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quizzicalwriter · 10 months ago

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i really love ur writing especially with any matt dillon character <3 i feel like u improved sm with ur recent fics too (or maybe i just like the angst HAHA) but uve always been a great writer, i love how u also include canon details and like realistic details (if that makes sense) but u just r really good with expressing ur words!! id love if u wrote smut like dally bothering fem!reader working a shift at the diner or something idk nonetheless ur writing is sosososgood

Cherry

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dallas makes everything better after a shitty day at work, most of which had been his fault in the first place.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Pain in the ass Dallas. Make-up sex, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words! And thank you for the request!

Word Count: 4.5k

Working at a local diner wasn't necessarily the high point of your life, working the closing shift even less so. Dealing with inebriated patrons, groups of teenagers, and the occasional male who stayed well past the hours of operation was your usual.

It was a cute thing, the diner, owned by a man who'd inherited the land from his grandfather. His wife had based the menu on her recipes, along with a few from her mother, grandmother, and so on. You'd worked there long enough to gain their trust, and if you were honest, you saw them more as your grandparents than you did your employers.

Dallas accompanied you on the busier nights, whenever he passed by and caught sight of the unruly nighttime crowd, he'd duck into the diner and give you a crooked grin before making his way over to the counter. You fed him, or gave him drinks, just as you did the remainder of the guys whenever you could get away with doing so. It was calming, and made you feel safe having your guard-dog of a boyfriend waiting by the front counter until you flipped the sign that hung on the front door.

While his presence was welcome, the attention it drew was not. Possessive streaks weren't something you prided yourself on. You trusted Dallas as anyone would their boyfriend, but you weren't blind to him either. Dallas was a man, a cocky man at that, his cockiness flared whenever a woman looked his way for longer than a second. Had he ever truly pursued someone other than yourself? No, but, you couldn't help your jealousy whenever a woman approached him with glossed lips and bright eyes.

Internally you thrived on him turning down each woman that came his way, although, much to your dismay, some women took longer to disperse than others had. Whether it was due to Dallas's charm, or their persistence, you weren't sure, nor did you have the ability to check during busy shifts, especially when a man who looked as though he'd seen conflict in the Civil War whistled from the other end of the diner.

"Miss!" He called, waving his hand higher than he had seconds ago. Truthfully, you weren't ignoring him, you'd had to run two other checks to nearby booths and had simply forgotten about him. "Miss!"

With a feigned smile, you peeled your attention from the woman all but draping herself over Dallas, her thin fingers splayed over his forearm. He smiled back at her, the sight made your stomach sour enough for you to partially crumble the bill you'd written up moments prior for the increasingly impatient man.

"Here's your bill, sir. I'm sorry for the wait, busy as all get out tonight."

Your apology was met with a gruff laugh, but he seemed to understand your plight as he followed your line of sight back toward the front counter. While he signed the bottom of the receipt, he cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him.

"Ain't no sense in apologizin'." He responded with a lift of his hips as he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. "I get why your attention's elsewhere."

You opened your mouth to apologize, only to be met with the raise of his hand as he placed a few dollars down on the table, enough to cover the tab and your tip. It was generous and kind enough to leave you mentally berating yourself for not having given him better service. But, you ventured by the kind, almost apologetic smile upon his face that he had been in a similar situation in his youth.

Incessant laughter bubbled from the opposing side of the diner, the noise boisterous enough to pick away at your fading patience. You pocketed the cash, inwardly begging whatever deity listening for the grace to clean up shop and kick the girl out without causing a scene.

Their conversation continued, words muffled by distance and the clatter of putting away cutlery, although you tried your damndest to overhear it all. You began your routine of cleaning up house, a wet rag over your shoulder with a bottle of cleaning solution in your left hand. As you spritzed a nearby table, her laughter kicked up a notch, yet again.

"We're closing!" You called, giving her a feigned smile as she turned her head to face you. She returned your smile, just as you had given it to her, coarse and fake. You bit at your inner cheek as she turned back to Dallas, her hand lifting to rest against his shoulder.

"Hey, we're closed!" You shouted, tone louder than before. Dallas peered at you from behind her shoulder, face a mixture of shock and amusement. You were having none of it, not her bold and brazen behavior, his cockiness - none of it. You tossed your rag toward the counter, slinging the bottle alongside it as you moved toward them.

The woman, for what it was worth, met your eyes as you approached. The sudden eye contact left you stumbling over your thoughts, but as you caught sight of her hand still lingering upon his shoulder, all sense of humility left you.

"He's taken, did you know that?" You asked as you grabbed her wrist, quickly shoving it back toward her. Her smile faltered then, her eyes flickering between you and Dallas as she backed away. "No, I suppose you didn't."

All anger you had directed toward her vanished with each step she took toward the door, instead raising and flaring at the man sitting beside you. You turned, meeting his gaze with a scowl and a shake of your head.

"Seriously, Dallas?" You asked, although you knew no response he could provide at that moment would abate the growing ache in your chest. "You're an asshole. A real - fuckin' - asshole."

Each pause was accentuated with a shove of his shoulder, jealousy seething in your mind, burning your eyes with tears you refused to let him see. You could tell from the sudden switch of emotion on his face, albeit blurred from your tears, that he hadn't meant to hurt you. His hands grabbed your forearms, holding you steady whilst simultaneously shielding himself from your jealousy-fueled tirade. You were in no mood for his touch, so you pulled away from it with a grunt.

The sooner you finished closing up shop, the sooner you'd be away from him. Those words rang in your mind as you walked away from him, repeating with each step as though it were a mantra.

It was shitty; your jealousy, his cockiness, it was a toxic mix that neither of you relished in. You had known going into your relationship with Dallas how he handled interactions with women, you knew where his loyalties were, yet some part of you continued to twist and sour with each look his way.

Maybe it was the extra shifts you'd taken at the diner, the fewer hours you were able to spend by his side, being reassured by his touch and his words. Whatever it was, you hadn't the patience to linger on it, all you wanted to do was wallow in your anger - so, you did.

"Doll!" He called, although he was met with no answer as you tossed unclean plastic menus onto the countertop. You could hear him walking toward you, swearing under his breath, yet you continued to ignore him as you snagged your house keys from underneath the counter.

"Christ's sake, I didn't say a damn thing to the broad!"

"That's not the point." You sighed, shaking your head as you spoke, fingers blindly fumbling with your keyring as you neared the front entrance. "Not the point at all, and you know it."

Once your fingers had found the key to the front door, you hastened your pace, not necessarily wishing to have an argument with Dallas in the middle of the night. Dallas, however, absolutely seemed up to the challenge. He stood behind you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, a heavy scowl on his face as he watched you lock the place up.

"Explain it to me then." He whispered, and for a second you believed him to be apologetic. "'Cause this attitude, it ain't helpin' your cause."

And then he ruined it.

You swirled on your heel, months of pushed-aside irritation bubbling to the surface. You weren't one for confrontation, never had been, it was a sore point for you. You quickly pocketed your keys, hands gripping the middle of your jacket, tugging it snug around your middle.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" You asked. "You could've shooed her away, told her you were with someone. And yet, you- you entertain it."

The words would've rung home for anyone willing to listen, but Dallas, with his stubborn ways, only cocked his head to the side and gave you a lopsided grin.

"I'm not interested in other women." He responded, taking a step closer to you. "I can't help who talks to me, doll. I ain't entertaining anything, you know that."

Did you? Maybe, but in your jealousy-fueled haze, you refused to admit your part in the misunderstanding. He lifted his right hand from his pocket, placing it against your upper arm, thumb gently rubbing along the fabric of your jacket.

"Do you worry about me?" He asked with a duck of his head, trying to center your attention back on him. "Worry about me talkin' to other girls?"

You nodded, and instead of snickering, he pulled you forward. You thudded against his chest, the sudden move knocking a bit of wind from your lungs. His arms wrapped around you as he laughed out an apology, the sound soft, the words genuine.

"Still an asshole." You murmured, resting your cheek on his chest as your hands grasped onto the back of his jacket. You felt him nod, chin atop your head, his hands smoothing up your back.

"I know." He replied. "At least let me drive you home, alright? Even if you're pissed."

"Not pissed." You assured, leaning back from the embrace to meet his gaze. "Might have overreacted."

Dallas clicked his tongue against his teeth, eyebrows screwing together as he nodded his head back. "No," he chuckled. "I would've done the same if some guy talked to you."

The thought made you smile, not that you hadn't seen Dallas's protective side flair. You were both territorial over each other, and there was nothing necessarily wrong with that as long as the feelings were reciprocated - which they were in their entirety.

"Ever notice how empty this lot is at night?" He commented, snapping you from your mind with a gentle squeeze of your hip. "Hardly any cars pass by, somethin' I noticed after a few nights sittin' by the counter."

Dallas hadn't been wrong, not in the slightest. In truth, you would've been surprised if you'd caught anyone lingering in the parking lot after closing. Your town wasn't quiet by any means, but the diner had been built around, years of infrastructure hiding it amidst a cluster of run-down businesses.

With a hum, you leaned into his side. "Guess you're right." You replied, tilting your head back to give him a squinty-eyed smile, on account of the nearby flickering lot light.

"Could make you feel better." He whispered. "On account of earlier, or whatever."

You snickered, rolling your eyes at his blatant suggestion, yet for all its crudeness, you couldn't deny the stir you felt in your lower stomach.

"You're filthy." You chided, nudging his side with your elbow.

Dallas huffed out a laugh, his arm looping around your back. "C'mon," he urged as he began walking, leading you toward his car. "Ain't wasting the opportunity to make you feel better."

Mere moments had passed before you were both clamoring into the back of the Thunderbird, limbs bumping into limbs, soft laughter echoing inside the vehicle as Dallas reached over your middle to pull the door shut. As soon as the door had shut, your lips were on his, your hands blindly fumbling with the front of his jeans.

You'd just gotten the button undone when his hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them back as he pulled away from your kiss. You were left pouting, the sight adorable and pitiful enough to pull a laugh from Dallas as he set your hands down in your lap.

"This is for you, not me. Let me make you feel good."

Dallas focusing his sole attention on you? On pleasing you, no less? How could you refuse? Elated laughter bubbled in your chest as his hands slid up and underneath your skirt, the fabric bunching up around your hips. You helped him with a gentle lift of your hips, allowing him to hook his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, before slinking the fabric down your legs.

"You're going to cum on my tongue." He stated, tone full of nonchalance as he tossed your underwear toward the front of the car. "And, I want you over me when you do."

"You want me to sit on your face?" You asked, lips quirking up into a smile as you bit back laughter, truly believing he was joking. "Is that what you're asking me?"

Dallas only nodded, and only then did the realization of his request register in your mind. Heat prickled at the nape of your neck, spreading forward until it encompassed your chest in a deep blush. Sensing your nerves, Dallas's thumbs rubbed gentle circles above your hip bones, his head ducking down to meet your avoidant gaze.

"Hey," he whispered. "Ain't nothin' I haven't seen before. It'll feel good, doll, promise."

So, you allowed him to help you into a position that didn't have both of you groaning in discomfort. Maneuvering into a position where you straddled his shoulders, in the back of an already narrow car, wasn't exactly the easiest to accomplish. Somehow, you both managed, mostly thanks to Dallas's hands keeping you steady as you moved over him.

The chill of his silver rings bit into your thighs, keeping you sunk in the present, hovered over him as he looked up at you from below. There was nothing other than pure, unadulterated lust pouring from his eyes, pupils blown so heavily there was only a crescent of color visible. His fingers tapped, once and then again, a nonverbal request for you to lower yourself.

So you did.

He met you halfway, tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, delving between your folds to collect your essence against his tastebuds. He wanted to savor you, that much was readily apparent by his hardened grasp on your thighs, all but cementing you atop his face. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as a plethora of broken-off moans tumbled past your lips.

You begged for him, murmuring his name between praises lost on your ears, but not his. Each word, no matter how garbled by pleasure, left his hips rutting up into the air as he circled his tongue around your clit. Your hips moved in synchrony with his tongue, adjacent swirls, and he let you. He had always favored dominance, being in control of the situation, but having you atop him had him praising every divine figure he could conjure in his lust-riddled mind.

“Dallas-“ You crooned, the noise so sweet it pulled a moan from his chest, the vibration left directly against your aching cunt. You smiled, a mixture of a laugh and moan leaving you as your hands raked through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “So good, Dal.”

With an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, he pulled away. It was for a fraction of a second, needed to slip his right hand between your thighs, but you were left whining and pouting. He tutted from between your thighs, lips, and chin glistening with your cum.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispered as his middle and ring fingers pushed inside of you, delicately curling to brush against a spot that had your thighs clamping down around him. “It'll feel good, I promise.”

His left hand squeezed your hip, guiding you just as he would if you were riding him. You unconsciously followed his guidance, sliding down onto his fingers, before raising yourself, only to repeat the motion over, and over. Lewd squelches sounded from between your thighs, your cunt dripping a mixture of cum and saliva down onto his palm.

“See?” He asked through a breathy laugh, quickly resuming his position between your thighs. “Told ‘ya I’d make you feel better.”

You wanted to berate him for his cockiness, you truly did, but the feeling of his lips encircling your clit left you breathless. If anything, any ridicule would’ve turned into a garbled mess of his name.

A groan of a laugh reverberated in Dallas’s chest, yet he never pulled away. His tongue lapped at your clit, intervals of swirls and sucks following each grunt he managed to sound out. The sounds were carnal, stoking the steadily building flame in your lower stomach. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, pulling him closer, yourself closer. In truth, you weren’t sure if he could breathe, but neither of you moved from where you were.

“That’s it, doll.” He rasped, words hardly audible, muffled from your cunt. You managed a sighed moan in response, your hips rolling, sliding your cunt against his tongue. His fingers thrusted into you, mimicking the tempo of his eager tongue, each lap and circle of the muscle pushing you closer to the edge.

The uptake of an octave, your head rolling back as your eyes squeezed shut; Dallas knew each instinctual move of your body by heart. His eyes stayed locked on you, memorizing the sight of you coming undone above him, riding his face like a woman starved. His free hand lifted from your hip, curving around the plush of your ass, knowing he needed a tight hold on you to keep you steady.

“Dal-“

There it was, the familiar beckon of his name. His cock strained against the confines of his boxers, tip leaking precum, smearing against the now dampened fabric. His thighs tensed as his hips rolled, desperately seeking some form of reprieve as your cunt twitched around his fingers. Instead of verbalizing his reply, he squeezed the swell of your ass, wordlessly urging you to cum.

White-hot pleasure seared your veins, unconsciously twitching your limbs, tightening your hold on his hair. Your cunt spasmed, clit throbbing against his circling tongue. You cursed under your breath, eyes squeezed shut, mind solely focused on the ecstasy overtaking your body. Dallas grounded you with slow brushes of his hand along your thigh, fingers still inside of you, lips placing gentle kisses on your oversensitive clit.

“Alright?” He asked, tone rough enough to pull a surprised laugh from you. You nodded, threading your fingers through his hair.

“More than alright.” You replied. “Way more.”

Instead of hovering over his face for another second with wobbly legs, you moved yourself back, giving Dallas enough time to situate himself upright. His hands found your hips quickly after, gently guiding you back to his lap.

In an almost instinctive move, you lowered yourself to place your lips on his. His hands slid around your back, fingers absentmindedly grabbing at the fabric of your uniform as his lips moved with yours.

You braced yourself against the rear windshield, the slick condensation gathering in the palm of your hands, smearing your fingerprints down the pane as your lips moved against his. If anyone had passed by, anyone at all, they would've gathered what you both had gotten up to.

Neither of you could bring yourself to care, not when Dallas slipped his hands underneath the back of your shirt, his fingernails scraping along the curve of your back to have you closer as he sucked your tongue.

Your lips curved into a smile at the move, the lucrative, nearly addictive slide of his tongue against your own. He knew you, knew your body and how to make it tick. Your hips rocked against his lap, causing his already hard cock to twitch and pulse against the confines of his jeans.

"You're still hard," you rasped into the kiss, "I can make you feel good, too."

He groaned, his eyebrows knitting together as his hips bucked up into you. You bit at your bottom lip as you moved your hands from the rear windshield, letting your now cool skin slide down his front, keeping your eyes locked with his as you unzipped his jeans.

His lips parted in a silent moan as your hand slipped underneath the hem of his boxers, your fingers curling around the thick base of his cock. You could feel each twitch of his cock beneath your palm, the skin slick and warm, coated in his precum. You slid your hand up, leisurely pumping him, the act enough to have him grunting out your name.

You savored each lecherous moan that fell from his lips. With a shift of your hips, you centered yourself over his thigh, rolling your hips down in tandem with each stroke of his cock. You knew you were dampening the denim, soiling it, yet all you saw reflected in Dallas's eyes was the same debauchery you held heavy in your mind.

“Fuck me.” You begged, tired of the hassle, of denying yourself the most innate of pleasures. He relented with a lift of your body, allowing his hard cock to slide along your folds, catching against you. You watched as he lowered you onto him, his cock sliding into you deliciously slow.

Thin, red lines followed his nails as they dragged up the skin of your thighs, coming to a halt at your hips where he steadied you. You could feel his cock pulse inside of you, twitching just before your cervix. You watched him with bated breath, allowing him to guide each movement of your hips, and he did so with precision.

"So tight," he murmured, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of pure lust and concentration, as though the mere sight of you atop him would undo him if he gave into it. "So fuckin' good."

All you could muster was a moan in response, your hips rolling forward, each forward motion brushing your clit against his lower stomach. Your thighs strained, muscles burning, yet you paid them no mind in favor of the persistent push of Dallas's cock, the way his tip brushed against your g-spot with each shift of his hips.

His eyes flitted, sight torn between your breasts and the needy, desperate look in your eyes. He shifted beneath you, planting his feet against the floorboard, giving himself enough stability to thrust upward, pushing himself deeper than before.

