this for the first time. 

The second time was meant for y/n, "You are very important to me."  I love you, y/n. 

Y/n locked eyes with Carmen for a moment. 

"You are important to me too." I love you, Carmen.

Neither of them had the courage to say that to each other, wondering if they were the only one’s feeling like this. 

They both had jackets on but y/n’s hands were freezing and she could feel Carmen’s hand was also ice cold. She knew that they had both reached their limits but y/n couldn’t help but relish in the cold for a bit longer. 

For y/n, the biting cold was always a catalyst for clarity, stripping away the unnecessary and forcing y/n to distill her focus onto the few things that mattered. Amidst the frost, she found solace in the simplicity. It was within this chilling environment that she discovered a clear chance to confront her inner turmoil head-on and confront the world. 

Carmen had always been drawn to the intense heat. It was as if the scorching temperatures matched the fire that burned within him, igniting his passion and driving him forward but leaving him with nothing to look back on. Extreme heat was his poison of choice, his way of confronting the world. 

Carmen’s heat was turning her mind into a messy slurry of slush. Y/n had to force herself to focus despite the fact that Carmen’s hand was providing her with a sliver of intoxicating  warmth.

“You didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend.” Carmen’s head shot up aback by y/n's words. He was excited to introduce her to his family, and he hadn't thought to ask her permission first. He tried to explain himself, his words coming out in a rush.

"I didn't mean to assume anything. I just thought that since we've been seeing each other for a while now, it was... " He took a moment to catch his breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I think you should try asking first.” Carmen stared at y/n not knowing if this was a trap to get rejected twice. He opted for silence.

“Carmen, ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?” Carmen didn't want to say the wrong thing, not when it was so important, for someone so important. Carmen trusted y/n so he stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray before taking a deep breath and asking, “Will you be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

Y/n wrapped her freezing hands around his neck accidentally grazing her finger on his neck making him shiver. She leaned in against his lip and even though they had kissed before this, Carmen felt like he couldn’t think. Y/n lips barely touching Carmen’s before whispering a soft, “Yes, Carmy.” 

Carmen closed the small gap between their lips. And y/n felt a gentle heat seep through the folds of her head making it difficult to focus on her freezing fingers, or her numb toes, or her goosebump riddled legs, or her shivering arms. Y/n felt Carmen pull her closer and even though they were as close as physically possible, it wasn’t enough. Carmen’s lips left y/n’s before trailing down the column of her neck, y/n could feel the blossoming of heat radiate from his lips. Y/n’s hands sank down to Carmen’s waist and slowly drifted up his shirt. The cold sent shivers down his spine as y/n’s hands moved at a glacial pace. 

Just as Carmen reached the collar of her jacket he looked up at her and y/n had to resist every irrational and reckless part of her that told her to continue. The realization that they were on Carmen’s sister’s porch made y/n look around to ground herself. She landed on a black box right near the door before looking back to Carmen with her mouth agape and her eyes wide open. 

“What?” Carmen questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

“We are on your sister's porch.” Y/n said with a thousand yard stare and a distant mutter.

“I’m not a fucking animal, obviously we aren’t going to do this here.” Y/n softly grasped Carmen’s face before turning towards the black box, a doorbell camera. 

“Jesus…fuck.” They both looked at each other before y/n scrambled inside with Carmen right behind her. Either they were caught and they had to face Natalie despite the embarrassment or they got to the footage before Natalie saw it.  

Y/n let Carmen lead her to Natalie’s room, who thankfully was still laying on her side, Pete had gone to the restroom. 

Y/n leaned up to Carmen before whispering, “Distract her.” Carmen sat near Natalie and asked her if she wanted some ginger-ale or if he should stop by a pharmacy. 

Natalie's phone was on the nightstand and y/n swiped it when Natalie wasn’t looking before unlocking her phone with the password she acquired from being noisy. She then deleted the footage of the last hour from her Ring app. Y/n wanted to scroll back a few months to watch Carmen call her for the first time but she didn’t have enough time. 

Y/n set the phone exactly how she found it and gave Carmen a subtle thumbs up. 

“I’m fine, I think I need to sleep this off.” Natalie sat up while glancing at y/n and y/n had to resist freezing like a criminal caught in the spotlight. 

“I’m really sorry-” Natalie started.

“Please don’t be. I had a great time. Is there anything we can do for you before we leave?” Y/n felt bad for taking advantage of Natalie’s pregnancy induced sickness but this was a matter of prestige, she wouldn’t be able to set foot in this house if Natalie ever saw the footage.  

Natalie shook her head no and they said their goodbye’s before Camren and y/n practically tripped over themselves running out of that house. They sprinted to the car and slammed the doors shut before bursting out laughing. Y/n felt like she was a teenager again, sneaking her boyfriend out the fire escape before her mom walked in. Carmen pushed his forehead into the steering wheel to laugh and the sound that echoed felt like it was melting itself into y/n’s brain, forever branded into her memory. 

“How many times have you been here, Carmen? You never noticed the fucking camera, you dick?” Y/n struggled to shake off the heat that pulsed up her body, Camren hadn’t even started the car yet and she was burning up. 

“I…I never looked, what kind of freak looks?”Carmen said in between laughs. Y/n gave him a fake look of disapproval.

“Turn the car on, Berzatto, you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

Carmen turned on his car before pulling out of Natalie’s driveway, he was still snickering and in the streetlight y/n could see his neck turn bright red. 

“Stop by a CVS or something.” Y/n said while fiddling with the radio.

“You think you caught something from Nat.” Y/n resisted telling him that pregnancy wasn’t contagious, men are so fucking stupid. 

“You have condoms on you?” Carmen slammed on the break, lucky they were at a red light.

“N...no.” Scarlet crawled up his neck and up his face. Y/n didn’t know someone’s ears could ever get that red before. Carmen stayed still trying to collect his fractured thoughts. 

“It's green, Carmen.”

He stepped on the gas and y/n was glad that the roads were practically empty because he was driving like he had all the insurance in the world. He pulled over to a Walgreens and ran out of the car. Y/n shook her head at his shit parking, he was in between two spots. Carmen came back in a minute with a plastic bag, y/n could decipher from the shapes that he had also bought some gatorades too. 

Carmen pulled out of the parking lot.

Y/n didn’t recognize the streets on their ride back, “Your place?” 

“Mine is closer.” Carmen replied, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation.

Y/n could help but giggle, she always loved it when he was desperate. She knew it was wrong, but she always felt such a rush of excitement when her control over him was at its pinnacle and they both knew it.

When they reached a stop sign, y/n glanced over at Camren and saw that he was already looking back at her. 

They couldn’t seem to care that they were wading in uncharted waters and they couldn’t convince themselves that this was going to end badly enough for them to not at least try. If they looked at each other like that, there was no way they were going to let each other go. 

__

End Notes:

Fire + Ice = Vapor; It took me an embarrassing amount of time to think of that.

There is a lot of tension and maturity that needs to be written in smut for it to be good and I just can’t do that. I tried for this one and I had to close my laptop and take a lap because the second hand embarrassment was too much. So those drafts have been deleted and I’m glad I never have to see them again. 

I didn't think people would like Turbulence, I was going to delete it after a few hours and just keep it to myself but i'm glad that people liked it so ig it's here to stay. I tried to keep this one more contained then Turbulence bc writing about multiple days is such a pain.

I really don’t know what else I might write about for these two, or in general, so if you have any suggestions feel free to send them to me. If your suggestion inspires me, you better believe that I'm going to get out of bed at 2 in the morning and start writing. Or we can bury these two in a shallow grave and forget they exist, which is also fine by me because I think fic aged me.

[kiwriteswords]

I Promise You This

Chapter Three: I've Overcome The Blow, I've Learned to Take it Well

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Chronic illness, reader with past abusive relationship, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, language, future sexual themes

Rating: Mature for mature themes and future chapters.

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Y/N, the newest and youngest profiler in the BAU, is haunted by her past—an abusive relationship and an illness she keeps hidden from her team. Though skilled in her work, she distances herself emotionally, fearing vulnerability. Aaron Hotchner, her reserved and perceptive boss, begins to notice the cracks in her carefully constructed walls as they navigate high-stakes cases together. Drawn to her resilience, Hotch finds himself increasingly protective of Y/N. As their bond deepens, both must confront their own emotional barriers, leading to an unexpected connection amidst the darkness of their work.

AN: Thanks for the wonderful feedback on the re-write of chapters one and two! I have received many requests for a tag list, which I originally had for the story back in 2021, but I have updated that as well, and that can be found here. I start a new job tomorrow so my re-writing and new posts may be a little slow, so apologies in advance! xx

Masterlist | I Promise You This | Ao3

You sat in your usual seat on the jet, arms crossed and gaze fixed on the dark night outside. You didn’t acknowledge Emily, JJ, Morgan, or Reid as they filed in behind you. The tension was palpable, and everyone could feel it. They’d heard the argument at the police station—how could they not?

Getting pulled aside by Hotch had blindsided you. It wasn’t how you operated. At your first job, you’d climbed the corporate ladder faster than anyone else, becoming the youngest manager in the company’s history. You weren’t the teacher’s pet type, but your professors had always treated you as an equal. Even in the local task force, your superior had been more friend than boss, someone you still considered your closest confidant despite the thirty-year age gap.

You had always been someone people trusted to get things done without question. Growing up in a house where you were more of a friend than a child to your parents had shaped you into that. But it came at a cost. It forced you to grow up quickly—too quickly. You still remembered handing over your babysitting money at twelve to keep the heat on. Your teenage years had been a blur of hospitals, white coats, and endless tests as doctors tried to figure out why your body kept betraying you.

You didn’t know how to handle being scolded. Not as a child, not as a teenager, and certainly not now as an adult. That was perhaps why you had once allowed yourself to stay in a relationship where every move seemed to disappoint someone you trusted. That thought was too heavy to unravel, so you stuffed it down for later, cursing yourself for quitting therapy all those years ago.

Behind you, Hotch and Rossi stepped off the SUV and into the plane, the car ride having passed in silence. Rossi could sense the turmoil simmering inside Hotch; he knew the signs.

“You need to stop beating yourself up, Aaron,” Rossi said as he closed the door. Hotch sighed, pausing at the steps to the jet.

“I feel like an idiot,” Hotch muttered. “It’s my job to know when someone is lying, and I failed. And with something so—” He couldn’t find the words. It was you. You, of all people: quiet, compassionate, and steady. Someone he had come to rely on, even admire.

Rossi shrugged as he stepped up the stairs. “Y/N’s a private person. How could you have known? She’s an excellent agent, but outside of the job... none of us really know her.”

Hotch nodded, but the self-recrimination lingered. He shook his head, took a breath, and boarded the plane.

Once inside, he scanned the team. JJ was showing Reid a picture of Henry; the rest engaged in small talk or resting. You, however, sat alone, staring out the window. Hotch hesitated for a moment before deciding to face what needed to be addressed. He took the seat across from you.

“Y/N,” Hotch began, his voice quiet, almost pleading.

You didn’t look up at first, but something in his tone made you lift your gaze. His expression wasn’t what you expected—he wasn’t angry, just... regretful.

He sighed, meeting your eyes. He still couldn’t believe that someone so resilient could have been through what you described. “I just wanted to apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

You studied him, unsure how to respond. This was not the Hotch you were used to—the one who always had the answers, who never faltered. “Why would I lie about something like that?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost fragile, and you hated how vulnerable it made you feel.

Hotch shook his head, visibly frustrated with himself. “It’s my job to see through lies,” he muttered, looking away for a moment. “What we do... we’re trained to piece together profiles, to find patterns. But you? I realized I don’t know anything about you.”

You furrowed your brow, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”

“I know JJ’s sister took her own life, and that’s why suicide cases affect her more deeply. I know Reid’s mother is schizophrenic, and it shapes how he handles cases involving mental illness. But you, Y/N... you don’t share anything. And when you suddenly did today, I questioned it. I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

You leaned back slightly, processing his words. You’d spent so long guarding yourself, keeping the details of your life hidden, that you hadn’t realized how closed off you’d become. Before your ex, you’d been an open book. Now, you kept everything buried, fearful that sharing too much would be seen as a weakness.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, barely audible. You could feel the rawness of your emotions bubbling to the surface, and you fought to keep it in check. “I’m sorry I made you doubt me.”

Hotch’s expression shifted, guilt washing over him. “No,” he said firmly, leaning forward. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. This is my fault. I should’ve trusted you.”

You swallowed hard, his sincerity catching you off guard. “I just... I don’t talk about it. Not with anyone.”

“I understand,” Hotch replied, his tone softening. “But if you ever need to... step back, or talk, or anything, I’m here.”

His words, though simple, held a weight you weren’t used to. People had let you down before—your parents, your friends, and certainly your ex. But Hotch? For some reason, you believed him. He seemed genuine in a way that few people were.

You gave him a small, appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

There was a long pause as both of you sat there, the conversation simmering down but still thick with unspoken things. Finally, Hotch broke the silence with a question you hadn’t expected.

“He’s not still in your life, is he?” His tone was low, but there was a protective edge to it.

You shook your head. “No, he’s not.”

Hotch let out a breath, and you realized he’d been holding it since the start of this conversation. “Good,” he muttered, his gaze flicking briefly to the window before settling back on you.

The conversation lingered between you, a moment of connection that neither of you had anticipated. You hadn’t noticed until now that the rest of the team had fallen asleep. Your eyes drifted out to the night sky, and for a brief moment, you felt a sense of peace. 

It was on flights like this that you’d often find solace—an odd kind of freedom, away from everything. It had been where you poured your heart into journals during the worst of times, scribbling out your thoughts when you felt like no one else could understand.

As the plane hummed quietly, you pulled out your phone, putting in one earbud. Hotch, back to reviewing files, didn’t notice until you spoke again.

“I was listening to Jim Croce earlier.”

He looked up, surprised. “What?”

“This morning, before we landed. You asked what I was listening to.”

Hotch blinked, his expression incredulous. “Jim Croce?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching into an almost-smile. “That’s a little before your time, isn’t it?”

You smirked. “I may be the youngest on the team, but I’ve got good taste.”

“You don’t make it easy to remember how young you are.”

You couldn’t quite tell if that was a compliment or just an observation, but you smiled faintly, turning your attention back to the music.

The flight ended soon after, and you found yourself back at the bullpen, staring down at the paperwork you still had to finish. The rest of the team was packing up, ready to head out for the night.

“Y/N, you coming for a drink with us?” Emily asked, slipping on her jacket. “Rossi’s buying!”

The idea of unwinding with a drink sounded perfect, but you glanced at the files stacked on your desk. “I wish, but I’ve got to finish this first.”

Before you could protest further, the file was snatched from your hands. You looked up, startled, to see Hotch standing over you, holding the file.

"It can wait until Monday," he said with a certainty that caught you off guard. Even more surprising was the fact that he was already packed up—coat on, briefcase in hand. For anyone else, it might have been normal, but this was Aaron Hotchner. He was always the last to leave, often staying well into the night to finish paperwork or analyze case details long after the team had gone home. Seeing him ready to go was... strange.

“You sure?” you asked, your surprise evident.

Hotch nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Absolutely. You don’t turn down a free drink from David Rossi.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. It wasn’t just his words; it was the decision behind them. Hotch was notoriously disciplined—methodical, even. He rarely, if ever, joined the team for drinks after a case. His usual excuse was needing to get home to Jack or simply that he had too much work to do. But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the case. Maybe it was your conversation on the jet. Or maybe it was something deeper—some realization that, despite everything, he needed a moment to just be with his team.

In that moment, you realized how much his offer meant. Hotch wasn't the type to take breaks lightly, but here he was, extending a rare gesture. It was more than an invitation for drinks—it was a sign that, despite the hardened exterior, he valued the team’s bond and maybe even your well-being more than you’d expected.

You laughed softly, the tension in your shoulders easing as you slipped on your jacket. "Alright," you said, a smile pulling at your lips. "Let’s go."

As the two of you walked toward the exit, you couldn’t help but glance at him again. It wasn’t often that Hotch chose to step out of his rigid routine, and it made you wonder what else was on his mind.

For Hotch, tonight was different. It wasn’t just about winding down after a long case. He had spent the entire flight thinking about what you’d shared, about his own shortcomings as a leader, and the cracks in his perception of the people he worked with. You, in particular. He had been wrong about you. That realization weighed on him more than he wanted to admit. He knew that taking a step away from the grind and joining the team for a drink would help bridge the gap he had felt growing between him and his agents—especially you.

For once, the paperwork could wait.

“Hotch, you’re actually joining us for drinks?” Morgan called from across the bullpen, disbelief clear in his voice.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. “Don’t sound so shocked, Morgan.”

“Shocked? Nah. Impressed? Definitely,” Morgan replied with a grin, throwing his arm around Reid as they headed for the door.

You smiled to yourself as you followed the group, Hotch walking beside you. Maybe tonight wasn’t just about letting go of the case. Maybe, just maybe, it was about something bigger—about finding a way to be a little more human in a job that constantly took that away.

TAG LIST:

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[petracozbi]

I'm finally came around to do my own Trolls HC list-thing (most are Branch related cuz he's my favourite):

Branch has almost perfectly trained senses from living and surviving on his own in the wilderness; he's got a very sensitive nose and he can easily hear the smallest movements even if they're fairly far away, etc.

Poppy makes sure to at least make a little noise when approaching Branch, as to not catch him off guard, since he had a tendency to get lost in thought when he feels he's in a safe and secure space, and can lower his defences. Kismet does the same (they're found family to me idc)

In the beginning, the bros found it kind of annoying/confusing how Poppy would start getting louder and yell out Branch's name every time they were getting close to him, probably shrugging it off to her just being a very hyper and overexcited girlfriend. It wasn't until they got to experience first-hand how Branch reacted when they suddenly just touched him while deep in thought, and let's just say, after having their arm pinned behind their back and a sharpened stick held to their throat a few too many times, they learned to give a heads-up.

Branch needs glasses. He stopped wearing them after Rosiepuff got eaten to fully avoid any connection with Brozone and his boyband persona. He's not completely blind and can still get around, but he relies mostly on his other senses (which also got way more sharp because of that), and has to get up close to see things in detail.

A HC I think I shared before: Branch is freakishly strong, but doesn't look it at first glance - He's very much humbled the bros (especially JD and Bruce) with this fact, when they try to wrestle him into a headlock to give him a nookie or a Wet Willy (JD and Bruce) and he just won't budge (Kismet knows to not even try) or when they want to help him carry something and they almost collapse under they weight when he hands it to them.

Besides being his vehicle, Rhonda is also JD's (unofficial) therapy animal.

Clay can't swim. He never learned since he spent his entire life in either the trolltree or the abandon golfcourse. When Bruce learns this, he takes it upon himself to try and teach him, but to their shared frustration, they both (Clay and Bruce) discover that Clay is apparently deadly afraid of open waters.

Bruce also didn't know how to swim when he first left the trolltree. He got washed up on vacay Island, having been staying afloat by holding onto a branch. The vacationers taught him how to swim.

JD can cook circles around most trolls. He did most of the cooking back in the trolltree 'cuz Rosiepuff was a horrible cook (referencing her apparently rancid-tasting fluffleberry cake), he also taught (Sp)Bruce how to cook, but never got around to teach the others 'cuz they split up. Bruce later incorporated some of JD's recipes into the menu at the restaurant.

Branch's tastebuds are pretty hardened (some might say almost nonexistent), and trolls tend to assume it's from his survival years, where he'd just eat whatever as long as it was edible, didn't matter what it tasted like. In reality, it's mostly from solely eating Rosiepuff's cooking for like maybe a year or two after the band split up (yeah that's all it took to mess them tastebuds up for years after). Ofc in the beginning, he had to force himself to even put the food in his mouth, but he did it 'cuz he wanted to make his grandma happy.

Kismet was formed shortly after the bros left. It was Rosiepuff who encouraged Branch to socialize with other trollings around his age, since he became very closed off after the split (tho' I think he'd been a pretty shy and quiet kid to begin with (with the exception of when he performed as Bitty B))

Branch used to get bullied (more) for his greyness as a kid. Kismet would chase them off.

Although Branch is not as forgiving either, Kismet 100% holds a grudge for the bros leaving Branch - the Snackpack too, when they also learn what happened.

The bros are absolutely bewildered by the fact that Branch is dating the Queen, and that he'd probably one day be King. Branch himself gets very anxious when they mention this; just the thought of that much responsibility and being in the spotlight like that has him sweating.

Bruce's favorite way of annoying Branch is to tease him about his and Poppy's relationship, asking him when he can expect the wedding invitations and some nieces or nephews. In reality, it's probably Poppy that proposes in the future, with a long, romantic and heartfelt speech ofc (and yes, he cries).

That's all I got for now

[mvltisstuff]

Eddie Diaz x female reader

Eddie and reader are childhood sweethearts and have been engaged for 4 years with their wedding is in a few months, reader is also a firefighter with the 118 & also maddie’s best friend. Reader is also close friends with Ravi and Buck. Reader is walking home one night alone after collecting food for Chris and Eddie when she gets mugged and attacked and left for dead in an alleyway, she has multiple injuries such as a gunshot or stab wound, dislocated shoulder, dislocated knee, broken arm along with cuts and bruises to her face. Someone finds her and she ends up in the hospital in a coma, eddie has a breakdown in the hospital and Chris also visits reader crying. Reader wakes up and panics about the wedding as she needs physical therapy on her knee that was injured, worried that she won’t be able to walk down the isle to Eddie, she has a panic attack and everything goes wrong. Maddie tries to help her through it. You can decide on the rest. 🩶🩶

sorry this is so long😅🥲

hope you’re doing well and having a great summer ❤️‍🩹🤍 xx

let the light in - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x reader

gif from @housewifebuck

a/n: this request is from quite some time ago, but it’s been in the drafts for too long! i apologize and hope you enjoy <3 also this is not proofread btw 😭

each hit to her body ricocheted through her muscles, feeling the marks and scars form on her skin. it was a foreign feeling, one of fear and pain. y/n was helpless on the ground of the alley, and there was nothing she could do.

her heartbeat thumped in her ears, and she was horrified that she might not even look the same, let alone be the same. she faces things like this every single day, saving someone’s life but she could barely manage to save her own.

she only wanted to bring home food for chris and eddie, her beloved ones who instantly became her family. she was almost like a mother to christopher, and he was connected to her as she was always there for him.

the moment eddie proposed to y/n, he knew that there would be no hesitation. he had never felt this way about a woman before, let alone want to live with her until their hair turned grey. every single part of y/n left eddie enamored, just falling for her all over again. her persistence and attitude was nothing but precious to him, and he couldn’t help but love every part of her.

he waited for her to come home, knowing that she would be stopping at the grocery store. it was late, the sky dark and the streets only illuminated by the street lamps. he knows how tough she is, and she’d be ok. so, he patiently waited at home with his son, the worries in the far back of his head.

as y/n’s body was dragged about and penetrated with sharpness, all she could think about was her fiancé and stepson at home. the two people she loves most in this world. it was so hard not to give up and let these criminals take her life, but she knew neither of them could deal with her life being stripped away.

let alone the 118. bucks been her best friend since day one, being the first supporter of her and eddie’s relationship. he completely adores her and her humor, along with her strong work ethic. ravi has always looked up to her from the moment he stepped into the station on his first day. she assisted him and taught him with kindness, but didn’t go easy on him. she’s the reason that ravi is the firefighter he is, and he idolizes her for that, in and out of work. hen and chimney have been alongside her, running into each building and saving a civilian. she was almost too good to be true, and the people who attacked her had no idea.

the men heard the crumbling of rocks underneath tires, and scurried away into the midnight. y/n was left there to rot, laying on the hard ground and feeling herself bleed out. her entire body was in agony, but it was nothing compared to the thought of losing herself.

her weak fingers traveled to her pockets, taking out her phone with a shattered screen. surprisingly, the group wasn’t smart enough to steal it, and she thanked god for it. her blurry vision was tempting her, minutes away from fading into complete darkness. her mind was shrouded with negativity, but a flicker of hope came in when she heard maddies voice on the other side of the phone.

“maddie.” y/n groans, practically inaudible. maddie freezes at the letters of her name leave this woman’s mouth, being strictly confused but also horrified. “y/n.”

the slightly collection of blood in her mouth made the words jumble together, maddie using every ounce of brain power to put the pieces together.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t-“ the light goes off in maddies brain, finally being able to put the letters together, forming y/n’s name. “y/n?” she hears a painful groan of agreement from the muffled earpiece. “can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“they tried to kill me,” y/n informs her, slowing her breathing but it only makes her head spin faster. her eyes are closed, fighting the unconsciousness that’s begging to take over. “maddie, i’m not gonna be able to stay awake, but… i-i’m somewhere near the interchange.”

“y/n, honey, you have to try and stay awake for me, okay?” maddie begs, her eyes filling with moisture as she hears y/n’s small voice come through the phone in stutters. “y/n?” the phone lands over her torso, beginning to be stained with blood as y/n’s mind is shrouded in black, unable to process anything any longer.

eddie sat in the living room with christopher, watching a show for chris to practice his spanish. they were both invested in the plot, but also trying to expose christopher to the language.

eddie adored nights like this with his son. christopher is his sun, and his world revolves around him. he protects christopher with every ounce of his being, and there’s not a moment where he regrets any of it. the room was dimmed, the wick of the candle radiating a sweet smell as the words on the tv came through.

there was excitement in his mind as well, knowing y/n would be home soon to greet them. her alluring smile would be seen the moment she stepped in the door, and her bewitching voice became music to the boys. instead, when he heard others car doors slam, he was confronted with silence from his front door afterwards.

the next 15 minutes passed slowly but surely, and there were no signs of y/n coming home. he checked his phone only to find no messages or calls. his thoughts began to run through everything that could’ve happened, and he attempted to focus on the brighter ones. he finally heard the knock on the door, the pounding coming off assertive. somehow, he still wanted to find optimism and it could’ve been y/n.

when the door swung open, a burly man who was slightly taller than eddie stood in front of him. he had on a jacket with the LAPD, and eddie’s heart fell at the look on his face. it was blank on the outside, but eddie could tell he was here to deliver something horrid. he listened as the officer deeply uttered his first and last name, christopher lifting his head to the door at the unfamiliar voice.

in this line of work, eddie knew exactly why the man was here. “where is she?” eddie’s voice crackles, showing weakness when he’s so used to being strong.

the ride to the hospital was silent, deafening silence that only turned up the volume on eddie’s fears. the chugged through his head like a train on tracks, and he could barely see straight. he had absolutely no idea what to expect, only knowing that his girl was in the hospital. for all he could know, she could be wide awake or she could be in the morgue.

it felt like someone had grasped his heart, restricting him from breathing as he saw the almost empty waiting room. he desperately looked for anyone, finally landing his eyes on maddie.

“maddie!” he shouts, stomping over to her in anxiety. “what the hell happened?”

“i got a call,” maddie told him, her voice shaky and uncertain. “i could barely even tell who it was -her voice was so different- she told me that they tried to… they tried to kill her.” maddie mumbles the last part out, not wanting to imagine her closest friend’s life being taken.

the room started becoming blurry, all sights and sounds around eddie becoming irrelevant. it felt like he was the only person in the room, and someone from above was pointing and laughing at him. it was like a gunshot, being thrown back at the sudden force, or in this case, the sudden news that someone had attempted murder on y/n.

“i called buck, he’s on his way,” maddie says, fidgeting with her hands as she looks into eddie’s distant eyes. “eddie, sit down-“

“what room is she in?”

“i don’t know if you want to see her like this so fa-“

“maddie, i love you like a sister, but if you don’t tell me what room she’s in, i swear…”

“she’s in 319,” and that was the last thing eddie heard before taking wide steps through the hallways, his feet swiftly carrying him through the hospital as he eyes the door numbers. 316, 317, 318, and the one that held y/n inside. he prepared himself for the worst, but nothing could compare to actually seeing it.

each cut on her face was surrounded by a thick bruise disguising her angelic features. her soft, welcoming expression was replaced with discomfort and tightness. her eyes were tired and screwed shut, begging to remain closed and her lips were tightly coiled around the thick tube down her throat. the mechanical breaths pumped through her body, and eddie only hurt himself more with every step he took to her room.

she heard the thumping of footsteps down the hall, and prayed that it was eddie on his way to save her. she wanted him to just pick her up and they could run away, live their life and forget about all that happened that evening. she wanted to smile, but the look on his face was only disappointing.

his face looked as if someone had landed a punch to his gut, leaving his stomach dropping and shakiness building through his hands. he could barely figure out the words to say. his beautiful girl, the one he lays with at night and the one who kisses him with her soft lips. the one who he cries to and laughs with, and someone tried to steal it.

she had a long, white cast over her leg, being slightly elevated in the bed. he could see the bandages all over her body, and the thick wrap of gauze around her belly. he didn’t have any idea what to say, and it brought eddie back to the former years.

before he and y/n dated, shannon had passed away as eddie watched the life leave her eyes. he felt everything, the guilt, the grief, the anger. it took too long for things to return, but he never, ever wanted to experience that again. he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t manage to push through losing y/n.

y/n wanted to move so bad, she used all fibers of her muscles to try and bring herself up to meet eddie, but she was only met with his frozen figure staring down at her own. someone had put chains on her body, restricting her from moving or speaking, let alone open her eyes. she wanted to be caught while she was falling, but was just left dangling in the air without a hand to grab onto. just by the aura eddie reflects, she knew he was there.

he stepped closer, running his smooth fingers down her rough wounds, brushing her silky hair down. the hissing of her intubation flooded the silent room, realizing that it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

the door had remained open, the doctor entering the room and knocking on the open door. he stepped out and stood in front of the bed, carrying binders and charts in his arms. he looked through them, explaining each familiar term to eddie as he went down the list of y/n’s injuries. the doctor knew eddie well, him returning to the hospital to drop off a patient, or god forbid a patient himself. he let eddie sit alone next to her in the room, watching the very small movements of her chest.

the next person came rushing in, much faster than the doctor had. buck swung the door open, maddie trailing behind him in hesitation to see her friend like this.

“jesus,” buck whispers under his breath, stepping closer to eddie who’s elbows kneel on his knees. “you holding up?”

“i’m fine,” eddie tells his friend, fully aware he’s far from it. his eyes wander down to the ring in maddies hand, the one eddie remembers shining in the little box. it’s been years, but with their schedules, they could never find a date. they found their perfect venue and time, and y/n was so excited. now, it was questioned whether or not she would even make it to their wedding.

“i’ll call her family and take care of stuff for her and work,” buck assists, patting eddie’s shoulder before moving back out of the room with his cell phone. maddie takes this opportunity to step closer to eddie, and try to touch his heart to help ease the pain.

“you need to eat, or walk for a bit, eddie.” maddie tells him, lightly throwing her arms up and receiving zero glances from him. when she notices the distance in his eyes, she knows exactly what he needs. “eddie!”

he perks up, looking into maddies soothing eyes and seeing her begin to walk toward the door. “she’ll be ok for a minute, please just come with me.” she pleads, finally achieving to get eddie out of the uncomfortable hospital chair.

eddie follows maddie through the halls like he’s just a kid, letting his mother lead him through. it was a strange feeling, one that was out of his control. the control that he’s so used to having. maddie sauntered casually through the thick white walls and metal stretchers in the halls. she looked up and down the stretch of area, seeing no nurses or doctors. she swung open the storage closet, yanking eddie in and standing in front of the door. she leaned against it, looking into eddie’s exhausted eyes. they were so close to breaking, and maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“it’s ok to let yourself take a break.” maddie says to eddie, watching him place his hands on his hips and allow his tired eyes to well up. “do whatever you have to. scream, cry, lay on the ground, throw those lap pads. it’s clear as day that you’re about to fall apart and you can’t carry this weight and be there for her at the same time.”

he spun around, spitting out a dry chuckle and losing the eye contact. he couldn’t face it, he couldn’t handle someone watching him look so weak. however, when maddie turned around, he knew that she was safe, and that he was too.

first, his breathing starts to pick up along with the sharp burning in his nostrils. it was as if the gears of an attack started turning, and eddie knew now that there was nothing to stop them.

his hands began to shake, messily frizzing his gelled hair as his fingers ran through it. his already tightened chest had began to feel like it was being crushed, and someone was wrapping their strong fingers around his heart.

the tears started coming in constant streams down his cheeks, leaving shiny residue on the soft skin. he tasted the salty cries on his lips whenever he took a deep inhale. with a strange sensation, there’s a feeling of lightness throughout his body. he knows too well that y/n remains helpless in the other room, but he also knows that he can’t control it.

in such a simply way, eddie cries. he cries for his son, who he knows is going to be completely shredded by the news of y/n’s condition. he cries for her parents, thinking about someone’s little girl in that bed. he cries for himself, watching his beloved fiancé lose herself. of course, he cries for y/n and how everything she loves has vanished due to the villains in this world.

when maddie turns back around, eddie is hunched over with his head in his hands. his fingers aggressively swipe at his eyes and cheeks, trying to rid any signs of upset in his face. maddie gives him the smallest, but the most reassuring smile that he’s gotten in a while. she opens the door, stepping out and they both walk back to y/n’s room.

eddie didn’t want christopher to see y/n so vulnerable like this. y/n had been a role model to chris since the day he met her, becoming an instant prized person in his life. christopher knew y/n was hurt, buck being the one to break the news as eddie physically couldn’t form the words. a few days had passed, and christopher still had not seen y/n, or barely even known what happened. someone did something bad, and that’s the only thing he could handle hearing.

christopher begged to see y/n to his dad, who tried to hide the situation from him as long as possible. he allowed eventually, becoming aware of the unfairness, and that christopher deserves to see favorite person, too.

buck walked into the doors with christopher, eddie meeting them at the front. eddie had become more accustomed to the sight of y/n on the bed, and her limp figure resting silently. he couldn’t help but let out a cheesy grin at his son, seeing him excitedly walk in to see y/n.

“dad!” he shouts, stepping closer to eddie who then embraces him.

“hey, chris!” he replies, thrilled to see his boy after the past few days from hell.

“is y/n better yet?” he asks, and the naivety almost breaks eddie.

“uh, not yet, buddy,” eddie mumbles. “she’s still sleeping.”

“can i please see her?”

“you can, of course, but christopher,” eddie kneels down to match his height, placing his hands on christopher’s sides. “i want you to know that she doesn’t look normal right now. it’s okay to be scared.”

“are you scared?”

eddie looks at the ground, not wanting his son to see him in his moment of weakness. he looks at buck, who wears the matching expression of glumness on his face. ���yeah, i am. but, it’s going to be ok.” he takes christopher to the room, greeting everyone else who came to visit her.

hen leans against the wall of the room, toward the end of her bed. chim sits against the window, a grimace formed on his lips. ravi had come to visit, only being able to watch y/n on the small mattress. bobby watched, painfully, from the corner as well. athena had stopped by, but she was still on duty and had to leave.

christopher walked in, stepping up toward the bed and seeing a smile form on everyone’s face. they adore him, but he doesn’t understand how they can smile right now. “can she hear me?”

“i think she can,” hen replies, giving another grieving, but comforting expression

“y/n,” he begins. “i know you’re really hurt, but we all need you to come back. it’s not your fault, but you have to come back to us, and dad. everyone is here for you, and we all love you. you’ve always taken care of me, and i need you. you can’t let the bad guys win.”

eddie leans against the doorframe, his hand over his mouth and tears sprinting back down his face. he attempts to choke back the audible sobs, but the silent weeping in the corner almost felt worse.

the days passed, slow and agonizing days of seeing her only linear condition. it felt like nothing was going anywhere, until the doctors came in to check her on the week mark.

“her brain function is looking pretty good, it’s honestly best that the coma saved some of it. her heart rate looks extraordinary, and her white blood cell count is good, mr. diaz.”

the good news comes light as a feather to eddie, barely touching the optimism in his head. he knows he should be happy, but until he sees that beautiful face that he calls his awake and alert, nothing will be the same. he knew he should be grateful that she’s even breathing, but what he would give to be able to bring her back to the surface and hold his hand.

as much as it stung his heart, life continued without y/n’s consciousness. he had a child who had needs, a family who had needs, the person inside of him that also had needs. he was too smart to know that he was destroying himself every minute that he spent next to her brittle body. maddie swore to spend every second with her that eddie couldn’t be.

she sat besides her, spoke to her, told her stories and read her books. maddie always let y/n cry on her shoulder, now it was maddie weeping on her bedside. hours ticked by on the shiny hospital clocks, and the sun crept down and dimmed the sky along with the room. maddies eyes were pushed with weight, her own sleepiness covering her thoughts. she allowed herself to slump back on the chair, pulling her legs up and her breathing began to shallow, lulling herself to sleep.

the next time she awoke was around six in the morning, the morning sky slowly being illuminated by the orange sunrise. the light outside was glorious, the painting on the horizon better than any artist could create. the swift streaks of clouds only simply covered the sliver of sun peeking out.

when maddie stretched out her arms, she smiled at the warm colors outside the big glass window, she searched around the room, noticing the soft sound of fabric shuffling on the bed.

it was almost like a ghost had appeared and laid in the bed, moving itself around over the sheets. maddie directed her eyes closer, seeing y/n’s fragile fingers twitch and run over the smooth bed.

“y/n?” maddie asks, her voice still weak from her slumber. she begins to sit up, faster than before, to examine y/n’s face. there’s a brighter color to her features, her cheeks became more pigmented and she looked more full. she didn’t just look like another body in the hospital, waiting for her heart to give up on itself.

the more words that left maddie’s mouth, the more flickering she saw on y/n’s face. her heart was pounding against her chest, feeling the anxiety rise through her spine. “hey, y/n.” she whispers, giving a reassuring squeeze to her hand. after a few moments that felt like centuries, y/n’s eyelashes fluttered a bit, and her red, tired irises were finally revealed again.

eddie was laying on the couch, unable to sleep in the bed that once held the couple together. it felt eerily cold without her, his hand subconsciously floating over to run a hand over her back, only to be confronted with the chilly satin. he never wanted to leave y/n, but he also know that she would never want him to fall apart in the hospital watching her. he so badly wanted his eyes to finally shut, being able to give him even an hour of rest. someone had their fingers holding open his eyes, painting horrible images in his mind.

he turned on his back, his arm behind his head and staring into the bumpy, popcorn ceilings of his home. the home he shares with his son and his fiancée, the two people he cherishes the most. now, it was filled with darkness and loss and he prayed that he could get it back.

something grabbed ahold of his mind, halting his thoughts with the blaring noise of his ringtone. when he saw the ID of maddie illuminate his phone, he thought of the worst. either y/n was dead, and he never gets to see her again, or nothing has changed, and there is only more of an agonizing wait.

“eddie, you should get here,” was all he needed to hear over the phone before he roused christopher, dropping him off to get more rest at his tías, and eddie continued to speed over to the hospital.

the tube was gone. it was replaced with a skinnier cord, only pushing air into her through her lungs. her face, still bruised and scraped, but so alive. her eyes shined through the room, meeting eddie’s with a slight upturn of her lip. she was laying on her side with her hand under her cheek. the dark bags under her eyes were clear, but practically matching with eddie’s.

the moment he walked into that room and saw her, his rapid heartbeat began to slow, leaving a dropping sensation in his chest. he scurried over, not being able to stop himself from placing a long kiss on her lips, the ones that had just almost been taken from him.

“i am so, so sorry, mi vida, i wish i were here when you woke up,” he cries, tears welling up in his eyes.

“but you’re here now,” she rasps out, trying to lose the discomfort in her voice. “you’ve been here the whole time for me.”

“don’t ever leave me like that again,” he sighs, pressing his forehead against her own, letting her wired hand be placed on his cheek.

“i wasn’t scared of them,” y/n tells him. “i was scared that they’d take you away from me. i don’t ever want to leave you in the dust like i did last night.”

“last week, honey,” eddie grins with a bit of pity on his voice.

“oh, yeah,” she chuckles a bit, but afterwards grimacing at the pain in her abdomen.

“you should go to sleep, get some real rest this time.”

“i just slept for like, 160 hours, eddie.”

“i know, baby, but you still need to let yourself heal.” she smiles up at him, silently thanking him for his gentleness and tranquility. she nods, as he steps out to see the doctor. maddie returns back in, clutching her purse by her side and smiling her gorgeous maddie beam.

“hi again,” y/n smiles, seeing her best friend walk into the room once more.

maddie carefully walks in, placing her bag down and hugging y/n’s laying figure. “how are you feeling?”

“physically, a bit better,” y/n says.

“but what about the y/n i love. how is she doing in there?”

y/n pauses, all the thoughts rushing back through her head. every sentence screams through her ears, wanting to push itself to the front of her mind. every worry, every fear comes clean to the surface.

“maddie, i don’t know what to do,” her eyes begin to water, and her voice starts to tremble along with her hands. “we’ve been trying to plan this wedding for so long, and those men just took it all away from me. how am i supposed to just move on from that? i’m never going to be able to be the same after that. and eddie,” she sighs, pushing a long exhale out through her mouth. “i feel like i completely destroyed him with this. and now, i have to go to PT and i can’t even walk down the isle by myself! one of these days he’s gonna realize that i’m not worth anything anymore. i’m horrified that every day he has to take care of me, is just one part of him that doesn’t want me anymore.”

her breathing picks up, maddie trying to ease her but ultimately not being able to with just a simple touch. she looks at eddie, still focused on the doctor.

“listen, y/n/n,” maddie begins. “that gang took so much from you, but you have so many people on your side. they lost, you won. and with eddie, he would bleed himself dry if it meant you came home with him. every single breath you take is worth a million dollars to him. you are the most, fighter bitch i’ve ever met, and if anyone’s going to bounce back from this, it’s you. the moment you two kiss on that one night, all this worrying will be for nothing. he is your soldier, and he’ll never leave you. he would fight the gods if it meant he could keep you next to him every night.”

the tears fall onto her pillowcase, leaving several dark patches besides her face. eddie turns back around, letting himself back into to room only to see the upset written all over y/n’s face.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, the sweetness in the delivery of his words. maddie looks up at him, her eyebrows tilting up together in a sadness for her friend. sharp inhales and gasps come through y/n’s body, using her shaking hand to wipe the wet tears from her cheeks. “you’re ok, baby, i got you.” he tells her, sitting besides her on the bed and caressing her side. maddie kisses her cheek, stepping out of the room to leave the engaged pair alone.

“i never want to be away from you again,” she sobs. “promise me you’ll never leave me, and i promise i’ll always love you.”

“i’ll make this promise to you until the day we grow grey hair, or the day you don’t remember me anymore. i’ll promise you this every single day. i mean it when i say i love you more than anything.”

[peachpitlover]

Vulnerable

In which Y/n is JJ’s anxious girl but he’ll always protect her.

Pairing: JJ Maybankx Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Swearing (just a little), talk of anxiety and ocd, mentions of medication, mentions of physical abuse (not reader or jj), and smut