The shift in position forced the air from your lungs, a pitiful, broken-off mess of a moan passing your parted lips as you grasped his shoulders. He whispered something to you, but whatever it was had been lost on your muddled mind in favor of the budding feeling of ecstasy coiling in your lower stomach.

"Dallas-" You whined, the urgency in your call not lost on him. He nodded, wetting his lips as he rolled his hips upward. You could feel your arousal dripping between your thighs, smearing along your skin as well as his, coating his lower stomach in your cum.

"That's it, doll." He whispered, his left hand moving between your thighs to circle his thumb around your clit, rhythm syncing with each pump of his hips. "C'mon, cum for me."

Ecstasy coiled tight in your stomach, and with each swirl of his thumb and pump of his cock, you felt it twist tighter and tighter. Your hands moved from his shoulders, fingers threading through the back of his hair where you pulled. His mouth fell open, eyebrows lifting as an expression of shock-induced euphoria crossed his face.

So, you pulled harder, the harshness of your hold mirrored in the desperate way you fucked yourself on his cock, movements so frenzied you felt your muscles burning beneath your skin.

A deep, almost sinful moan rumbled in his chest. You swallowed it with a kiss to his lips, hands moving to his jaw as your tongue moved with his. His thumb was slick against your clit, and with a gasp of his name, your cunt spasmed around his cock.

"Fuck, that's it." He groaned, words strained as he teetered on the edge of his orgasm. "Let it out, doll."

Your lips moved from his, kisses trailing down his cheek, onto his jaw, before you settled your cheek to his shoulder, simply choosing to give yourself over to the onslaught of pleasure Dallas had you wrapped up in. Dallas's hold on your hip tightened as his head fell back, his eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched as his cock twitched inside of you, each pulse filling you with his cum.

You both shared the blissful silence that came afterward, the only noises being the occasional breath and whispered praise, the brush of his hands against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, words muffled by the press of his lips against your throat. "I'm sorry."

Apologies weren't common with Dallas. To his benefit, he hadn't done much to call for one, but this - this you appreciated. You nodded, leaning into his touch, his lips, with a thread of your fingers through his hair. He continued murmuring into your skin, you drank in each word, heart slowing in your chest, calming with the promises he spoke only to you.

His hand moved from your hip, thumb, and forefinger resting against your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed together, skin coated in a thin veneer of sweat. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, yet his eyes never left yours.

"You're my girl." He whispered, and you nodded. "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

You placed a kiss on the pad of his thumb, the sincerity in his words causing you to smile. He smiled in return, fingers splaying against your cheek where he held you gently.

"It won't happen again, alright?"

His words were soft, the sentiment mirrored in his eyes. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He met your embrace with one of his own, wrapping his arms around the small of your back, hands gently caressing between your shoulder blades.

"Good apology, been workin' on it for a while?" You joked, placing a kiss on his jaw with a soft bout of laughter. You felt him laugh, the vibration of his chest against yours.

"Nope." He admitted, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. "You're worth a genuine apology."

"Sap." You teased, but your tone gave way to your true feelings, how much you appreciated his honesty, his words. He caught on, but never made it known, instead choosing to reply with another kiss to your skin.

"Yeah, guess I am."

A/N: Siri, play "Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley, please! No, but seriously, I finished this piece with that song on repeat. Alas, I am not dead! I won't lie, I've suffered with pretty damn bad writers block. Somehow, I finished this. I hope you all like it! Thank you for your continuous support of me and my work, I value you all more than I could ever put into words! I hope this piece makes up for my time gone, see it as an early Valentine's gift!

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milliesfishes · 13 days ago

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Hi! I simply ADORE your writing and idk if you’re taking requests right now but I’d love an accidental pregnancy with Billy story (maybe even with some enemies to lovers vibes)!

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[fem reader] contains: angst, pregnancy, bullet wound pairing: billy the kid x fem reader author’s note: sorry this took forever! here's your poll winner I hope you like it hehe. thank you @phantomamor for reading through it for me mwah Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

His hair was a mess. Curly and free of his hat for once, dancing over the plane of his forehead. You could count every freckle on his cheek if you wanted to, easier than counting stars. His breathing was soft, escaping his slightly parted lips in brief little puffs. He was sunk into the mattress next to you, arm slung around your side, fingers splayed over your back. You hadn't bothered to redress and neither had he.

It must have been nearly an hour since you woke up, his heartbeat stuttering in your ears. Even when you'd shifted, he hadn't woken. It'd likely been a long time since he'd slept in a decent bed, so used to collapsing and shutting his eyes whenever he could. Although he'd been here renting this room for nearly a week, there wasn't any way he was used to it yet. Or maybe he was just relaxed. You'd slept better than expected too.

Blinking, you shook yourself out of your daze, suddenly realizing where you were. Billy Bonney's bed. Billy the Kid's bed. And he was sprawled out as if it were nothing, palm warming your side, maybe leaving a handprint with how long it'd been resting there.

Sitting up, you watched his hand drop from your waist to your thigh. He still didn't stir. Letting the sheet fall away, you stiffened upon seeing the patches of red that marked his trail of kisses down your body, the result of his stubble rubbing at your skin. It'd been deliciously satisfying at the time, but now the leftover sting only heightened your shame.

Reaching down and rubbing at the most prominent marks on each inner thigh, you squeezed your eyes shut. Your innocence had been surrendered to a man whose face was splashed all over the West with a reward over his hat. The same hat you'd knocked off his head so you could tangle your hand in his hair. It'd been softer than you remembered.

Your brother James' childhood friendship with him as well as your brief romance felt like decades ago. It ended when he'd skipped town without so much as a letter. Needless to say, it'd been a shock to see him leaning on the bar last night, sipping his drink and grinning at something another man said. And when your eyes caught his, there was nearly a string of fire stretched in the distance between you. Everything unspoken pushed you together again, until there was no separation.

He'd been so smooth last night. Gentle, touch like a butterfly as he unwrapped you from your dress and whispered things that set your heart aflame. Though there were new shadows behind his eyes, this was the same Billy who'd told you he loved you all those years ago. You knew him, but obviously you hadn't known him.

He'd filled out in the time he'd been away. Your Billy Antrim had been broad and manly, but this Billy was somehow broad-er. Pressed against you now, it was easier to tell. He wasn't at all a kid, contrary to the name he'd earned from the law. It'd been freeing to be with him. You'd felt alive. This was something you'd done for yourself, no watchful eye of a protective brother standing above you like a lighthouse.

Maybe a piece of your heart had always been with him. It was so easy to fall back into your old patterns, conversation flowing like water, his touch familiar and safe. When he'd kissed you, it was like you'd found the X on a map you didn't know you were following. Was it worth all the heartbreak you'd nursed for so long?

Billy's hand twitched on your thigh, squeezing lightly, and you decided it was.

Lying back down, you pressed your cheek to his chest, settling your hand over his heart and letting yourself relax. Subconsciously, Billy's arm tightened around you, and you felt your eyes growing heavier. In all the time you'd imagined being in love, you never thought you'd feel comfortable sleeping next to someone. Apparently, your imagination had steered you wrong. It felt so safe here, like his arms could ward off any darkness that crossed your path. Except of course, for the night, when he would make love to you and hold you until you both succumbed to your dreams.

As you drifted off again, cozy and sleepy, you could finally place the feeling that'd been knocking at your back.

Home. He made you feel like you were home.

Shielding your eyes from the sun, you peered out into the distance from the porch. James was supposed to be back by now with everything you'd sent him into town for. Normally you would've gone yourself, but today he'd insisted.

Not bothering to argue, you'd distracted yourself with chores, hoping it'd fill more hours than it had. The house was spotless now, the animals fed, dinner on the fire. The only thing missing was your brother.

Maybe he'd been held up in town. You wouldn't be surprised. There wasn't a soul your brother couldn't make friends with, and he put it to the test wherever he went. Leaning on the railing, you sighed, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the growling in your stomach. You were supposed to eat regularly, and your brother was aware of that. Ordinarily you'd go ahead and serve yourself up a portion, but one of the missing ingredients happened to be on the list you'd sent him out with.

It'd been a tense few months. There'd been troubles with the ranch hands, as well as a mysterious outbreak among the horses that only allowed one person to leave at a time. Not that you minded. It wasn't like you'd want to go to town anyways, for fear of who you'd see.

The ranch was distant enough to give you some peace. And you were able to avoid prying eyes, or whatever gossip could circulate. Now more than ever, you were wary of it. Ever since that night with Billy, truthfully. Last time you'd graced the bounds of town, you'd been on edge, scanning for familiar blue eyes, or curls peeking out from under his hat. Mercifully, he was nowhere to be found.

Time had passed. Enough time to grow bitter. The feeling left a bad taste in your mouth, but you couldn't spit it out. It had grown, twisting around your bones and wrapping fingers across your throat. If James had noticed, he hadn't said anything, though he didn't have to. The way he'd handled you lately told you everything you needed to know.

You bent your head, feeling slightly faint with hunger. Hair falling in front of your eyes, you stared down at the skirt of your loose-fitting dress. Sorting through what you had in the cabinets, you wondered if you could make do without what you'd been waiting on. As soon as you began to entertain the notion, it was dismissed. You'd been craving this soup all day, even in the warm of the dying summer. August was full of endings, and you felt as though you were hurrying along its departure by making something you usually reserved for winter.

Hoofbeats. Lifting your head, you perked up as you saw a horse in the distance, heading for you fast. Now you could make out James' familiar outline, of his hat and the dark grey shirt he'd left the house wearing this morning. Folding your arms and leaning back, you were ready to give him a hunger-induced earful for being late.

Squinting as he got closer, you could see the other rider behind him. From where they'd appeared on the horizon, you hadn't been able to make out the second horse, the other person tagging along. Smoothing your hair, you pushed aside any twinges of annoyance that came with James' apparent impromptu dinner invitation. You'd made enough food, surely, but you hadn't been expecting a visitor.

Your brother and his guest stopped, tying their horses and chatting all the while, the other man saying something that made your brother erupt in deep laughter as he hoisted his full bag from his horse. You stood up straight, thankful he'd at least followed the list.

Bounding up the stairs, James greeted you with a kiss to your cheek, holding your elbow with his free hand for a second. "You okay?" When you nodded, he squeezed, nodding briefly. "Got everything you asked for. And I brought Billy 'round for dinner."

Billy-?

You whipped to see the man standing at the bottom of the porch steps, hat in his hand as he looked up at you with those blue eyes that hadn't ever failed to put stars in yours. A tightness erupted in your chest, and you felt your expression drop. For a moment you were frozen, just staring at him.

Now memories from that night were stealing your vision. Waking up alone after falling back asleep, the spot next to you cold and empty. In fact, the room had been emptied of any remnant of him. The few possessions that had been strewn across the dresser had disappeared, along with his clothes, his boots, and his gun. When you looked out the window where the horses were tied up, his hadn't been among them. The only evidence he'd been there were the marks he'd left on your body and the indent in the other pillow.

He'd left you. Again.

Of course you'd felt stupid. Just like in your early youth, you'd fallen for his charm and heartbreak ensued. You should have known he hadn't changed. While the first time you'd been sad over it, now you were angry. And the following months only added fuel to your fire.

The way he'd looked at you had pulled you in, a lifeline in your sea of content misery. You'd been so hopeful, so happy over him that you hadn't taken any of the risk in mind. You didn't know what he'd been up to in the time that had passed. Seeing him in the bar that night, you hadn't asked questions, hadn't brought up anything about him leaving. It'd been nostalgic, a trick of the light that had you falling into his bed. And now you were paying the price for it.

All of this circled you like vultures over a fresh carcass as you stood there looking at him. He didn't break your gaze.

"C'mon, you're hungry, I know it," James said, putting his hand on your back and guiding you inside. "'m sorry I took so long. Didn't know Billy was back in town."

"Who would've guessed?" you asked, side-eyeing Billy as you allowed your brother to lead you in.

When you reached for his bag to dig out the soup's missing ingredient, James swatted your hand away. "You go sit. I know you've been on your feet too long today."

Billy looked at you curiously as you sat down, tucking your feet under the chair and chewing on your bottom lip. It felt embarrassing for your brother to be doing this right now, even though he had been for months. It was more that it was in front of Billy.

James started cutting the missing carrots, and you were left in silence with your unexpected guest as the sound of chopping filled the air. Billy shuffled where he stood, then decided to go into the kitchen. "I'll see if he needs any help." Only moments later he emerged, standing uncomfortably in front of the door.

You looked away, focusing on breathing in and out. Yet another thing you were supposed to do. Breathe and do it easy. It was okay. You'd been without him for months and you'd been fine. At least, that was what you had to tell yourself.

Billy sat across from you, and you could feel his eyes on you, though you didn't lift yours. Without looking, you knew his knee was bouncing, just a little. One of his nervous tics. "Didn't know James knew how to cook."

"He didn't until a few months ago." Your response was directed at the edge of the table, where your eyes followed the wooden pattern.

"How've you been?" he asked quietly, and you blinked.

It was a loaded answer. You didn't bother playing with telling him the truth. "Fine."

"James said you've been havin' a tough time," he muttered, and your eyes snapped up.

"What'd he say?" It came out harsher than you meant, and Billy's brow knit in confusion.

"Didn't say what about." Your shoulders slumped in relief, and he watched you suspiciously.

When you'd been his girl it'd been nearly startling how well he could read you. And the night you'd seen him again three months ago, it was evident how little that had changed. The way he'd been with your body against his, anticipating your needs, what you wanted him to do. He'd been perfect. It'd only made his leaving hurt more.

Opening his mouth, Billy began to ask you something but was interrupted by James bringing in the bowls of soup. You jumped up, but he shook his head. "Stay sitting. I'll get the other one." He kept leaving you alone with Billy. He didn't have a reason not to, but it still put you on edge. When your brother returned once more, some of the tension diffused, and you all lifted your spoons.

Dinner turned out well, even with the late addition of the carrots. James told a funny story about work that day and you finally cracked a smile, the burden on your heart lightening. When Billy answered James' question about what he'd been up to, you listened carefully, trying not to look like you were too interested.

"Had a bad run-in with a few folks from the last town I was in," he said, looking between you and James. The thumb of his hand on the table next to his empty bowl was tapping lightly, and you watched it. Up. Down. Up. Down. "Was actually here for a night a while ago but I had to skip again cause they found me."

You met his eyes, something chipping at the cast you'd put around your heart. That was why he'd left? Stiffening again, you looked down. He still could have said something. He'd had enough time to clear out his things, so he could have woken you or left a note or something. And then there was the matter of the first time he'd left too. A wound that hadn't healed, no matter how much you covered it and pretended it did.

James gave a low whistle. "You've had a real adventure. We're real glad to have you back, Billy."

"I shouldn't've ever left," he said, looking squarely at you. Heart thudding at your chest, you lowered your gaze.

Standing up, you fluffed your dress away from yourself, a habit. "I'm going to sit outside for a bit before bed."

James stood almost instantly, a hint of concern in his expression. "You feelin' okay? Need anything?"

"I'm fine," you promised, giving your dress another fluff. "I just want to watch the sunset." James accepted this, but you could feel Billy watching you leave.

Nearly collapsing on the front porch chair, you tried to focus on the sunset, counting the colors. This was an activity James had done with you one night when you were panicking, and it'd worked since. This was a different sort of panic, though. This was a disease eating at your insides, threatening to tear you in half.

You wouldn't deny you'd imagined seeing him again. Pictured what you'd say, what he'd say. But this was beyond what your mind could come up with. It was too soon. Too soon after everything. However much you'd thought you could handle had been an overestimation. No amount of time could have prepared you for his arrival here, in the one place you had left as refuge.

Red, blue, pink, orange. You made a list in your head. Clouds, grass, hills, trees. Maybe if you closed your eyes, everything would disappear. Every wrong sorrowful tragic aspect of your life gone in the blink of an eye.

How you wished these emotions had faded with time. If anything, the sand from the hourglass had coarsened them, created jagged shards of glass that cut you on the inside. At least nobody could see you bleeding.

When you heard boots on the floor, you stood, avoiding Billy's eyes as you watched the sun sink deeper into the earth. His scent hadn't changed- it was something distinct and all him. It permeated the air, nearly suffocating you.

"I'm sorry." He said it softly. You didn't bother looking. "I know me showin' up like this upset you-"

"I don't care what you do, Billy." Your tone was colder than you meant it to be, and beneath the shell you put around the woman you used to be, she winced.

"Sweetheart-" he paused when you winced. "I did a bad thing, I know. I hurt you-"

"You hurt me before," you whispered, looking up at him blankly. "I don't care."

Billy's face didn't change. You wished he would stop looking at you like that, like he'd stumbled on treasure in the desert. His mouth was flattened, like a ridge. Where tension had dissolved before, now it was stretched taut, ready to snap. Biting the side of your cheek, you fought the tears that threatened to make an appearance, but it was like trying to hold a bursting closet door shut.

When his hand found your face, you closed your eyes, humiliated as a tear slipped through the cracks, your facade crumbling. His course thumb caught it, and you lifted your lids, eyes hardening.

"Talk to me," he breathed, searching your eyes. You froze as two more tears slipped from your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks. The truth was at the tip of your tongue, but you kept your mouth shut. If he knew, it could ruin everything.

"I'm fine," you managed, but he held firm, shaking his head. "Billy," you started, voice firm as it could be. "Just go. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter-"

"You left me!" Taking a step back, you stared up at him, no longer caring if you cried. "You left me twice without ever saying a word and this time you left me-" Stopping short, your eyes widened slightly as you realized what you'd almost said.

"What?" Billy closed the gap between you, searching your eyes and grasping your shoulders, his touch causing you to stiffen. You hated that you wanted it, wanted him to pull you into his arms and tell you everything was okay. "I know somethin' happened, what-?"

You sniffled, smoothing a nervous hand over your midsection without thinking. His gaze dropped, and he froze. As soon as you realized what you'd done, you tried to step away but he held you firm, eyes never straying.