My Masterlists

~~~

JJ learned early on in their friendship that Y/n was much more reserved than the rest of the group. Don’t get him wrong, she was fun and outgoing and silly, but the smallest thing would have her shrinking into herself. It was only when they started dating that she opened up to him. She explained that she was diagnosed with severe anxiety when she was twelve, as well as OCD. Her mom tried every possible remedy in the book; therapy, OCD clinics, meditation, and natural remedies but nothing worked. She got put onto medication after a year of no relief and the dose was slowly rising until about a year ago. The medication did a great deal to help her, but her thoughts were still often clouded with anxiety. While the severity of Y/n’s OCD died down a lot, she still found herself needing to check her pockets and bag multiple times before leaving the house, and opening and closing the fridge door more times than she can count “because it didn’t sound right.” The Pogues knew better than to disturb her antics and waited patiently for her to sigh in relief and look up with a smile.

Once Kiara had tried to interrupt Y/n’s trance of opening and closing the front door of the Chateau, but it only ended in Y/n cutting into the palms of her hands with her nails as she tried to control herself and tears from the anxiety she felt because once again “it didn’t feel right.” JJ had also once tried to stop her from the never ending cycle of Y/n tapping each side of her arm to make it “feel even.” Then, she had snapped at JJ and locked him out of his own room. She’s well aware that this only exists in her head, but it doesn’t do much to make the feeling any less real.

JJ is against the headboard of her bed with Y/n on his lap. His hands roaming from her shoulders to her hips and back as he kissed her. With both hands in his hair, Y/n panted and squirmed in his arms while her hips gently ground into his.

“You want to do something tonight, angel? Don’t have to, I just think you’re a little needy,” he smiled as he broke away from her swollen lips.

“Um,” she mumbled. “maybe. I don’t know, like what?”

“Anything you want, maybe just putting my hand inside your shorts and rubbing you? Hm, how’s that sound?”

“I don’t know J,” she whined as she picked at her nails.

JJ only frowned and took her hands in his.

“Don’t have to do anything you don’t want, ok baby? Just tell me you don’t like it and we’ll stop,” he’s heard the story of her friend in high school who beat up his girlfriend. He was the last person you would expect to do something like that, and the thought constantly haunted her mind when surrounded by men. She trusted JJ with her whole heart, but her brain told her that she could never know for sure.

“Like, how?”

“How I would rub you?” He clarified.

“Mhm,” she whispered.

He smiled at her shyness: “Just over your panties sweet girl, unless you want more. Just play with your little clit and make you feel good,” he spoke as he held eye contact with her.

“Yeah,” she murmured as her eyes dropped to their intertwined hands.

“Yeah? You want that?”

She nodded with a shy smile before hiding in his neck and he tsked at her.

“Gotta use your words. I’m not gonna do anything until you say what you want.”

“I want that, JJ.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, yes please,” she whined.

“That’s my girl, kiss me baby. I’ll do the rest,” he smiled as she surged forward and her hands went straight to his hair.

JJ continued to kiss her and rub her back as his right hand crept lower and lower until it was resting over her hip, massaging at the skin and pulling at the band of her sleep shorts.

“Can I, baby?” He spoke against her.

“Yes,” she whined and connected their lips again.

As his hand dipped into her shorts the slightest bit, her stomach tensed involuntarily.

“It’s ok,” she whispered almost immediately.

He continued until his fingers were resting just above her clit and his wrist submerged fully into her shorts.

“Just focus on kissing me, baby,” he whispered into her mouth and moved his left hand to her lower back.

Once his fingers rested on her clit, she jumped and gasped, he felt her lashes flutter against his skin as her eyes shot open.

“It’s ok, angel. I’ve got you, I’d never hurt you, my baby. You’re ok,” he whispered.

“It’s just…” she cut herself off as she pulled her head back.

“I know, you’re ok. You’re my sweet girl, I’d never hurt you. Not ever, if you want to stop we can.”

“I know that, it’s just new, is all.”

“I know, and you’re doing so good for me, do you wanna keep going?”

“Yes please.”

He smiled against her lips and kissed the corner of her mouth. Moving his lips to her cheeks and jaw, and eventually her neck. JJ pressed his fingers into her gently and he felt her thighs tense; “I’m ok,” she whispered.

“You’re ok,” he confirmed in between kissing. He began to circle his fore and middle fingers against her as gently as possible.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“Oh?” JJ smiled into her neck.

“I like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, feels really nice,” she breathed out an almost moan as he pushed his fingers against her mound with a little more pressure.

“Must have been aching, huh sweet girl? I can feel how warm you are.”

“Needed it,” she whined.

“Yeah? You needed me to touch you?”

“Mhm- JJ!” She sucked in some air as he let his hands dip until his fingers rested over her slit, still over her panties. He pushed slightly, not enough to push his fingers in, but enough to satiate that ache and draw out a loud moan.

“I know, I’ve got you,” he whispered before his lips found hers once again and his left hand on her back pulled her impossibly closer.

“I liked the other thing, can you do that again?”

“You liked when I rubbed your clit?”

“Mhm,” she moaned and bucked her hips when his fingers rested on her covered clit.

“Words, baby. Or I’ll stop,” he reminded gently.

“Yes, J! Please,” JJ couldn’t get enough of the sweet moans and whimpers that came from her, they made his stomach flip as an ache settled between his legs.

“More please,” she whimpered and ground her hips down into his hand.

“Can I touch you under your panties? Is that what you want?” Y/n couldn’t help the way her stomach fluttered when he called them panties.

“Yes please, I really want that,” she whispered and smiled shyly.

“Ok sweet girl,” he smiled and slid his hand into her panties. “God, you’re so fucking wet, baby.”

“Oh fuck!” She cried and closed her hand around his hair and tugged.

“Feels good?” He teased her.

“S-so good. Please, please,” she didn’t know what she was asking for, her mind too muddled with pleasure to think of anything else.

“Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes, yes J, please.”

“Cum for me, angel, I’ve got you.”

Her moans became louder and more frantic as her head fell back and her thighs began to shake.

“Oh my god!” Y/n came with one final mewl.

“Good girl, so good for me.”

“Thank you JJ,” she smiled as she nuzzled her head into his neck.

“Don’t have to thank me. I hate to make you get up but I have to go to the bathroom.”

“No, just a few minutes, please?” She pouted and whined.

“I gotta go take care of myself then I’m all yours.”

She stared at him for a moment before her eyes widened in understanding; “Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I’ll be quick I promise,” he kissed her one last time before standing up.

“JJ?” She called just before he entered the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you, thank you,” she smiled.

“I love you more than you know, angel girl.”

[sturnzyolo]

I love you, I'm sorry.

Matt Sturniolo x Fem reader

Summary: "Guys & Girls can never just be friends" I used to think that was a lie, until I met you.

WARNINGS: love confession, bestfriends, fluff, kissing, lying, crying?, etc.

Matt & I have been bestfriends since middle school. It all started when I asked to borrow a calculator. Once I handed it back, he asked for help on the work, & as I tutored Matt, we connected more & more. He turned into my closest friend, the one person I could tell everything to, the only person I wanted by my side throughout it all.

Everything was the same for years, every morning Matt would pick me up and take me to school with his brothers, everday he would walk me to each class, he would eat lunch with me, and he would drive me back to his house to hangout before walking me back home.

Everyday was the same yet so different. I was close with Matt's whole family, but nobody could beat my bond with Matt. He was all I needed in life.

I always assumed life would continue this way until we all inevitably had to split, but I didn't see that happening anytime soon. They were like my family. Most people would think a girl can't be friends with guys without there being some kind of feelings or connection between them. I always denied that, I never pictured Matt in that way. He was my bestfriend, nothing more.

January 8th, 2024

I've noticed Matt start to hangout with me less and less, I had assumed he was just busy, especially with how his new YouTube career has been starting for the triplets. I was proud that they were going after their dreams, but I was a bit sad that I saw him less than usual.

I thought about this as I was getting ready for school, I wondered if it could be more than him just being busy.

My clouded mind soon cleared at the sound of my phone's notification, I quickly put down my makeup brush and picked up my phone to read the message.

(yes I got a whole app to do fake messages AND WHAT ABT IT.)

I was in slight shock to read the message, Matt always took me to school no matter what. The only times he didn't was for therapy but he hasn't gone before school in awhile.

I tried to not show him how much I cared about the change he's been showing. He was never so distant from me. Did I do something wrong? Was something going on with him? I let my mind run on the possibilities for what I had done for him to be treating me so much differently from before.

I got to school by walking since I was still saving up for my own car. I waited for Matt at the front doors, since we always walked from class to class together. He never showed, he must've went in through the back or gotten here before me. I went to each class alone or with any of my girl friends, although Nick took me to Spanish class. I was too scared to ask him about his brother's new behavior.

January 26th, 2024

Matt's act kept up for more than 2 weeks, I saw him and spoke to him less and less everyday. I didn't want to lose him like this, I didn't want to have to forget about him in a way that felt like I was forced to. I was honestly fed up with it, so I decided that I needed to text him, right now.

(you barely even look in my direction*) sorry guys I didn't see the error before

I rolled my eyes and slammed my phone screen down with a frustrated huff. It felt pointless even attempting to have a real conversation with Matt, and it was exhausting.

I watched the pouring rain outside my window. My thoughts wandered for atleast a half hour about Matt, I couldn't understand what went wrong, and I wanted to know so badly. All I wanted was my bestfriend again and he couldn't even have one genuine conversation with me.

My conflictions were abruptly cut short when a loud knock on my door came, at first I didn't want to even get up. It was probably some stupid sales person. Another knock came, I flipped over and looked at my phone 12:47 am who the fuck would be at my door this late!?

my question was quickly answered with a yell after another knock "Y/n please open up, it's Matt, come on its pouring" his voice made me quickly get up in disbelief as I ran downstairs.

I unlocked and slowly opened the door to see Matt in a disheveled state, his eyes were a light pink while his eyebags were swollen, his nose was red, his hair was wet and his clothes were drenched.

"Hey, look can I just come in, please?" Matt asked softly with a slight break of his voice, circling around the reason he was here

"You were just being a complete asshole, no, why are you even here, go home" I was upset and clearly didn't want to talk to him at all but seeing him like this hurt.

"Please y/n/n, I walked all the way here just to talk to you, just let me in." He pleaded with a sniffle from his nose

"Oh, so I have to let you in, when you don't even let me? You've been acting like a completely new person, you shouldn't be here, I mean you did say your life is more than just me." I said in an argumentative tone as I held my ground with a cold gaze over to him

"No, no, please y/n I didn't mean that, you know I didn't. I know I've been an asshole but.. I can't keep lying to myself, and lying to you. I couldn't see you and talk to you because it was destroying me y/n/n." Matt muttered with stumbles over his words, he anxiously fiddled with his fingernails.

"Why, what did I do? What have you been lying about, because it's been killing me, you've been a dick to me and have been treating me like I'm nothing, so what the fuck did I do to deserve that!?" I said angrily with my tone growing louder

"Nothing! Nothing y/n, you're perfect to me. you make me utterly speechless sometimes but it kills me that I can't have you. I know you've never seen me as more as just your bestfriend, but I love you, y/n. I'm in love with you, I know it sounds fucking crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you, I was lying saying my life is more than just you, because you're all I need in my life other than my family, and I can't even breathe when I'm not around you, it feels like I'm fucking suffocating. You're my bestfriend, but I can't help to want more. I love you, I'm sorry if that's so wrong, but no matter what you say I will continue to love you, because there isn't a bone in my body that isn't dying for you to love me back." Matt spoke in one whole breath, almost yelling as he confessed. His chest rose and fell heavily waiting for my answer

MATT POV

I looked at y/n as my eyes filled with tears, her face was in disbelief as her eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. 'God she's beautiful' I thought as my eyes traveled her face while I breathed heavily. I needed her to say something, anything. I felt like an idiot in this silence, I could ruin everything because of this, I had loved her since the first moment I laid eyes on her but I knew I could never have her in the way I wanted, so I settled for what I had. I just couldn't take lying to her anymore, so I pushed her away, but I needed to tell her, I needed to give her a real reason, even if it ended horribly.

Her lips clasped together again as she seemed to finally had formed a sentence for me, while she straightened her eyebrows slightly. Her soft gazed eyes looked into mine as my breath hitched quietly, then they went down to my lips, causing my face to falter even more.

Her actions were quick as she stepped out of her front door, joining me in the rain before wrapping her fingers into the back of my wet hair. She pulled my head down softly before she kissed me. Her lips were so soft and her touch could make me melt, I didn't even hesitate for a second to kiss her back. I wanted this moment to last forever, my hands gently snaked to hold either side of her waist.

I groaned as she slowly parted from the kiss

Y/N POV

I barely even processed his words as my body took control, I eventually found myself in a deep passionate kiss with my bestfriend. It felt amazing, his lips had a faint taste of pineapple, his lips and hair were both so soft. His hands around my waist felt so right. I parted from the kiss slowly before looking up into his eyes, his gaze still pleading with me for more even after his needy groan.

"Matt, I love you too. I always will, in whatever way you need it to be, I'm yours." I soundlessly admitted before his hand moved up to carefully grab my cheek as he pulled me in to kiss him again, the rain poured onto us as he swept me off my feet.

The kiss didn't break for even a split second as my legs wrapped around his waist tightly. He walked me into my house, neither of us cared about the puddling leading into my home as he closed the front door behind us. He carried me upstairs to my bedroom that we've been in together hundreds of times, yet this one was so much different. The kiss broke for a minute to catch our breath as he closed and locked my bedroom door, he sat back on my bed while I sat on his lap.

He moved a piece of my hair out of my face that had fallen due to the small impact from my bed. "Y/n I've wanted this for so long, and I promise I will do everything to never mess this up because all I want to do is to love and cherish you the way you deserve. Please y/n, can you please be my girlfriend" He practically begged me, even with his puppy eyes staring into mine

"I would love nothing more Matt, I'd be more than lucky just to be your girlfriend." I answered as I held his face in my palms delicately as if he were fragile. his smile grew before he licked his lips smoothly and kissed me once more.

I never knew I loved my bestfriend, not like this, but now the only thing I could feel, was my love for him, and I didn't want this feeling to end, not now, not ever. I was yours, Matthew Sturniolo, forever and always.

I wrote this in 1 day guys oml, anyways this will be similar to the future Chris childhood bestfriends to lovers but that one will have sm more detail and angst to it, I promise. I want to esp take my time with that one to make it more meaningful but I hope you guys enjoy this one. Part 3 of Shadows will be coming out sometime today aswell, I just need to finish it. Sorry the end to this was kinda corny but I'm trying to get better with my dialogue 😔

[gurugirl]

A Balancing Act | Ch. 3*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Y/n has some explaining to do and Harry wants to show her exactly what he likes.

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, dom & sub dynamics (with use of implements), angst (light), mentions of death.

Word Count: 12,003

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

“She was married,” Harry started off their session before Pat even had a chance to sit in her usual spot.

“Who? Y/n?”

Harry nodded and sighed, “Yeah. She never told me. She’s not married now. Well, he died actually. Health condition. But I was… I just didn’t expect it. I mean…” he shook his head and crossed a leg over his knee, “I was surprised. Like… it’s a lot. You know? And it’s selfish of me to think this way but how can I be better than someone she loved enough to marry? And now he’s just gone and it’s not because he did anything wrong. She still loves him. It’s been a few years since he passed but she has this big wedding photo framed in her living room. That’s how I found out.”

Pat listened closely as Harry talked about how it made him feel. He’d gotten very good at being able to describe his feelings and was comfortable enough to verbalize them to Pat.

“So when you saw the photo what happened? I’m assuming you were at her home? You said it was in her living room.”

Harry looked up at Pat, “Oh yeah. I uh… went to visit her. We kind of had a rough go. She did find out about the girl I kissed so I flew out to see her. She was on a date and I… well I went to where they were and saw them and then-“

“Harry Styles! You did not!” Pat lambasted.

Harry gulped as he nodded, “I know. It was a questionable move. Quite immature of me, but she knows that it’s us. There’s no one else that she can connect with this way. She wound up leaving with me anyway so-“

“I’m gonna interrupt you again because I’m shocked! That is kind of the opposite of how you should have gone about seeing her again, Harry. Are you two still seeing one another? Talking?”

“Yeah, we are. She wound up telling me she liked me more anyway. It worked out. I know I shouldn’t have done it that way but it’s already done.”

“And here I thought you wanted to talk about how she’d kept a big secret from you. How you were hurt by it and how it made you feel. But having you go and intercept her during a date? She should have told you off, had you go back home. And you’re right. That was very immature. Feels like a step backward from all the work you’ve put in. You’re really good at making things happen and getting what you want,” she emphasized as Harry sighed and shook his head, “but sometimes it’s not healthy. What you did was very coercive. You can’t force your will on everyone, Harry.”

“I know. I told you I’m selfish. I don’t know why I did it. I just feel like she and I are really good for each other. I needed to make a move. Do something dramatic to prove it to her. Especially after she learned about the kiss.”

“And how did she take that news when you told her?”

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and looked down at his hands.

“You were the one to bring her the information, correct?”

He shook his head, “She saw it in some gossip article.”

“And she still welcomed you and even left her date for you? Maybe you should have her come see me too. Sounds like you both could use some emotional support and therapy.”

Harry grinned and gave Pat his sweet puppy dog eyes, “Maybe. Perhaps I can convince her to move in with me and you can see us both.”

“Okay. I think you’re moving too fast here.”

“I don’t. I’ve never felt this way before, Pat! I know it’s insane but I’m not kidding you when I tell you that she’s really good for me. I’m good for her too. Like… I’d marry her tomorrow if I could. I’m so down to just be with her.”

The therapist nodded, “So, you’re not actually bothered by the fact that she has a dead husband?”

Harry put his leg down and leaned back into his chair, “No. I am upset. Not at her because I understand why she didn’t tell me. It doesn’t make me not want to be with her. It’s just something to contend with is all. It was a shock.”

“I bet. So you really feel very deeply for her then? And she feels the same?”

“I think she does. Asked her to be my girlfriend before I left Chicago too. I know it’s fast but she’s incredible.”

“Girlfriend, huh? That’s kind of a big step.”

“I know. I’m just… I think I love her. I can’t get enough of her. I’ve never felt like this.”

“I feel like you’ve fed me those same lines before.”

Harry shook his head and looked up at Pat, “No. I swear. This time is different. I know I can’t convince you of that but it is. I love to fall in love but with Y/n it’s like life. A gift.”

Pat sighed and put her notebook down. She could see that Harry was very excited about Y/n. That he did what he thought he needed to. And while she was used to his occasional antics of forcing his hand to get his way and the way he fell in love too fast; she could see that this was indeed a little different. Even with months apart he still went after her. He still seemed to be just as excited about her.

“I see that. I’m happy for you, Harry. So what are your plans with her for when you leave for Europe in two weeks? You’ll be gone for nearly two months again. How do you intend to maintain the relationship when you’re going to be apart for so long?”

.        .        .

One week earlier

Her heart dropped when she realized what he was looking at. She hadn’t planned on telling him this way. She had planned on telling him at some point. But it was always a strange thing to bring up to people who didn’t already know about her past.

Robert was a great guy. She met him in college when she was dating around. They had a few dates but then broke up and they both dated other people but remained friends for a couple of years. Until one day he told her he didn’t like her seeing other people. That it made him jealous. She hadn’t realized.

And she hadn’t really been jealous when he was going on dates with other women. But the notion that there was a man, who was her friend, that was jealous of her going on dates, wanted her, felt this way about her… well it was quite flattering and unexpected. And the rest is history.

They got married and bought the house she currently lived in. He was a high school teacher. A genuinely nice man. A bit of a homebody at times, but she loved him with all of her heart. After they’d been married for a year he was diagnosed with having Wilson’s Disease. He was born with it (which no one knew) but only ever started showing symptoms at age 25. And by then it was too late. He was already having some major health issues. His liver was failing.

Y/N knew something was wrong when he was slurring his speech badly one evening and they had only been drinking water. And then the following day he was still slurring and he called off work because he was too tired to get out of bed. So she booked a doctor’s appointment for him and after nearly a month of running tests, one doctor suggested a urine sample, and the labs came back the following day with high levels of copper. Which indicated cirrhosis of the liver, which then pointed to Wilson’s disease.

And only six months after his diagnosis, he was gone.

She and Harry sat on her couch and she told him everything. Harry was stunned. He didn’t even know she’d been married before. But to know her husband had died? And she did admit that she still loved him. But of course, she did. Harry didn’t know how he could compete with such a thing.

“Well… I guess that kind of killed the mood. Didn’t it?” She looked at Harry who had been pretty quiet throughout her confession.

“It’s just sobering,” he looked at her as he spoke, “but, maybe we could order something in to eat? Some wine? Talk some more?”

“Harry, you don’t have to sit here and listen to me talk about my dead husband. If you want to go you can. It’s okay. Really.”

Harry scrunched his brows together and pulled her hands into his, “That’s not… Do you still want me here?”

“Well, yeah. I mean I’ve come to terms with all of this already. I just know when I talk about it to people who don’t already know they always pity me and it changes everything. So, I’m just giving you an out.”

Harry cleared his throat and slowly dragged his thumbs over her knuckles, “I don’t want an out. I want to spend time with you. Maybe we can eat, though. Kind of let this idea settle a bit and then drink some wine and put a movie on. See where the night takes us.”

And so that’s just what they did. Y/n hadn’t eaten anything because she had left the restaurant with Harry before dinner was served. And Harry hadn’t eaten either. So it was actually a perfect idea.

They talked more. Harry was practically glued to her side. Holding her hand, keeping her glass of wine filled, watching her closely, brushing his fingers down her arms. They watched a movie and Harry pulled her into his chest as they lay together on her couch.

But after about thirty minutes of having Harry’s chest pressed into her back, she felt something hard and stiff tucked into her bottom. She hadn’t taken off the dress she wore on her date and Harry wasn’t watching the movie at all. He was looking down over her pretty profile, her hips, her bum…

When she felt his lips graze over the back of her ear she realized he wasn’t actually totally turned off about hearing of her past. In fact, he was very clearly aroused. Closing her eyes she let him gently press kisses down her neck and allowed him to pull her into him tighter, grinding his hips into her plush bottom and she was relieved he still wanted her at all.

At first, she thought that he was just being sweet. Because he was a sweet guy. Maybe he felt bad for her and didn’t want to make her feel bad so he stayed. But now? Well, she was quite excited by his sudden change in demeanor back to what it had been before they’d walked into her house.

Harry’s hand smoothed down her hip to her thigh and stopped at the hem of her dress before he began pushing the material upward, “Is this okay?” He whispered against her skin.

Y/n nodded and put her hand over his, assisting him in pushing her dress up, “Yes.”

That was all he needed to have them both return to the state they’d been in before he saw the framed photo of her on her wedding day.

“Good. Then let’s turn this terrible movie off and get you naked.”

She remembered him telling her he’d brought some things. But what his small suitcase revealed was not expected, a vibrating wand, black bondage tape, 2 sets of cuffs, and various sizes of clamps. And a bottle of lube.

Harry explained everything to her as he kissed her gently and removed her clothes, “We don’t have to use any of this. But I thought it would be fun to try. I think you’ll like some of these. Have you ever been tied up?”

Y/n shook her head as she ran her fingers over the smooth tape, “No. How does this work?”

He plucked the roll from her hand and began to unwind the tape as he spoke, “This won’t stick to your skin, it only sticks to itself. But it’ll work nicely to bind you. It’s not as harsh as rope and it’s easy to come off.”

When he pulled the wand out of the little cloth bag it was in he handed it to her, “Lie flat and put this over yourself. Place it where it feels the best and whatever setting you like the most.”

Harry was slowly getting into his dom mode and Y/n could see it. He started off gently and slowly. Lots of kissing, touching, talking… he had her feeling comfortable and she trusted him. The way he slowly kissed her arms and her tits, lowering his wet lips to the heavy underside of her breasts and squeezing her nipples as he dipped over her tummy and praised her, “Fucking gorgeous. Hard to believe I got so lucky.”

But when he told her to lie flat on the bed something had shifted into a different gear. It was a minute transition but it was noticeable. He unwound the tape as he watched her do as she was told.

She was completely naked while he was still dressed, which made her feel very vulnerable, exposed. She clicked the wand on to its low setting and placed the head in a spot she knew she’d like. It did feel good. She was already a bit wet from the kissing and the gentle touches but it didn’t take long for her to begin seeping and coating the vibrating silicone bulb that was pressed against her.

Harry kneed up to the bed and pushed her thighs further apart so he could see her better, “Because you’re new to this you probably don’t have any kind of safe word in mind yet. So if you don’t like anything, just tell me. Say stop and I will. If you like all this we can think of something to use in lieu of just stop. But for now, we’re not going to get too much into that kind of roleplay so no or stop will work.”

He wanted to show her the things he liked. These were all easy introductions into the way he liked to play and if they were going to be seeing one another more he felt it was good to start her out like this. Give her a slow, soft launch so she could explore the things she liked too. He’d move it up a notch later on. For now, the debut into dom and sub-dynamics would be very delicate because she had never played this way. Eventually, they’d both learn what she liked together, that is if she wanted to stick around.

She nodded and Harry leaned over her and took the wand from her hand, “Arms over your head,” she quickly moved her arms upward as he positioned the wand against her clit and used the bondage tape to secure it in place, wrapping the tape around the handle to the top of her thigh and keeping the vibrating bulb at her pussy to give her just enough stimulation.

He climbed up and pushed her over to her tummy, the wand still working its magic, and pulled her hands behind her back, “I’m going to bind your wrists together like this,” he showed her the position and paused to make sure she didn’t have any objections, “and then,” he pushed her legs up by their shins, her ankles and feet up, thighs down, “use the tape to bind your ankles too. Is this okay with you?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“Ah ah ah… Yes who?” He chided.

She bit her lip and smiled, “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry gave her a swat to her bottom, “There you go. I’ll give you one pass. If you forget to address me properly again we’ll take a break while I spank your bottom red.”

Her bottom stung from the one swat and she nodded, mostly to herself as he explained the rules. She couldn’t see the work he was doing because he was behind her but she could feel his hands on her skin and smooth tape wrapping around and between her wrists. It was gentle and he was right. The tape wasn’t sticky on her skin so it wasn’t pulling the fine hairs she had on her arms, which she was thankful for.

Then he used the tape on her ankles, securing them together in much the same way he did her wrists, around and in between. Meanwhile, the wand was still vibrating against her pussy and causing her heart to race. She didn’t know what to expect but this was quite exhilarating. Exciting. Harry was exciting.

“So pretty. Goddamn,” he said as he let his hands roam over her thighs and her bottom. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh and then smoothed his hands up to her low back before he moved his warm lips to the small of her back. She felt his hair ghost along her spine as he kissed his way up to her neck.

“How do you feel?” Harry’s voice was strained as he spoke.

“I’m good. Feels really good so far.” And it did. She wasn’t just saying it to appease him either. She loved this more than she could understand. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever delved into before. She hadn’t realized the way it would make her feel. She was a little nervous about her body on display for him in this way. She was chubby and this was quite the compromising position to be in when Harry Styles, with his very fit body, was in the room and inspecting all of her nooks and crannies. But there was something about being exposed to him this way, unable to move from being tied up, totally naked with all her parts available to him to see and touch that sent her adrenaline to spike.

She felt him push her ankles flat to the bed and then pull her up at her hips, causing her knees to dig into the mattress until her body was upright with her back into his chest. He stayed behind her bringing his hands up to her breasts and began palming over each, “How sensitive are your breasts? Do you play with them when you masturbate?”

Her brain was having a hard time focusing with the way he was touching her and speaking but she swallowed and closed her eyes to answer, “Uh… I think they’re pretty sensitive. Sometimes I squeeze them to make my nipples hard, but not all the time.”

Boobs weren’t really much of a part of sex for her. When Robert was alive he enjoyed them a lot. But to her, she could take it but mostly would have preferred to leave it. Because her nipples were quite sensitive and sometimes the stimulation was too much. So she generally would gently brush over her bud and work them up to get hard as she looked in the mirror. If she felt like playing with them. Which she usually didn’t.

“Let’s see what you like. Okay?” He continued squeezing and massaging the flesh, his thumbs focusing on her nipples, his lips on her neck causing her to keen and pitch her head to the side.

“Your nipples need some attention, Y/n. I can tell you’re very tender here,” he lightly pinched each nipple and she gasped, “See? We’ll take it easy. Work you up to something a little more stimulating.”

The sensation of the slow squeezing and soft pinches at her nipples was leveled out by the way he kissed at her neck and sucked her skin into his mouth, nipping very gently. Not to mention the vibrator taped into place and pressed to her pussy. Now, the way it was attached it wasn’t over her clit (thankfully she figured) but it was pulsating an inch below the spot that would have her losing it. The vibrations were strong enough that her whole core was feeling it, though, and she imagined it had been placed purposely in just that spot with the intent that she would slowly lose her mind until she was begging and aching for more.

So, yeah, everything he was doing was feeling really good. Having her nipples toyed with was even nice. The varying sensual touches were unexpected but quite welcomed. His whispered words were sweet and dirty.

“Oh baby, you are gonna be so ready for my cock when I’m done with you. Aren’t you?”

She nodded and her answer came out in a whine, “Yes.”

Harry chuckled and nosed at her ear, “Got the front of my trousers all wet. Would you like a taste of what your pussy is dripping?”

Another first… in bed with a man. She’d tasted herself out of curiosity a couple of times but never in front of anyone. She’d already gotten into it this far, she figured tasting herself would be fine so she nodded.

Harry removed a palm from her right breast and drew his fingers through her slippery cunt, spreading her labia and lathering his fingers in her before grasping her chin with his other hand and tilting her head back so he could watch as he stuffed his drenched fingers into her mouth.

She closed her eyes as his fingers dragged over her tongue and his knuckles rubbed at the roof of her mouth. She was just as she’d tasted before. It wasn’t a surprise but the gesture, the way it was happening, being held and tied and taken care of… it was hot.

“You taste so good, Y/n. Needed to share it with you. Let you taste first. Before I have my turn.”

Harry pulled his fingers from her lips and then brought his hands back down to her breasts and this time his mouth caught hers, keeping her head turned so he could have access, as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. She whimpered into his mouth and couldn’t believe how pathetic she sounded.

Slowly, he released her chin as he pushed her to bend at the waist with her ass in the air, face smushed into her mattress.

Harry groaned as he put his big palms over her round-as-a-plum bottom and squeezed. Her bum was his favorite. He’d never seen one so perfect. Her thick tush and soft thighs were beckoning to him. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about her when they first met in fact. And now here he was getting to touch it and smack it.

But before he could get to the piece de resistance he leaned in and licked over her glistening crease. She gasped as she jerked her body, not expecting a tongue to be gliding through her needy slit but that didn’t deter him. It only made him go in harder, lapping at her and moaning as he pressed in harder, the tip of his nose pressing into her anus as the vibrator was set as close to her clit as it could get.

She wanted to grab onto something but was unable to with her hands tied behind her back. Her face was smushed into the mattress as he ate her out from behind. Another thing she’d never been on the receiving end of. Being eaten out from behind with her bum hole exposed and a nose nudging into her. Probably smelling all of her.

“Harry!” She shrieked when he sucked her clit into his mouth and pushed two fingers in as far as they’d reach.

Harry chuckled as he kissed her pussy and moved away to speak, “Do I need to spank you? I really would prefer you to address me properly when we’re playing.”

She panted and squeezed her eyes closed as he continued fingering her, “Fuck… Daddy. Sorry.” It was hard for her to remember all the rules and calling anyone Daddy in this setting was foreign to her.

Harry got back to lapping at her leisurely. He could feel the vibrations from the wand making her labia buzz softly against his lips and his fingers.

He felt his cock digging into the inside of his zipper and it hurt. He needed to let the beast out for relief so he reluctantly backed away and undid his pants, pulling his cock out. He pressed himself to her entrance, letting the underside of his bare cock lather in her wetness.

She felt how warm he was as he let himself slide through her pussylips slowly. The vibrator was putting her on edge fast, “Please! Fuck me, Daddy…” she groaned lowly and Harry hissed when she backed herself toward him, his tip nearly getting swallowed by her drippy pussy.

“Yeah? Need Daddy’s cock? Which hole do you want it in?”

This had her suddenly caught off guard. She assumed something else but when his tip was pressed at her other hole she wasn’t sure how to respond.

Harry noticed her silence but wasn’t deterred, “It’s okay if you don’t want to try. But I think you’ll like it. I can start off using my fingers like last time, fuck your pussy for a bit and then let you decide if you think you want it.”

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s try that first,” her words were mumbled with the way her cheek was smashed into the bed.

He was prepared with a bottle of lube next to him and he squirted a healthy dollop over her bum, pressing the slick liquid into her hole gently with one finger. His thick tip was positioned at her desperate little pussy hole and he sighed at the view. One of his fingers taking up space in her bum and his cock ready to push its way inside, “Shit, baby. I have to grab a condom,” he spoke lowly as he toyed with her opening a little more, tempting fate and allowing the smallest bit of his cock to press into her cunt.

“No! Please, Daddy… just like this. Just fuck me. Please,” she was nearly shaking as she felt his smooth crown dipping into her. She wanted him bare. Wanted to feel him rigid and unsheathed inside of her.

Harry pulled in a deep breath and moaned. It was music to his ears. He hadn’t wanted a condom with her. He was desperate to push inside without any barriers and she was giving him permission.

Plunging in the smallest bit before pulling back out, his tip was coated in her arousal, “Yeah? You want Daddy’s cock raw, baby? Want me to fill you up now? Fuck you like I was meant to?”

She tried to push herself back onto him with the bit of movement she was able to conjure and she moaned when she felt him pushing into her, but this time, he didn’t pull out as he slid his second finger into her ass and plunged his wide cock into her pussy, spreading her apart, he groaned at how absolutely sopping she was already.

Much like the first time he fingered her ass and fucked her, the tension and the tight feeling were the same, but it felt good, the pleasure blossomed and felt heavy, thick, tangible. It was as if something inside of her was becoming unfastened. But unlike last time she had a vibrating wand sending shockwaves over her body leaving goosebumps under Harry’s hand when he touched her skin.

Oh, and she was bound by her wrists and ankle so there was that too.

Harry pressed into her until his balls were flush against her body and the vibrations of the wand were making his insides nearly burst. He didn’t want to come too fast, but he had been on edge for over an hour. An hour of torture. Beginning with their steakhouse restaurant bathroom antics, to the way she licked and sucked him in the car ride and until now. And not having a condom on was going to be something to contend with. The condom helped to decrease the delicious sensations he was currently feeling with her warm, wet walls squeezing around him tightly.

Harry slowly moved out and back in, watching his prick as her pussy gripped him and sucked him in, glazing his cock in her cream, dampening his pubic hair at his base.

Y/n loved the feel of him bare inside of her. He felt harder and thicker, the friction was more intense and the idea that he was fucking her without a condom was a turn-on as well. Her breathing deepened as she felt him dip into her so far it ached. He was going in slowly but every time he bottomed out he jerked himself into her as if to make a point about what they were doing. He was being gentle, but his cock was pressing into her guts and making space for its size.

He could tell her breathing was becoming labored and louder. She was arching her back slightly more and rolling her hips the best she could. She was searching for her orgasm. It was close. The intent was to fuck her slowly until she came and shivered and wept and begged. And then he’d fuck into her until she’d calmed and finger her ass deeper and harder until she was ready for his dick.

He angled his two fingers upward and twisted slowly as he rocked his hips into her. Everything was vibrating. His cock was throbbing and aching to come as he fingered her bottom and watched as she slowly got used to the intrusion.

“You can come, baby. Come on Daddy’s cock. Let’s see it.” He urged her.

She was so close. So so so close. Her body was sweating and buzzing. Her clit was just out of reach of the toy but she knew she could come. Her clit might not have had anything touching it directly but the wand was thrumming just below it and making her button pulse and jolt.

“I wanna come! I wanna come, Daddy…” she groaned as she pinched her eyes closed and felt tears forced from her lashes.

“Then do it, little girl. Fucking come, baby,” Harry continued using his fingers and his cock on her but he had to close his eyes. The sinful scene was too much for any mortal to withstand. Harry was going to come if he kept watching. He gritted his teeth as he felt her shaking and a soft rumble fell from her mouth. Her thighs stiffened and her gentle moans and gasps turned into breathy panting and then shouts of his name as she erupted in bliss on his cock.

Harry coughed out a gasp and continued his slow thrusts as his balls tightened readying for an orgasm. But he sucked in a sharp breath and let his mind wander to another place that gave him a second wind of sorts. Something to keep him from coming prematurely. He wanted to praise her and watch as she spasmed and pulsed around him but for the sake of good sex, he had to hold back. He needed to wait to come. His priority was her. And to be able to get the chance to fuck her ass.

When her shivering thighs slowly melted and her body relaxed Harry pulled out with a gasp. Just in the nick of time. He panted as he gathered himself, his throbbing cock was wet and cooled by the air of her bedroom, “Fuck baby. Almost made me come you felt so good.”

He kept his fingers inside of her, and now she was relaxed around his fingers. With his free hand, he gathered up her arousal on his fingers and smeared it around her hole before pushing a third finger inside of her. She moaned softly and opened her eyes at the feel of the extra finger pressing into her.

Her body was spent but there was still a spark of heat and arousal there. As if she hadn’t yet been fully satisfied, despite the intense orgasm she’d just endured. The vibrating of the wand was still going strong.

Harry poured a little more lube onto her anus as he pushed into her deeply, his fingers fully submerged, fucking into her.

“How does this feel?”

Sucking air into her lungs she felt the dampness of the blanket under her mouth where she’d drooled, “So good. It’s good, Daddy.”

Harry grinned as he began to increase his steady pace to something a little harder, faster. He held onto her low back as he fucked her ass with his fingers. The lube was making it slippery and her tight hole was easing up its grip little by little.

“Want me in here? Want to feel what it’s like to have Daddy’s cock stuffed in this little hole baby?”

She did. Yes, she did. So she nodded and grunted as she tried turning her head the slightest to see him.

Harry had composed himself considerably and he felt that he could last a bit longer, not much, but he could give her a nice preview of what it was like. A good handful of minutes, five he hoped he could last.

With his fingers still inside of her, he poured more lube over her backside, pressing the liquid in and around, and kissed her cheeks softly before finally, slowly, bringing his fingers out.

Harry bent down to continue softly kissing her tush. Making her keen as he neared the sacred little, undefiled hole he planned on desecrating.

When she felt his tongue glide from her core to her ass she shuddered. His lips and tongue on her anus were warm and wet and then she felt cool liquid drip and smear over her bum.

“Keep relaxed like you are, baby. Doing so good for me. Tell me to stop if you need. I will.”

He grasped her hips and tucked his front to her bottom, holding his shaft in his hands he pushed his tip to her hole as he massaged the spot just above her anus. His cock was already covered with her arousal as he began to gently, slowly, tactfully press in.

She immediately tensed and he stopped, “You’re doing good, baby. Just relax for me. Gonna push past this little tight muscle and then it’ll feel like heaven. Okay?”

She panted and nodded. The vibrating wand keeping her aroused and loose.

It was very tight. Harry knew, though, that once he passed the entry and had her spread apart she’d like it. It would feel incredible. Her little opening was slowly relaxing into the intrusion as he nudged his way in, little by little.

It hurt. She could admit that it hurt. But not in an unpleasant, no-go kind of way. In a this’ll only hurt for a second but will be worth it in the end kind of way. She knew that he would take care of her and he was so gentle and soft with his words and his touch that she urged her own body to relax and indulge with him.

The small snap of his tip pressing past her tight ring had her popping her eyes open and groaning. The sting of it made her sinuses burn but then… oh… then it was… oh my! Heavy and achy and divine. Something flipped over from an unpleasant sting to an intense need that wound its way over her backside. Goosebumps erupted over her bottom and she was struck with a full feeling like nothing she’d ever experienced. Her breath caught in her lungs as she felt him slice into her slowly, the pinch disappearing and being replaced with something… something edible, bitable? almost. She couldn’t pinpoint the way to describe how it felt as if she should be biting into something toothsome and mouthwatering. Yummy and textural. But heavily laden with sex and wet and heat.

Harry blew out through his mouth as he slowly entered her. The wand was making everything even feel intense on his cock, “Ooh, you like that don’t you, baby girl? I knew you would. Feels so fucking good.”

Y/n was stuck with her mouth wide open and eyes clamped shut. The saturation of tactile sensation was like a craving being placated. A craving she didn’t know she had until she felt it. She couldn’t move or respond or think. She could only feel. Accept. Surrender.

Harry’s thrusts became tighter as he got into a rhythm, slow and methodical. Not wanting to push her too far, nor himself for that matter. If he could make it last just a few moments longer he would take his time so he could luxuriate in the way she felt on him and the way she looked wrapped tightly around him.

Finally, a gasp from her lips and a moan as her hands balled into fists behind her back. Harry had his fingers digging into the soft flesh on her hips, slowly thudding into her and feeling his heart thunder behind his ribcage.

Her hole began to squeeze around him and her thighs tightened and stiffened as she mouthed unintelligible words and noises into the soft blanket below her face.

Harry blinked his eyes and cooed at her when he realized she was coming. Coming from anal sex. From the wand just barely close enough to stimulate her clit and his cock inside of her.

“Holy fuck… come baby.” Harry wouldn’t come inside of her. Not yet. The sensation might be too much for her on her first time but now he struggled to hold himself back. He didn’t allow himself to look away this time, fully immersing himself in the experience of her coming from his cock reaching as deep as it could possibly go inside of her. Her breathy moans and mumbles of gratification filled the room as the bed gently rocked under his shallow thrusts.

The moment she wobbled and softened as her orgasm began to subside he pulled out as gently as humanly possible before he could come, pumping himself in long strokes, his palm now wetted with his lover’s slick as he pulled his shaft and doused her bottom and low back with his sperm.

Y/n heard him groaning in breathy ecstasy as he poured onto her bum, wet ropes of his come cooled her hot skin when the air hit the wet streaks on her backside as one of his hands clamped onto her hip. She was so close to just collapsing, but Harry’s firm grip kept her hips up.

Harry milked himself as he watched the breathtaking sight of his sweet girl’s puckering hole and drippy pussy coated in his come as it dripped down over her in a sinful font. 

She breathed slowly as she let him finish and then felt his fingers unwrapping the tape from her wrists. When her arms were free she put her palms into the mattress and Harry pulled her down to her side and removed the tape from her ankles and then from her thigh, turning the wand off once and for all. He was still breathing deeply from the exertion of his orgasm. She watched the black tape as he flung it toward the end of the bed and then laid himself behind her body, pressing his chest into her back in silence.

It was nice to be quiet for a moment. The noise of sex and labored breaths, panting, and moans, and metal springs in the bed were now only a lustful memory. But the wetness between her legs and on her back was still very much present. Though she had no mind to get up to clean herself in that moment. To bask in the silence and the soft breaths in Harry’s arms was a treasure.

Harry’s thoughts were all over the place. He’d just had raw sex with her. And anal. And she liked it. And she left her date for him. And she used to be married but her husband was dead. And he was falling for her hard. It was a lot but he welcomed it all.

He ran his fingers through her hair and the nap of her neck was sweaty like his was. She sighed as he felt his heart pounding still. Not from exertion this time but from just being next to her. Having her in his arms. Being with her.

“How do you feel?”

Y/n pried her eyes open and turned to see him from her peripheral, “So relaxed. Really good. But, in truth… it does kind of hurt a little right now. Stings a bit.”

Harry kissed her cheek and smoothed his hand down her hip and was quickly reminded of how messy they were. His come was still on her skin and he’d just smeared it down to her thigh, “Do you have Epsom salt? We can take a warm bath and let you relax a bit. It’ll help.”

Y/n decided that warm baths after sex were her new favorite thing. Well, that could have been because it was with Harry who was attentive and soft and loving. The warm water with Epsom salts did actually soothe her muscles and relaxed her body.

Harry had his head leaned against the wall with his eyes closed and Y/n pressed into his chest, snug between his thighs with the back of her head leaned on his shoulder when Harry finally spoke again, “Be my girlfriend.”

She fluttered her eyes open and pinched her brows together, “Are you asking or are you telling?”

Harry chuckled and pushed his face into her neck, puffs of his breath falling into bursts on her sensitive skin as his chest vibrated against her back, “Asking. Of course. Choice is yours.”

The small peck to the nape of her neck sent goosebumps cascading down her back and sent her heart to wallop around in her chest.

“Are you serious? Why?!”

“Well, geez! You make it seem like you’d never consider it. What’s wrong with being my girlfriend?” Harry jested.

“I just… I’m already trying to wrap my head around the fact that you even want to sleep with me. But… girlfriend?”

“Why would it be hard to believe I want to sleep with you?”

Sighing she sat upward and turned to face the naked tattooed man that sat in her tub, “I’m… well I’m not that attractive. Not on your level of attractive-“

“You’re still on that? Thought I made it clear how gorgeous you are. If anyone should be feeling that way it’s me. I’m lucky you even gave me the time of day.”

The small, surprised smile on her face slowly grew wider. She knew he liked her. She really did. But it still felt so foreign. So unlikely.

Harry’s grin softened as he dragged his gaze down to her tits. He couldn’t help himself. Her body had him boiling hot and the way she was sitting had her breasts peeking out from the water just so. When she pushed at his shoulder with a laugh to bring his attention back up to her face he pulled at her arm and brought her back into his chest, “Be my girlfriend. Please.”

.        .        .

Waking up together was even better than the first time they did it. Because now they were a couple and she was feeling things for Harry she hadn’t felt for anyone in a long time. She was also feeling a bit sore. Again. After she nodded and laughed out an ‘Okay, fine!’ when Harry asked her for the second time (or more so told her) to be his girlfriend they had sex again. But it was much softer. There was no bondage tape or vibrating wand, spanking, or pinching.

Harry laid her down on her bed and fucked into her slowly, their damp bodies slipping together, not having had the foresight to dry off before lying on her comforter. But it didn’t matter. Harry’s languid strokes filled her so perfectly and the bed shifted softly under them in rhythm with his thrusts while he brought them both to orgasm as Harry released inside of her for the first time. They stared at one another as they came. Harry had both of her hands in his, fingers slotted together and arms raised above her head, “My girlfriend. Gonna be so good to you, baby.”

Y/n sighed and gasped at the new sensation. His loving movements and the way he was looking at her, kissing her softly, with his cock deep inside, praises, and promises were all making her lose composure. She could fall in love. She definitely could.

And Harry? Well, that was his goal. He wanted her love and he wanted all of her. She was his and he was already hers. His heart was hers.

Just remembering how sensual and gentle Harry was made her heart burst. She turned her head to see Harry fast asleep still. Dark curls strewn about in a wild mess on his head. She lightly pushed his hair off of his forehead to get a better look at the sleeping beauty. Pink lips smushed into the pillow, dark lashes pressed to his skin… a true beauty.

Before even opening his eyes he spoke, “Morning.”

Y/n grinned and ran her fingers further into his hair now that she knew he was awake. She wanted some more of him. Loved what they’d done the night before. Maybe anal sex could be for another day, she would need a little break back there, but the tape on her wrists and the way she had very little control felt exhilarating. It was like deep sea diving for the first time ever and finding your true passion was marine life and the sea.

She trailed her hand down to his clavicle and traced the inked sparrows, “Did this hurt?”

Harry opened his eyes, tired and puffy as he looked at his lover who was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, so to speak, “Yeah. They all hurt a bit. But it’s part of the process. Started getting tattoos when I was pretty young.”

Y/n nodded and smoothed her hand down over the butterfly and then grazed his nipples with her fingers, “You look so good with all of them. Would you get more?”

He smiled and stretched his arms overhead and then took her hand in his bringing it up to his lips, “Yes. Always thinking about what’s next. You don’t have any yourself I noticed.”

Shaking her head she spoke, “Never thought to get anything. Figured it would hurt too much.”

The sudden cheeky smirk that appeared on his face was a dead giveaway that he was about to say something that matched his expression, “Not any more than a penis in your little bum hole.”

“Oh my god, Harry!” She snorted as he laughed out through his nose, dimples making him look more innocent than he was.

“How do you feel?”

That was a question he seemed to be asking her a lot. And her answer was always the same, “I feel great.”

Keeping her eyes on his she pulled her hand from his and continued to move her hand downward so she could touch his abdomen, fit and tight with a light scattering of hair down to his happy trail. He was naked and the lower she got, the hairier he was under her fingers.

Harry licked his lips and allowed her to continue her path downward with her hand and then parted his lips, letting out a small puff of breath when her palm met his thickening prick.

“Can we go again? And then I’ll make breakfast?” She raised her brows at him as she slide her hand over him, feeling him plump up quickly under her palm.

Harry snorted a small laugh from his nostrils, “Would never say no to that.”

She was swiftly being pushed down to her back and having her thighs pushed apart as Harry positioned himself between her legs, his face kissing down her thick thighs he looked up at her, his lips moving over her skin as he spoke, “Wish I could bite into you. So perfectly plumpy and juicy,” he ran his tongue downward close to her hip before moving over to her other side, “Soft like a pillow,” he moaned as he lowered his face over her cunt.

When he spit down over her clit she groaned as she watched him begin to lick into her. It was sloppy and wet. Not only because she was already wet, but because Harry was drooling and spitting as he went. Lapping her up and spreading her out with his tongue and his fingers.

“Prettiest little pussy. Giving Daddy something to snack on so early. Such a good girl.”

Y/n rolled her eyes to the back of her head and moaned as she let herself fall back into the pillow and enjoy him. One hand worked his fingers into her while his other held her thigh and squeezed her soft skin, adding more bruises to the canvas of her flesh.

Before she could come, right before, Harry lifted his face up and removed his fingers, slowly sliding his hands up her tummy and to her breasts. Gently rolling her nipples between his fingers she gasped, “You’re so fuckable, Y/n. Your tits are begging for something to pinch at them. Can I pretty girl?”

She didn’t know what he meant exactly. She assumed he was going to pinch down harder over her but when she nodded he got up from the bed and pulled out a small stainless steel chain with tiny rubber-tipped clamps at each end her eyes widened.

She pushed herself up to sit as he sat back down next to her, “These can be adjusted so it only pinches as hard as you like. Want to try this out. Is that okay?”

She inspected the chain and clamps and felt her heart race. The man was quite kinky and who would’ve known? If he brought bondage tape and clamps in his bag she wondered what sort of things he had at home. She knew he was into a bit of BDSM, that he was dominant and enjoyed playing with her that way, but it was still somewhat of a shock because his stage persona was sweet and fun and flirty.

She looked up at him and slowly nodded, “Okay. But maybe just like gentle. At first. I’m still really sensitive.”

Harry grinned and put the clamps in her hands before bringing his large palms over her breasts and slowly massaged, “I know you’re sensitive. Which is why I think this is going to feel really good once you get past the initial bit of pain. Go on, try them on. That little knob can make it as tight or loose as you like.”

He watched as she put them on herself. He would have loved to have done the honors but he wanted her to take her time and get the right tension. When the clamps were tight enough to hold on to her nipples and the small chain was hanging down between her breasts Harry delicately pulled at the chain and brought her forward so he could kiss her.

The feel of the clamps tugging on her nipples sent a shock of ice down her body. Was she crazy to be letting this happen at… she turned her head to see the time on the clock- 8:39 am? Yes. Perhaps she was crazy.

“Don’t look at the time. We’re not punching a clock today, are we? We’re just gonna have a bit of fun and then have some breakfast.”

Y/n laughed but it was quickly cut off by his small yank, her nipples perking under the pull of the clamp.

Harry moved off the bed, his hard cock bobbing as he shifted and pulled Y/n so her bottom was at the edge of the mattress. He pulled her legs up over his thighs and painted his cock through her labia, wet and ready. The sound of him pushing her arousal around was drowned out by her moans when he pulled at the center of the chain at the same time as he entered her.

Harry’s feet were on the floor, one hand at her hip and the other on the chain as he rocked into her. He gently pulled the chain each time he pushed deep into her, her breasts being tugged upward.

“Oh my god!” She panted her words as he began to fuck into her with more muscle, his strong thighs steadying and working himself into her harder.

“Like that? So pretty like this, baby,” Harry cooed at his girlfriend as he manipulated her tits. He didn’t want to yank too hard but he loved how she clenched around each time he pulled at the chain.

“Ffuck!” Y/n did like it. She was surprised. Harry was so good at what he did, only tugging the chain and making her nipples pinch when he dipped into her achingly deep. He knew what he was doing. Trying to help her equate the pain from her nipples being wrenched up by the clamps with the pleasure of his cock gliding through her walls. Pain with pleasure. It worked. She was so wet and so desperate to come in record time that even Harry was surprised. He figured she’d enjoy it but she was fast to respond.

“Ooh! Oh, ffff! M’gonna come, Harry!!”

Harry groaned a laugh, though nothing they were doing was funny. He was only caught off guard by how fast she was being tipped over the edge.

Pulling his cock out quickly she gasped and whined, “What?! Harry?”

“How do you address me?” He raised his brows and swatted her thigh with a pop.

“Fuck!” She groaned. It was going to take some getting used to, calling him Daddy, “Sorry. I keep forgetting,” she panted, “Daddy.”

Harry lifted the chain upward slowly, pulling her tits upward as he cocked his to the side and watched her face twist up, “I think you should tighten this a little. Let’s take the training wheels off shall we?”

Y/n’s eyes widened, already feeling the discomfort of the clamps as he tugged her nipples. But just underneath that discomfort was electrostatic energy bursting in her veins that gave her a rush of arousal. In other words, she was very turned on by it and Harry could see that.

“I’m not sure I can. It’s already so tight,” she spoke in breaths.

“Well then just say you can’t and we won’t,” he countered.

She kept her eyes on his, understanding that she could say no and he’d stop. But did she want to say no? Did she think that maybe having the clamps a little tighter might feel a little more painful and be too much? Or possibly even spark something that turned her on even more?

Harry waited a bit for her to answer, knowing she was trying to determine what she wanted. This was all new to her after all.

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