"You're-" Billy swallowed, growing pale at the notion. "Sweetheart, you're-"

Now your vision was blurry, hot tears springing and falling without your permission. You folded your arms over yourself, feeling your hands start to shake. Billy's hands flew to your cheeks, tilting your face up so you were looking at him, into those deep blue eyes that had gotten you into this mess to begin with. In the softest voice you could imagine, he asked, "Is it mine?" Sniffling once, you nodded. Billy exhaled, one hand sliding to your crown and pulling you into his chest. You didn't fight him.

Being back in his arms was a daydream you'd let yourself indulge in only a few times. But no amount of imagining compared to the real thing. He engulfed you, pulling you in like you'd been lost at sea,

Sinking into him, you could feel yourself breaking. This is what you had craved ever since you'd found out, the itch only he could scratch. When he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, you closed your eyes. "I needed you."

"I know." His voice was unsteady, nearly breaking as he tightened his arms around you. "I know. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." You hid your face in his chest and he smoothed your hair, voice sounding frantic. "I shouldn't've left..."

"I needed you," you repeated desperately, and you swore you felt a tear fall into your hair.

"'m sorry." The emotion in his voice had you grasping at his shirt, trembling as he lowered you both to the ground. He started to rock back and forth, rubbing a hand up and down your back. "I left you alone, I left you-" he cut himself off, burying his face in your hair. Tentatively, you lifted a hand, sinking into his dark curls. The familiarity prompted another tear or two out of you.

When you noticed it'd grown dark, you pulled yourself away, wiping your eyes and risking a look at him. He was solemn, eyes roving over you. It was a look you recognized. Checking, making sure everything was okay. You brushed away another tear, whispering, "It's okay."

"It's not." Billy reached for your hand, eyes soft.

"I've been fine without you, Billy," you snapped, pulling away before his fingers could brush yours. "You don't have to do anything for me."

"I'm not just gonna leave-"

"You had no problem doing it before," you cut him off, reaching up and gripping the porch railing to get to your feet. The sting of humiliation was already coursing through you, and your instinct was to run. "Just go. I'm fine."

Without another look, you strode into the house, making a beeline for your room and shutting the door. Not one set of footsteps, Billy's or your brother's, dared follow you.

Lifting a hand to your face, you slid against the door, body shaking again with tears.

"Outta the way!"

You nearly dropped the plate in your hands, watching your brother stumble into the room with a limp, staggering Billy supported by his shoulder. Blood soaked the blue of his shirt, and your heart gave a pang. Feeling faint, you watched in a daze as he propped him up on the kitchen table, speaking lowly. James looked up, silently shooing you from the room. Turning on your heel, you fled and shut the door behind you, heart pounding in your ears.

Billy's presence on the ranch had been nearly constant since he found out that night, acting as a shadow toward you. Your brother, ever kindhearted, had hired him on, insisting he give work to his oldest friend. You'd protested but stopped once he started to question why it bothered you so much. Catching yourself, you realized James was bound to find out sooner or later. If you kept arguing, it would be sooner.

To Billy's credit, he kept his mouth shut about the paternity of your child. But that didn't mean he kept to himself. It seemed that every second he had away from work he spent at your side, pestering and fussing over you, constantly asking if you were okay, if you needed anything and maybe you should sit down because he didn't want you to get too tired. It was overbearing, and you fought him at every turn.

"Darlin'-" he'd protest, trying to guide you to a chair. "You gotta rest, alright? For you 'n the baby. Please?" Sometimes you would sit down begrudgingly, his pleading blue eyes persuading you into his way. Others, you would push away his hands, some sharp-tongued comment leaving your mouth as you stormed away to be anywhere but near him. Your emotions were running wild, a something you attributed to the new life growing inside you. Although, the circumstances surrounding the arrival of the baby's father couldn't have helped.

Still, he persisted. It was impressive, really. The way he kept at it, never once giving up. Whenever you burst out and told him to leave you alone, he just stood there, letting you take it out on him. It always ended in tears.

You cried more now than you ever had before, in private most often. Really, your head was all muddled from everything happening all at once. Billy was trying to flow seamlessly back into your life, but you wouldn't let him. He didn't deserve to get back in so easily this time.

But now as you paced the length of the living room, anxiety squeezing your heart and hammering at your ribs, the only thing in your heart was regret. A fierce sickness that clouded your senses and brought tears to your eyes. What if he died? What if the father of your child died and you could have forgiven him and you didn't? He'd hurt you, there was no doubt about it. But he cared. He'd proved it a million times since he found out, putting down roots just in case you decided you wanted him.

Here, as you shuddered and shook over the idea of losing him, you knew it was more than that.

"Hey-" At the sound of your brother's voice, your head snapped up. James looked harried, clenching his jaw as he ran a hand over his hair. "He's askin' for you. I can't do anything 'nless he sits still-"

"I'm coming." Your feet were moving before you knew it, and you stepped past James into the kitchen, heading straight for Billy.

The moment he saw you, he reached out, motions almost drunken. "Baby..." he slurred, catching your hand. "So...so pretty. Prettiest girl in the west..."

"Billy what happened?" you asked, squeezing his hand, brow scrunched. You were trying to ignore the blood on his shirt, the red growing deeper by the second. James was fetching something in the other room, bandages most likely.

"Shoot...shootout, darlin'..." he managed, grinning up at you and wincing when he shifted. The pain must be making him woozy. "Don' worry 'bout me..."

"Why were you in a shootout?" you asked, horrified. Holding his hand close to your heart, you whispered, "You weren't on the ranch."

"Tryna make a lil' extra, honey." Billy reached out with his other hand, cupping your face. "F' the baby. 'n you." He pulled your fingers down to his lips. "Wanna marry you, pretty. Do it right..." Wincing, he tried to continue. "Didn't do right by ya the first time...wanna make it better..."

James interrupted, arriving with a messy pile of medical supplies in his arms. "Give him some laudanum." He shoved the bottle and a spoon into your hands, not seeming to notice the look on your face leftover from what Billy said. Almost stiffened by shock, you measured the amount and fed it to him, praying it would kick in sooner rather than later.

"Good. Help me get his shirt off." James nodded at Billy. In your condition, your brother wouldn't dare have you help with something like this unless it were dire.

With shaky hands, you got to work, ignoring the way Billy was blatantly watching you, as if you were a saint in a storm. You didn't grimace when his blood stained your hands, peeling the shirt away from his chest and working his arm out one side while James did the other. He tossed it to the side, tearing his eyes away from Billy. "You're gonna talk to 'im okay? Distract him cause I dunno when the medicine'll kick in."

"Okay," you whispered, still staring into Billy's eyes. They were clouded over, his head lulling. When James started to dab at the affected area, Billy gritted his teeth, grunting and reaching for your hand on his uninjured side.

You remembered your job, squeezing his hand. "I..." Panic was seizing you, holding your tongue. James gave you a look, and you were kicked into action. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get you fixed up, alright?" Tears pricked at your eyes. "Billy, you've gotta hang on, alright? I...we need you. Both of us." You weren't talking about you and James.

Billy's eyes went soft, and he held fast to your hand, looking up at you like a puppy. You wouldn't be surprised if he melted off the table, a snowdrift in the sun. James was hard at work, and you avoided looking. You never wanted to see this much of Billy's blood again.

A thousand questions poked at your tongue, things you wanted to ask your brother, ask the father of your child, but you held back. Later you'd interrogate them all you wanted, but for now Billy's safety was at stake.

"Need to sit him up," James finally said, sliding his arm under Billy's shoulders. "Here- get on the table and keep 'im steady." You scooted up, feeling numb as you went through the motions. Billy looked dazed, but he was still as you tucked your shoulder under his arm, back against his side. His fingers splayed out, seemingly searching for something, and you gave him your hand.

James wrapped the bandage around Billy's middle, and you shifted your body as needed, still pressed to him. It was precautionary; he wasn't nearly out of it enough that he'd have trouble staying upright. But you found yourself wanting to stay, your mind telling you that if you left for even a second, he'd collapse and never wake up.

"Alright." James stood up, nudging his chair back. "He's gonna be fine. Was just a graze, so we'll check it every little bit."

Your eyes were on the ground, Billy's hand in yours the only thing you were aware of. The pounding of your heart slowed when it was confirmed that he would be okay, but you still wanted to cry. You almost lost him today, with every unsaid thing still poking at your backs.

James managed to guide him out of the kitchen, depositing him in his own bedroom for now. You trailed in behind them, unable to tear your eyes away from Billy, shirtless and bandaged, his eyes fluttering shut as the lingering opium in his system lured sleep to him. He's safe. He's safe, you repeated to yourself. He's safe.

Turning to James, you hissed, "What the hell were you doing that ended in a gunfight?"

Swallowing, your brother shifted on his feet. "Was a job. We've done 'em before 'n everything was fine but this time..." he winced. "'nother gang showed up and they wouldn't back off. We're lucky he wasn't hurt worse."

You stood shocked, eyes wide. "A job-"

"Before you say anythin'-" James held up his hands. "Billy was stubborn 'bout it. He wanted...well..." His eyes fell to your midsection, which became more swollen by the day. "He's been lookin' for ways to make more money for you 'n..."

Your heart sank. He knew. Turning to look at the man sleeping on the bed, you felt another wave of emotion crash over you.

"He cares a lot about you," James said quietly. "He woulda done it without my help, but it's a good thing he didn't."

Silent, you fought back tears, regret welling up like a river after the first snowfall. All this time while you'd been pushing him away and insisting you didn't need him, he'd been working for you. For your future, and for the baby. You knew all too well that any other man would have run for the hills and left you with "your" problem, but not Billy.

You'd been taking him for granted. And it had almost killed him.

Looking back at your brother, you whispered, "I can watch him for awhile. You go clean up. You can use my room if you need some rest." The sun was still high in the sky, but James looked exhausted. He merely nodded, meandering away after a final glance at Billy.

James' footsteps thumped away, and you sank into a chair close to Billy, watching the rise and fall of his chest like his life depended on it.

Sliding a hand over your belly, you found yourself trying not to cry again. For months you'd had yourself convinced that you didn't need him, that you could do this on your own. Have the baby and do the best you could, all the while nursing an ache that you refused to admit was there.

A tear bubbled up, spilling from your eye, and you sniffled, looking down and swiping at it. It proved to be pointless when more sprouted, flowing down your cheeks faster than you could get rid of them. You took in a sharp breath, letting your hand drop to your lap as you cried silently, the tightness in your chest nearly suffocating.

You nearly jumped when you felt a hand on your knee, palm warm as it rested there. When you looked up at Billy, his eyes were open, brow scrunched in concern. You tried to clear your tears with your hand again, but he squeezed your thigh.

"Sweetheart..." his voice was sleepy. "What's wrong?"

"Go back to sleep, Billy," you tried, blinking rapidly, sniffling and setting your other hand on his. "You need to rest."

"Been tellin' you the same thing for weeks," he mumbled, shifting to the side and lifting his hand from your leg, effectively opening his arm. "C'mere." When you only stared at him, the corners of his lips turned up just slightly. "'s okay. We both need it."

All resolve gone, you found yourself obliging, crawling into bed with him on his uninjured side and letting him guide your head to his shoulder, body relaxing once it was against his. As you settled into him, his hand found its way around your waist, the tips of his fingers on your swollen tummy. It felt like a missing piece of you sliding into place.

"I'm sorry." The words fell out of your mouth, and Billy hummed, rubbing your side.

You couldn't see his face, but you knew the furrow in his brows hadn't unfolded. "What for?"

Everything. There were a million things you wanted to say, but they all fell short when you lifted your head to look up at him. Earnest blue eyes, hitched to you like you were the one thing keeping him from floating into the stars. Swallowing, you whispered, "You got hurt...because of me..."

"No." Billy's hand pressed at your side until you laid back down. "No, that wasn't your fault. Was a stupid thing to do."

"You were doing it for me..." you whispered, more tears blurring your vision. "And I haven't been kind to you since you came back."

"Hey-" Billy grunted as he sat up a little, bringing you with him. Leaning against the headboard, his fingers drew a soothing vertical pattern at your waist. He searched your eyes, shaking his head. "I shouldn't've left. It's the worst thing I ever did. Leavin' you alone after what we did..." he exhaled deeply, mouth flattened. "It was bad enough I did it the first time."

"But you had a reason...'n I shouldn't have been so mad..." you whispered.

He thumbed the side of your face, eyes tender. "I thought I was protecting you." His shoulders slumped. "But all I did was hurt you."

"It's okay," you breathed, holding his wrist. There was no bitterness or loathing or grudges behind it. Everything that had happened was in the past. He was here now.

"It's not," Billy mumbled, but his expression lightened. You knew your anger at him must have taken a toll, and it must have been a relief not to have it burning him anymore. He brought his hand to the back of your head, stroking your hair with his thumb. "You know I've loved you all this time? Think there's somethin' wrong with me. Like I'm cursed. Bad things happen to the ones I love and it's usually my fault."

"No, bad things happen to everyone," you corrected, heart aching. Swallowing, you softly said, "I've loved you too. All the while."

Billy paused, his eyes softening. The way he watched your expression like he was making sure it wasn't a trick broke your heart all over again. He'd been hurting just as much as you, and you'd been too caught up to notice.

You leaned forward, catching his lips in a soft kiss, careful not to lean on his injured side. He used his hand at your crown to hold you to him, mouth moving slow and steady and easy, the feeling of his mouth against yours nearly convincing you he never left. You may as well have been eighteen again, fresh in love and invincible.

Pulling back, Billy brushed a kiss to your nose, than your forehead, and you closed your eyes. His hand found your tummy again, hold protective. "I love you. You and the baby."

"I love you," you whispered, meaning every syllable. Billy relaxed back into the bed, pulling you down with him and grinning when your belly poked him in the side. You nuzzled your head into his shoulder, eyes falling shut. "I've wanted you with me but I didn't know how to say it..."

"I wanted you too." Billy smoothed your hair, kissing your head. "I wanted to be here for you."

"You have been. Over and over," you promised, hand rubbing his chest. His skin was warm, and you felt sleepy just lying against it. "Over...and over..."

As you drifted off into dreamland, a part of you panicked, remembering the last time you'd fallen asleep next to him. A voice told you to keep your eyes open, to make sure he wouldn't run.

But when he pulled you in impossibly closer, laying another kiss to your head and sleepily mumbling that he loved you, the voice disappeared. You shifted comfortably, knowing when you woke up, he would still be here.

He would stay.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x you #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid imagine #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid fic #billy the kid fluff #billy the kid tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth characters #tom blyth fanfiction #billy bonney #billy bonney x reader #milliesfishes billy

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cherriesformatt · 9 months ago

Text

a day || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: what would a typical day as Matt's girlfriend would look like

warnings: pure fluff

word count: 1,6k

a/n: idk let me know how I did English is not my first language but I am working on it

I was on my way from a long, Friday, morning meeting and all I was thinking about was going back to bed and never leaving it again. My week started with my car breaking down out of nowhere, then I got my period (which is not as bad when you think about it because it would be worse if I didn't get it), and then I had an actual meeting, in an actual office, with actual people (I usually work from home in my pajamas).

I had to drive my boyfriend's car to the meeting downtown. I am glad that I could, but let me tell you one thing, my boyfriend's car is giant and to park this lady downtown I needed to leave 30 minutes early.

chris 🦋:

waiting for u outside thx for picking me up kid ❤️

"oh fuck" I said to myself as I quickly did a U-turn before it was too late. Was it safe? No. Did everyone survive? Yes.

I totally forgot that I was supposed to pick up Chris from his own meeting since Matt couldn't because I had their car. I dialed Chrise's number.

"hi, ur okay?" he asked.

"yes, I just might or might not forgot to pick you up so I'll be there in 15 okay? I'm sorry I had a rough morning..."

"Bro no worries I'll pick up some coffee while I wait and you drive safe okay?" I smiled because wasn't he the best? He doesn't even drink coffee.

"Okay I'll see you there"

I ended the call and typed Chris's location. It wasn't that bad with the traffic so I was there in less than 15 minutes.

I was able to park where he was waiting so he got into the passenger seat and smiled at me while I started driving again. I really want to be home.

"I would say good morning but I'll keep that to myself. Got you an americano and banana bread" He put my coffee in the cup holder and threw his backpack on the back seat.

"Thank you, that's really sweet, I am literally half dead so that will help" I laughed and took a sip of my coffee.

"I still think that my brother is dating a weirdo, how can you even drink it black and unsweetened?" Chris looks at me with a disgusted face.

"You are all literally bunch of weirdos so I just matched the energy you know" I blinked at him and stopped on the red.

"How was your meeting? New fresh love is gonna be fire. I got the drafts in my mail this morning. Did not change a thing. You and the team did great" I said and smiled at him.

I was a graphic designer and helped Chris at the beginning of his brand, but I did not really want to work for him so I just help sometimes if it's needed. I am really happy that he still likes to know what I think about the projects tho. I also used to work for Laura but not anymore. That's basically how we all met. I quit after me and Matt started to be a thing.

"I know right? Well, I knew you will love it. The meeting was great, we should be able to make everything work by the end of the month. And guess what... I actually got samples and I have a pink set for you kid"

"Honestly... made my day, I am going to wear it for everything now" I laughed.

"Just don't post it yet" He said and started to click things on the car's screen.

"Just use my phone for music" I gave him my phone and he typed my code and put our favorite song by lil skies on.

"Still can't believe I memorized Niall Horan's birthday just to get to your phone"

I blinked at him and started rapping with the song. I loved make a toast. Music taste is probably one of the things that made my and Chris's bond strong. Don't get me wrong I love Nick as much as I do Chris, but he just always gets me and we were best friends since day one. The funny thing is that me and Matt did not really liked each other at first.

The ride home made my mood better. We sang and laugh, I wasn't tired of my life that much anymore. I took my shoes off while holding all of my stuff. Matt was on the couch watching something while we made our way up the stairs.