Harry let go of the chain and reverently kneaded her fleshy breasts as his thumbs swiped just under her clamped nipples.

“Okay. Yes. Please. You do it. Just a little, though. I’m nervous.”

Harry grinned as he brought his gaze over her beautiful tits and started with the left side, twisting the knob to tighten the clamp little by little. He watched her face when she let out a huff of a gasp, “Okay?”

She nodded her head and looked at him, “Yeah. You can do a little more.”

Y/n was surprised that she could have the clamps any tighter than they had been, but the pinch was welcome.

Mostly.

“Okay! That’s enough!”

Harry chuckled as he released the knob and stopped twisting, “Want more on this side?”

Y/n was panting as she nodded, “Yes, just slowly- oh god…”

He began twisting the clamp to tighten slowly, her nipples being compressed under the rubber tips.

“Yes. Okay, that’s good.”

“Good girl. Now. What can I do to help you to remember the proper way to address me? Hmm?”

She was still lying flat on the mattress as Harry stood with his feet planted on the floor, his hard cock just above her, where he was inside of her only moments earlier. She swallowed and pushed herself up a bit, “Is this not enough?” She gestured over the clamps.

Harry grinned and shook his head, “I mean, I think you like it. That’s not really punishment at all is it?”

Her mouth dropped open and she looked to the corner of the room before turning her gaze back up to the naked man above her, “I don’t know.” Her voice was small suddenly.

“Well, then I’ve got an idea,” Harry spoke casually as he backed away from the bed, “You are so good at giving head and I really need to come so I’m gonna fuck your mouth while I pull at that chain. You had enough orgasms last night I think. Perhaps today you don’t get to come at all. You’re just gonna be Daddy’s little fuck toy today instead. How’s that sound?”

Sitting up fully, pressing her palms into the mattress she scrunched her brows together. No orgasm? She guessed this was part of the way he played. The way he liked to do things sometimes. And if she was going to do this with him then she figured she’d go along with it. Even though she really really wanted to come.

“Like orgasm denial?”

Harry gave her a mocking smile, “Yes. Like orgasm denial. So you learn your lesson and remember to call me Daddy.”

She nodded and stayed put in her spot, “Okay. Whatever you want, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Lie back on the bed but have your head right here at the edge so I can put your mouth to good use.” And so he could pull at the chain connected to the clamps secured to her nipples and give her a bit of pleasure. A bit of pain.

She did as she was told, scooting her body around until her head was at the edge of the bed and she could see Harry standing over her upside down.

Harry gently stroked over her neck, “I’m fuck this pretty throat until I come,” he pulled at the chain, “and tug at this while I do so.”

She groaned at the feel of her heavy breasts being lifted up by her nipples.

“If you need me to stop just pinch my thigh or something. But I expect you to be a good girl and to take your punishment nicely. Then later on if I’m feeling generous maybe I’ll let you come.”

He instructed her to open her mouth up and stick her tongue out. Harry dipped himself in past her plump lips and pulled out before thrusting in again slightly deeper, only to pull out as he watched strings of spit from her mouth stick to his cock. Holding himself at the base he tapped her lips with the crown of his prick and she tasted herself all over him. His entire shaft tasted of her, his balls and the pubic hair, coated in her arousal still.

Finally, he plunged in and pushed himself down her throat and watched it bulge with his long dick. At first, he started off slowly. Letting her get used to the sensation, pulling out a little to let her catch her breath and delicately pulling at the chain, causing her to moan around his cock in a delicious torment.

She had never had her throat fucked before. And it wasn’t what she’d call pleasant. Nor was getting her tits tugged at by the metal implement clamped to them. But his groans and choked words made her heart pound. He was enjoying the way she felt. He was using her body to get off and somehow, in some sick and twisted part of her brain, that was hot. It was so enticing to be a thing for Harry Styles to get off on. To use and to fuck and to come inside of.

The harder he went in and the more she gagged around him the more she enjoyed the feeling of the discomfort his cock caused her. The drool that dripped down her face into her ears cooled her skin and her tongue was beginning to ache from the rigid position she was holding it.

But it was the way he was tugging her nipples that sent that familiar electrostatic burst through her veins and it felt… like she could burst. She tried squeezing her thighs together and rolled her hips upward as she clamped her eyes closed and moaned around his cock. She was given a moment to take in a breath before he thrust back into her throat and he moaned, “Fucking, gorgeous, baby. Hottest woman I’ve ever seen.”

The praise had her head spinning and the arousal that was slowly building continued to flow through her core. She was unable to control the way her body responded to her nipples being painfully wrangled under the clamps.

Harry could see her clenching her thighs and swaying her hips as she moaned and gurgled. God, he’d found the perfect woman. She didn’t even know she liked any of this before him. It’s a good thing they met, he thought to himself with a smirk.

“Holy… fuck, fuck…” Harry coughed his words as his hips stuttered. He tugged the chain and watched as he manipulated her beautiful tits to his liking as his balls began to tighten. He knew he’d come fast like this. He’d already been on the verge earlier when he fucked her pussy.

He pulled himself out as he kept the chain in his hand with her breasts lifted upward. He needed a moment. He wanted to come but wanted to make it dramatic.

Releasing the chain he bent down to put his lips over hers and cooed, “So good. My little come vessel? You ready for Daddy’s load? Gonna take it like a good girl?”

Y/n groaned and raised her hips, needing something, anything. God, she was on edge but she knew her punishment was that she couldn’t come. Not yet anyway. She’d be sure to be very good and very sweet so maybe he’d let her come later. She realized she liked this a lot.

“Yes, Daddy. I’m ready.” Her words came out in a rasp.

“Open up that mouth wide,” he spoke, his face still hovering over hers as he tapped her cheeks.

She reopened her mouth and stuck her tongue out then suddenly felt his saliva slide down her tongue and into her throat, catching her off guard the slightest bit. But just as quickly as she realized that he’d spit into her mouth he was repositioning himself over her and stuffing his cock down her throat.

Harry’s gasps and moans were like music to her ears. She loved his singing voice, and the way he sounded when he was fucking her was quite the same she determined. He had a pretty voice whether he was talking, singing, or fucking.

This time, his thrusts were rough as he yanked at her nipples. Her eyes went wide at the sudden sharp pain but then the spark drove down her ribcage into her tummy and shocked her cunt with a dose of arousal she had not expected. She’d heard of women being able to come from nipple play alone and now she got it. She understood it now as her throat was being railed and air was being blocked from getting into her lungs. She moaned and rolled her hips as Harry pressed in balls deep and gritted his teeth.

She tasted the first bit of his come as he gasped and then pulled out. She gulped air into her lungs and then felt his come pour out onto her lips, her chin, and eyes, then over her neck and down to her tits that were being tugged at harshly. It hurt and it felt like heaven.

Her mouth was wide open as she sucked in oxygen and arched her back toward the pull of the clamps as Harry drained himself on her, his own loud moans overtaking any noise she might be making.

Suddenly he pressed his cock back into her throat and released the last bit of his come down her esophagus and into her belly before pulling back out and stroking his cock over her face, milking the last bit of his release over her cheeks and nose.

Her chest was heaving just as hard as his. She groaned when he let go of the chain. She thought for a moment, the smallest moment, that she would come if he continued pulling at her nipples the way he was. Her buds were sore and pulsing but the radiating pain was coupled with that pleasure that she always got when she was turned on and slippery wet.

Harry stood back and looked over Y/n’s body, “See? I’m an artist too? I can sing and I can paint,” he laughed lowly as he helped her sit up and smirked, “My canvass is beautiful, though, so it was easy to make pretty.”

She laughed and shook her head, “Wow. A real comedian.”

“I am known to crack a few good ones. My fans love my jokes.”

She gestured toward her face, “Uh, can I… ?”

Harry helped her into the bathroom to clean up. She was quite the mess. While he handed her a damp towel to wipe off he loosened the clamps slowly and pulled each one off.

She hissed once the implement was removed from her final nipple and Harry groped at her tits and licked over each nipple, giving a proper kiss over them before standing upright and clapping his hands together, “Time for breakfast!”

.        .        .

Most of the weekend was spent at her house. Harry fucked her, tied her up, clamped her nipples again (which she requested), and spanked her as she came around his cock while he had her lying flat on her tummy.

It was… fun. She had fun with him.

On Sunday afternoon they went out to the little pizzeria in town and sat in the dining room to eat the Neapolitan-style pizza they ordered.

“So, I guess now that you’re my girlfriend I should warn you, and I’m sure you know this, about what to kind of expect.”

This had her attention. She knew they needed to discuss some of the details.

“You and I will be photographed together occasionally. Sometimes it’ll be fans that catch us, sometimes the paparazzi will know where I’m at. They already know my schedule, my usual hotels, the gym I go to, things like that. And they’ll probably start to learn yours as well. You may see them yards away and not even realize it at first.”

Y/n sipped her coffee as Harry explained what she might experience with the paparazzi and his fans.

“But it will be more invasive than just that. People will find out everything they can about you. They’ll make up lies about you and me. Some straight-up wild conspiracies. They’ll be mean. Some might even reach out to you directly and threaten you.”

“Has that happened before? An ex was threatened?” She raised her brows in surprise.

Harry nodded, “Yes. Some years ago an ex was at my concert and she was cornered and we had to get security involved. So, after that, I learned that anyone I date has to have security nearby if they’re at my concert. Also, direct messages on Instagram or Twitter too. But that’s not as scary. You can limit who comments on your posts or just make your accounts private.”

Harry reached across the table and took her hand in his, “But I need you to keep trusting me. To ignore what you read and probably just don’t read it at all. It’s best to not even open up the comments section when you see photos of yourself or us anywhere.”

Just then, as if by some kind of karmic summoning, a light flashed and the sound of a cellphone's camera rang out, two, then three times. Harry put his hand up, “That’s enough. Would be polite if you asked first next time.”

The two young girls, who were actually closer to your age than anything, squeaked out a sorry! before scurrying off.

Harry pointed toward where the girls were headed, “That’s a good example right there. Taking our photos and videos without our permission while we’re at dinner. They might not share it with anyone but chances are at some point those photos will be seen. I just want you to be prepared.”

Y/n nodded and realized that now, people were looking. They hadn’t noticed before but suddenly they were aware that Harry Styles was sitting only feet away in a small pizzeria in suburbia Illinois with a woman. The girls with their forced impromptu photo op had alerted the other patrons         of his presence. She sighed.

“So, can you do that? Keep trusting me?”

She nodded again, “Yeah. I think so. I guess we’ll see how it goes but I like you a lot. I want to see where this goes.”

Harry squeezed her hand, “Good. I hope you feel I’m worth it. It’s going to get a bit bumpy but if you can ignore that sort of nonsense and noise then we’re gonna be great.”

The pizza was delicious. Y/n knew it would be. She’d eaten at the pizzeria many times and she knew she had to bring Harry before he left. They’d been doing nothing but eating delivery, having sex, taking baths, and sleeping the whole time. It was necessary to get out of her house and comb her hair once and for all and it felt good. But she did feel the grating presence of eyes on them as they ate and even when they left the restaurant together.

Back at her house, she pouted as Harry started to pack some of his things away. She wasn’t ready for their little weekend to end.

“Hey, no pouting,” Harry said as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead, “I’ve got an idea.”

Tilting her head back to look up at him she raised a brow in question.

“Come back with me. To LA. We can ship all your stuff to my house and then you can come with me to Europe. I don’t want to be away from you.”

Blinking her eyes and shaking her brain of the puzzlement she continuously seemed to feel with him she smiled with her eyes wide, “Really? You want me to come with you?”

Harry shrugged with a dimpled grin, “Course I do. I need you to. Will you?”

“I mean… I can’t fly out with you tomorrow. I’ve got to get a few things to get in order but it’ll take only a few days. When do you leave for Europe?”

“Week and a half.”

“Um… Well, how about I fly out to LA a few days before you leave and… if you really want then I can come with you- but are you sure? Is that not too much?”

“I can do what I want, Y/n. This is my gig. I want you there. I need you there.”

Swallowing down her doubts and looking at his mouth and then to his eyes she felt nothing but excitement in her bones as she nodded, “Okay. I’ll go with you to Europe.”

Chapter 4

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[triassictriserratops]

Headcanon that for a while Katniss and Peeta both think they’re the super clingy one in the relationship. I could see the first time Peeta has to go to the Capitol for a checkup both of them thinking they’re really dependent on the other.

Doesn’t matter though when they reunite. They realize they’re equally clingy and just have good reunion sex

Okay, so firstly i have to say that I cannot BELIEVE that people are actually sending ME anonymous asks. ME. I feel so unbelievably special, omg. I totally feel like I don't bring much in terms of "creating" to the fandom so anyone wanting to come to ME for anything is just so... HEARTFEELINGS Also, Anon, you're absolutely and completely right. I'm not actually convinced you aren't secretly Suzanne Collins in my DMs. These two, even with years of therapy and healing, are always always going to be codependent as HELL. Peeta's trips to the Capitol early on, while Katniss is still legally confined, drive her absolutely INSANE. like, he'll have to go for checkups with Aurelius and also for adjustments to his prosthetic because he's still growing and it needs to be adjusted for his height. She very seriously considers trying to fit in his suitcase. He walks in on her trying to contort herself into it while Buttercup is eyeing her judgmentally. She spends the entire time bothering Haymitch and crying to him. He doesn't know how to deal with her being this openly emotional about it so he's just like

Peeta on the other hand really tries hard to focus on what needs done and puts on a brave face, but the SECOND he's on the train he's wondering if he could survive jumping off and running back to Katniss. Maybe if he tucks and rolls juuuuust right....? He keeps eyeing the emergency break. Once he gets to his hotel he's RUNNING for the phone in his room, but misses Katniss because she's busy crying to Haymitch while Haymitch tries to watch Plutarchs singing competition show. When they finally connect that night they just stay on the phone with each other to fall asleep. Peeta spends his time in the capitol waiting for his prosthetic checking out the shops and constantly buying things that remind him of Katniss or that he thinks she'll like. He stocks up on cans of Lamb Stew and baking chocolate to make her some hot chocolate. Even buys a fancy cheese from a local artisan fromager to make her extra special cheese buns. He also, secretly, takes the pearl that he snuck out of her nightstand to a jewler. He's having it inlaid into a necklace. When he FINALLY makes it back home, the bakery is closed for 2 days but he does manage to make one loaf of bread in that time...

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 8; "My reputation's never been worse."

“This is so fucking stupid.”

I shoved my hands into my hoodie pocket, eyes rolling at the sight of the boys, noise makers between their lips, some jank ass sign unraveling in the wind.

“Your mom’s fucking stupid,” Max fired back with his usual goofy smile, words muffled from the noise maker in his mouth. His knocked his fist against my elbow gently as he passed by, moving to help Cy hold up the poster board.

They’d bought it at a random Walgreens, after having forced the Uber driver to pull over, abruptly. Then, with bumpy hands and terrible penmanship, they wrote out some sarcastic for Sam about returning home from prison.

“Don’t be a sour puss, dude,” Adam replied. His brows were furrowed, chin dipping side to side in disagreement to my negative statement.

I looked to him, watching as he pulled a cone shaped hat down onto his hair, the rubber band snug against his chin. The meer humor of the too-small hat on his head made his words lose any meaning. I wanted to laugh, but instead I shot back, my brows skeptically, sarcasm quick as air, “Who? Me? No, never!”

Adam scoffed a laugh. His hat was finally adjusted now, hands falling to his sides exasperatedly. “Seriously. Just try to be nice, for once. Sam said Daisy’s, like, so sweet.” My skepticism only darkened my gaze, sarcasm sinking into genuine wonder, “So, what, we’re gonna be dancing around some child all summer?”

It was a valid question. When Sam asked us about Daisy joining the tour for the summer, everyone else just jumped on board. I, however, took a little convincing. What business did she even have here, 5,000 miles from home? It’s not like she had any professional connections to touch on, nor was London that interesting. Or, maybe I was just being a pessimist, again…

To say the least, I had trust issues. Or, in my therapist’s more light turn of phrase, I was cautious, careful to new people because I had a lot on the line with my career and had been through numerous situations with others that ended up with me, well…in therapy.

Max battled with the cardboard sign as the wind seemed to be winning the war. He struggled to get the words out as he scuffled to straighten its edges, which seemed to take more work than it needed to, “She’s literally only 5 years younger than you.”

“So, a child?”

“So, a 23 year old, grown woman. She’s really smart, Sam said. I’m sure you can have some fun conversations about the elements and shit.”

“Sam’s biased,” I murmured, focused now on the cigarette between my pointer and middle fingers. I dallied with lighting it, displaced energy in the act. It was early. I was tired.

“Sam’s one of your best mates,” Cy shot me a look. “Listen, just give her a chance. Stop moping just because you think some woman’s gonna take away from our guy time this summer.”

I straightened up, offense hitting my features like a stone wall, “When did I say that? I’m just worried we’re gonna have to cater to some child while we’re trying to literally do our jobs. She’s gonna be pursuing around like she’s in some Taylor Swift video while we’re going to be trying to earn our income. It’s just…weird.”

I’d never mention that fear to them- the fear I had of this trust. I think maybe if they all looked at me a little more closely, they’d see it. They’d see the fear in my eyes. But, I was really good at displacing my anxieties onto a separate, less pressing issue.

If I was ever terrified the sky was going to fall, then, suddenly, I was lashing out about the uncut grass in the front yard, randomly. Gotta love unhealthy coping mechanisms. Cy was still looking at me all judgmentally. I knew he wanted to lecture me further, but he simply reached over, patted my shoulder, and said, “Just…try not to be a dickhead, okay? Let the girl enjoy her summer.”

Max continued on, blabbering about something or the other. “I’m, like…Ollie, have you ever even seen a Taylor Swift video? I am pretty sure not a single fucking one takes place in Europe. They’re all super conceptual and abstract. Honestly, you might actually love some of ‘em. What’s that older one? With the trees and shit?”

“Out Of the Woods?” Adam was quick to fill in the blanks. I looked to him out of the corner of my vision, gaze narrowed. Of course he knew which one it was. He held his hands up, defensively, “What? My little cousin loves her.”

“Mhm,” I nodded, slow.

He trailed off, looking away, “And, maybe, you know, I do, too.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Max latched onto Adam’s help, continuing his rant about Taylor Swift, of all things. “Fuck! Out of the Woods! It reminds me a lot of the Fall for Me video! There’s, ya know, water…lots of running…self-deprecation. Fuck, a Sleep Token/Taylor Swift collab would go so hard!”

“Shit, could you imagine some real drums on one of her songs?” Cy perked up at the thought, fingers thrumming against the corner of the sign that he’d now laid his clutches on. “Sick!”

“Oh, God,” I rubbed my forehead, itching more and more to finally light up my cigarette, puff out a few smokey deep breaths. “I can feel the glitter and sparkles starting to fucking suffocate me! Can we please talk about something else?”

“Whatever, Ollie,” Adam flicked his hand towards me dismissively. He went to change the subject when his phone dinged from his pocket. He pulled it out, in one fluid motion, and read whatever text he’d gotten. “Shit! They just got their bags! Quick! Hold up the sign!”

Max shuffled around, all energetic, trying to make everything look perfect. He quickly tried to put a party hat on my head. I had to shove his entire body into Adam to stop him from getting the string down over my chin.

“Fuck off!” I cursed, brushing out the torso of my hoodie. He giggled, annoyingly, knowing he’d successfully gotten on my nerves. Again.

Max turned his attention away from me and to the two people who had just walked out of the airport, suitcases rolling behind them, backpacks looped around their shoulders. I noticed Sam, first, his head dipped down into his phone, curly blonde hair mopped up atop his head. He was dressed, head to toe, in all black. It was a welcome site, the fifth member of our posse back in our home country, our original stomping grounds, even if he wasn’t from here.

I let a smile overtake my features, excitement bubbling in my cheeks. It was actually really good to see him.

I wouldn’t have even paid any attention to the girl standing beside him if she didn’t stick out so much, like a sore thumb. Her bright pink sweater, gray sweatpants, the purples and greens swirled around her suitcase. Every single thing touching her was just…so colorful. Even the expression on her face, wide grin, cheery eyes- though they were circled by tireless bags- it was all so glaring.

I narrowed my eyes skeptically.

As Sam fumbled about on his phone, she stepped forward, excitedly taking an extra noise maker, my left over party hat, from Max. She barely got the hat on before Sam was looking up, our small crowd erupting into joyous ruckus that caused him to nearly drop his phone.

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I watched her, carefully, as she went through the motions of greeting everyone. Adam was his shy, introverted self. Cy was charismatic, Max obnoxiously flirty.

And she was just…constant, through it all. Upbeat, grinning, encouraging to every single average word that my friends told her.

And then she was looking at me, offering her hand. My head shook slightly as if to unscramble my consciousness. I glanced between her hand, her own gaze, unsure of what to do or say. I had been too busy watching. I barely brought myself out of that entrapped stare before my name came fumbling out of my mouth.

“Oliver.”

She seemed a little put off, taken aback, after I blatantly ignored her outstretched hand. But, I didn’t want to shake it. I was afraid that, if I touched it, she might shock me, sting me, scorch me with that bleeding sunshine she seemed to have sticking to her skin.

Besides, I couldn’t trust her, right? Right.

I turned my head away, feeling somewhat ashamed for the way I brushed her off. There was a rejected twinkle in her eyes, one that I could not handle. Moving on from that interaction, or in an attempt to do so, I tilted my chin down, glazing my eyes to the concrete. I shrunk beneath the cover of my hood. I didn’t need to feel bad for anything. I didn’t even know her, nor did she know me.

As the others finished up with their exchange of greetings, the group itself began making its way back to the Uber, with Sam and Daisy now a part of the flow.

The car ride back was objectively short, though it felt longer than the time on Apple Maps said. I rode in the back with the guys, pressed up against the door due to the lack of space. My long knees jutted out awkwardly. The bone of my leg ached from knocking against the door with each bump in the road that the car hit.

I stared out of the window, hoping the painful time would pass quicker. The ugliness of London stared back at me. A small, curious part of me kept darting my eyes towards the front seat, where she sat. But I stilled my gaze on the city.

That was maybe part of the issue- I just didn't understand why Daisy was so interested in visiting this place anyways. It was boring, bland. I associated the cloudy gray skies and rainy summers with some of the worst times of my life. This city looked the way I felt for most of it, too. The people were shit, too. Rude, always in a rush, unforgiving and untrustworthy.

What adventure could one find in this wet, concrete maze of hell?

Bored, I moved my attention back to the interior of the car, still resisting that urge to look forward. Adam, Cy, Sam, and Max were a cacophony of lost conversation, catching up, rumbling laughter. I listened for a moment, intently awaiting her to throw in her two sense. She seemed like the type to talk somebody’s ear off. Perhaps I could read between her sentences, find out her motives, her intentions, find something to use against her, so I could easily hate her and put distance between us-

Oh.

She was sleeping.

Her body was slumped against the door, neck pillow twisted around to support her forehead from the glass of the window. She cradled her hands to her stomach, the blanket she had just up underneath her chest.

The curve of her face caught my eye the most, the simple stillness of the lines around her lips, the peaceful flutter that ruffled her lashes every so often. I wondered what she dreamt of- rainbows, sunshine, lollipops. I bet she was the type of person who would respond, "World peace," when asked what she would wish for if she had a genie.

God. I really was an asshole. Here was this stranger, this beautiful, seemingly kind stranger, trying to catch up on sleep after traveling nearly 20 hours…and here I was, creating an entire persona around the two facts I actually knew about her. Maybe I should give her a chance, like the guys said. Maybe I should let her in, even if it was barely past the surface, and try to be amicable.

Maybe she wouldn’t sell my name to the paparazzi. Maybe she wouldn’t leak photos of me online, or call news sites to gain traction on social media.

I nearly flinched as she shifted in her slumber, so lost in my thoughts that the disruption was a panic. Her lips parted, just so, as air deflated from her lungs. The hair that curled around her face ruffled from the gentle gust.

Though she looked like Sam, she really was beautiful. Sure, Sam was attractive, in his own way. But, uniquely, Daisy was…honestly, gorgeous, all doe-eyed, rose lips, freckled cheeks.

I kept staring at her, analyzing, accidentally memorizing.

As I felt myself sinking, into my seat, into myself, into this stare I had on her, I straightened up, shoved myself back in the door.

The poor girl wasn’t even awake.

And I was being far too open.

When we reached the hotel, everyone piled out of the Uber. I went to step out, myself, to begrudgingly helped with luggage. But after I cast a casual glance over my shoulder, I noticed Daisy was still asleep. As though she were his responsibility, I found Sam and went to vocalize the issue with him. But he was busy with their bags.

None of the others were really familiar enough with her to consider her.

No one but me, I guess, because I was reaching out my fingers, touching her shoulder, telling her, "We're here."

I swept myself away before she could wake up and look me in the eyes. - "Where's your sister?" Cy inquired, poking at his dish with the fork in his hold.

Sam shrugged as he continued shoveling french fries in his mouth. "Sleeping, I think. She was fucking exhausted. Could barely get herself to bed this morning.”

"Poor girl," Max pouted his bottom lip. "Has she ever traveled this far from home?"

"Nope."

"Damn. Good for her, then. It's hard to just leave everything behind, to leave your everyday life for this type of thing for this long," Max continued.

I listened intently, though I made it seem like I wasn't even conscious of the guys seated at the table with me. Where they thought I was mindlessly stirring my drink, I was reading between the lines of every vague fact Sam dropped about Daisy.

"Well," he held a hand before his mouth as he chewed, swallowed. He sat back as he began to unload more information about his sister, "No offense to her, but she doesn't have much of a life. She works, like, two-three jobs at any given time. She works at some clinic during the day, waits tables in the evening, then does some stuff on campus here and there."

"Shit. Hope she's taking care of herself," Adam commented, thoughtfully.

"She does. I think. I don't know. We don't really get much time together anymore. Ever since mom died...I don't know. It's been hard to stay connected."

"This summer's gonna be good, then, for you guys to get to see each other," Cy touched Sam’s wrist with his fist, encouraging our friend with his response.

"Yeah," Sam's eyes seemed a little distant then, like there were foggy memories, regrets clouding his consciousness, "Yeah, I hope so."

Max went to speak again when Sam's phone went off. He pulled it out, scrolling through the texts he'd received. "Speak of the devil."

Sure enough, Daisy came padding into the hotel bar. Her hair was damp, twisted up behind her head by some clip. Her features were more prominent this way, skin shining with the care she must have just put into it. As she approached us, her perfume breezed off her skin, off her stupid Taylor Swift hoodie, right past my nose.

It smelled so sweet that I had to look away, focus on something else.

Everyone else greeted her, asking about how she slept, how she felt. I was inattentive, attempting to make it seem like I hadn’t just been thrown off balance.

I needed to do something, say something to her, to be welcoming. To make it seem like I wasn’t such a dickhead, even though I pretty much was. So, I worked on some phrases in my head, hoping to catch her in a side conversation, so there wasn’t so much tension with the others listening in. But, she walked out of the bar as quickly as she'd come.

I found the air to be cooler without her occupying the space.

I shivered and turned my chin towards that freeze.

-

Later that evening, I found myself on the hotel roof.

It was one of my favorite spots, no matter which city we were passing through, which state I found myself to be stuck in. I could go up to the highest floor, even if it wasn’t too far off of the ground, tune out the stress that came with work, and relax into the peace and quiet.

It was one of the healthier coping mechanisms my therapist and I had been working on. I was an antisocial person, to say the least. And when I’d had to be around others for too long, working literal overtime to just function like a normal person, I’d become irritable, withdrawn.

So, stalking off in the late hours of the evening with a book in my hand and some lyrics in my head became a usual, practiced ritual that I was comforted by, especially on tours.