"Hi baby... How was it?" He asked as soon as he saw me.

"Crap, I am going to call Laura to take me back" I laughed and put my stuff on the table and went to wash my hands in the kitchen sink. I then walked up to Matt and just threw myself next to him to cuddle his side.

He kissed my forehead and started to rub my back.

"I am going to take a nice nap, you kids have fun but not too much" Chris waved at us and went back down the stairs to his room.

Matt rolled his eyes and kissed my head again.

"How about we do something nice together? Nick is going to come home with Madi soon, I think, and that means laud. We could go to that beach you like and just get food and watch the sunset later" He asked.

All I was thinking about was his cold hand on my back and how much I just loved that man. He knew exactly what I needed.

"Yes, please. I just need to change. I wore a bra man, can you believe this?" I sit back up.

He laughed at me and shook his head.

"Go then," He said patting my thigh.

I went to put my new fresh love set in Matt's bedroom, used the bathroom and when I was ready we went out.

"Wow, so it's your car now, huh?" Matt started to change the mirrors and seat but he also raised his eyebrows looking at my stuff next to the shift gear.

"Baby it's only essentials to drive, okay?" I smiled and got comfortable in the passenger seat.

We drove to get food and dessert. The weather was perfect to just spend an entire afternoon on the beach. Boys did not have any work plans today so I knew Matt was all mine for the rest of the day.

We sat on the beach, had our food, and just talked or cuddled in comfortable silence. That's what I mostly love about spending time with Matt. We could just sit the whole day without a word and be alright with it, but also we could talk for hours and we would always have something to talk about.

"I love you Matty, thanks for taking me to the beach. This new project sucks but I know it's going to be better after that. I really needed just you today"

I kissed his sweet lips. He tasted like the cherry Pepsi that we just had. He pulled me into his lap and slid his hands under my hoodie while he kissed me back.

I rested my forehead on his as I pulled away and smiled.

"Anything for my girl, I love you kid" He kissed my nose and I just wrapped myself around his body.

"I am not moving, you might as well carry me to your car like this" I said into his neck.

He laughed at that and hugged me back.

"Or we can just stay here" He lay back down on the blanket.

"I promised your brother that we are going to watch Criminal Minds with him tho" I said.

"Sometimes I just wish you and Chris weren't the same person y/n..." He joked and looked at his phone, holding it above my head.

"Let's go back after sunset in that case baby"

We did watch the sunset, my favorite part of the day. We came back home and spent time with his brothers as I had promised Chris.

"Spend the night?" Matt whispered in my ear while the last episode for tonight ended.

I smiled and nodded. I was off tomorrow and did not want him to drive me home that late anyway.

We said goodnight and went to his room.

"I will go take a shower" I said and opened his drawer to take a pair of boxers and a T-shirt.

"Go ahead, I went shopping while you were gone. I did restock your basket under the sink. I hope I did it right" He scratched his neck looking at me.

I had my stuff here, but I usually did the restock. Especially my period stuff under the sink.

"Matt...you did not have to do that, thank you, baby" I said pouting my lips.

"I wanted to, I want you to feel comfortable here. Not only you tho, all our girlfriends that come to our house. It's great that you did the basket and stuff" He smiled and I kissed his cheek.

"You are too sweet Matthew"

I went to the bathroom, when I was done he went to take a shower while I waited in his bed scrolling on TikTok.

When Matt came back from the bathroom I looked at him. He was wearing just his pajama pants.

"Should I just say what all of the girls in my books would say? Matthew, you are such a tease" I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

"Oh my god, would you stop?" He got into bed laughing at what I said.

"You love me for that" I put my phone on the nightstand and rested my head on his chest.

"Goodnight Matt" I closed my eyes.

He turned the lights off and tucked us in with the blanket.

"Goodnight sweet girl" He kissed my head while I was already half asleep after this long day.

The best way to end the day is knowing that I will wake up in his arms the next morning.

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #Spotify

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chrissv4mp · 5 months ago

Text

¡ YOU MADE ME HATE THIS CITY ! — CHRIS S.

chris masterlist & taglist // main masterlist

summary: you're not happy with chris. all he does is make you sad, and you're done with it.

pairing: chris sturniolo × fem!reader

warnings + topics: cursing, arguments, crying, chris is an asshole, driving under the influence, drinking, chris can drive in this one🗣, etc.

authors note: idk, basically how i feel when i'm with my bf anyway i'd listen to this album for a lifetime if i had to🗣🗣 I DIDNT KNOW HOW END THIS SOO sorry if the endinh is shit💔💔

word count: 4.9k

"when i'm away from you,

i'm happier than ever."

a laugh came from your throat as you grabbed taras arm, leaning on her for support as you both laughed your asses off at a joke told by nick.

he only smiled softly, trying to contain his own laughter as he watched his two friends. the taller boys eyes land on a guy across the room, and then he speaks, "hey, i'll be back. stay safe, and please don't go with any guys that look like creeps?"

you nod, and tara just smiles at him, "we won't, we're just here to have a good time. go get that man, nick!"

nick smiles, shaking his head as he looks away, turning his back to the both of you as he begins to walk to the other side of the building. tara turns to you again, tilling her head at the... sad look on your face?

"hey, what's wrong, babe?" her tone is soft, and she frowns slightly when you shake your head with a weak smile. your eyes meet hers, and she can tell somethings not right.

"there's clearly something wrong, y/n. come on, you know you can tell me anything. did someone do something to you? cause i swear on my life i'll beat their—" your eyes widen and you quickly cut her off with a nervous laugh.

"no, no, there's absolutely no need for that, tar," you give her a reassuring smile as you reach for her hand, running your thumb over her soft skin as you continue, "this is just the happiest i've been probably... all year?"

the shorter girl smiles, but then as your words hit, she feels another rush of sympathy for you, "well... i'm glad that you're having fun, but, you gotta let yourself be free some more, y'know?"

you nod, and then she continues, "go out with your friends, i'm free most of the time. and if you wanna be alone, then go do something for yourself, girl. i'm sure chris would also love to hang out with you."

he wouldn't, though. he didn't even come around most of the time, only texting you when he needed something and coming home just to sleep. hell, most of the time, he just slept over at some persons house who neither of you knew. he made you feel like you weren't lovable, always complaining about little things and then blowing up when you tried to defend yourself.

that's why you dreaded coming home after every hangout. you hated coming home to chris, just for him to yell at you and make you feel shitty. you really wish you could explain it better, the feeling he gives you. fuck, you even wished it was fake, the feeling of pure happiness whenever you weren't around the boy.

but everybody else's relationships are like this, right? it's normal, you tell yourself. everything chris has done to you is completely normal. you think. he hates when you think because he always say that your mind works in interesting ways. he always say that you have a terrible mindset, undermining your way of thinking.

"yeah. chris." you mutter, flashing tara a smile before you go to stare at your intertwined fingers, you don't even realize how hard your gripping her hand until she winces, "shit. i'm sorry."

she just shrugs, a reassuring smile on her face as she squeezes your hand. as she looks up at your face again, she frowns, "y/n..."

her mind wanders back to your last words, the mention of chris' name the one thing that set you off and made you act out, "it's him, isn't it? what's he doing to you? is he treating you badly?"

you want to tell her yes, you want to fall into her arms and just cry. all you want is to spill all your feelings out right now, to scream and scream over and over again, but you can't. you didn't want chris' reputation to go down the gutter, you really didn't want anything bad to happen to him, even if he did treat you like garbage. even if he treated you like actual shit, you still wanted a happy life for him, he was the one person who showed you love. the first person who actually cared for you.

but, as the years went by, he just... chris just drifted away, he got too caught up into fame, money, and girls especially. girls who weren't you and girls that looked completely different, it was like you weren't even alive most of the time. he treated you like you weren't his girlfriend.

"no, it's not him," another sad smile, and your voice almost cracks as more bad thoughts come to mind, "it's never chris."

tara notices the subtle change of tone, and only then does she reach her free hand out to rest on your shoulder. the bar stools were close enough together that your knees touched, and tara only pulled you closer to her. when you were finally in her arms, you let out a shaky sigh.

then, she hears you whimper. and now you're full-on sobbing into her shoulder, tears streaking down your face as you cry quietly. your body trembles, and you feel as if you let your of your best friend, you'll fall and never be able to get back up.

her hand comes up behind your back, rubbing it in a comforting way as she coos gentle things into your ear, her other hand coming up to your hair and stroking your h/c locks softly, "i know, i know, babe. just let it out, i'm here, okay?"

tara can't help but frown at your saddened state, eyes shutting closed as she continues to comfort you. her lips part again, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you as the words leave her mouth, "you can stay with me for tonight, and for however long you need."

"give me a day or two to think of something clever,

to write myself a letter

to tell me what to do..."

the only sounds in the room are your gentle breathing, and the loud screaming of chris on the other end of the phone. your index finger is wedged between your teeth as you bite down on your nail nervously, your eyes darted around, not knowing where to stay as you listened in to your boyfriend.

"where the fuck were you last night, y/n?" chris tries to contain himself, and you can hear his footsteps pacing back and forth on the hardwood floors of your shared bedroom, "why didn't you come home, i—y/n, what were you doing and where are you right now?"

a shaky breath leaves your lips, and you finally let your hand swing back to the side of your body, gripping the phone tighter, "i'm at taras house, chris. i just—i'm gonna be honest, and please don't get mad—i just need a few days away from... you."

you hear chris scoff on the other end, and you begin to speak again before he starts to blow up, "well, not you, specifically," yes, it was indeed him specifically, "i just wanted to get out of the house for a little... maybe a day or two, and then i'll be back, okay?"

"i knew when i asked you to

be cool about what i was telling you,

you'd do the opposite of what you said you'd do..."

you both knew chris wouldn't care, he didn't give a single fuck if you weren't around, but for more than 24 hours? that's where he drew the line because he knew that when you were around your sensible, smart friends, you would make bad good decisions. you would make decisions that would effect yours and his relationship, and he didn't want that because he needed to have somebody under his control.

he hated the idea of having no control. even if it was only one person her could control, he still had it, he still had somebody wrapped around his finger that he could get to do whatever he pleased.

"wha—y/n, what?" chris sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, "the fuck do you mean? you're coming home tonight, and if you don't i—"

"and i'd end up more afraid..."

chris cut himself off as he began to think. he shouldn't worry about you. fuck your friends, he would always find a way to get you back, so why was he begging you to get home?

a sigh was heard from behind the phone, and you raised an eyebrow in confusion, "nevermind, whatever, go fuck around. see you. bye."

then, the three beeps sounded in your ear. you scoffed, your heart aching at the fact that he didn't even he loved you. he always told you he loved you before he hung up... until a few months ago. you didn't know what went wrong, or where along the line something broke your bond. nothing happened that you could really remember.

"bye." you whispered, shutting your phone off and throwing it on the guest bed before you fell onto your back and landed on the silk sheets. a loud, exaggerated sigh left your lips as you dragged your hands down your face in frustration.

what was this boy doing to you? and why were you letting him do it? you didn't know how to answer the first question, but you had an idea for the second. maybe you liked the thrill.. or maybe you were just hanging on so tight you could never let go. if you let him go, the indentation of that metaphorical rope would still be there... and you'd have to live with the memory of chris. you could never live with yourself knowing you possibly hurt him.

"you clearly weren't aware that you made me miserable..."

but then again, if you let it go, the marks would fade soon, and then you wouldn't have anything to remember. it wouldn't be a constant reminder of chris and how he treated you. so, maybe you just had to let go and take your time to heal, hang around the right people or maybe even just take time for yourself.

a knock, and then two. you opened your eyes, sitting up and being met with the sight of tara leaning against the doorframe, "hey, can i come in?" you nod quickly, needing the distraction to get your mind off of chris.

you didn't even realize her moving closer until you felt the bed dip beside you, your head turning to meet taras eyes as you smiled softly. she returned the same smile, and then began to speak, "how are you feeling?"

no words came out of your mouth for a few moments as you tried to gather up all your emotions and try to put them into one word. but how could you if you were feeling almost all of them?

"i don't know." your voice was quiet, shy almost as you looked down at your lap. tara stayed quiet, letting you think for a moment as she stared at the side of your face, "i feel... angry, sad. gosh, i feel everything and i can't even fucking explain it, it's just so—"

a hand on your shoulder made you relax, and you stopped mid-sentence as tara rubbed your shoulder softly. your mouth shut, and you turned your head to look at her again, "you don't have to feel anything yet, y/n. i'm not gonna tell you to calm down because i would be livid if somebody said that to me, so, i'll just tell you this..."

"close your eyes and take deep breaths. take a moment to gather your thoughts, and then talk to me, okay?" her voice was gentle, quiet, and comforting. the mix of her touch made your entire body relax, and you smiled at her.

you nodded, turning your head back to face in front of you and then closing your eyes. inhale through your nose, count to 3, then exhale through your mouth. inhale, count to 3, exhale. over and over again until you were finally put back together, mostly. one final deep breath, and your eyes were open again. you turned back to your best friend, and she just smiled at you.

"i feel like shit, tar," your voice threatens to crack, but you don't let it, taking another deep breath before you begin to speak again, "this entire thing with chris... fuck, it's just so exhausting and it makes me feel horrible. i'm just chasing after him constantly, seeking his approval only to get disappointment and anger from him. it's like he doesn't even care about me, tara.."

you finally crack, and tears begin to well up in your eyes as you sniffle. tara frowns, squeezing your shoulder softly as she sees your state, "he doesn't deserve you, hon, seriously. i see the way you look at him, and he just gives you nothing in return. he treats you so horribly, i can't even—fuck. you just need to let him go, babe. and i know, it's gonna be so fucking hard at first, but you just have to push through that,"

"i'll be here the entire way through. you know i always have your back, even when you're in the wrong sometimes," you both chuckle at her small joke, "you deserve so much better than that dick, and i'm not just gonna sit here and watch from afar as he continues to break you down. you're gonna get through this, and i'm gonna make you forget he was even born."

you giggle at her choice of words, but you know what she's saying is right and that you need to listen to her, "okay."

tara smiles at you again, "okay. well, tomorrow we plan, and in the upcoming days we bring this fucker down."

your eyes widen and you put your palms up, shaking them in a protest, "woah, okay, we're not bringing anybody down, we're just getting me out of this hell-hole he put me in. is that clear?"

the shorter girl shrugs, a mischievous smile on her face, "same thing."

the phone buzzes on your nightstand, and you lean over to see who it is. chris' name pops up in bold letters at the top, his contact picture smiling brightly at you as he gives a thumbs up.

you came home just this morning, deciding that you would be fine to stay with chris for a little longer. you didn't want tara to deal with your shit. she didn't deserve to be wrapped up in this whole thing, and you didn't want to be seen a bad friend.

"hello?" you mutter, sitting back against the headboard as you cross your legs, preparing yourself for whatever stupid shit your boyfriend would say this time.

you didn't even know why he was calling. it was late at night, and he never called you. well, unless it was for a favor or something stupid. wasn't he supposed to be at a party with his "friends?"

chris giggles behind the phone, a dumb smile on his face as he stares at your through the screen. his hair is messy and his eyes are insanely red. was he seriously high right now? "hi—hey, y/n/n,"

"you call me again, drunk in your benz,

driving home under the influence..."

you gave him a smile, your eyebrow raising in confusion as you start to speak, but he cuts you off, "okay, i know what you're gonna ask, and don't worry, i'm calling you for—uh.. a good reason, mm'kay?"

"chris you're fucking high, don't lie to me." you sigh, squinting your eyes to see where he's at. it was dark, but you could make out that he was in his car. there was an open beer can in his cup holder, and only then did the realization hit you, "chris, what—christopher! what is that?"

the brunette looks down beside him, and he takes one hand off the wheel to grab the half-empty can, "it's beer, duh." he giggles, and you watch as he takes a sip of it before putting both hands back onto the steering wheel, "don't worry 'bout it, mamas."

"you scared me to death, but i'm wasting my breath,

'cause you only listen to your fucking friends..."

your eyes widen, and you furrow your eyebrows as a wave of—god knows what—washes over you, "chris, what the fuck do you mean 'don't worry about it?' you're driving drunk, you idiot!"

chris giggles at your outburst, eyes trained on the dark, empty streets of los angeles. he turns the wheel back and forth, driving a little over the speed limit just to get you on your toes. it works, and you swear you feel your heart stop. you don't even know what to say. you want to curse him out, gosh, you want to scream at the top of your fucking lungs but you know that'll only give him the satisfaction he wants.

how could you stay calm, though? he was pushing you so hard, you were bound to fall and break, "CHRIS! what the fuck—stop driving like you're fucking stupid, get off the road."

he doesn't listen, though, and you watch as he ponders his choices. he could either do what you say, continue to mess with you, or really test your patience. he smiles deviously and goes with the third option, "hm, there's a lot of mud over here, y'know?"

you don't even know how but your eyes widen more, breath catching as you squeeze your phone in your hands. your mouth is agape, and you feel tears prick in your eyes as his phone starts to shake. the car is moving faster now, and chris is grunting softly as he makes a wildly sharp turn, "chris!"

the phone falls to the passenger seat with a quiet thud, and chris screams loudly. you can't see him anymore. all you're met with is a black screen. a quiet sobs leaves your throat, and your eyes dart around the empty to screen for something, anything. did you just lose your boyfriend?

another cry, and now you're sobbing your heart out as you try to breathe properly. your free hand comes up to clutch the fabric of your shirt, trying to ground yourself as you make an effort to speak, "wha—no, no, no... chris?"

nothing but silence and the quiet hum of the car engine, not that you can hear it over the volume of your breathing. you can't even speak anymore, so shocked to the point that you freeze in fear. how were you gonna explain this to matt and chris? how were you gonna tell them that you could've stopped this from happening? how could you?

your heart aches, and your mind runs wild with all the questions that you'll have to answer. where is he? what happened? why did he do it? why weren't you there? why couldn't you help him? what the fuck is wrong with you? so many questions that you didn't have any answers for, "chris, please—i can't... fuck, i can't—"

laughing. he's laughing. wait, he's laughing? your eyes widen again, and you gasp, "oh my gosh, chris. chris oh my fucking—are you okay?"

he still laughs even as he grabs the phone, and as you finally see him, there's nothing wrong with the boy at all. there's no cuts, no broken glass or skin, no blood. you're grateful, but also confused. your mind wanders to endless possibilities, and you land on one you pray isn't true.

"oh my gosh, you should see your face right now!" he smiles, throwing his head back against the seat as he holds his stomach, "i got you so fucking good, hah! look at you, you're even crying."

and you were right. anger and disgust are clearly shown on your face now, and more tears begin to run down your cheeks, "what?"

why was this funny to him? was he seriously that fucked up to joke about literal death? chris just continues to cackle, "it's a prank, baby. now, calm down, don't start throwing a fit."

"i don't relate to you,

i don't relate to you, no."

you can't even describe how betrayed and angry you feel right now. maybe you were keen to the idea of bringing him down. no other girl should have to deal with his bullshit. you scoff, a bewildered smile on your face as you begin to speak.

"calm down? you're telling me to calm down, chris?" your smile fades as you continue, eyes darting all around his face through the phone screen, "you are so fucked up. you're brain is so fucked up, chris! what the hell is wrong with you?!"

chris just rolls his eyes, huffing quietly as he steps on the gas again. he tries shutting you out, but with how loud you're being, he really can't, "it's not even that big of a deal. not my fault you're always so sensitive, grow up!" he raises his voice, eyes on yours through the phone.

you couldn't believe this was the boy you once loved, screaming at you and telling you that you're the sensitive one, "i'm sensitive? you're getting mad at me for something you did, you asshole!" you yell, voice cracking at the end of your sentence.

chris groans, eyes squeezing shut as he slams on the breaks and punches the steering wheel several times. the horn beeps loudly, startling you for a quick second before you get used to it, "would you shut you're god damn mouth?! all you do is fucking cry and whine about everything!"

"yeah, i wonder why?" you scoff, not even giving him a chance to speak before you hang up the phone and let your hand fall to the side. you just want to throw the device at the wall, let all your anger out on something. on someone.

"'cause i'd never treat me this shitty.

you made me hate this city!"

"gosh, you are so insufferable!" chris yells, hands running through his hair before he tugs on it harshly. he turns his back to you, walking away a few steps before turning back, "what is your problem with me, y/n?"

your cross your arms over one another, letting your head tilt to the side as you take a step forward, "my problem is that you don't do shit for us, chris. you don't even try to keep our relationship running. i'm the only one who does, and you don't even care, do you?"

"you can't even look me in the eyes anymore. you aren't the boy i once knew, and i don't think you'll ever go back to him. you make me feel like shit every single day, chris!" you sigh, tears threatening to spill from your eyes again, "i can't do this anymore if you're not gonna love me like i love you. i'm not gonna deal with your problems anymore!"

chris stays silent, head pounding from all the stress and the alcohol he had earlier, "you'll come back."

you let your arms flail to the sides before coming up to rub at your temples, eyes fluttering shut as you sigh, "that. that's what makes me feel so... angry."

"you never listen! and you always think the odds will turn out in your favor, but they won't. that's not how life works, and we both know that. you just make it seem like you hate—" chris groans at your words, opening his mouth to speak, no, yell.

"like, i hate you? yeah, well, maybe i do, y/n!" chris' eyes are wide, and he looks like a rabid animal as he steps closer to you, "have you ever thought of that, or are you too in love to see it? god, i despise you!" it's not true, and he knows that. you know that.

"then why do you still call me baby and mamas? why do you even bother coming home each week and lying in bed next to me, huh?" a sigh leaves your trembling lips, and you finally look up at him, "you can act like you hate me, but you don't. you just want that power. you want me to come crawling back to you tomorrow."

"never told anyone anything bad.

'cause that shit's embarrassing, you were my everything

and all that you did was make me fucking sad!"

"don't waste my time, chris, i don't need you to come at me for something that isn't my fault. i'm over it!" you yell, and then you feel the rain.

it beats down on both you and chris as you stand in silence for a few moments, taking in the tense atmosphere as you stare chris down and he stares at the ground. he really was the pathetic one, and he had the audacity to call you that?

you can't even tell if the droplets running down your face are tears or just water from the rain, but you don't care about that, all you care about is getting an explanation from chris as to why he was doing all this to you.

he huffs, and then you begin to yell over the hard rainfall again, "so, why? why are you doing this to me, chris?! why even waste your own time on me when you could be fucking other girls?"

"you don't even need me, so why?" you cry out, clutching your now soaked t-shirt, "what's the point, huh?"

chris finally looks into your eyes, and now you can see his lower lip tremble and tears in his blue eyes, "because you're the only one who actually cares about me." it's fake. he's done this before, and now you're actually aware of how many times he's guilt-tripped you like this.

you shake your head, running a hand through your wet hair to get it out of your face. you weren't a kid anymore, and he should know better than not to try this stupid again, but he still does. the first time he did this, it resulted in shutting out both your mom and boy best friend, and then it continued. every other time this happened it always resulted in throwing someone out of your life, but not this time.

"don't try to make me feel sorry for you, chris!" you scream, and now you don't even care if the neighborhood hears. you needed to let these screams out or they would build up until you broke, resulting in you lashing out on someone, "gosh, i fucking hate you for doing this to me! you ruined me, christopher!"

chris looks down again, and now he feels the shame coming down on him, "fucking look at me!" but he doesn't, he keeps his head down and kicks a nearby rock.

you don't feel bad anymore because you know he deserves it. he lets you scream at him because he knows he deserves it. neither of you was in the right headspace in that moment, but you both didn't care. chris would forget in a few days, and you wouldn't. how could you forget after 4 years of this?

the brunette takes a few steps forward, hands reaching out to cup your face, and you huff angrily. your hands are on his chest the moment he's in your face, and you shove him back harshly.

"you ruined everything good,

always said you were misunderstood,

made all my moments your own..."

"just fucking leave me alone!" you scream louder than before, and chris takes a step back with wide eyes. his eyes are finally making contact with yours, and he sees all of the emotions in them now.

the rain seems harder now, and chris wipes his face with the back of his hand as he steps back to his spot, staring at you from afar as he watches you breathe heavily and cry. you've been waiting to get those screams out, chris knew that well. he knew that he treated you poorly, but he... didn't care, actually. he had the world in his hands and he could replace you in an instant, so why did it hurt just that little bit?

tears are now running down his cheeks, and he sniffles as he looks away. he wasn't gonna let you see him when he was the most vulnerable. he couldn't. chris just sighed shakily as he looked back down at the ground again, tucking his hands into his soaked pockets.

you're still staring at him, and when you hear him chuckle quietly, you furrow your eyebrows. he walks away.

"yeah, go try to find someone better than me, bitch!" he yells over the rain and then jumps into his car, quickly backing out of the driveway and sleeping down the road.

you feel like you're suffocating as you watch him leave, and you swear your knees will give out if you don't move or do something. how could he leave after that? how could he leave after he told you that you were the only person who cared about him? if it was true, he wouldn't have left. if anything he said was true, he would've stayed and comforted you, he would've tried to bring this relationship back into the light. but he didn't because it was never true.

your lips parted, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you screamed again. your throat would definitely be sore in the morning, but who cared right now? you needed this, and you weren't gonna let it boil over until you took your anger out on someone who hadn't done anything. you didn't want to turn out like chris did.

@livialifesblog

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peterparkouryo · 10 months ago

Text

rebound iv | ✧.*

✧.*

prompt; You had been in a relationship with Peter for months until he broke up with you. It was tough at first, but over time you began to move on and eventually found someone new. However, Peter couldn't handle seeing you with someone else and it was clear he was still harbouring feelings for you.

warnings: one-sided pining, angst (cuz you love it), guilty peter, very bad person peter, arguments, and maybe fluff idk

word count: 8.0k

a/n: ITS HEREEE!!!! tysm for the love on this series and sorry part four took so so so long to publish! THIS IS THE LAST PART DON'T ASK FOR MORE, PLEASE!! i'm so glad to be back, but if i'm honest? this last part is trash and rushed lol.

part one part two part three

"You should consider Ned."

Betty shows a smile, one to only be described as sarcastic before shrugging, digging through more clothes in her closet.

"Yeah, sure, maybe, but I'm more of a committee kinda girl." She offers, pulling out a black plaid skirt, turning to face you.

You accept the skirt from her hold, scanning the fabric curiously before giving her a nod in approval, to which she claps her hands together in excitement to.

"When's prom anyway?" You wonder, putting the black plaid skirt in your bag with the many other donated clothing your friend had gave you.

"Like couple weeks?" The blonde shrugs, closing her closet door before spinning toward you and made her way to the edge of her bed.

Betty had invited you over her house so she could "put you in something" nice for an upcoming date you had with a boy you had been dating for well over a few weeks now.

It was safe to say that asking her for an outfit recommendation wasn't the smartest of ideas, but it's not like you had many other girl friends to ask.

And your blonde friend was definitely the more expert of boys than you were (obviously), despite her having the lesser advance of dating when it came to them.

"What's his name again?" Betty asks, sitting next to you as she sorts through your clothes and folds them neatly.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at her motherly habit.

"Miles." You answer.

"The junior?!" Betty gasp, you can see eyes light up in excitement and can't help but nod and smile widely.

"Yeah." You confirm.

Miles was the better half of you, probably the best version if you were being honest. He wasn't toxic, a sweet boy, and always knew what the right thing to say was at the most inconvenient times. Of course, he was a nerd, or what you'd call a dork (guess you had a type).

It took you a while to come to terms with the fact that the boy had a crush on you, for...well, many reasons, but once the sun came down and reality settled in, you slowly found yourself noticing him more than just a quiet classmate in your physiology class.

Though it took awhile for you to come to terms with those feelings given the fact you had just gotten out of a relationship at the time, but you deserved to be happy, not wanting to dawn too much on your trouble passed.

"He's been asking you out for like, ever." The blonde points out and you laugh as you give her a nod.

"Right, like I felt bad when I kept saying no, and it's only because I was fresh out of a relationship." You explain as Betty nods, reorganizing the closet she messed up on behalf of you.

Miles tried one last time to ask you out on a date, and you finally gave in, though you weren't full healed from your previous relationship, but you figured you weren't the type of person to lead someone on and deserved to be happy with someone who you knew would give what you craved for.

Miles was the perfect example of providing happiness, even if he himself didn't really know that.

When you said yes, you were your nervous self and immediately asked Betty, who was more than thrilled to help.

"And he's so cute." You sigh dreamily.

Betty laughs, closing her closet before turning back around and made her way to you once again.

"You think he's gonna ask you to prom?" She wonders, and you give her a look of confusion.

Honestly, you had little to no thoughts about prom given the fact that who you thought you were originally going to go with wasn't an option anymore. After the past couple of months, you had not given prom a single thought, because by default, there was truly no point in thinking you were going unless your blonde friend forced you against your will to go.

Had you known you'd be dating someone else as the deadline got closer, you'd given it much more thought, but neither you or Miles had voiced your opinion on it, so you automatically assumed he didn't want to go or just didn't have the right courage to ask you.

"I dunno, not something we really talk about." You say with a shrug.

"You should ask him, you're the senior."

You give Betty a look one would describe as if she suggested something completely outrageous.

"No, no that's not a good idea. I think we'll just see how this goes, and if it comes up I'll see how he feels about it." You quickly explain, Betty only shrugs.

"And if he doesn't wanna go I'll take you." She smirks.

"I figured."

You both let out a laugh.

You knew being the ex of a superhero would eventually come back to bite you in the ass.

It wasn't like you could avoid him forever, he was your Queens hero, so yes, you were aware that you did have to hear high praise about him from time to time.

But it being from Miles, the guy you were seeing was weird.

Of course he didn't know of Spider-Man's true identity, but it was eery having to hear your current boyfriend sing praises to your ex boyfriend.

You weren't a mean person either, so you let him.

"And when he beat up those muggers," Miles reenacts most of the accurate actions Spider-Man does. "It was really cool." He smiles from ear to ear at you and all you do is force one back.

"Yeah, well, that's Spider-Man for you." You begin to pick at your food, wanting more than anything to have this conversation come to an end.

Miles being no idiot, notices your lack of interest into the subject of Spider-Man.

"Oh, am I being annoying? I'm sorry." He deflates and you're quick to stop picking at your food to look at him.

"No, no it's not that you're being annoying, I swear. I just...." You trail off.

You were wondering exactly what would happen if you told him you dated Spider-Man. It probably would end up being more questions than jealousy.

And you were in no mood for either.

"I have a friend who works for the Daily Bugle, so you can imagine how much I have to hear about him." You lie and Miles lets out a small chuckle at your sentence.

"Right, I'll make sure to only mention him when completely necessary."

All you really can do is smile at him. Miles was too good to be true, you really had no idea what you could have done to earn such a perfect boy.

Minus the here and there mentions of your ex boyfriend, you'd like to think the date was going well.

You were so nervous as the days went by, getting closer to this well anticipated date and the butterflies never really left when the day became real.

Miles was no surprise a gentleman, bringing your favourite flowers to you and compliments fell from his lips the minute he saw you. He made you feel good.

You two decided on a pasta date only because you expressed how much you loved Italian food and he was more than happy to take you to his favourite Italian spot with its thankfully cheap food.

After the date, he offers to walk you home, and you accept it a bit too eagerly, hoping he wasn't so observant to notice.

You decide to fill the comfortable silence with a question.

"Got any plans for the summer?"

Miles gives you a look as he holds your hand, absentmindedly swinging it back and forth before deciding to answer your question.

"Hm, not really. I just do whatever my parents have in mind." He shrugs.

You nod, giving his hand a small squeeze.

"I mean, we can do stuff?" You suggest awkwardly, your free hand fiddling with the necklace around your neck.

The boy's eyes light up at your suggestion and you can't help but smile at his look of happiness, and he starts nodding before he speaks up.

"I'd love that, totally." He grins and you look ahead of you as you watch your building become more into view.

You both continue your walk, chatting about anything that came in mind and the more you talked, the more you come to realize how much you two have in common.

It was like fate was falling into your hands, and you couldn't be more than happy. It was all too good to be true and you made the mistake of trusting fate in your previous relationship, only to be severely traumatized and heartbroken.

You prayed to any god above Miles was nothing like Peter, if anything, better.

Peter. It had been a long time since you said that name, let alone thought it.

Your train of thoughts are broken when you reach the entrance of your apartment building and you smile at Miles, watching him return it with his gorgeous white teeth.

"I'll see you at school?" Miles slowly drops your hand as you give him a nod.

"Yeah, today was really fun." You tell him honestly and his smile never really goes away.

Before the boy even has a chance to respond, you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

You two never had any sort of intimate moment, even anything as small as this, so you were a blushing mess when you pull away to watch his reaction, noticing his adorable brown eyes dilated and if you pay closer attention, you could almost see the heat rising to his face.

"That good?" He quips and you playfully roll your eyes.

"Bye Miles." You wave as he gives reciprocates it, turning around with a bounce to his step (which you can't help smile at his dorkiness), walking more and more out of view.

You smile to yourself as you make your way to your apartment, and you only wish you knew this'd be your last time at feeling even remotely happy.

You were starting to believe someone was out to get you. Maybe fate wasn't actually falling in your hands and you just had this habit of attracting bad things whenever something good came your way.

This time around, it was not your fault for the bad things happening to you, it was Peter's.

You thought you two had this silent agreement that after you found your closure, you'd never have to talk to each other again, which was going well for the past few months, avoiding each other like the plague or just simply pretending either or did not exist.

For some reason though, the boy couldn't take the hint and it was bringing back old nightmares you didn't want to relive.

Peter had this habit of sticking to you like a bug (no pun intended) and you were worried it had something to do with the still lingering feelings he clearly still had for you, which is something you did not know until you started seeing Miles.

When you said you hadn't thought about Peter in a very long time, you meant it as three days sober without the boy trying to ruin your life. You really had no idea why it was a problem for Peter to be happy for you when you were more than supportive for his now ex relationship with MJ.

Michelle wasn't too keen on telling. you the details of why they broke up after two months of dating, but you had this feeling it had something to do with you, which is so selfish, but Peter being Peter can't help but make the obvious, well, obvious.

Every conversation you have with him ends in an argument, a petty one at most.

So, when he approached your locker, you were prepared for the worst.

"Are you still coming to the decathlon meeting?" Is the first thing he asks you, and it's not like you're expecting an 'hi, how are you?', most of your conversations nowadays are usually straight to the point.

"Why?"

"Because, you never go anymore? Like, what type of question is that..." Peter mumbles the last bit, but you hear it, and you take a deep breath in to not say anything back.

"We'll see, I might hang out with Miles after school." You shrug as you close your locker and you see Peter roll his eyes from the corner of your eye.

"If you're gonna keep ditching, what's the point in being on the team?" Peter questions almost hypocritically.

"You're one to talk." You argue.

"That's different. I have a reason to, you? Not so much." He shrugs and you let out a scoff and turn to walk away, not wanting to be predictable and provoke an oncoming argument.

And as also predicted, Peter follows you like a lost puppy.

"Do you always have to hang out with him after school?" He quizzes, and you stop in your tracks, to give him a questionable look.

"Well yeah, that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do Peter. Once upon a time, we use to do that exact thing." You narrow your eyes at the boy as he looks anywhere but at you.

Again, you're not the smartest person alive, but it was painfully obvious Peter for some reason still harboured feelings for you and you were all sorts of confused as it was him who broke up with you in the first place.

You just wanted him to leave you alone, you've been through so much because of him, but yet, he can't take the hint no matter what you do.

"I know, and I still feel bad about breaking up with you." Peter sighs and you shake your head quickly.