The breeze of London flew past my face, braising goosebumps on my neck. I tucked my chin into my hoodie more. There were these tiki lights, all around me and the intimate seating area I occupied, but the little bits of light did nothing to help me see the book in my hands.

I tucked it away after straining for a few moments and settled on just resonating with myself for a bit. I watched the flames of the fire pit before me, listened to it crackle and pop. I was so focused on the peacefulness, that I hadn’t even noticed the elevator ding, nor the person scuffling across the concrete of the roof.

In fact, I didn’t even notice her until she was sitting across from me, these little alcohol bottles in her hands. The movement of her sitting before me flitted my gaze up, edges of my vision blurred slightly from the intensity of the flames. My hearing focused after. There was music streaming from the speakers on her phone, some Taylor Swift song I didn't recognize. I withheld the urge to roll my eyes and studied her movements.

She read the label on the mini shot of Jack Daniels with squinted eyes. I'd never seen someone pay so much attention to a simple liquor Maybe she'd never drank it before. That would be a strange fact, considering she was 23. Every 23 year old I knew had gone through every liquor known to man. Then, she drank it and I realized why she was so observant. Her face turned up in this grimace, lips puckered, brows furrowed. She just couldn't handle her liquor. Her examination of the bottle was really just a hesitance to consume it in the first place.

I stifled a laugh and instead found my words, urged to tease her for this occurrence, "Gonna share?' Maybe I should have intruded her peace more gently, or maybe I should have said something sooner than I did. Either way, I had spooked her enough that she jumped.

Her once shocked grimace twisted into a deep frown, like she was annoyed I had disturbed her. "How long have you been sitting there?"

My grin widened, though it didn't seem like she found much humor in the situation. "Long enough to know you can't take a shot." I held out my hand, awaiting her to hand over one of the bottles. She didn't do that Instead, her face hardened a bit and she made another comment, “Sorry I’m not an alcoholic. If you want one, you have to come get it, by the way. I’m comfy now.”

I was taken back by her crudeness. Everyone said she was so kind, so sweet. I'd even overheard her niceties earlier, at the airport, at the bar. Had I done something?

Instead of setting the record straight, communicating, though, I became defensive to her jabs. As I reached for one of the bottles, I said, "Comfy with this trash music playing?"

Funnily enough, this made her face sink more, if at all possible. Her frown was deep as a river, and murky as one, too, "Real men listen to Taylor Swift."

I tried another joke, hoping it would salvage the wreckage we were feeding, "Hey, haven't you heard? I'm a vessel, not a man?"

I don't know if it did, but she at least continued speaking to me. "So, vessel, what are you doing up here? Can't sleep?"

I tossed my hand in her direction, speaking with my casual satire, "Obviously." I looked away from her, breathless. I was trying so hard, so incredibly hard to seem careless, chill. I didn’t know why I couldn’t just, actually, genuinely not give a fuck.

I reached for my cigarettes, too stressed out to handle a head that was some sober from nicotine. After a long drag, I felt that familiar buzz of a clear head, the temporary reduction of anxiety.

Cigarettes were always a killer ice breaker, helpful in even the toughest, most awkward conversations. So, when my eyes popped back open and met hers, I offered a hit.

If her face had been disgusted before, it was even more so now. "That's okay, thanks," she almost sneered.

I pursed my lips. Okay, I wasn't the only one killing this conversation. She acted like she was just too good for anything that I had to do with. Like if she were to take a drag from this cigarette, she'd be infected with my sickness.

I voiced the concern with my snide tone again. Her response nearly made me choke on my own spit, “More like my mom died of lung cancer because she smoked for thirty years.”

As quick as possible, I stomped the butt into the ground. "Sorry."

She hummed some sort of response, looking away so uncomfortably. I wanted to grovel, to beg for her forgiveness in the case of such a small moment of misunderstanding, but I settled on another painful jab at a nice conversation.

“I’d ask what you’re doing up, but I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep after the day you had.” She responded in that same dry tone, "Yeah, no."

Annoyed, I began to wonder where all this sweetness had gone. Earlier, with the guys, she had spoken like she'd known them for forever. Here, with me- she acted like I'd spit in her coffee this morning, like I was holding her at gun point just to have this conversation.

I gave up on trying to be overly considerate and shot straight to the point. I wanted answers anyways, and now I had a good reason to search for them, "What's your deal, Daisy?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" She responded.

I shrugged as I crossed my arms over my chest. What did she want it to mean? "Why are you here?" Instead of just answering the question, she countered me, echoing the question. Good fucking game, Daisy Hallett. Good fucking game.

I stretched my body out as I thought, unsure of how to answer. What was I here for? To do my job, obviously. So, I told her that. But, I should have known she would pry deeper. That were her job, after all, to observe, analyze, pry.

“That’s not what you’re here for,” She rejected my words, shaking her head just slightly, “That’s what everyone else is here for. What about you, Oliver?”

I started making music for myself, not anyone else. In the darkest, most terrible parts of my life, it had gotten me through to the other side with ease. It was my biggest coping skill, sitting at a clear number one on the list my therapist and I had outlined.

Getting paid for it, getting to tour and travel cities…that was all a plus. Touring, performing itself, were two things I was still trying to get used to. It was awesome to get to play my music life for others, to help them through to the other side, but it was sometimes…overwhelming, a hard pill to swallow.

So, I answered honestly this time, “To…worship. To celebrate my music, myself…life.”

She was impressed by this answer, pleased, and I could tell this by the stretch of her lips. That sweet, enticing smile did something to me.

As she held up the shot bottle in a gesture to cheers, I returned the smirk. We danced on the edge of some invisible line.

"To life."

I wanted to hear more of her voice, more of...her, more about her. So, I scrambled and said, "Wait, what about you?"

“There’s no deeper meaning to anything I do,” she waved me off.

I understood her more in this moment than I sometimes understood the people closest to me. She was like- she was insecure, she was scared. She was a little kid with monsters under her bed and in her closet.

So, I affirmed her existence with words that seemed so simple, yet would have meant so much for me to hear, too. “Oh, Daisy, there’s always deeper meaning to everything humans do. Think. What’s yours?”

This threw her off balance, yet somehow kept her from falling off the edge. It made the gears in her head turn, made her question her own thoughts. "I guess…I guess…to find that deeper meaning. To find what I’m looking for, maybe.”

She still didn't seem too sure, but I knew that, once this summer ended, once the leaves turned brown, and she returned back to a place called home, she would know it in her bones.

And I think, maybe, I might know it, too.

Sooner, rather than the later that I hoped for, we were in the elevator. Hours of breathless conversation sat, stale in the air on the roof, abandoned as the steel doors trapped us in silence.

The more she told me, the more terrified I was of her very existence. She was smarter than me, and very good at returning snide comments. Her wit was so profoundly intelligent, that I found myself silenced on more than one occasion.

Above all this- she was a disruption- she was chaos. She made me think differently, harder. She made me laugh.

I was drawn in by all of this, by her eyes, by the way the corners of her pink lips curled up into her cheeks. It took me a second to realize that she was staring back up at me, that our shoulders were turning to face one another, that my fingers were grazing the sleeve of her hoodie.

"You're very pretty, Daisy," the words fell out in a dangerous whisper. I loved the way she blushed, the way the tip of her nose scrunched, and she fell back onto her heels a bit.

I would have kissed her, I knew that for sure, had the elevator doors not opened up, had we not parted ways there, in the barren hallways. And I would have sought her out, would have reached for a simple phone number, another moment on the roof, another conversation about life and college and her favorite fucking color...

had I not made it back to my room and looked myself in the eye, through the smudged reflection of the bathroom mirror. The painful eye contact brought me back down to Earth, reminded me of the ugliness swirled up inside my chest, the bitter desire of my own self interest, selfishness.

I was...I was the chaos. I was the disruption. Here was this beautiful, interesting, smart girl...and here was me, this man-giant, who could barely hold a conversation without feeling like he was going to have a panic attack. Besides all that, her brother was my fucking best friend. I was his boss.

This was territory that I could not enter, not without a guilty conscience and someone's broken heart. So, I would proceed with caution, although it ended up making me seem like the worst person in the world.

-

I knew I could no longer keep up the act only a few weeks in, all thanks to Whitney Houston and this stupid pink fucking dress.

I watched her parade herself all night, guzzling drinks like they were air, batting her stupidly prim and perfect eyelashes my way. She knew exactly how to get me going- how to lock me in, most of all. And I was playing right into the fucking game, weak signs and Achilles heels all exposed from the second that she stepped out of that hotel room.

When I saw that knowing, vivacious smirk- I knew tonight would be different.

It wasn't until she was passed out, in my bed, with my hoodie on, that I realized I was falling for her. I had been able to subside the hunger that I felt, the hunger I felt to speak to her, to consume her with my eyes, my teeth, my hands, my body- God. It was easy to push all these thoughts away when she wasn't there- but then, she'd show up at breakfast or dinner or in my dreams and thoughts and desperations and I'd spiral again.

It didn't help that I was letting it get to me so much- and she was literally trained in analyzing behavior. I exposed my curiosities with even the slightest dip in my gaze or lift in my shoulders. There was a moment, during breakfast, when she told us of her plans for the evening of one our first shows- that she wasn't coming to.

Max had to go and make a stupid joke when I just barly glanced up from my plate, "Even Ollie's hurt!" I stopped coming to so many social gatherings, at least where she was concerned. And, then, I got all the space I needed when we took off on the buses.

Everyone flocked to her side, wanting even a second of her attention, while I kept to myself on the other bus. Because I thought the guys might leave me alone about it, I could almost reside in absolute peace.

But, then, Ronnie came knocking on my bunk.

It was early morning. We were stopped for gas, somewhere in Northern Italy. The bus was deadly silent, with nothing but my own quiet breath and the hum of the outside world to keep e company. Ronnie came in, bounding, like she always did. She slammed the bus door shut, jarring me from the focus I'd had on the game of Mario Kart pulled up on my Switch. Next thing I knew, she was ripping open the curtain to my bunk.

"Why the fuck are you rotting in here like a mummy? I'm close to wrapping you up in toilet paper and shoving you in with the suitcases!"

I rolled my eyes as she spoke and slouched my shoulders away. The hood of my sweatshirt dipped enough that she was no longer in my view. "Sam needs to stop gassing up your jokes. It's getting to your head."

"You're literally just jealous because your jokes are only ever mean and borderline tone-deaf," Ronnie grabbed the lip of my hood and tugged it down over my face.

I wriggled away from her, Switch dropping towards the inside of the bunk. I shoved her hands away. "Says you, Miss Jimmy Carr."

Ronnie's jaw jutted open a bit, "Now that's fucked, Ollie."

I went to jab back again, but she held up a hand, head tilted like she was a tired, annoyed mother of a band of men babies. "Stop while you're ahead, dude. Back to what I came in to harass you about- you need to come join us! We're playing Mario Kart with peaches- Daisy, sorry. You guys would get along sooo great. I know you're, like, weird about new people, but she's so fucking funny. Please, please just come over, hang out, be chill for once in your life."

Peaches. They had given her a nickname. Peaches, as if she weren't already sweet enough to sour the cuts on my skin.

I huffed and puffed at the rant as I pulled my hood down the back of my head. "First of all, I don't play Mario Kart-"

"I literally hear the music coming from your Switch," Ronnie pointed with a dead stare at the device, muffled humming rumbling from beneath my blanket.

I met her eye, absent any shame of my white lie. I took a breath and dove back into my rejection, "Second of all, why the hell do you guys give out the cringiest, most ridiculous nicknames? Like, peaches?What even is that?"

"It's called joy, magic, and fun, you grinch," Ronnie pinched my elbow. I flinched away from her touch again and she snickered. "If you don't like Daisy, just say so. I won't tell anybody. I'll just resent and judge you in silence- silent words, not punches."

What did she mean, that I didn't like Daisy? I knew I'd been passive towards her, but I never made it so obvious-

The expression on my face must have read confusion or shock because Ronnie popped a hip and crossed her arms.

"Listen," she added, "I know that she probably irks you. I get it. You're the bad boy, dark soul type and she's this ray of fucking sunshine and, yes, peaches. Just- give her a chance before you rain all over her parade."

"I literally never said I had a fucking problem with her. Why does everyone think I hate her guts when I've literally only ever had one conversation with her?" I frustratedly spoke, words rushed together. Ronnie stood back a second, reading the scrunch of my brows, the way I pushed myself up onto my elbows. Then, her offended frown morphed into something knowing, as though bits of information clicked in her head.

"Oh," she rhythmed, grinning now, "I see what's going on here. Hey, she's gorgeous.” "Oh, my God, here we go," I stood from my bunk, now, unwilling to just lay there and listen to her try to evaluate my behavior.

Ronne didn't follow me as I made my way to the back room, "Ollie...just remember who you are. And who she is."

And this sentence alone threw me for the biggest loop.

I didn't even know what she meant by that, but as well I knew Ronnie...it was definitely more than met the eye, deeper than any surface level warning anybody else could give. Not only did I know Ronnie well, but she could read me like a book. She knew what to say to make my skin crawl. Who I am...who Daisy is.

Analyzing the statement from top to bottom, general to specific, it was simple. She was my best friend’s brother. And I was his boss.

It meant more than that, though.

Ronnie meant that Daisy…Daisy was delicate. Daisy was meat, fresh off a shattered bone, and I was a hound.

I was always the hound. The Albatross, even. A winged creature always coming in to swipe shiny things off of stormy shores.

Ronnie didn’t want to harm me with the statement, but she sure as hell wanted to humble me. And that she did.

Each time I found myself aching to find Daisy’s gaze, I’d shrink back into myself. Remember my place. Remember who I was.

And, then…that damn Whitney Houston song. That damn pink dress.

Ronnie knew I was slipping, when I first spotted Daisy, in the doorway of her hotel room, long legs on display. I caught my lips beginning to party, drool beginning to pool in my teeth. This appreciative smirk came upon my face until I met Ronnie’s frown.

And I moved on.

I kept trying to move on, to fly away, leave the gold necklace on the beach for some other lucky, hopeless idiot to clean the sand off of, treasure for the rest of their sorry days.

I paid for her meal, as some sort of reparation for the damage I must’ve done all evening, being the hungry being I was while she toyed with the lock on my cage.

But, I just couldn’t . Especially not when she was running from the bar, sickness visible on her face. I could’ve left it where it was- Max was shuffling after her, ready to help, ready to hold her hair up.

Before I knew it, my feet were racing me out of the door, my hand was on Max’s shoulder, a kind smile was reassuring him that I could handle it, that he could go back to having fun.

My hands were in her hair, my neck was cradling the crown of her head, she was reaching for my wallet, letting us into the hotel room, laying down on my bed. I was giving her my hoodie, placing a bandage on her leg, caressing her fruity skin.

And then…just like that, as quickly as the rain began, like when you can see it in sheets, pounding into the Earth, just there, off in the distance…then it’s splattering on your windshield, the sound jarring you from your tired drive, the blur harming your vision of the road.

It was raining in my hotel room.

I didn’t have an umbrella.

I spent the entire night, laying there on the bed beside her, faced away, tensed up. Every breath she took stopped my heart. Every wrinkle from the white sheets made my eyes blink.

I was spending so much of my thought process trying to remember the taste of her fleeting lips on my own, pressing my fingers to them as though they were stained from her, as though I could close my eyes and taste them, again and again and again.

Then, in the morning, she returned my hoodie. There was this…look…this distant, worried look. Had she remembered? Had she remembered the words I said? Was this going to change anything? Everything? At breakfast, I ignored her persistent eyes, the gaze burning into my soul for answers. When she told us she couldn’t remember anything, I was little relieved.

If she didn’t remember, I could put distance between us, try to forget it myself- try to forget the way her fingers buried themselves into my hair. Try to forget the feel of her nose, pressed into my cheek, her chest, warm against my own.

While I was able to put physical distance between us this week, being that work kept us busy. But, the mental, emotional yards were harder to climb.

Once we made it through the airport, to Italy, I began my practice of celibacy, against the thoughts of her, against us.

I think part of me knew it wouldn’t last. I think part of me didn’t want it to. I think that’s why I was there- in the elevator, headed for the roof, in hopes that I might find her there. I didn’t even know if it was a place she frequented, but my intuition told me it was a good place to look.

And I was right.

I acted shocked when I first saw her, like it didn’t help my blood pump, seeing her, feet in the water, hair curling around her forehead.

She looked so…tense. Stressed. There was this permanent furrow in her brow. Did she really not remember…anything? At all?

Though it was a relief, I wanted to jog her memory (I wanted to kiss her).

I asked Daisy, barely glancing over at her in the seat beside me. From the corner of my eye, I watched her chew upon on her bottom lip, “Not really.”

Why did it feel like a lie?

She must’ve remembered something. Sure, she had been drinking, but…she was smarter than that. “Okay,” I choked, snatching another look at her.

I noticed Daisy turn her chin to return the gaze and I looked back at the city. I couldn’t look into her eyes, look at her face. I’d crumble.

“Is there something I should be remembering?”

It was timid, shy. But bold.

Bolder than I could bring myself to be right now.

Unable to find my own words, unable to form my own lie, I echoed her.

“Okay,” she copied.

The moment swelled in my mind. I wanted- needed her to remember. I wanted her to feel the ache in my bones at the thought of our lips pressed together. Wanted her to feel the longing Maybe then, she’d be the one to break, and I could blame it on her. Make her out to be the bad guy, going after me.

What a fucked up thing to think about.

Before I could catch myself, I blurted, “You don’t remember-“

At the same time, she went to push further on the topic.

I excused myself, motioned for her to continue. But, of course, she let me go instead.

“You don’t remember coming back to the hotel?”

I knew I was confusing her.

“Not really. you’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell me? Something important I should be remembering?” her knuckles, clasped together, were turning white.

I shrugged and pretended to be unaware, “I don’t think so.”

“Why did you tell me to come sit with you?”

She really knew how to make a guy question his own thought patterns. It would make her a really great therapist- but it just made me want to run.

To hide. To slip away from this disruption in my damaged peace.

I sighed, thoughtful, though still unsure, “I don’t know. Thought it would be nice. Like when we were in London-“

“Like when we were in London and you proceeded to pretend like we never did this? Like when we were in London and you kept interrupting me, so I couldn’t tell everyone we had been up on the roof together?”

So, she was pissed.

I knew she would be. She acted like she didn’t care, but I saw through the disguise. It reminded me of me.

I shrugged, putting on the same play, “Like that.”

I guess that was the comment that sent her off the edge, though. She was too guarded, too respectful of herself to take the bullshit I pushed. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

That wasn’t it for me. I needed to know what she knew. She obviously remembered more than she was letting on.

I slid into the elevator behind her, “Daisy-“

I swear to God, the rhythm of her breathing palpitated when I said her name-

“I need you to be honest with me. What do you remember?”

“Oh, cause you’re such a conscientious person yourself?”

I pulled at my hair, stressfully, “I really don’t think we’re on the same page right now, Daisy. Please, if we could just talk about this, if you could just tell me what you remember-“

Gears seemed to click in her brain. Something I said, the way I moved, the flash of the stars in her eyes, something had triggered a memory in her head. Something suddenly made sense.

I tried to help, though I was probably just being an asshole. “I want to figure this out, okay?”

I wanted to figure her out.

Whatever clicked was- it fucked things up.

“Oliver,” she frowned, “I can’t play this game with you.”

Game?

What game?

I was only ever playing defense- keeping to myself, keeping her away from my heart, trying to maintain distance. She had kissed me- I was the one to turn her away.

My shoulders fell, “What game? Daisy…I’m confused!”

“So am I, Oliver!”

Fuck. The way she said my name-

“I’m- you’re fucking with my head!”

Like she wasn’t fucking with mine?!

I went back to my original question, hoping to continue digging there, instead of worrying about this new hole she was unburying, “What do you remember?”

“It doesn’t matter, Oliver! I just don’t want to do this with you. Max is right. I should listen to him.” What the fuck did Max say? Why was he involving himself in this? How did he even know about- us- when we didn’t even- what?

What was happening?

“I’m not doing this with you.”

The doors opened, and she was leaving me. In her dust. In the swell of her words.

I retreated back to my room, throat tight, chest contracting for any gulp breath I could get. I fell back against the door like there were bullet holes bleeding out of my chest. I wanted to just...be honest. To be honest with her. Tell her what I really thought, what really happened, how I felt about her.

It wasn't the boundaries holding me back now. All my senses of morality and respect for our situation were dead. It was me. I was the iceberg. I was the gun.

I found my way to the bed, lay there like an empty casket. Dead, hollow, shards of wood. Why was I so afraid of her?

Maybe she'd be good for me...better than the last relationship I had, that much I could already tell. But, maybe she didn't want me for that.

Maybe she wanted to scalp me for my money, for my fame, dish out the gossip to the tabloids. Maybe she wanted to love me.

Maybe I deserved something good. Maybe I deserved to take a risk on something. Maybe I needed to. I was outside her door, before I was really conscious to my own movements, knocking, waiting. For barely a second.

She was opening the door, standing there in this barren light like an angel.

"Daisy."

I was kissing her.

Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, whatever cruel fate she may prophesize or goodness she may expose to my paled skin- I didn't care.

Because she was kissing me.

-

I hadn’t been with someone for over a year.

That was what was so jarring about the entire situation.

It made me cautious, held me back. I’d been on a dating ban since I switched to my new therapist, who wanted me to focus on myself more than I always did on another person.

And for a while, it was going well.

Until Daisy disrupted that.

I knew, for as long as she was alive, breathing my air, I just could never be alone.

Usually, when I dated someone, when I was with them…I still felt that loneliness because I would give so much. And that person never returned it.

Daisy did, by a tenfold. She was…present. She so easily showed up, made time for me, chased me down when I went into those bouts of self isolation.

It was difficult to let her in…to let her join me in the dark.

But she made it feel less lonely. She made me feel…whole.

I started going to breakfast more often, started including myself in the group activities. Not only did she make me feel less alone, but she made me feel like I needed human connection.

“It’s warm, isn’t it?”

I scoffed at my therapist’s words, so simple for something so complex. “Warm. It’s hot. I feel like I’m on fire.”

“Good. Burn,” she responded. “You’re in the light now, Oliver. How do you feel about it?”

“Wow, what a question,” I teased.

Dr. Grime sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement was delayed, due to the time zone different, the laggy wifi in the hotel room. “Seriously, Oliver. Is it…do you feel like you want to snuff it out?”

“Of course I do,” I shuffled on my bed, “you know me. Something good comes and I feel like I don’t deserve it. But…I think it might be okay if I hang around in this for a while.”

“I think so, too,” she smiled. “I like how your language has changed, too. You’d tell me, ‘I don’t deserve this.” Now you say, you feel like you don’t deserve it. You’re recognizing rational thoughts from emotional ones. That’s very important. I’m proud of you.”

I offered a strained smile in response, uncomfortable with her praise. It was appreciated, though, and gave me body a sense of accomplishment.

Maybe I was getting better.

“So, this Daisy,” she leaned forward, more intrigued with the personal aspect of my love life, like some maternal figure.

I chuckled, shaking my head approvingly, “Daisy.”

“Do you…love her?” Dr. Grime poked.

I blushed, deeply, but quickly shoved the thought away, “Oh, no. No way. I…I barely know her. That’s- that’s crazy. Definitely not. No.”

My phone dinged in rhythm with the end of my sentence. It was her.

Daisy: soon as sam goes to bed, i can be over

My eyes lingered on the text, more concerned with this situation now than the accusatory, knowing tone of my therapist’s words.

“Mm,” she paused, “no, of course. So, is this just…a casual summer fling for you? A way to get over everything this, figure out what it is you want out of a relationship? It’s important to have something like this, a stable ground to work up off of for the future, considering you don’t have a great idea as to what love should be like.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged, toying with my phone. I stared at the message, reading and rereading the message again and again.

What…was this.

What was this to me?

What was this…to her?

We’d established some boundaries, mostly that I couldn’t really commit to anything to serious. And she said that had been okay.

Was I still okay with that?

Was that still what I wanted?

I was so obviously falling in love with her, but I would never tell anybody that.

Especially not her.

But it didn’t matter if I loved her- did I want her that way? Did I want this to last past the summer?

I did.

And that’s what scared me the most.

Loving her beyond the swept up dream we were caught in, back home, domestically. Loving her casually, routinely, in the kitchen back in my apartment, through school, sharing plants and bath towels.

I wanted that.

I wanted her…her ends and odds.

I lied, “No. I don’t want that right now. Got tour going on, new album soon. You know. Busy.”

Long after therapy ended, I stared at the message. The sun had set, the day had died…and I just couldn’t think of anything to say.

I think if I were to be around her right now, I might blurt out some passionate, mindless thing that I couldn’t bring us back from.

I needed to do…what I always did. Be alone. Ruminate in my thoughts in the darkness of a foreign hotel room in a strange city. All alone.

This felt…easier. Comfortable. What I was good at.

Yeah…this was easier.

The next day, I couldn’t stay from her any longer.

I needed her and she was needed that, too- however we could get each other.

So I pushed aside the feelings I had for her- put up all my walls and boundaries, and took her into my arms-

We would have this summer, even if it killed us.

–

"Hiya, Ollie, dear!"

My mother's voice was a sweet symphonic sound to my tired ears. We were in near opposite time zones, hundreds of miles apart, and I missed her more than anything. Touring usually took everything out of me and she was the one, separate, stable person I could turn to.

We'd only called once or twice the past few months due to my obsessed perversions with a certain best friend's sibling who had been taking up all of my time- not that I was complaining about who.

It was only recently that my mom and I had established such good rapport. Since I was young, she'd struggled to wrap her head around my career choices. Now that I was fully devoted to the act, and quite successful, she pushed aside her disagreement with it and chose to just keep supporting me.

Though I couldn't always answer, her calls were welcome.

"Hi, mum," I sat up in the hotel bed, my back sighing in gratitude at the change in posiiton. i had been rotting in here for a few hours, a little bored since Daisy was out with her friend. I could've went and hung with the guys, but I honestly needed some time to myself. That time was starting to really feel like loneliness, though. I guess before I met Daisy, they were empty hours full of empty feelings. Now, I was waking up to the reality of my existence. I'd made it so dull.

"Are you in Paris yet? Or are you still travelling?"

"We made it a few days ago," I replied. “Show’s tomorrow."

"Oh, I love Paris," she remarked. I could hear her lovely grin through the tone of her words. "I remember when we went there on a school holiday. My favorite part was the Eiffel Tower. It's so big. Now, I hear that it sparkles. You'll have to take a photo for me."

"Sure, mum."

"Have you gotten out much or are you holing up in your hotel room?"

Sheepishly, I scratched my neck. My response was delayed a bit; we both knew the answer. “Uh...I’m getting out there. Ya know, hanging out.”

“Ugh, Ollie,” I could nearly hear the roll of her eyes through the phone. “You know need a lady friend. Someone to drag you out of your bed. I mean, how many times do you get to see Paris. And get paid for it!”

At the mention of a ‘lady friend,’ I blushed. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her about Daisy, and damn did I want to. Though we weren’t even officially together. I didn’t know how to explain that to my mom, so maybe I’d just shy away from the topic, talk about something else.

But I guess my lapse of silent thinking made her think that there already was a lady friend.

“Oh?” she questioned with a cheerful lace to her tone. I didn’t say anything, my brain was unable to come up with anything in response. Acting defensive always made people think the opposite of what I said. Should I just tell her? Get it out of the way? Let her lecture me about my poor choices.

“Well, I won’t badger you. When you're ready,” she was already responding.