"No, please Peter, stop while you're at it." You warn, watching the boys face visibly deflate at your rejection.

Peter was not stupid (most of the time), so you knew that he knows just how good he was at being a manipulator. His favourite technique was obviously guilt-tripping and being the best at putting the blame on others because he's "been through so much". You learned that the hard way, and now you were glad you could point out the red flags whenever he tried to do exactly that.

"What? I'm not doing anything." He shrugs innocently and you roll your eyes at his faux innocence.

Before you could voice your comeback, the bell rings and you let an all too familiar feeling settle in your stomach.

You decide to keep the silence in between you both, turning around to walk to your class and dare you even try to look back at Peter.

You both knew this was not the end of it, if anything, only the beginning of something worst.

It had been a week since that encountrment with Peter, and of course things have gotten progressively worst for you. All because of him.

Quite frankly, you had no idea why your ex boyfriend was so obsessed with you. Yeah, most exes are and normally it'd be the other way around but when you two were together he never made such an effort as he was trying to make now.

It was painfully annoying and you keep wishing he'd leave you alone, but its almost as clear as day that he will not do that until you rekindle whatever relationship you had to begin with.

Miles is thankfully unaware of Peter's obsession and he has been the best boyfriend (dare you say you've ever had), and unknowingly helping you keep your mind off of things Peter related or not.

"What if we don't go to the movies and just watch one at my place?" Miles suggested, placing a fry in his mouth after he finishes his sentence.

You look up from your shake and tilt your head for a moment to think about his not so subtle suggestion.

"Y'know most movie watchings at home with your significant other leads to a make out session?" You shrug just as Miles eyes widen at your words.

You were kidding of course but you didn't want to tell him that because his reaction was just so adorable.

"Is that a known statistic or...?"

You shrug again and drink your milkshake.

Miles continues to stare at you, digesting your suggestion slowly before nodding his head rather out of habit or he started to consider what you had said.

"I mean, sure why not?" He smiles and you wipe the whipped cream from the corner of your mouth and retort his smile.

It was rare for you and Miles to have any alone time because you both were just so awkward, more awkward than your previous ex boyfriend but you guess it was justifiable considering Miles was a year younger than you and from what you know, barely had knowledge of how girls worked.

You weren't any better, but you at least had some understanding ono how to have a boyfriend and it wasn't anything to be taken seriously because you two were having fun.

On the plus side, you had a plan to ask him to prom (after the whole make out session), and there was this strange feeling that made you have hope because even to a blind person anyone could see how smitten he was with you.

"Are you saying 'sure, why not' to making out with me?"

Miles blinks rapidly before shrugging. "Yeah?"

You nod and play with a fry, the door's bell ringing indicating someone has entered, but you pay no mind to it.

"So are we gonna like...watch the movie first or y'know, make out..first, I mean." Miles clears his throat as you look up, tilting your head.

"Well its not like a thing planned out so, we can just see what happens." You answer unsurely. Honestly, most of half your movie watching with Peter always lead to make outs on some level, but you never really understood how they happen.

But, this thankfully is not about Peter, who broke your heart because he was in love with someone else, Peter who is your Queens superhero, Spider-Man, and Peter, who was walking toward you?

You blink a few times to make sure your head isn't playing tricks on you and once you have time to think, you realize that, yes he is walking toward you, and you have no time to run or hide.

"Do you think we could do that first?" Miles asks with a small smile and you look away from the approaching Peter back to your boyfriend way too quickly for your liking.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You furrow your eyebrows and show what you hope was an apologetic smile and not a nervous one.

"Hey guys." The tortuous voice you had no option but facing greets and you watch Miles and only Miles as he looks away from you to show a friendly smile towards Peter, who you are surely becoming more loathing towards.

"Oh, hey Peter," Miles spares you a glance as you shake your head.

One thing about Peter is that he's the kind of guy to set his mind on a goal and make it his mission to achieve it, so whatever it was that he had planned that involved you, you knew that all your interactions so far was merely just the beginning, and it scared you.

"Didn't know you two would be here." Peter presses his lips together, something he did when he was either nervous or lying, and you had a feeling it was the latter.

You remain silent, which evidently did not help with the awkwardness, but you weren't going to give into Peter's satisfaction and talk to him when you were here to enjoy your date with Miles and not acknowledge the boy who broke your heart.

You could feel your heartbeat speed up, and not in a good way. It was the kind of anxiety someone experience when something unpropitious lingered, like a bad taste in your mouth.

You wanted to get up, take Miles' hand and drag him and yourself out of the diner, but you didn't want to come off as rude and have your poor boyfriend question the sudden departure from the establishment, but deep down you knew that it was either that or suffer through the presence of Peter Parker.

"You wanna join us?" Miles offers, gesturing towards the table with a friendly smile, you only frown at your plate of fries.

"Oh no thanks, I'm already meeting a friend." Peter declines, shrugging his shoulders with a small smile.

Mentally, you thank god for the boy declining Miles offer, because frankly, things are already awkward enough. You can feel the tension growing more uncomfortable with each passing second, and you're wishing the waitress hurried up with the bill.

Your boyfriend mumbles a small 'oh', and nods his head before glancing at you, probably wondering why you're suddenly so quiet.

Theres another deafening silence that dawdles in the air and you press your lips together to withhold the grimace forming on your face, because you can't stand any sort of undetermined traction.

Peter lets out a nervous laugh and clears his throat. "I should go, nice seeing you Miles." He doesn't spare you a glance (not that you care) and leaves you and your boyfriend alone, finally.

You look up as Miles watch Peter walk to a far booth away from the both of you, shortly after he's done staring down the boy he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"Does he hate you or something? A blind person could point out the tension." He says with a small frown of confusion.

You shrug and play with a fry. You could keep the truth to yourself or just give Miles the honest answer, which could just make things even more awkward. There's a small debate in your head for five more seconds before you sigh.

"I mean, we dated for awhile a couple months ago." You mumble, keeping your gaze on your half empty plate.

"You dated him?" Miles gasps as you nod silently.

"That makes sense,"

You give him a look as he shrugs.

"He seems like he still has some feelings for you if the tension was that awkward." Miles explains as the waitress finally comes to the table with your bill.

You grab the receipt as you replay his words in your brain. The signs couldn't be more clearer, even if you evidently tried to ignore the fact that Peter still had feelings, it was almost pointless to remain oblivious if even your new boyfriend could see how your old one felt.

"Yeah, well its in the past." You shrug as you stand up from the booth. Miles does the same and holds out his hand for you to take and you smile and accept his offer.

As the two of you make your way out of the diner, you feel a pair of eyes on you but you don't have the energy to turn and scan every single face just to find the culprit who's staring you down. Plus it certainly doesn't take a rocket scientist to know exactly who that culprit is.

A comfortable tranquility takes over when you and Miles walk hand in hand, the warmth flowing from his touch is a solace to the chaotic life that is yours and your mind is temporarily at peace when you're with him.

Fall was leisurely making its way into winter as you felt the freezing air ruminate your skin, the comfortable yet small sweater doing almost nothing to shield you from the chilly air.

You're thankful Miles' hand in yours keeps you from completely freezing to death. His fingers were more of a heater than the thin layer you dare called a sweater.

"Why'd you two breakup, if you don't mind me asking?" Miles' voice is soft as he asks a question you'd much rather not ask since the wound of that scar has yet to heal, but you're not going to hold the curiosity of your boyfriend against him.

"Um," You search for the best way to explain the words stuck in your brain. "He kind of just, fell for someone else." You grimace at the memories climbing its way to your mind and you spare no glance at Miles.

There's a sensitive silence that looms in the air and you assume its because Miles takes the time to digest your words.

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but I'm over it so don't feel bad." You reassure and you look over to the boy with a small smile and he unsurely smiles back with a nod.

"Hey, so I was thinking..." He starts and looks down at the pavement the two of you were walking on. You raise an eyebrow, gazing at him as you patiently wait for him to continue with whatever it was he was willing to open up to you.

"I know you're a senior, and I'm a junior but I really think you and I should go to prom." Miles blurts and looks at you just as quickly as you look at him, both of your eyes widen.

"Prom?"

You couldn't help but smile at his suggestion, because you were itching to ask him ever since Betty brought the idea to your head. You just didn't know how to go about asking him, and you did plan to make it all romantic like, since it would've counted as a 'promposal'. Miles most likely asked you because the deadline was just two weeks away, and that gave you no time whatsoever to find a prom dress.

"Yeah, if you wanna go with me, I'd really like that. My mom already bought the tickets so..." He trails off and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

Now you couldn't say no, not that you had any thoughts to reject his proposal. Never even haven met Miles' parents, or mother, and she was already so eager to see her son and his new girlfriend she had no face but a name to, to go to prom together. Your smile that never really went away extends into a grin.

"I think you stole the words straight from my mouth." You nod as your boyfriend grins from ear to ear and you two stop walking, awhile ago you notice.

Miles pulls you into a hug and you laugh whole-heartedly at his embrace, hugging him back as the comfort embeds through your body.

"Thank you." He mumbles before pulling away slightly to stare at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, which makes you blush and smile with a soft hum.

"You're welcome."

You flinch when your blonde friend tightens the string of the prom dress and you glare at her through the mirror as she mutters a apology.

"This hugs your body so nice, I'll buy it for you." She promises for the 100th time and you roll your eyes and take a step back to observe the dress in your reflection.

If you were as confident as you desired to be, you'd say that this dress had been the one from all the other ninety-nine others your friend had made you tried on.

The dress was your colour, it fit you nicely the way you wanted it to, and you felt beautiful in it. Since dresses weren't really your thing you opted to wear a suit to which your blonde friend gasps in horror as if the option was completely ludicrous and off the table. She told you it was fruitless to wear such a thing to a ball because Miles most definitely would already be wearing a nice tux and it'd be corny to have you in one as well.

You agreed to let her put you in dresses and such like a barbie and you went to your local dress store where she had only made you try on a gazillion outfits until you found the one you were currently wearing, making you absentmindedly check yourself out in the mirror in front of you.

"You look like a twenty-five year old model that Leonardo DiCaprio would go for!" Betty squeals and claps her hands together. You shake your head at her weirdly sweet but yet more disturbing compliment.

"Thanks?" You furrow your eyebrows and turn to look at her.

Betty twirls you around like a princess, observing your fit from head to toe. Almost like an artist critiquing its art.

"I think you'll have Miles speechless." She grins and you smile hopefully. "Really?" Betty nods.

The mirror made you look almost angel like as you stare back at it. You really did feel gorgeous in the gown and you really wanted it to make yourself feel good, and you knew anytime of dress, or even a garbage bag would look good to your boyfriend because he really is that perfect.

"'M gonna go see if I can find any shoes," You hear Betty's voice and you nod as you look at the corset of the dress, tracing your fingers across the fabric slowly.

You continue to check yourself out in the mirror and a person behind you clears her throat and you turn around swiftly, surprised to see Michelle standing there with a shopping bag and an almost glare had you paid close attention to the glare.

Your hand fiddles with the necklace around your neck and she looks you over and your self-consciousness arises with her gaze.

Michelle had not been the nicest person, to anyone really since she broke up with Peter and the quiet girl went MIA from school and the decathlon team. You felt terrible for the poor girl, because there were the obvious reasons and maybe even reasons you didn't know about as of why her and Peter broke up.

"Your dress is gorgeous on you." She hums and you look at her with an unwavering blank stare. The confusion must had been evident on your face because MJ shakes her head with a sigh.

The tension consumed the vibe of both your presence. You speak up in a calm manner.

"Look, I don't know if you hate me or something but I'm really sorry, you deserve so much better MJ." You look at her with an empathetic gaze.

"Michelle." She corrects.

Your nose scrunches up in a small grimace.

"Right, Michelle. Sorry." You nod in understanding.

"I don't blame you for the break up, but we both know." Michelle gives you a look, the only thing you can do is nod once again. Your head gazes at her converses with a defeated sigh, nothing coming to your mind to say to her because yes, you do know.

The tension fades away when the bubbly girl who is your friend, Betty returns with shoes that match your dress with a happy grin and holds them up to you.

"Cute, right?" She shows you her pearly whites and you give her a thumbs up, watching Michelle walk past the two of you and Betty catches the back of the girl's head and looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

You shake your head quickly, not wanting to talk about it.

After the whole short but definite straining conversation with Michelle you try to take your mind off it, changing into your regular clothes and both you and Betty buy the dress you're satisfied with as well as the shoes and you suggest ice cream for lunch and she agrees without hesitation.

"Divina!" Mrs. Morales exclaims and takes another picture. You try to keep your smile prominent for the maybe millionth picture? You lost count.

When you arrived at the Morales household, Miles' mother was the one to answer and she had gave your mother a look of disbelief, small praising spanish words fell from her lips with a smile. You were already feeling hopeful and just to hear the praising words from your boyfriend's mother who you did officially meet for the first time, was rewarding to say the least.

Miles came down from the stairs, looking quite handsome in his tux and the way his jaw dropped when he saw you standing there with your mother, looking around his apartment aimlessly had been an out of body experience for you, because no one had ever looked at you the way he did, not even Peter.

"Mama, por favor!" He groans from next to you and you laugh as your mother does as well.

Mrs. Morales finally stops taking pictures, placing her camera on the counter nearby.

"Sorry, sorry. You two just look so good together." She smiles and turns to your mother, showing her the pictures she had took.

You turn your attention to Miles, who now takes the time to hold up the container of which had your corsage in it up to you, a silent question and you nod as an answer.

The boy slowly and yet so carefully opens the container, taking out the corsage and slipping it around your wrist, taking ahold of your hand after he finishes, looking from your wrist to your eyes that had already been staring at him.

"You look really pretty, beautiful even." Miles whispers, but before you can say anything there's a flash and the both of you tear your gazes away from each other, to the culprit at hand, Mrs. Morales and your mother both have their phones in their hands with ear to ear grins as they capture the memory of your little moment.

The two of you groan in annoyance at the ruined gravity of peace.

The dance was like anything you could had ever imagined, from the sequence sparkling chandelier lights dangling from the ceiling, illuminating the gym with an almost elegance aura, to the blue and white decorations to represent your school colours made you feel like you were at a ball rather than the prom.

"This can't be the same gym as our school's." Miles hand was in yours as the two of you enter the gymnasium, and you giggle at his words, watching many bodies chatter or dance with each other.

He was right, the gym you were used to always had a weird smell and it unquestionably had no qualities to hold students for a senior prom, yet you were proven other wise.

The two of you make your way further into the dance and you see Betty with Ned, which you find ironic since she had sung a tune in your ear that she would much rather be helping set up the prom and keep it well done than ever consider having Ned take her as a date. You tilt your head at the girl with a knowing look, her only retort is rolling her eyes.

The night was bound to be full of surprises, you suspect.

"You look great guys!" Ned smiles and fist pumps Miles, an adorable thing the two of them did whenever they ran into each other, and you hug Betty as well as Ned.

"Thank you."

Your gaze scan the dance once again, your anxiety rises when you catch a familiar set of brown eyes walking towards your group.

Never in a million years would you had ever thought Peter Parker to attend a dance without a date. It was a out of character thing to observe, but it was true since every year from the ninth grade, stopping at last year, you two attended every single dance together, even making a promise that if you were to break up before prom that neither of you would participate in said dance.

Times had changed of course, given you now had a new boyfriend, attending with him instead of Peter, but the brown haired boy had no date and that is what you truly found weird. But you had no room to judge him, ultimately, it was none of your business, nor did you care why he was even here.

The way he looked at you as he made his way towards you made you nervous for a multitude of possibilities. He had never made the effort to give you such attention before, but there was something in his eyes that gave you an unsettling feeling, a feeling that you were growing accustomed to since he broke up with you all those months ago.

The gut feeling as if something bad foretold in the air.

Once Peter had successfully made it over to the four of you, his gaze never actually left yours and you had to subtly hide behind Miles to inaudibly declare your uncomfortable state, though sadly it went unnoticed as your boyfriend converses with Ned.

"Peter, you look very handsome." Betty voices, causing the two boys to stop their chatter and look over to the boy who broke his gaze away from you (finally), clearing his throat, giving your blonde friend a small tight-lipped smile and greeted Ned with their signature handshake.

Miles gives Peter a nod and he reciprocates it. You look down at your heels, that were a pain to walk in, avoiding eye contact with the brown haired boy.

Thanking the gods from above, Miles takes your hand with a smile and you look up at him with your own, ignoring, shutting out, whatever you want to call it, Peter's gaze that you sensed form into a glare.

"Let's go dance." Betty quickly drags Ned away, being little to no help with the eye-twitching obvious tension between you, Miles and Peter.

Why had Peter made it his mission to give you an anxiety inducing, gut wrenching run for your money every time you two interacted? You wish you knew, you really did.

You fiddle with the necklace and Peter takes notice of it and speaks his mind, and you wish he hadn't.

"I like your necklace." He nods and you stop your fidgeting to glare at him, watching the boy smile innocently. This, of course draws the attention of your boyfriend.

"Oh yeah, cool spider necklace." He smiles.

Peter could careless if you were glaring at him, and you felt your anger boil through your entire body, ready to attack him had he have the audacity to say something sly from his mouth once again.

You both knew that Peter was the one to had given you the very necklace you wore around your neck, almost everyday and the reason you didn't take it off was unclear, but you knew deep down it had nothing to do with Peter, or maybe it did but it was not like you still had the feelings for him you once had before.

It was a shame that the boy took pride in the gloating fact you still wore it, but it wasn't for him. More so, for you.

"Miles, do you wanna dance?" You look over to your boyfriend with a smile and he quickly nods like you had just offered him candy, Peter frowns and you glance at him before walking off to the dance floor.

The two of you make your way to the centre of the gym, most students still danced or talked nearby, but you paid no mind to it as you wrap your arms around Miles' neck, he was unsure where to put his hands and you smile at his awkwardness.

With pleasure, you guide his hand to your waist, he understands with ease. His hands on your waist was a comforting experience for both you and him. As if on time, the music switched from a Taylor Swift song you briefly recognized to a slow song, an Elvis Presley one at that.

You can't help but notice the way he was looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes held adoration in them, and it was the same look he always gave you, but his longing stare was more amplified than per usual, it made your heart speed up and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

Your neck begin to itch with anxiety, but it was the good kind and you were so happy that you were able to feel easiness that you had been looking for in the past year.

Miles was the person you were meant to be with, and you felt like nothing could get in the way between you both. No matter how hard Peter tried to slither his way back into your life, the better person will always be Miles.

The solace is beautiful, the two of you holding each other as 'Can't help falling in love with you' (ironic), played in the background, other classmates were dancing as well, but they disappeared from your mind. Everyone but your boyfriend blocked out from your brain, the both of you looked at each other with such protection and warmth that you failed to notice which one of you even leaned closer.

The kiss was short, sure but it was confounding and so very soft. You pulled away with a, looking down as Miles laughed at your behaviour.

"That was nice." He nods and you look back at him with raised eyebrows. "Yeah."

"Thirsty?"

You nod as the slow song comes to an end, pulling away from him, but still close enough to feel his residence.

"I'll be quick." Miles promises and gives your cheek a kiss, turning his back to you and walks toward the punch table, that was more of a buffet if anything, given the unnaturally amount of food and desserts decorating the furniture piece.

You gnaw slightly at the bottom of your lip with a smile, and your fingers trace the spider trinket of the necklace around your neck, a voice interrupts your dreamy thoughts from behind you and you turn around.

"Can we talk? I know I say that a lot for the past three chapters of our conversations, but...please." Peter walks closer to you and you take a step back when he does, your hand falls to your side with a frown.

"Not now, or maybe ever." You scoff, attempting to walk away from him but he gently steps in your way.

This was going to take a turn for the worst, that much you could tell.

"Please!" He gives you puppy dog eyes, and looks at you as if this was the last thing he will ever get the chance to do. You groan before giving in.

"Make it quick."

Peter nods and lets go of your arm, trailing his eyes from your necklace down to your dress, the words spill from his mouth before you could even comprehend them.

"I love you." He breathes, and your heart drops to your stomach.

"Stop."

You try to walk away again, because your head was starting to hurt and you didn't have it in you to deal with Peter's bullshit.

"No, listen to me, just listen." Peter quickly shakes his head and steps in your way once more and you notice his heartbroken stare.

"I get that you hate me, I understand that you want nothing to do with me and you're with Miles, but I love you. It took me way too long to realize that, but I--I do." The brown haired boy runs a hand through his hair in frustration, you keep quiet to let him speak his mind.

You were long gone out of love with Peter Parker, the same boy who broke your heart on your birthday, because he was in love with someone else. He for some reason thinks it'd be a good idea to express his feelings at a school dance that you had gone with, with your boyfriend, that was not him.

The deju vu was eating through your body, you were wondering where the hell Miles was with that punch.

"It's too late to even tell you this, but thats why MJ broke up with me, not because I told her but I mean she's a perspective girl so...y'know." Peter shrugs in defeat as you nod slowly, your head still trying to digest his words.

"Peter, you're so stupid." You finally say and he blinks in utter confusion, but you continue anyway.

"You have no right to tell me you love me, months later and I mean months later. Because its unfair and it's selfish, you put me through hell and back, only to do it again once I find a little ounce of happiness." You ramble in anger, not knowing what else to say as you try to put all your thoughts into one simple breakdown for him.

"I know--"

"No, you don't." You cut him off quickly and held up a finger in his face. "Because if you knew like you claimed, you wouldn't had made it your life's mission to seek out attention from me or whatever the hell it is you're trying to do. I was happy for you and MJ, I grew to accept that, so why can't you do the same for me?"

Peter's face switch from confusion and hurt to a glaring look within seconds, and you almost regret your words.

"You told me you loved me while I was trying to meet ends with MJ, and now you're telling me I can't do the same? To the person who's wearing a birthday gift I gave her, around her boyfriend." He argues and sadly, he does have a point.

You were lost for words for a brief moment and Peter scoffs at your silence.

"That's not fair."

"No, if you throw the ball at me, I'm going to throw it back harder. You claim to not love me anymore but you wouldn't still be wearing that necklace if your feelings changed." Peter takes a step closer to you.

You're paralyzed, not having the energy to fight back as his words sink into your brain. He was so painfully right, you knew deep down no matter how hard you deluded yourself that there was still feelings there, and Peter was your first love, so you can't just completely shut him out of your life, no matter what the boy did or how bad he hurt you.

"I know that...but Peter I'm with someone else. Had you told me this before months ago, maybe things would be different, but you need to stop trying." You're sure these words hurt him more than they hurt you, but you were so sick and tired of the one feeling the rougher end of the stick.

Peter needed a taste of his own medicine anyway.

"Please, stop trying."

He nods his head in a silent bob, the tension simmering down from the screaming steam that loomed around the two of you.

Peter looked like a kicked dog, which kind of made you frown, but you knew better than anything to try and comfort him in the way he hoped you would.

"Okay."

"Okay?" You furrow your eyebrows at the one word after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence.

"Okay, I'll stop. I want you to be happy, and I shouldn't be the reason you're not." Peter slides his hand into yours and you feel the unsettling consolation within his touch, biting your bottom lip as you watch him sigh with a deflated smile.

"Just know that I do love you, even if you don't feel the same way anymore, I know deep down you do."

You didn't think you'd cry on prom night, but the tears had made an unannounced approach, you were just thankful that the mascara you had on was waterproof.

Quickly, you wipe your tears and nod your head with a clear of your throat and take a step back.

"I should go look for Miles." You gesture your thumb behind you to nowhere in particular, Peter's hand slip from yours for the very last time. He tilts his head and looks around the gym.

"Alright."

You had no idea of what to do, so you just stare at Peter for a moment as he stares at you.

This boy was truly the love of your life, you did everything together but sometimes not everyone is meant to be.

When he broke your heart on your birthday, you thought you would never find the kind of connection the two of you had again, and it ate at your heart. Peter had ripped it out, and held it in his hand, maliciously squeezing at it but not intending to, because he was as lost as you were, truly.

The two of you didn't know how to love, and that was evident. He thought he loved someone else, but he was wrong. Karma some might say, but you'd call it a life lesson for him. You on the other hand, didn't have any idea what you were doing. Miles wasn't a rebound from Peter, he was a saviour from him. Though not put so nicely, but Peter was an experience to learn from, to grow from and that's what you did.

From the break up, the who kissed who, and the lingering feelings he had for you, you all but hoped Peter would find someone who wasn't you, someone who loved him for him as he could love them for who they were.

You knew it wouldn't be you, and you were glad. Peter deserves happiness as much as you did.

Even if the two of you wouldn't end up hand in hand.

taglist: @clairebearfr @ietss

#peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

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xcyphoz0a · 10 months ago

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Hello there! I hope your day is going well, but if not I hope it gets better dude!!!🤗

I wanted to know if it’s alright to request an idea for sagau? Like I might make a post about this but I always thought it would be cool to have y/n retain some realistic features even though they isekai into tevat!

Like for example; the hair being more textured, shines in reflection , the way they would have different shades and saturation throughout the skin, they way how your touch feels ‘real’ or different, oh and ur eyes, oh how the characters could look how your pupils reflects, etc.

Idk I always thought if I were to make and character of mine or y/n still retaining little features they had back their own world seem kind of cool and interesting to think how people would react to it!

Even better is if they don’t know you’re the ‘creator’ of their reality and they were only able to hear your voice and how you express yourself!!

Anyways sorry for making this so long 🥲 I’m just kind of curious on how you or others would feel on this idea 💡

Unique differences

Gender neutral reader, ideas TW/CW: sagau Character(s): Some characters from Mondstadt Word count: 608 Proofread: n/a | The differences you hold is what makes you unique, so special, lovable. | A/N: hello! I hope this fits your tastes..? might have a part two if i manage to find some more ideas!

Taglist: @chaoffee

When you arrive you probably don’t know why some random citizens look at you with such amazed, perplexed gazes, with you likely thinking there’s something on your face that you don’t know was there.

You’re also slightly confused why the hilichurls don’t attack when you’re an inch near them, and why the slimes seem to be more docile, why you barely manage to see abyss mages– everything’s odd.

If you arrive near Mondstadt, Amber is the first one to find you and lead you towards the headquarters of the knights of Favonius, but she definitely notices something different with you. You haven’t spoken yet, so she doesn’t know who you really are, perhaps, you’re like the traveller, she thinks.

But when you properly introduce yourself to Jean and the others the whole knights that are in the headquarters, such as Albedo, Sucrose, Kaeya, Lisa, perhaps Eula, gather around you, murmuring to themselves that you’re 99% the creator that they’ve only ever heard, and you’re just standing there.

With your voice, the different, more dynamic and ‘lively’ look that you have seemed to make more sense–your eyes held the shine and reflection of their own appearance, your skin seemed to be much softer… and you assume that you’ve managed to retain some realer features you had in your original world.

Don’t worry, don’t fret, they love you with or without differences. Even if you weren’t the creator, Mondstadt welcomes you with open arms.

Best to say now the whole of Mondstadt finally knows their creator’s here in their region.

While Albedo knows that you are the creator, he can’t help but wonder if he can try to run some tests–he doesn’t want to hurt you, he just has an infinite curiosity ridden area in his mind.

Same goes for Sucrose too, but she doesn’t want to come off as rude or disrespectful, so she only holds these curiosities within her, oftentimes writing this in her journal, it’s not creepy, I promise.

Jean finds your presence nice, but more than others, it feels as if you’re like a safe haven for her with only just your presence, and you can visibly see her tired eyes brighten up when you pat her head for her hard work.

For Lisa, she also holds some questions for you, though she’d rather stay where she is, watching and hearing you enthusiastically talk about the books and literature in your world in the library.

Diluc wishes he was the person to find you first and lead you to Mondstadt– his feelings towards the knights of Favonius may be neutral and slightly, very slightly bad, but he’s still grateful that you managed to arrive safely. If you manage to visit Angel’s Share often, he’s somehow always there, wiping a glass or two.

Kaeya’s teasing his brother. No hard feelings though! Just pure friendly sibling rivalry. But when you’re near, his charismatic face fades as he’s rendered to someone yearning for affection–it’s adorable.

Same goes for Eula. She’s not often seen in Mondstadt due to her… ‘status’, but when you welcome her with open arms and no judgemental gaze, she feels… so appreciated. She’s barely felt this before other than in the knights of Favonius, but this… feels more different, warm, loving.

Venti’s elated, often like him a majority of times, but for him, he feels the joy that he’s never felt before–it’s pure, unadulterated joy that stems from his chest, as his mind fills with endless pure and innocent praise and lyrics for you with his lyre. The weather in Mondstadt seems to be more light, a refreshing breeze whenever Venti’s with you for some reason…

#the jellyfish's work #astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin sagau #albedo x reader #sucrose x reader #jean x reader #lisa x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #eula x reader #venti x reader

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year ago

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hi bestieee i love ur work so so so so muchh!!!!

i just wanted to request a tan x reader where the reader gets her period for the first time since her and tan started dating, and her cramps hurt like hell and he takes care of her (like in my head their backstory on how they met is that they r both assassins and they just started hooking up here and there when they bumped into missions etc etc but inevitably ended up in a serious relationship cuz they fell in love, so that’s why he might be surprised to see her in this state and doesn’t know what to do at first cause she always just brushes off the pain during missions and is super tough IDK)

idk honestly anything u write is amazing and whatever u wanna do with this idea is perfect to me

a lot of fluffffff and i’m sorry for such a long request

tyvmmmmm

hii bby!!! thank you thank you :( omg I love this idea sm!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

VULNERABILITY (period comfort)

tangerine x female reader

word count. 734

As a contract killer, you’ve learnt to keep all vulnerabilities hidden - never display weakness. And because of your occupation, you held that ideology with you throughout your life, never once letting someone know when you were in pain - in case it gets used against you.

Though, things were different when you and Tangerine started to date. You tried to be more open, but it was a hard habit to break, often finding yourself downplaying your hurt.

When you used to bump into each other during separate missions, way back when, you'd keep your poker face on, pretending you weren't in raging agony when your paths met.

You and Tangerine decided many months ago that you wanted to give an actual, serious relationship a go, steering from casual hookups to proper dates and heartfelt touches. It was one of the easiest decisions you made.

It was midday, and you were already wishing it was nighttime - wanting to sleep away the pain in your tummy without feeling like a coward.

You were curled up on the sofa, blanket tightly wrapped around you, mindlessly watching the tv ahead as you clutch the sick bowl in your arms. You had the bowl there only as a precaution, feeling like it was better to be safe than sorry - to avoid cleaning throw-up from the rug.

The door knocks, and you groan at the interference, placing the bowl to the side as you make your way over. You pull the door ajar and meet your boyfriend's face on the other side, smile lit up wide.

"Was in the area. Thought I'd pop by," he says casually, crooking his neck to see you through the small gap, smile fading. "What's goin' on? You alright?"

"Yeah," you dismiss. "Just cold in here."

His brows furrow - his features telling you he didn't buy it. "Not gonna invite me in?"

You softly sigh at his question and reluctantly pull the door open, stepping aside. You didn't want him to see you like this - see you so unput-together, see you vulnerable.

He nudges the door open more, allowing him space to get past, and his eyes immediately soften - taking in your foreign, sluggish state.

"You okay?" he asks, his tone cautious. "What happened?"

"Nothing," you shrug, avoiding his fixed gaze.

"Darlin', that ain't nothing. I've never seen you like this," Tangerine continues, placing his hands on either side of your face, forcing you to look up at him. "What's goin' on?" he asks again, eyes narrowing.

"Period," you mumble, closing your eyes as you melt into his delicate touch.

"Aw, love," he coos, stepping forward to pull you into him, holding your face in the crook of his neck. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asks, stroking down your back with one hand, the other holding behind your head.

You shrug off his questioning and pull from his grasp, wiping under your eyes with the back of your hand. "I don't like it," you admit, walking away.

He exhales heavily, kicking off his shoes and then follows after you, halting once he sees you curled up on the sofa - knees tucked up, head buried between. His footing slowly carrying himself over to you. "Love," he coos, crouching beside you, placing a hand over your upper arm. "How can I make it better? What can I do?"

"Get me some chocolate?" you sniffle, a soft laugh muffling.

"As much as you want," he snickers, standing with a faint groan.

He returns from your kitchen a few moments later, bars of chocolate in hand, tea in the other, a hot water bottle wedged under his arm. He places the mug and chocolate on the coffee table in front and sits beside you - careful not to bump and knock you as he lifts your head to rest on his lap.

He lifts the blanket and slips the hot water bottle inside, angling it at your lower stomach, propping it against the part giving you trouble. He brushes slow, loving strokes over your cheek, thumbing over your apple when he sees your eyes flutter closed at the contact. His other hand extends behind you, reaching for your lower back, and he repeats the motion - soft, gentle strokes over your sore skin, easing your pain.

"Thank you," you sleepily murmur, nuzzling your face into his lap.

"Course, my love."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

#request #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine comfort #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine fic #tangerine fluff

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 1 year ago

Text

"are you longing, is it Killing Time?"

"if i’m honest, think i want it. no more talking, no more nonsense."

synopsis// you work at a ballet studio and suna works at the karate dojo next door.

pairing// rintaro suna x gn!reader

word count// 3.9k

contents// ooc suna? idk he's like kinda smug in this... ive never written for him before so heed my warning. slight enemies to lovers but like kinda not really. osamu's obligatory accent. plot kinda speaks for itself i have no other warnings besides the fact that this kinda (majorly) sucks...

requested// by an anon!! im SO sorry this took me so long to write!!

notes// i know i said id never write for haikyuu again but i lied ok? take it. do what you will with this. sorry if this is all over the place... i feel very out of my element writing for haikyuu again LMFAO. also if anything mentioned about karate or ballet is wrong sorry!! i took ballet ONCE and taken karate never xoxo tbh i think the plot probably wouldve worked better as an smau but im not doin all that (respectfully.) anywho this was also inspired by killing time by movements (TOOOO GOOODDDDD)

Classical music and the whispers of the kids eight-counting their steps echo throughout the room. Everything is peaceful and as it should be... That is, until the mirror walls begin to vibrate violently from the sudden blaring of music from the studio next to yours. All the kids turn to look at you, confused about what’s happening, and you flash them a small apologetic smile.

“You guys keep practicing, okay? I'm gonna go next door and ask them to turn it down.”

Satisfied with your guidance, they nod, and you quickly walk out. Though not comfortable leaving a bunch of children unsupervised, you leave your studio door open to make sure that you’re still able to hear them from outside. You sigh before walking into the next studio; frankly, you had gotten this far without having to interact with anyone else, and you just wished it would stay that way. Neither the kids nor their instructor seem to notice your presence. And even though you clear your throat, no one hears you.

“Excuse me!”

Suddenly all heads are turning toward you, and you reflexively dig your feet into the floor to stop yourself from running back out. Their instructor waves the kids off, having them go back to practicing whatever karate move he had just taught them before walking up to you.

"Can I help you?” he says, his eyes boring into yours.

And suddenly. Suddenly, you hate him. Or, at the very least, strongly dislike him. He blasts his music, knowing damn well the walls are thin, and then has the audacity to give you attitude?

“Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there all day?” He stops and briefly looks you up and down, a small smirk playing on his face. "Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Your jaw clenches, giving him the nicest smile you very well could muster. “Can you turn down your music? It’s distracting my kids.”

He hums and appears to consider it for a moment, and you're almost grateful—almost, because then he has to open his stupid mouth again.

“Maybe if you say please.”