I was surprised that she was going to leave it there, to say the least, which only furthered my sentence. She usually pushed until I gave her some semblance of the truth. As she was getting older, I’d realized she gotten more relaxed and didn’t push as much as she used to. I think it was partially due to the guilt she felt for everything between us growing up.

So, I just went to move the subject along when she jumped back on it, “Just- please don’t tell me it’s that Fiona girl. I’m so sorry if it is. I just can’t sit around and watch you be treated so poorly by someone so...so awful. Again. Her personality is just- wow. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised. I went to school with her mum, and she was awful towards me. Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree-”

I had to stop her while she was ahead. I guess some things never really, truly changed. "Mum, please! I’m not seeing Fiona again, I promise. I’m not...”

I wasn’t offended that she thought I was. It was just...more or so shocking. Shocking that she thought I’d put myself back in that. I had, a handful of times before. But...I was different now.

I guess she hadn't been around me these past few months, but I had truly changed. This past May’s Oliver very well could’ve let Fiona waltz back into his life. But July’s Oliver? He would’ve been hesitant.

And, even more so- Daisy’s Oliver...Daisy’s Oliver was a changing man. Daisy’s Oliver was a better man.

And I wanted to tell my mum that, I decided. She needed to know- it would ease her mind, along with my own. I know she was always worried for me. So, I told her-

“No, I’m seeing someone else. Her name...her name’s Daisy,” that felt good to admit, to put into the Universe, that I was seeing her, and she was seeing me, even if there were no labels attached.

“Daisy?” she perked up at the name. “That’s a pretty name. What’s she look like? You got any pictures you can text me?”

I realized quickly that I didn’t. In the near two months that we had been sleeping together, consuming one another’s souls, we hadn’t taken a single picture. It was probably for the best, just in case they somehow fell into the wrong hands. But- there were so many moments I could’ve- should’ve- captured. Moments of Daisy, hair whipping past her face on the roof, the lights of Italy glowing behind her like she had angelic wings. Daisy, in my hotel room, in the early morning before she had to sneak away. Tired eyes and an even more exhausted smile as she laughed at something stupid, I’d done in my sleep.

I wanted one. I wanted a picture of her, a picture of us, whatever I could get.

For now, all I had was my memories to help me describe her to my mum. It was easy to do so, considering she was etched into the very nerves in my mind.

“No, I don’t,” I breathed out, “but she’s beautiful. She’s got this-this- God, I can’t even describe her to you. Her hair’s darker, like yours. She’s got these brown eyes. Shorter than me, of course. You can always tell it’s her, though, just by the way she carries herself. She’s got this energy. You’d just have to see it to believe it.”

“She sounds amazing, Ollie,” she sighed distantly then giggled, “Well, if she’s so pretty, where are the pictures? I need to see her! Need to see what this talk is all about.”

I chuckled in response, “I know, I know. I suck.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure it’s difficult, with you on tour and her...what does she do, exactly? Where is she from? Would I know her?”

Here came the long winded, shameful explanation of everything between Daisy and me. The feelings that weren’t feelings, the girl who wasn’t mine, the upset sea tumultuous between us. Her brother. Sam.

I tried my best, “Well, she’s working towards her counseling license. So, she goes back to school in the fall. But right now, she’s on tour with us. Her brother works- um...Sam’s her brother. She just wanted to do some traveling before getting tied down for the next few years.”

“Sam? Sam Hatlett? She's his little sister?” There was a bit of shock in her tone now like I imagined there would be. Sam was like a brother to me, and mum knew that. In fact, she loved Sam. She always had.

When she first met him, she’d pulled him under her wing like a mother bird, like she could just feel that he needed her. So, to imagine that I might go after his little sister is rightfully shocking. It was close to home.

“I know, I know. Again, I suck,” I laughed, though I felt so tense. Rubbing my neck didn’t ease the tension in my skin.

“You don't suck, darling. It’s just a precarious situation, I’m sure. How does Sam feel about it all? Was he weird when you first started dating Daisy?”

When I first began to tell my mum about Daisy, I doubted whether or not I wanted to be completely honest. But I easily fell into the comfortability of her warm conversation and realized I could not bend the truth. Not only did she deserve to know it, but she needed to. I knew, too, that she wasn’t going to judge me, tell me I was making a bad decision. It took three times with Fiona for her to begin voicing her opinion.

Above all, I didn't need to jump through any hoops to win her approval. I didn’t have to play a role, fill a part. I was me. And she loved that man.

I realized, subconsciously, that this was how I felt about Daisy, too. Comfortable. Easy.

Loved.

I explained things to my mom, carefully, making sure she knew of the endless boundaries Daisy always ensured we had and the sweet, delicate moments that made everything worth it. I nearly fell into myself, swept up in the reminiscent beauty of it all. God, I missed her, even if it had been only two days since I’d seen her. Her friend Sasha was in town and took up all her time.

I didn’t know what I was expecting my mom to say, so I held my breath after I finished saying, “But, I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s just a summer thing or what. We’re both kinda in weird positions, so we’re not too worried about that, I guess. We’re just...having fun, ya know?”

As the insecurity rose up my throat and choked me out, I sighed out the rest of the air I had in me and added, “We’re not, like, in love or anything.”

I hadn’t expected her to laugh, that’s for sure.

But she laughed. My mum giggled, like things were well and truly hilarious, like I had just told her a joke. I waited there in silence, waiting for her to make fun of me for being so stupid as to let this situation occur. Laugh at me for being terrible at love and life. There goes Oliver again, breaking hearts, getting his heart broken. He can’t even be in a stable relationship! Laugh, laugh, laugh.

She said, “You are crazy, Ollie,” but it wasn’t meant in a harsh manner.

It wasn’t condescending, it wasn’t mean. She wasn’t making fun of me. She was...she was laughing because it was funny.

“You are usually so good at going after things. I mean, look at you with your music, darling. I said no, how many times? I insisted you do something, anything else. I never supported you financially. I never...I never supported you. I was the odds you were testing yourself against and looking at you now! I mean,” her voice cracked. A sniffle followed. My muscles eased from the discomfort I felt into something that wanted to reach for her through the phone, hug her.

“I know your father and I didn’t give you the best example for love. I know we weren’t some movie star-couple that everyone always knew would last forever. We fought. We weren’t there for you when we should have been. Your father left you. And then I held all these stupid expectations up to you, to try to make you better. And you! You’re successful!”

“And I give you all the credit for that. You are...my pride and joy, Ollie. My life. I am so proud of you, darling. But it breaks my heart, still, that you have not been able to find happiness. That you must spend so much time repairing what I broke. We cannot blame everybody else- you can...you can blame me, Ollie. I know I am to blame. And that is okay.”

“So, forgive me for laughing, forgive me for calling you crazy and stupid and wild, darling, but- it's right in front of your face, Ollie! She’s right there in front of you. Daisy. Darling, if you’re still questioning what love is, what it’s supposed to feel like...please let me knock some sense into you! You are wasting so much precious time on believing that it can only leave. It doesn’t have to stay for long for it to be important. If she leaves at the end of the summer, you will regret not telling her.”

I didn’t have to ask her what she meant; what she knew I’d regret not saying. I knew it, I knew it as well as I knew Daisy’s face, even more clear in my memory now.

“You can beat around the bush some more if you’d like, or you can carry on with this facade you’re so deeply transfixed by. Darling, I know it’s hard to let the chaos subside, to let the goodness in, but as I am getting older, I am realizing that it is bright. It is...comfortable. It is good. You deserve to have a lifetime of that. Don’t waste any more time, Ollie. Please tell her, please let her tell you. Please just...hold what you have.”

I had borne a hole into the wall, but snapped out of my still position when I felt a tear roll down the side of my nose. “H-how? How do I tell her?”

“However you need to,” she chuckled lightly. “Although, here’s a hint, Ollie: you are in the City of Love. Take advantage.”

I knew our call was ending and didn’t know when we’d get to speak again. So, like she had told, I took advantage of the moment and I held what I had; “Mum, just so you know,” my voice came out as a whisper, a gentle patter of rain on the roof.

“Yes, Ollie?” she whispered, too, like there was a gentle card deck stacked between us. I think maybe there was- I think there was always some sort of tension lingering from the harsh moments we’d beat into each other; the fighting, the leaving, the crying. I don’t think she ever felt like I’d forgiven her, as if I really needed to. She had been growing up, too, after all.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I know, baby,” I felt relieved that there was a smile in her tone, “now, go. You have some more dreams to chase down. And, Ollie?” “Yeah?”

“Get some pictures for me.”

-

I was lucky that, the next day, everyone was busy with their own plans on opposite sides of the city. So Daisy and I were able to spend some time together, outside of this drywall prison. I was a pretty good listener, too, and remembered all the spots Daisy had gushed about seeing in the little time we’d had together these past few weeks. I was being given the perfect setup to do what I needed to do: we were going to be alone, in the most romantic city on planet Earth. I could finally tell her how I felt.

Of course, so much of me shook with anxiety. What if- she didn’t feel the same way? She didn’t want to risk it? She didn’t want to commit to someone this close to school? Let alone someone who lived across the world from her? These weren't my only fears. There were so many revolving around my career that I could’ve drowned beneath their weight.

Yet, each time I looked at her, I was anchored to her shoes. I couldn’t drift out to sea. I was grounded. Though my fears about how she would react sank, it took another amount of effort to get the words out.

I could’ve done it right away, gotten it out there, cleared the air, so we could enjoy each other even more. That would’ve been the best way: I would've gotten answers, started the day out on the right foot. But, when we got out onto the streets, I was swept up in the busy buzz of the crowds. It was loud in the cafe we grabbed breakfast at, loud on the sidewalks, overly crowded by the river. We finally found a place to sit, breakfast sandwiches and drinks in hand. Though there were still throngs of people all around us. So what good was the City of Love when it was full of ignorant tourists?

The anxiety of what I wanted to do was making me feel grumpy. I shut down a little bit, unable to really engage in much conversation, let alone tell her how I felt. I think it just looked like exhaustion to Daisy, so she didn’t really notice. I did- I was hyperaware of every short sentence, every avoided gaze. All of these people are going to be standing here when I tell her. They’re going to watch her reject me and they’re going to know. They're going to know I’m not good enough. She’s going to walk away from me, leave me stranded in the park, alone with my own rejection and denial. I’m not good enough I’m not good enough.

I thought about what my therapist would tell me, ways to snap myself out of this maladaptive pattern of behavior. My brain lies, she always said. It makes things up, creates false realities based off things others have said to me, or moments of true insecurity rooted in no sense of truth.

Daisy would want me, even if I wasn’t good enough. That was the one assurance I could tell myself to shake off the weary thoughts.

And if she didn’t- well, I don’t think thinking about that was going to help me very much. So, when we got back into the hustle and bustle, shopping around the city, visiting the sights, I opened myself back up.

I didn't know if I’d ever find the confidence. I was on the precipice again, after lunch, when I began spewing cheesy pet names as a sublimation for the words I needed to say. It shocked her at first, hearing such sweet things coming from me. And that stung a little. Was I that monstrous towards her that simple affections made her brows shoot up? Was I that bad? I repeated them once, twice, just so she really knew I meant it.

The day went on and on and I cowered in on myself even more. There were plenty more ample moments, but I just kept letting the clock tick down. I knew we were running out of precious time. If I didn’t tell her now, we would go straight back to secret moments in a hotel room, balancing on a tightrope, pretending like the moment the leaves changed color, we wouldn't be losing each other. I just knew Daisy wanted that about as much as I did.

Just when I was giving up hope, I found my moment, finally. Just after we had stopped to view the Eiffel Tower, some street side scam artist grabbed some pictures of us and was trying to convince me to spend $200 on the copies. At first, I brushed it off, until I caught a small peak at the images on his camera. Before he could spout another line, I was giving him $100. He gave me three photos.

Where my words may fail, these pictures couldn’t. You wouldn’t have to know Daisy and I personally to well and truly and see how infatuated we were with each other. I wasn’t even worried anymore that she wouldn’t want me. I was worried she wouldn’t want the risk, the jump, the caution of a fall.

These would be to convince her to leap. These had to be.

I stopped us outside the hotel, knowing if once we stepped inside, our memories might as well be cleared of the day's events. We would be going back to normalcy, to the real world. Our friends would be waiting there, we would allow the gap between us to grow. I would swallow my words and choke on them.

“I love you,” I pictured myself saying. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you, I love you in London, you in Paris, you at home. I love you from the hotel rooms we’ve indented to the streets we’ve wandered. I love you in the plane, on the bus, in every inch of this world.”

But it just wouldn’t come out.

I tried to encourage myself by thinking of who I was just a year ago. By thinking of how I was a year ago, the person I was dating, the situation I was caught up in. Fiona, the endless hours of fighting, of begging. Crying, screaming, the blood sport we played. Hunter and prey, me the victim and yet the one wielding the sword. I thought of Daisy when I first met her. The scent of her in my nostrils, like a clue that I was to hunt for as long as I could run. Of her in my teeth, when I first caught up to her incessant running. The satisfaction I felt, how disgusting that was. How horrible it was that I loved the taste of her blood on my lips.

And how much better I could breathe knowing that I had let go, that I had put my claws away and instead threaded a needle to stitch her skin close. How beautful that was- the beast retracting, the mask falling away. A true creature coming to light, renewed and willing.

Tears welled in my eyes. The words were there, finally, waiting just atop my tongue. She was leaning closer, clutching my hand, clutching those photos like a rosary, like she would sacrifice herself for me. I would, too. I would I would I would I would.

I think I hesitated a moment too soon, or I think she could tell what was happening. I think tha- that, I think that she was running again.

I think she wanted me to chase her or to stop, or she was placing traps in the woods, waiting for the wolf with a bow in arrow.

Because she was pulling away. And our friends were calling our names.

I didn’t have time to think, wrapped up in the swell of the arrival of our friends.

But I felt the death of the moment. It was heavy. It was rotten.

Later, I sat alone in my dressing room before the show, the photo I had kept between my fingers. I swear I could hear her breath, echoing from inside the paper frame of us. Swear I could feel her hands on my arms, grasping as though the wind would take us away from each other. Her lips on my cold ones, warm and fueling like a kindled fire.

I wondered if she threw the photos away. If she stared at them, with resentment. If she wanted to burn them.

Yet, I could’ve lived and died in that moment if I had to. If I was never able to tell her how I really felt about her, I’d be content to waste away, hanging on her lips like a vine, rotting from indecision and cowardice.

Eventually, Sam poked his head in to let me know it was time to go on. I flinched when he first spoke. It drew me back to reality in harsh, cold lighting. I drew the photo from my face, met his eye, and nodded.

I was lucky he didn’t ask any questions about my reserved response, though I knew he was aware that I was getting into character as this vessel. Part of me wished he had asked, though, if only to have someone to share the darkness with again, if even for just a second. And maybe outing Daisy and I to Sam would force me to tell her everything. Force some sort of decision to fall from the loitering hammer that hung above us.

Sam left. I set the photo down on the counter, not even thinking straight enough to put it away somewhere. Then, I hung the mask on my face, edges of my eyes darkened, just like my mind.

Part of me wished I didn’t even have to perform tonight. Every time I put on this disguise, I was reminded of those dark parts of me, the parts of me that were too much like this creature the costume made into. When I’d first come up with the character, I felt so strongly that I was just like Vessel- nothing but a pit of black, music transporting through me like some god had planted it there. I hadn’t been aware of my very real feelings. I just sat there, in that emptiness.

Things were different now.

Maybe I just needed a break from it all, from the costumes and the concerts and Daisy. Well, not Daisy. Not her. Just...everything involving her.

But never her. I just wanted her always, everywhere.

I didn’t get to have that, though, the break nor Daisy.

In fact, all I got was a slap in the face. When I went on stage, I spotted Daisy in the audience. For a split second, there was a lift in my heart, a fire in my bones. She was here. She hadn’t pulled away- she wanted me. She wanted me.

Then, as the lights flickered, I noticed the look of guilt on her face and the hand around her waist, She was here...with someone else.

I felt myself retracting, cocooning, not for growth, not for birth into something good, something with fluttering wings...but into that moth. Into that darkness.

Into that vessel.

In my fury, I laid claim to Daisy in all the wrong ways. I held her by the throat and let her dangle from my lips, reminded her how desparate she was for me, reminded her just how much she relied on my game. It had never been and never would be our game. I was the villain. I was the hunter.

She was my prey.

I was losing hope for my own reconciliation, for my own change. Maybe I would just always be detached, dark, monstrous. Maybe I would never be able to commit, to give in, to be someone’s something.

Maybe I was just this vessel, and maybe this vessel was just me.

Maybe I was never good enough for Daisy, but just enough to satisfy her furious need for that bad. And that was enough for me.

-

Things got worse when Fiona started blowing up my phone.

I wasn’t sure how she had gotten my number. I had changed it back in March, when I’d ended- really ended- things with her. And, with my career, it wasn’t like I’d just handed my number out to any person on the street. I had, maybe, ten contacts on my phone.

Daisy was one of the few I responded to.

But, somehow, someway, Fiona had gotten hold of my number and began blowing my phone up with messages. I blocked her the minute I noticed, after a show when I had time to get on my phone. Then, a few days later, she started messaging from a different number.

They were innocent claims- she kept saying I had left things at her flat and needed to come pick them up. But I knew her better than that. She was trying to use this to weasel back into my head, my heart. She’d convince me to come pick everything up and then, when I was there, she’d start crying. Start saying how much she loved and needed me. She’d convince her into her bed, and we’d start spiraling down into that same old waltz we both knew too well.

After I blocked this contact, I guess she evolved. She started using an unknown number, so I couldn’t even block the contact. I called my manager immediately and told him I needed to get a new phone number. Apparently, all the stores around us were closed for a few days, which just so happened to be my fucking luck. But he promised to get something for as soon as possible.

In the meantime, I just had to ignore her.

So, I booked a last-minute therapy appointment.

I glossed over everything with my doctor, telling myself that things with Daisy were hopeless. She obviously thought me to be disposable. I mean, I had watched how quickly she’d pulled away, how quickly she found another empty face in the crowd.

I didn’t want to admit that shameful situation to my doctor. I didn’t want her to know I’d let myself fall again.

Instead, we talked about Fiona, about the temptress knocking on my door. My doctor kept reminding me to, “Stay strong. Know your worth.”

Easy words for someone in a healthy, happy marriage.

All it would take was one more wrong look from Daisy and one wrong text from Fiona, and I’d end up back off the cliff.

So, I clung to the guys. Daisy had been...not so distant but detached. Cautious. She was taking the lead, so I followed. We still hung out, still fucked like we had been doing. Still had these meaningful, deep conversations that made me wonder, over and over, what the fuck was going through her head. But honestly, I now spent some of that extra time with Max, Cy, Adam, or Sam. We were due to begin working on the next album and I had plenty of ideas floating around in my head.

It was peaceful, quaint. Something I’d missed. Maybe I wouldn’t be ready to start dating again if something like this caused me so much stress.

Adam was texting me now, wondering if I wanted to hang out sometime this morning, talk about the album. I told him I’d let him know what time, considering Daisy was in my bed. And Fiona was blowing my phone up like fucking crazy.

The whole situation threw me off. She wasn’t really concerned about it, but made numerous, passive jokes about me having a secret girlfriend. I don’t know if it was because she really, truly wanted me to be exclusive to her, or if it was just something to do with her pride.

Signals were still mixed, even after we’d had a conversation about how committed we were to each other. Part of me wondered if it had just been an act, her agreement to never see anybody else, her admittance that she was, “mine.” If it had just been something brewed from the heat of the moment. But, when I answered the phone, set it back on the nightstand, I swear to God I saw something in her eyes shift, like she had been bothered at the thought of me with someone else.

Or it would be shitty in general if I was seeing someone else.

I weighed telling her, every single, how I felt about her. I don’t know that if I told her I loved her it would change anything. I had all but done so, and she still was unmoving. She still had gone and found that faceless nobody in the crowd.

Today, I felt like maybe I should. Tell her.

As soon as she had left, someone knocked on my door. I didn’t think it was Daisy, considering Sam would be waking up soon and she needed to get back into bed. When I looked through the peephole, Adam was there, staring over his shoulder sort of strangely.

“Hey, dude,” I started as I opened the door, then turned to make my way over to the bed where my book bag was. I reached in for my notebook, continuing, “so, I’ve got a few good ideas rattling around-” probably a few too many about Daisy, “that I wanna show ya.”

He slowly entered the room, shutting the door softly behind him, “Yeah, uh...” he approached me sort of hesitantly, distant confusion in his pupils, “I think we...should talk about something first.” He didn’t seem too sure of himself and the words he was saying were cautious. So, my tone slowed, hardened “What-what’s up?”

He finally met my eye and I felt like a sword had been shoved down my throat, “I just talked to Daisy...out in the hallway.”

I set my book bag down, hands having been frozen around the straps like someone cursed me into the stoic, icy position. All I could think to say was, “Oh.”

Adam nodded half-heartedly, “Yeah. Oh. I... don’t know what to say, really. I knew you guys had been...like, it was obvious. To me and I think Max, at least. Sam is kinda clueless and, he and Ronnie are totally sleeping with each other.”

Well, that was obvious. So obvious that I could have snorted, but I was too focused on the wild realization that everyone basically knew. All of that sneaking around, trying to be secretive- well, it didn’t fucking matter. And it didn’t seem like it really mattered that much.

“Are you gonna, like, scold me or something?’ I sat on the edge of my bed, running a wary hand through my hair.

“No, I’m gonna tell you that you’re fucking stupid.”

“What?” I looked up from the ground, shock widening my eyes.

Adam finally softened his expression and chortled, though it was short before he was in on me again, “You’re stupid, Ollie. I don’t think you’re doing it on purpose. I think you’re just...Fiona fucked you up. And I’ve watched you slowly start to heal over these past few months. Daisy has everything to do with that. And...she fucking loves you, dude. She thinks the world of you. And you’ve both, I guess, been dancing this dance with each other, walking around the whole thing. I just told her, like- stop thinking less of yourselves. You both deserve something good. You’re both worthy of each other. So, stop being fucking stupid and just tell her.”

My face was hot. I clenched my hands together, knuckles turning white as all these rampant, loose feelings released in my chest, in my head. “She doesn’t love me.” Adam chuckled again, “That’s a bold fucking statement. She just told me herself how much she adores me.”

“Well, yeah, she likes me, that’s obvious,” I waved him off, “she wouldn’t be sleeping with me if she didn’t. But...I think I’ve made it clear so many times how much I want her. And she, just, doesn’t care. Or she turns away.”

“She’s scared!” Adam exclaimed, making me flinch just slightly. “Sorry,” he spoke quieter, like he had shocked himself with his tone of voice. “She’s scared, Ollie. She’s...she doesn’t know who she is. That’s why she came here. That’s why she pulls away, why she seems unsure.”

“Well, I know that,” I scoffed, “I know her better than anyone. You haven’t seen the way she...how she denies it. I know she denies it. She denies us- me.”

“Okay, tell me,” Adam nearly popped a hip at this, a sassy tone overtaking his authoritative one. “Tell me how she denies, what she says and does that makes you think she doesn’t want you. Tell me that she doesn’t love you.”

I thought, long and hard. I could've mentioned the very recent time when she had been dancing with another guy, at our concert, a prowling look in her eyes. Or, of the time when I was on the brink of telling her how I felt, then she pulled away. Or-

Wait.

Am I fucking stupid?

I’m so fucking stupid. I am the dumbest, stupidest idiotic idiot to have ever existed.

It was all right there, clearing up now like I was wearing new glasses. I had a new perspective- I had an unbiased, outsider’s view of the world I had been suffocating in. And Adam’s view was- a breath of fresh air.

I was so obviously the one turning away from her.

From the beginning, I’d been denying her, us, for fear that she wouldn’t want me that way. For fear that someone would find out, for fear that I might die if she ever looked away from me. And I’ve been covering it up with the excuse that I was broken, or hurting, or-or...worthless.

I knew differently. I’d known it differently for a while now but had been unable to act upon this rationality. I was too emotional, too, in my head. And that made me seem manipulative, and asshole-ish, and- fucking stupid.

Adam watched me carefully, watched me as I processed these past few months. My eyes were narrowed, confused, though they widened as the information unfolded in my mind, as the notches clicked together.

“You’re…right.”

Instead of worrying myself with the evidence that she, too, was afraid, I felt my head flood with memories, as tangent on my skin as the cool air of my hotel room. Memories of her devotion, her promise, her love. Memories of us in the stale morning, sharing stories of her mother and that little apartment back in America. Memories of us on the roof, atop the world, atop the feeling, a private sanctuary where even just the flash of her eyes should have told me everything that I needed to know. I was going to tell her I felt the same. I was going to pull her up to the roof, one of our most sacred secrets, and pour everything out onto the barren concrete between us. And I knew she would say that she loved me, too.

It was delicate and I would have to handle it as such. Any sudden movement, and we’d be falling apart, all over again.

But, then Max was bombarding my hotel room, spewing some nonsense about Daisy and Ronnie getting tattoos. He was dragging us to Sam’s hotel room. I was practicing the lines in my head, over and over, a prayer.

Daisy was looking at me with these doe-innocent eyes, like she, too, was praying to some old god. Altering herself for a breath that he may resurrect what was dying between us even now.

I found more words, new words- lyrics, pummeling my skull in wondrous discovery. It was right there- everything was- My phone wouldn’t fucking stop ringing and I thought that I might explode into atoms. I ignored the call, watching as Daisy’s face fell each and every time that it did. She well and truly thought that I was seeing someone else.

Enough was enough.

I took a step towards her, fully intent on putting a rest to the strangeness and awakening what was already there. But, then my phone rang again.

And Sam began making some joke about Fiona calling me, a knowing, devious smirk on his features. He didn’t know- how could he know? I couldn’t be upset with him, but I wanted to strangle him into the carpet.

But I couldn’t focus on that anger for too long-

Because Daisy was leaving like we both always left, one too many times, in one too many silent glares of this something that we just may never get right.

The delicate threads of us bent and snapped.

[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part Three

This one got longer than I expected, so it's only about Spring Break. We return to the apocalypse next part.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

"-eve?"

Waking up again is disorienting. His head aches like the beginning of a migraine. There was something he was thinking about but it's fading quickly. A conversation in a boathouse...? That's not right. The boathouse was empty. The police had beat them there.

"Steve?"

No. No conversation in a boathouse. But there was a phone call. He knows he remembers that. Joyce had called last night. Her and Murray sharing a phone between them as Steve- Oh! Right. Steve told them he knew about Hopper in Russia.

"You have to go, though. Hopper is alive and waiting. And there's a demogorgon. Demodogs, too. You have to kill them all. Any connection to the Upside Down left alive helps Vecna. It's like having a tether to here makes him stronger."

"I can't just abandon El," Joyce sounds conflicted, and Steve gets it. He does.

"You aren't. You're going to be giving her back her dad. She's got Jonathan and Will and Mike. Argyle, too, if he wants to be there. Just. Just get them on the road and back here as soon as you can. If they don't leave soon than Brenner will-"

"Brenner? What do you mean Brenner? He's dead. Right? He's supposed to be dead."

"Yeah, well, he's not. He- I don't know the full details, just. I was just given an overview because, y'know, other shit was going down. But he makes El relive a lot of traumatic shit from her past and yeah, it gets her back her powers, but she's just a kid. She's just a kid."

"Her abilities, they aren't gone?" It's Murray who asks.

"No. She's just traumatized, in a different way. It was... it was Jonathan who said this, actually, to me. I mean, he hasn't said it yet, and if everything goes the way I want, he won't need to say it ever, but that's- sorry, that's not important. He said he thinks El blocked her abilities because she lost Hopper. An internal block, you know? 'Cause she couldn't save him with them, so what was the point of having them?"

"And you think bringing Hopper back will free her of that block?" Murray asks.

Steve can't help it. He laughs. "Hell no. I think years of therapy might, but having her dad will help. There's no way it hurts, right? Also, uh, you're the parent here, Joyce, so I'll let you decide what to tell her, but the big, awful thing that Brenner made her relive? It was a massacre. At the lab, when she was there. Another guy, another number, killed a bunch of the people there. It was El who saved the remainder. She stopped him from killing anyone else by opening the first gate to the Upside Down. She tossed him in and closed it. She's not a monster. Oh, that part you have to tell her. She's not a monster."

"Steve!"

There's more to the phone call, Steve knows he knows that but there's yelling and it's distracting.

"Steve!!"

"What?" Steve snaps, both with his shout and back into himself. He's sitting at the picnic in Forest Hills. Everyone is looking at him with varying degrees of concern.

"You okay?" Robin asks, "we've been trying to get your attention for a while now."

"What? Yeah, sorry," Steve says, distracted, standing up and looking around. Eddie's trailer is right there, and Wayne's truck is parked in front. He knows Wayne. Knew Wayne? He's in charge of the gardens at home base. A real green thumb, not that you can tell by looking at the trailer now. "You think that with Fred's death, they'll stop suspecting Eddie?"

"What? We don't know that they suspect Eddie," Dustin is quick to say, "I know he didn't do it, and so do you so-"

"Yeah, I know! I do know that, but Chrissy died in his home and then he ran. Of course, he's a suspect. But he was in jail last night. So. They can't suspect him still, right?"

Nancy purses her lips, giving Steve a look he knows isn't good. "Well, it will depend on when they apprehended Eddie, which we don't even know they did. How do you know he was in jail last night?"

"Good point. I don't, not for sure. But Wayne might," Steve says as he starts walking away. He can hear everyone at the picnic table shouting for him and scrambling to follow. Steve picks up speed, dashing up the steps and pounding on the door before anyone catches up.

"Steve, what are you doing," Max hisses, because she's the fastest and therefore the closest.

"I just gotta-"

"Can I help you?" Wayne Munson greets, voice even. Steve watches as his eyes sweep the group, pausing on Nancy before coming back to Steve.

"Hopefully. Uh, I'm a friend of- well, no that's a lie. I don't want to lie to you. I'm not Eddie's friend, but I want to be, and Dustin here is, so we just wanted to know if you could tell us if Eddie's okay?" Steve says. "You already talked to Nancy yesterday, but she didn't know that we, like, knew him. Have you heard from Eddie?"

Wayne eyes him with suspicion, which is fair, "I ain't heard from him."

"Please," Steve says, because he's got to try one more time. Either Wayne doesn't know for real, or he's lying because he doesn't trust Steve. He's not sure he'll be able to tell which is which, but he has to ask again, "I swear that we just want to help Eddie. Whatever happened to Chrissy wasn't his fault, I know that. I just need. I need to know he's not- not out there, alone and scared. Please."

Wayne stares him down and Steve refuses to look away. Wayne's eyes flick away from him to the single police cruiser still stationed nearby, then back. "Get in here."

He doesn't need told twice. Wayne retreats into the trailer and Steve follows. Immediately his eyes jump to where the gate will form. Currently it just looks like water damage on the ceiling, but Steve knows. No gate yet, but it'll be there tomorrow. Probably fully formed by the time Vecna tries to take Max.

Robin, the last one in, shuts the door behind her gently.

"I told her yesterday that Eddie didn't do this," Wayne nods his head towards Nancy but he never takes his eyes off Steve. "Didn't stop them from arresting him."

"Thank God," Steve breaths out, which is the wrong thing to say, given how quickly Wayne's face morphs to anger, so he quickly adds, "shit, I mean, that means, he was in police custody when they found another victim last night, right? That'll prove he's innocent."

Wayne doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes his time looking at each and every one of them, lingering on Nancy before settling on Max. "You live 'cross the way, don't ya?"

Max looks surprised to be recognized. "Yeah."

"Did you see anything?"

"I saw..." she trails off, brows furrowing as she thinks. She looks from Wayne to Steve. He doesn't know what she sees on his face, but he watches as she steels herself, a decidion made, before looking back to Wayne and saying, "What I saw is whatever I'll need to have seen to help Eddie."

"You'd lie to the police for Eddie?"

Max and Wayne have a silent conversation following the question, judging by their stare down and raising and following brow lines. When Max does speak, she says, "I've lied to police for worse people."

"Huh," is all Wayne says as he settles back against the counter behind him.

"Thank you," Steve says, even as his mind starts to calculate. They'll probably keep him the full 48 hours, since there isn't evidence enough to charge him. Right? There isn't really any evidence. Except, perhaps, what Eddie might have told them. Shit. Would Eddie say anything? "Can you let me know when they release him? Whatever happened, whatever he saw, probably freaked him out. I don't want him to feel alone. I mean, we don't."

Dustin is looking at him now like he's grown a second head but Wayne. Wayne is looking at him like he's made a realization. Drawn some unknown conclusion that he must approve of because he nods. "Sure, son."

"You got pen and paper? I'll write down my number."

The silence from his friends is deafening and does not bode well for Steve. He just knows they're going to bombard him as soon as they leave the trailer.

Which is exactly what happens. They wait until they're back by their cars before starting in, though.

"Steve, what the fuck was that?" Dustin says.

"How did you know he got arrested?" Max demands.

"Steve, you are acting so strange right now," Robin says, worry painted across her face.

"Explain," is all Nancy says, crossing her arms.

Should he? Does he even know what's happening? No. Not really. He's got memories of a future that's bleak and dark and terrible and he doesn't want it to come true. Are they even memories? Did those events even happen? He doesn't know for sure. All he does know if he wants to do everything in his power to prevent it from happening though. He doesn't want to have regrets about.... about something.

"We don't win," he says. "We don't win this one. Or, we didn't? We might now. Things are different this time."

"What?" Robin asks.

Steve ignores the question, giving instead more of the information he knows, "Hopper's alive. Joyce and Murray are on their way to Russia to save him."

"WHAT?" he's not sure who asked. Maybe all of them.

"And El is- I don't know. On her way, I hope. But she won't have her powers when she gets here. Or maybe she will? If she believes she's not a monster and really is the hero."

"Steve, you are not making any sense!"

"I know!" Steve shouts and drops into a squat. "I know! I'm not the- the figure it out guy, or the plans guy, or whatever. I'm just the guy who knows things he shouldn't, and I can't tell if it's because I actually lived it, or if I was just given knowledge about it somehow. I know the Upside Down has a red storm that never ends, more democreatures that just gorgons or dogs, and that Vecna slash Henry slash One is a goddamn monster who opens a giant hell gate and causes the apocalypse."

"Whoa, whoa," Dustin sooths, and when Steve looks up, Dustin's got both hands up and approaching like Steve's a wild animal. He kind of feels like one right now. "Slow down and explain."

There's a lot Steve could say. Should say. Steve is kind and soft, even in the face of the end of the world, but he's also learning that he's a little ruthless. Not heartless, but enough that he can see where they are, where they need to be, and how to get there in the easiest way possible. His eyes flick to Max. "Chrissy and Fred. They were both seeing the guidance counselor. You've seen them both there, right Max?"

"I- yeah. Yeah, I have."

"And Nancy, you've got a hunch, right? You need to go to the library to check it out?"

She narrows her eyes at him but nods.

"Okay. So, uh, let's use that as proof. You and Robin go check out your hunch, and I'll stick with Dustin and Max. Take Max to see Ms. Kelley and see if she'll tell Max anything that connects them?"

"You already know what we'll find, don't you?" Nancy asks, and Steve shrugs. "You're right. I won't believe you. Not without this proof. So, we'll go, Robin and me. And when we meet up, I expect you to tell me what we learned."

Max is completely silent the entire drive, an exact opposite of Dustin who shoots off so many questions in a row that Steve can barely remember the first by the time he's onto the next. Not that it would matter, because Dustin doesn't pause between any of his questions or comments to let Steve answer anyway.

Max launches herself from car almost as soon as Steve pulls up to the curb with a loudly groaned, "finally" before she slams the door and bounds across the street.

"Steve! Are you even listening to me!?" Dustin has finally lost steam or ran out of breath or something.

"Are you done yelling at me?" Steve retorts.

Dustin lets out a really big sigh then says, "For now. I just- Let's start with this. How do you know that Hopper's alive?"

"Joyce and Murray confirmed it when I talked to them on the phone. They're supposed to be getting El and crew heading back this way while they go to rescue him, but I don't really know how that's going."

Dustin squints at him. "I thought you could see the future now."

"No. I saw the future, so like, lived it or something. And it's like... You watch Back to the Future yet?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so like, the part where his family starts to vanish from the picture? Because he made his mom want to bang him-?"

"That is a disgusting oversimplification of the plotline, Steve."

"-it's like that. Except I want to change the events because we definitely end up in the bad timeline."

"Okay. Say I believe you. You said we don't win this time. Explain that."

Steve sighs. "Can that wait for like, everyone? Explain it all at once?"

"What made it so bad you have to alter the course of all of human existence?" Dustin demands.

"The Upside Down breaks through, man," Steve says, "Like, toxic air and no more sunlight or blue skies kinda bad. Full on, end of the world apocalypse type shit."

"Shit. We, like, lose lose," Dustin says in a small voice Steve doesn't think he's ever heard Dustin use before he huffs and falls out of view with a click and the sound of squeaking leather. Steve watches as Dustin reclines his seat back so he can stare up at the ceiling of the BMW.

"Yeah," Steve says before they fall into silence until Max sprints back, screaming for him to drive before she's even got the door closed behind her and certainly isn't wearing her seatbelt yet.

They all converge at the school, and Steve tells them what Nancy and Robin learned at the library, then Max puts together the thread that connected Chrissy and Fred, and he has to watch, again, as she accepts she's going to die. She even looks to him, as if he'll confirm that with a shake of his head or a nod.

He just blinks back at her until she looks away.

They want answers he isn't ready to give. Not until tomorrow, after Vecna tries to take Max. Given how today has gone, tomorrow shouldn't be much of a change. Nancy and Robin will still go the Pennhurst, and Steve will take Max everywhere she wants to go, but this time he'll be ready. It's not too late, so the little music store down from Melvald's will still be open. Hopefully they have Kate Bush handy. He'll make sure Lucas has a backup cassette player and-

"Wait. Lucas should be told. He should be here. Why isn't he..." Steve trails off, trying to remember why Lucas would be here. He went to party with the basketball team and- and what? There's something he's missing. Something changed. His head hurts and the white noise is back, and it hits him so suddenly he sways and stumbles backwards until he hits a wall.

"Steve!" Robin gasps his name and rushes to hold him up. Dustin is at his other side just as quick.

"I'm ok," Steve says with eyes closed. He can't explain it, but he's changed something. He knows he has. Lucas is with them tomorrow, he remembers that, and there's this feeling that he should be here now. That he should have shown up at the school, but the reason eludes him. Slips from his grasp like he's trying to hold water. "It's- there was something that was supposed to happen. Something that made Lucas find us here at the school. I remember that. I- I almost hit him with a lamp. But he's not here. He didn't- something's changed. Whatever happened before didn't happen again."

"What, like, you changed the past?" Dustin asks.

The laugh Steve lets out is manic, even to his own ears. "I don't know! I can't remember! It's there, the why, but I can't reach it. It's faded, man, like the picture. It's faded."

"Okay, I think it's time we get some rest," Nancy says. "Dustin, you'll radio Lucas tonight and fill him in. Tell him Steve or I will pick him up tomorrow morning to join us. Let's go everyone, before someone does show up."

Nancy takes Dustin and Max, and Robin sticks with Steve. She doesn't even question his detour to the music store, just helps him find the Kate Bush tape. Doesn't even raise an eyebrow when he buys two cassette players, five blank tapes, and a tape recorder.

"Who is the mix tape for?" Robin asks him only once they're at Steve's house and settled in for the night in front of the fancy stereo in Steve's living room. Robin's called her parents already and told them she was staying with a friend, and they had leftovers for dinner from.

"Just in case. Now, shh," Steve says, and once Robin has properly quieted, he pressed record on the tape recorder and play on the stereo. He's already found the track he wants, so it's just a matter of waiting the song out, pausing the tape recorder quickly, then rewinding the tape. He goes too far back, so his finger just hovers over the record button until Running Up That Hill comes back on, and he repeats the process. Over and over again, until the hour long tape is filled with nothing but one song.

Robin watches him do it in complete silence. She doesn't move or shuffle until after he's paused the recording, stilling again once he hits record. He knows she doesn't understand why, but also that she doesn't need to understand. He knows that she knows he'll explain as soon as he's able.

He's just afraid to say too much right now. He can remember tomorrow; the Pennhurst plan, how it is supposed to go based on what remembers Nancy and Robin saying. Max will bully him into driving her around, and they'll end up at Billy's grave. He'll be ready this time, he already knows the answers they're seeking but he doesn't want to risk too much.

He has a plan. And it'll work. It has too.

Because he can't remember what happens after. Patrick dies, and there's... water? A lake? But why is Patrick at a lake in the dark? He isn't, is the thing. It's like there are two memories overlapping in Steve's mind and he doesn't know which is real. Or if either of them are.

There's a memory of... of Eddie? Eddie talking about Patrick floating but there's also a memory of hearing it on the news, Patrick found dead in his room, murdered the same way as Chrissy and Fred with no sign of forced entry in his house. Both memories feel real, but Steve doesn't know, can't tell, which is.

Robin and he falls sleep wrapped around each other that night.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @apomaro-mellow @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorrow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @yearningagain @starlight-archer @chaosgremlinmunson @aol19 @goodolefashionedloverboi @gutterflower77 @moomkin77 @wonderland-girl143-blog @krazyperson @sevenmerrymagpies

[acesartemis]

yearning (g, Eddie pov, buddietommy)

my take on a queer/asexual/questioning eddie

“Eddie, I want you to do a little research” —

Eddie bit his lip to contain his groan at the word ‘research’. He had come to have the kneejerk reaction to it due to Buck’s insistent need to research everything. It was endearing, don't get him wrong, but he could easily get tired of the yapping.

—“on the orientation of Asexuality,” Frank suggested close to the end of Eddie’s therapy session. “Maybe its romantic counterpart of aromanticism, too, wouldn’t hurt. Whom you are attracted to does not garner the same amount of distress in you as much as the how.  I think the asexual spectrum may be of comfort to you, considering what we’ve discussed previously of your views towards sex and dating feeling like you have to perform in those situations.

“Unfortunately, I cannot—and I would not—tell you what you should identify as, but I feel like, even if you’re not asexual, learning that it is a possibility may help you feel more settled. Furthermore, it may open the door to more exploration if you so choose. Once you have a baseline of information, we can discuss further, if needed, at the next session. ‘Sound good?”

At Eddie’s overwhelmed look, Frank gave a tiny chuckle. “Here, I’ll write it down so it's easier to remember for you.” 

Eddie took the paper from the therapist and gave him a hearty handshake. “I will. Thanks again, man.”

—♠—

The paper sat on his bedside table for three and a half days until a restless and hot night after a whirlwind of saving people from themselves and other members of humanity left Eddie unable to get comfortable enough to sleep.

With a sigh, Eddie reached for the paper, illuminated red by his alarm clock, and his phone. Might as well do some reading at 3:37 in the morning.

“Asexuality,” Google read, “is the lack of sexual attraction to others, or the low or absent interest in or desire for sexual activity.”

Well, what a loaded definition.

Eddie’s head thunked against his headboard, dropping his phone to his chest as he stared at the ceiling. Yes, he’s described dating and sex as feeling like a performance. With Shannon, it was his first real relationship, them being so young. The Church and his culture told him to be a man he needed to find himself a good woman and only bed her after they were married. That was fine with him. But the act itself felt gross that first night. The noises, the sweat, the skin to skin contact, and the dirty talk always felt so awkward to him. And he hated the anxiety of making sure she felt good, that she was always satisfied. Eddie could stick his gloved hands in bloodied flesh all day long, but the thought of reaching into a woman just to find a bunch of nerves—no.

Then Shannon got pregnant, their marital-duty fulfilled, and Eddie found his out in the military where he went years without having sex, and truthfully didn't think much of it at all.

But touching he missed. And kissing. He could never get enough. The closeness, the intimacy, the soft caresses, the security of having someone or being in someone’s arms… His soul craved for it when he was gone. 

Hmm, maybe the doc was on to something.

But what really caught his attention was queerplatonic relationships: a type of relationship, most commonly non-romantic, where there is an intense emotional connection that goes beyond a traditional friendship.

Well, damn, that was him and Buck to a tee. Buck, whose attention he sought out, whose comfort he craved (even more so than Shannon, truly), who had wormed his way into the fabric of Eddie’s life to the point that he felt secure in leaving Christopher to in the event of his death.

And Buck, whom Christopher had attached himself to like a leech moreso than any other partner Eddie has had.

But was what he felt for Buck considered romantic? True, Eddie had craved to press his lips against Buck’s after the tsunami, and the lightning, but was that inherently romantic? Who could say. For right now though, queerplatonic partners had a nice ring to it. He would ask Frank at their next session.

—♠—

Then Tommy flew into the picture and Buck was suddenly bisexual and what Eddie had wanted to label their relationship all went up in smoke.

“What Buck feels does not negate what you do.” Frank’s advice rolled around his head for days. “And you don't know what he truly feels until you ask.”

Eddie truly couldn't blame the guy. Eddie wasn't sure what his attraction level was yet, having settled on calling himself merely queer for now and quite possibly never having a specific answer was quite alright with him, but he had to admit that Tommy was an Adonis of a guy. The envy of straight and queer men alike, for their respective reasons. And Tommy was the epitome of cool. Flying his new friends to Vegas in a helicopter? Strong, intelligent, and witty? He understood the baggage Eddie carried of misogyny and the military. His arms were big enough to envelop anyone, making them feel absolutely safe and secure.

Eddie hadn't felt that way with another person since Buck.

Oh, shit.

—♠—

During a frantic phone call during a break in the activity of Eddie's work day, Frank said, “Eddie, yes, it is okay to feel like this with more than one person. You’re friends with more than one person, right? And we all have different needs that can't always be met by the same person.”

—♠—

Eddie’s stomach was in knots. He made uncharacteristic mistakes on calls to the point where Hen decided to body-check him out of the way while looking after a patient and it was obvious Buck noticed. Of course Buck noticed. And Tommy too, as Eddie fiddled with his wine glass the next time the trio had gathered at Tommy’s to watch a fight on ESPN.

“Spill it,” Tommy softly demanded, reaching over to rescue the fragile glass from his fingers.

“Yeah, you’ve been off," Buck agreed. His lips turned down in a worried frown. "Is it us? We have both been extra careful not to make you uncomfortable—”

Eddie groaned. “Buck, no. It definitely is not you guys. Well, it is, but not the way you’re thinking.”

“You can tell us anything, you know. This is all a whirlwind to us too,” Tommy assured and Eddie just yearned.

That's what it was. It all finally clicked in his brain. Eddie was yearning. He already had Buck and knew he always would, but he yearned for more. Tommy made Buck so happy in a way Eddie could not. And while that didn't truly matter to him, he was developing the feeling of being the outsider looking in.

“Eddie?” Buck urged so carefully, so softly, like he was terrified.

“I want—” Eddie breathed, clearing the lump of anticipation and anxiety from his throat. “I yearn for… both of you. I… relish in your hugs and touches, and I want… more. I’ve been talking to Frank and I know I'm not bisexual in the traditional sense, and I might be somewhere on the asexual spectrum but I don't care. I just know deep in my bones that I want you. Both of you, in my life forever. To talk to, to cry and laugh with, to take care of my son with. To have and to hold and to kiss… but nothing sexual.”

“So like we’re already doing, but with more of this?” 

Eddie’s breath hitched as Tommy’s warm hand encircled his wrist. He gave a small tug and Eddie complied eagerly as the man wrapped his arms around him and tucked Eddie against his chest. His breath tickled his ear as he pressed chapped lips to his temple.

Eddie’s heart felt like it were to explode.

A small whine fell from Buck’s lips. “Don't leave me out!”

Eddie chuckled as he and Tommy opened opposite arms to make room for Buck, quickly bracketing the man into their shared embrace. “Aw yes. Lifetime achievement unlocked!”

“You’re a dork, Buck.”

“But you love it.”

“So this is good?” Tommy asked, locking eyes with Eddie and giving a soft but pointed look. Buck would roll with anything, they both knew, but Tommy had the experience to know he needed to step lightly with this. 

“Yes, it and you.” Eddie aimed to brush a kiss to Buck’s cheek but was surprised to find Buck's lips instead, the attacker giggling as they separated. Eddie then turned his head to kiss the underside of Tommy’s jaw, ensuring the older man didn’t feel left out either.

Eddie gave him a firm nod, and delighted when Tommy brushed their lips together for the first time. The kiss was feather light but it made Eddie see stars anyway.

Eddie didn't care what he was. He loved Buck and Tommy and they loved him back and that's all that mattered to him.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏

part 5 of 💔broken family💔

summary - a year has passed, and maybe there's a chance for new beginnings.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

A year passed after your talk with Ari, and things began to change. He’d no longer treat you horribly when you dropped your son off, and you had continued going to therapy, knowing you still had things to work through. Your boss understood when you met with her for coffee, telling you to take as much time as needed. You felt happier than you have felt in a long time. It still hurt knowing you and Ari weren’t together because to you, he was still your soulmate, the love of your life, but you had no idea where he stood anymore.

You looked around your house, a final goodbye as you needed to move on from here. It was so lonely and quiet. All of your things were being packed and moved to a moving truck. There wasn’t a point in keeping a house this size if it would just be you staying there at times. You stared, remembering all the good times you had when things were happier and simpler. Little feet pitter-pattered through the empty house, coming straight toward you. “Mumma!” You quickly kneel, catching your energetic son as he clings to you. 

“Hi, baby. Did you get everything?” Jason nods, and you press a soft kiss on his forehead. “Do you want to say bye, house?” He rests his head on your shoulder, turning to look at the house.

“Bye-bye, house!” He waves, and your heart feels warm as you carry him out of your old memories and toward the new. His little chubby fingers curl into the top of your pink sundress, looking at you with big eyes. “Get drink, mummy?” 

You nod, “Yeah, baby. We can get a drink.” You place him into his car seat before hopping into the driver’s side and driving to your favourite coffee shop. The memories that had been formed here were… Special. You park your car, get out and grab hold of your son again. You begin to walk into the place, the smell of coffee filling your senses, causing your eyes to close for a split second. You stand in line, holding your son’s hand as he babbles about some new thing happening at school, and you listen, smiling down at him occasionally because you don’t know where you’d be without him. 

“Mumma, mumma! Should see my drawing! Teacher hung it up! Is good!” He grins, his two front teeth missing from a few nights ago. The joy he felt when he realised the tooth fairy would be visiting was the best feeling to watch. He had placed his teeth under the pillow, and when morning came. His little squeals filled the room, and he ran out to show you the money. The only downside was that Ari wasn’t there to see it happen, to experience his son losing his teeth, or to see his excitement. You knew he would’ve enjoyed the precious moment as much as you did. Jason tugs on your hand, moving closer as the line moves. “Can I has the strawberry shake, pwease, mummy?” 

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Of course, you can, baby.” A chill ran through you, a sense of deja-vu flashing before you as you looked over to the table you had first seen Ari sitting at. A spark buzzed through the air when your eyes connected with the very same pretty blues you had grown to love. He had been watching you the moment you walked through the door, experiencing the same deja-vu when he had seen you in your pink sundress. You had become more beautiful than ever, a glow wrapping around you as you smiled at whatever your son was babbling on about.

Ari smiled softly, feeling his heart warm as you smiled back. He watched as you and Jason headed to the front, ordering what he presumed would be your favourite coffee and possibly a shake for Jason, as his son loved those. Especially the strawberry, and he had been going through a strawberry phase lately.

It was as if the universe was telling you something because as you and Jason had been waiting for your drinks, occasionally looking over at Ari, who never took his eyes off of you. You could feel like something familiar was going to happen, and when you grabbed your drinks, handing the strawberry shake to your son, and were about to take a sip of your coffee. A man bumped into you, causing your drink to splash out and stain your pink sundress. Everything began to move in slow motion, your son clutching your dress with the hand that wasn’t gripping his drink and Ari standing and moving toward you the same way he did many years ago. 

His hand landed gently on your hip, silently asking if you were okay before turning to the man, and the weird thing was, he had been the same man that had bumped into you when you and Ari first met, on the same day, in the same coffee shop, in the same dress. You watched with wide eyes, never moving your hand from your son as Ari ripped into the man, and when the man ran off, Ari took you and Jason to the same booth before going up and ordering you another drink. You watched him from your seat, your son oblivious, but your and Ari’s eyes connected as if you could feel the same strange feelings you had felt those years ago between you.

Ari returned with the drink and some napkins, helping you soak up the remaining coffee and asking if you were okay. Your eyes never once leave him, and Jason looks up, watching his parents stare at each other with a look he had only seen once before when the whole family was together.

You smile softly, putting your hand out. “I’m Y/n.”

And a grin appears on Ari’s face, following your action as his large hand fills yours. “A gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman. I’m Ari.” You swear everyone could feel the sparks flying between the two of you.

“I, Jason.” Your son’s tiny hand lands on yours and Ari’s, grinning. You and your ex's eyes move toward your son’s as you both break out into laughter. Your hands come down and tickle his chubby belly. “Mummy! Mummy! Stop! Tickles!” He giggles, trying to squirm away from you, and glares at his father, who decides to join in. “No! No! You suppose to help me, daddy!” 

The two of you stop, placing a soft kiss on top of your son’s head before your eyes connect again, and you smile.

Because maybe fate had planned this, perhaps this was where you were supposed to be.

Where it all began.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

this is sadly the end of the series, and I thank everyone for being with me for this ride.

[littlestpersimmon]

I dont have a support system after my cousin moved away, I don't I really don't. Whenever I reach out to anyone online I'd get told to seek a therapist, or seek more and new friends when my problem is that I am not getting love and affirmation that I need from them. What am I spposed to do. I seek therapy I seek human connection, why do my already existing friends think this way of me? It feels juvenile to say all the things I jst said but I feel totally unnecessary to the world. So many of my relatives tried to "arrange" a marriage with me by saying they will fund my immigration to America so I can find more work opportunities to help with the cancer yreatment of my two close relatives in our extended family but then they will randomly say "yes but you habe to marry this man you have never met and is also 15 years older than you." I can't stip crying, no matter what I do, I sold my bike, I sold some of my books and I'm taking in s many commissions, I've reached out to so many people in my life, I've been irritating everyone, I've been posting so many things on timblr, I've exhausted all my options, I've went to every clinic in manila, I go tonsleep crying, I wake up crying, I text people crying, I work I'm crying. I don't want to marry this guy, I want mybcousin back, please come home..please come home. I want my friends back, why is this happening to me HaShem?! What did I do for things to end this way for me?? My face hurts, my back hurts, my wrists hurts, please tell me things will get better, I don't know how much longer I can hold on. Please God please please please.