Your eye twitches. "Okay, you know what? Nevermind." You glance over at his students briefly, making sure they aren't looking at the two of you, and when you confirm that they aren't, you flip him off, and all he does is laugh. You groan, and if you could slam his studio door shut without the glass shattering, you would.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

To no one’s surprise, he didn't stop playing his music at full volume—he claimed it pumped the kids up, and sure, maybe it did, but all it did was distract your own. And eventually, you two somehow fell into a game of who could play whose music louder. Considering your music consisted of different ballet numbers, it's safe to say he always won.

Week after week, you'd show up in his studio and ask him to just turn his music off, to lower the volume, to do something other than drive you crazy, but all he'd do was poorly flirt and smirk, his eyes always on you one way or another, and if you weren't so annoyed by him, you’re sure you would have found him captivating. It's not surprising when one day he’s the one showing up at your studio—you're actually excited about it, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’s finally given up and is here to apologize. When you approach him and find all his students outside behind him, you quickly realize that's not the case. You glance between him and the kids.

“You guys go in and make friends, yeah?” You say as you move out the way to allow his students into your studio. You wait until they're all inside before stepping out and closing the door behind you. You whisper harshly, “What the fuck do you want?”

"Wow, you use that kind of language around your students?” He asks, his smirk all too evident on his face as he crosses his arms.

You stare at him blankly, no amusement etched on any of your features, and he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Our studio flooded.”

“Okay… What does that have to do with me?"

His shoulders slump as he groans. "Oh, c’mon.”

“How am I supposed to know what you want if you won't use your words like a big boy?” you ask, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

He glares at you, and for once, it seems like you're the one getting under his skin. “Fuck you.”

You mockingly tut and shake your head. "Wow, you use that kind of language around your kids?”

He stands there and kicks at the sidewalk, clearly having some internal debate you don’t care enough to ask about, but he tells you anyway.

“Would you… be willing to share your studio with us until they fix our studio?”

Without missing a beat, you laugh. “Yeah no. I don't even know your name... What if you're some serial killer?”

“First of all, it's Rintaro Suna. Second of all, do you really think they would hire me to work around kids if I was a serial killer?”

You shrug. You don’t care about the logistics; you just don’t want him in your studio.

“And third of all, seriously?” He crosses his arms, and his tone is full of the kind of disappointment you'd only find in a friend who’s been betrayed—not in between two strangers who’ve done nothing but “fight” about music for weeks on end.

“Yes seriously. Can’t you find a new studio?”

“Owner says it’s more expensive to do that than fix whatever got fucked up.”

“Then find someone else to share with,” you say as you turn to walk back into your studio.

Suna grabs your wrist, and as you look over your shoulder at him, he pouts. "Are you really gonna take this out on the kids just because you hate me?”

You stare at him blankly, but the more you think about it and let what he’s said sink in, the softer your face becomes, and suddenly your conviction is nowhere to be found—just another leaf blown away in the wind. “How did your studio flood?”

Happy with how you don’t seem like you're about to escape off into your studio anymore, Suna lets go of your wrist and starts explaining, “Well, one kid clogged the toilet and the other left the sink running.”

“Deserved,” you say through a snort.

“Whatever. Are you gonna share or not?”

“Fine,” you sigh. "But I swear to god, Suna, the second you piss me off or don’t listen, I'm kicking your ass out. This is still my studio.”

"Technically, it’s not even yours.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes narrowed, and Suna can immediately tell you’re already thinking about taking back your offer of letting him stay in your studio.

He coughs awkwardly. "I'll shut up now.”

“Good choice.”

A beat passes between the two of you just staring at each other, and when Suna realizes you won't say anything more, he takes the initiative.

Tilting his head at you, he asks, "So, are you gonna tell me your name now?”

You continue staring at him blankly.

"Oh, cmon, we’re gonna be sharing a studio now.”

“It's Y/n L/n.”

"Well, Y/n,” he says, somewhat dragging out your name before teasing, "I always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

"I have a soft spot for the kids, not you,” you correct him, crossing your arms.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, brushing your shoulder with his as he walks past you and into your studio.

“Don’t just walk into my studio like you own it?!" you call out, following after him.

“Not your studio, and you don’t own it either.”

“You know what I mean, Suna!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It's almost scary how easily Suna and his students fit into your class. It didn’t even take a week for you to feel like having him in your studio was natural—how it should have always been. You hated how any ill-will you had toward him would suddenly vanish into thin air whenever you saw him interact with his or your students. You grew accustomed to your new routine with him.

Every other day, he could play his music and even teach some of your students some karate if they so desired, and vice versa. He’d bring you breakfast, and you'd bring him lunch, and sometimes the two of you would even go have dinner once all your students had left. You hated how he just wiggled his way into your life. You’re supposed to hate him—he used to play his music as loud as he could just to piss you off, and now you have dinner with him practically every day.

You’ve grown so fond of him that now, two months later, about to be three, you've completely forgotten why he’s here in the first place—that his residence in your studio is only temporary, and he’s just here till his studio is fixed. You’ve forgotten all about it because now you look forward to seeing him and actually want to see him more than you've ever wanted anything else before. and he feels the exact same because here he is, slumped in a chair in the back of the room, frowing as he watches his and your students combined because you’re not here.

The door swings open, and Suna can't help but let out a sigh of relief, practically jumping out of his seat, ready to go run and spin you in his arms like some shitty rom-com, only to find that it wasn't you who walked in; nope, it was just his friend. Suna’s face falls as he drops back into his chair with a groan.

“Okay, lovely to see ya too,” Osamu snorts as he walks over to Suna, taking the seat next to him.

He weakly tries pushing Osamu out of the chair, mumbling, “That’s Y/n’s seat.”

"Well, they aren't here, are they?”

Suna scowls at him but gives up trying to push him out nonetheless.

“Where are they anyway?”

“Running late, I guess.”

Osamu hums in response, and a comfortable silence falls over them. The only noise in the room was the kids whispering their next move to themselves or helping their friend with something. Suna watches them intently, with the care and attention of someone handling glass, and quickly finds a few students who need help.

"Hey, keep your leg straight when you kick,” he calls out to one of his students before turning to one of yours, “And you bend your knees more when you do your... uh-“

"Plié," the child supplies for him.

Suna nods. "Yeah, that whatever.”

Osamu doesn't know whether he should laugh at or side-eye Suna. “Do ya not know their names?”

"I don’t get paid enough to know their names.”

He shakes his head, deciding that commenting on that is not worth his time, and instead goes to why he came here in the first place. "I'm surprised yer still here, to be honest.”

"A job is a job.”

"No, I mean in this studio. I figured the repairs in yer’s would be finished by now; it’s been like, what? almost three months?”

Suna mumbles a slow, drawn-out, “…yeah.”

Osamu sits up straight, shifting in his seat to face Suna entirely. “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t cuss in front of the kids; what’s wrong with you?" He reprimands, slapping Osamu’s arm.

“Don’t change the subject.”

"I'm not; I'm just saying.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, start by saying what’s up with the repairs.”

He does not. “Y/n will be back soon; you should leave.”

“Suna,” Osamu monotones.

"If I tell you, will you leave?”

“What did ya do, Suna?”

Suna looks away as he embarrassedly mumbles, “The repairs could’ve been done a long, long time ago…”

“What?!” Osamu practically shrieks as he sits up straight. “What do ya mean?!”

Suna glares at Osamu before looking toward the kids, whose attentions were caught by Osamu yelling and waving them off. “Ignore him.”

“Oh my god, have ya been stalling the repairs?” He asks, this time quietly. “Why would ya do that?”

“Why do you think, Osamu?”

Suna’s attitude does nothing to deter Osamu, not when he’s just had the realization of a lifetime. “Oh my god... Oh my god! Ya have a crush on Y/n, don't ya?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Suna hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes wide and threateningly boring into his.

“What happened to not cussing in front of the kids?”

Suna stares at him blankly, and Osamu merely sighs, slumping back into his seat.

"I can't believe this. I don't know if this is pathetic or cute—kinda both, to be honest.”

"Osamu, I swear-“

With neither of them having heard the studio door swing open, you unknowingly interrupt his threat: "Hey! Sorry, traffic was horrible—oh, who’s this?"

“Doesn't matter; he was just about to leave,” Suna says without missing a beat while standing straight up.

"I'm Osamu,” he says, suddenly approaching you. “And yer the infamous Y/n, I'm assuming?”

“Infamous..?” you question under your breath before shaking your head and deciding to ignore it. “Uh yeah—are you friends with Suna?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Osamu answers, ignoring Suna’s response. "I should get going, though. Nice meeting ya, Y/n!”

“Yeah, you too…”

Osamu waves you goodbye before winking at Suna and disappearing out the door.

You hum. “So what was that about?”

“No idea,” Suna shrugs as he walks away to gather his students.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suna has been weird ever since a week ago, when you walked into the studio to Suna and his friend. He’s avoided you as best as he can, and even when he’s not actively trying to somehow get away from you, he still feels Pluto far from his more than dry replies. And frankly, you’ve had enough. You’re driving yourself crazy trying to figure out what you’ve done wrong and how to fix it—you can’t know unless he tells you.

Which is why, when both of your students left, you borderline kidnapped him. You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him into your car, driving the two of you to a restaurant, where you now sit in an awkward silence waiting for your food. But this is good, right? If he truly didn’t want to be in this position with you right now, you’re more than certain he could’ve put up a winning fight, yet he didn't, so that’s good. This is good.

"Did I do something?”

“Yeah,” he replies without missing a beat or looking up at you.

“Huh?” Your heart is in your throat as you blink at him. “What did I do?”

“Exist.”

“What?” You shake your head in disbelief. "I thought we were getting along."

“We are—god.” As he finally looks up at you, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. You almost feel like you're back in his studio for the very first time with the way his eyes are boring into yours. “We get along too well, jesus christ, Y/n, you drive me crazy.”

“And you don’t drive me crazy?” you ask, giving him a crooked smile.

“You don't know what you’re saying,” he says flatly, yet the way it’s almost breathless has you thinking maybe he actually wants you to know what you’re saying—to know all of the implications that come with it and fully embrace them.

“Does it matter? Just stop ignoring me, Suna; I hate it.”

"I hate it too.”

“So then why are you doing it, idiot?”

“Because Y/n, I-“

You stare at him expectantly, patiently waiting for his answer.

"I get too distracted with you; I need to teach my students," he mumbles the rest of his sentence as he looks away from you, your scrutinizing gaze sending shivers down his spine and crushing any idea he had to say something else—say the truth—well, the whole truth, because you very well do distract Suna far too much for his liking.

“That sounds like a shitty excuse.”

Suna hums, and when he makes no move to explain himself, you wonder, “Why do I distract you so much?”

“Why do you care if I ignore you so much?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t act childish, Suna.”

Suna merely raises an eyebrow at you, still waiting for your answer, just like you were waiting for his only a few moments ago.

You sigh. "I'm not sure.”

"Well, I am, so I won’t say anything until you're sure too.”

“That’s not fair, Sunaaaa,” you whine, sliding down your seat like a petulant child.

He shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. "I'm more than happy to wait.”

"Whatever, just stop ignoring me?”

"Yeah, I'll stop,” he says, nodding. “Sorry bout that.”

"S'fine." You wave him off before remembering something that makes you sit up straight again. "Oh, also, I've been meaning to ask about how your studio is going?”

Suna’s mood and face drop so fast that it’s as if he was never even happy or smiling in the first place—the temperature of the room suddenly icy cold. “Oh.”

"I'm not trying to kick you out, Suna,” you immediately add, reassuring him that, as of now, that's the last thing you’d ever want to do. "I actually like you in my studio... like a lot, I guess, and I don't know, to be honest, I'm scared I'm getting too used to you being there."

"Well, I'm already used to it, so either way, we’re both kinda fucked in that department.”

You can't help but smile so wide it hurts your cheeks, absolutely over the moon that he feels the exact same way. That he’s grown so used to you, like the two of you should have never been apart in the first place, and it was always only a matter of time before you found your way to each other.

"I'm not sure, though. I haven’t heard much,” he continues, interrupting your inner swooning.

"Okay, well, that’s good then,” you say, nodding more to yourself than to him. “No need to get rid of you so soon; who else will annoy me?”

"Weren't you just begging me to stop ignoring you, and now I'm annoying?” he taunts.

You cross your arms, glaring at him. "I was not begging Rintaro Suna.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Shut up," you say through a smile, no hostility anywhere in you. “Oh also! The kids wanted me to tell you about our recital coming up.”

“Yeah? When is it?”

“Week from now. They really want you there.”

Suna tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing at you in doubt. “Just them?”

“Just them.”

Suna doesn't believe it for a second, and maybe he would’ve if your voice wasn't so shakey and breathless.

You relent; you never had much resolve when it came to him anyway—that's how he ended up in your studio in the first place, isn't it? “And me too, I guess.”

A blush that he makes look all too good covers his cheeks. "I'd love to go, Y/n.”

“Great!”

Suddenly his face drops, and he’s cursing under his breath, "Shit, wait, actually, we have a tournament that day too.”

"Oh, that's fine! I mean, being in the studio with us, it's like you get a free recital every day, right?” You smile, but even then, it's clear as day how disappointed you are.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I can still try to make it.”

“No no! It's fine; you won't miss much. You have your own kids stuff to worry about.”

Suna frowns, wanting nothing more than to wipe that dejected look off your face. “Y/n.”

"Suna, it's fine, really." You weakly try to reassure him, but he’s just not budging.

He shakes his head. "I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Okay, I'll hold you to it then.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

The recital came faster than you cared for. You would be excited for this had Suna been able to come, but he couldn't, and now, even though you know he won't be here, you still can't help but peek through the stage curtains, hoping and praying you'll somehow spot him in the crowd. You try to keep your disappointment at bay the whole recital, and surprisingly you do. The recital goes off without a hitch, and the only thing you can wish for is that you were more excited. Your little ones did absolutely amazing and completely blew the crowd away, yet here you are moping around over some dude who, up until a few months ago, you hated.

“They did amazing,” an oddly familiar voice says, breaking you out of your thoughts. "I'm sure it's only because of their teacher... Do you know them? I'm actually looking for them.”

You're flattered, really, but you can't deal with compliments or holding a conversation right now, not when you want to just crawl under your bed covers and never come out. Not to mention that no one else is supposed to be backstage right now. You sigh before turning around to ask them to leave, only to practically jump out of your skin with excitement.

“Suna!” you exclaim happily, running your way toward him and closing some of the gap between you two. “You’re here, but how? Where were you? I looked, and I couldn't find you—wait, I thought? Where's your kids? Shouldn't you be at their tournament?”

Suna watches you ramble with the softest of faces, huffing a small laugh. He shrugs once you're done. “Samu took over.”

“Rintaro Suna.”

“What? The little shits will get over it… but I don't think you would've if I didn't show up.”

"Well, I would've tried.” You take another step toward him. "Though I can't say you're not a smart man, Rintaro.”

Suna eyes you curiously and follows your movements, taking a step toward you. “So I've been told.”

You roll your eyes, despite an undeniable smile dressing your face, and in some fit of arrogance, you take the last step toward Suna, thus closing any remaining space between the two of you. With your chests touching, there’s nothing left for you to do but wrap your arms around his neck, which you do with ease—as if they were always meant to be there this whole time. He quickly follows your lead, resting his hands on your waist. But his eyebrows are furrowed as if to ask if this is okay, and you nod. This is more than okay—you’d actually prefer more, and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting the hint.

“So are you gonna kiss me, or are you just gonna stand there all day?"

Suna goes wide-eyed, and it takes a minute for his body to catch up with his brain, but before you know it, Suna is practically slamming his face into yours, kissing you like if he doesn't, he’ll die. like you’re the very oxygen Suna has been so desperately searching for all his life—and who's to say he isn't yours as well? Meeting his lips with the same exact urgency, you're sure if anyone else was backstage right now, the two of you would be scolded for years to come. Suna pulls away for air, practically panting; his face is flushed with such a deep red you can still make it out even under the dim lights, and you push strands of his hair out of his face just to revel in his blush some more.

Still struggling to catch his breath, he swallows harshly. “Would it ruin the moment if I told you my studio is finally fixed?”

"Yes, so I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that and keep kissing you instead.”

"Yeah, ok, I like that idea better anyway.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #suna haikyuu #haikyuu suna #suna fluff #rintaro suna #bimbo’s one shots #bimbo’s one shots; haikyuu

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supernaturalscribe67 · 6 months ago

Text

Breathe

Words: 5,466

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Team Free Will x Male!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Character Death, Extreme Gore, Description of Death, Angst with absolutely no comfort, Description of a corpse

Summary: A hunt gone wrong leaves the reader in a situation that often plagued hunters' nightmares. In his final moments, his mind goes to the people in his life he cared about the most, and he realized that he had one final call to make...

Request:

Hello! I hope you're having a good day :)

I was wondering if you could do TFW where Reader(gn, fem, masc, you choose) is on a hunt alone. (Idk what supernatural creature you can choose) Reader is caught off guard because there were more monsters than expected ana got hurt really bad. They manage to get away, but their wound is too severe to get to their car.

Luckily, they have their phone, and they call Dean's phone and say their goodbyes to them and stuff (yknow, Dean puts it on speaker so Sam and Castiel can hear and speak) I can imagine TFW tracks their phone and finds them, but it's too late.

Sorry if this is a bit specific! l'm just a sucker for angst, and love your writing. ♡♡

@abducted-cowz

A/N: Happy Sunday! I wrote this (with love) to make you guys suffer. I hope the level of angst is to your liking <3 - As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Let me know what you guys think!

~Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. A get-in get-out kind of scenario, something (Y/N) had been through more times than he could count. The vampires had set up shop at the edge of a small Kansas town, about twenty miles from Witchita, in a farmhouse that had depleted with age. After his initial scope of the location, he had determined there were close to five vampires on the premises. He had enough confidence to know he could take them on easily. So, when night fell on the next night, he parked his truck a quarter mile up the dirt road and used the natural foliage to make his way to the farmhouse undetected. The situation was perfect, every hunter’s dream of an easily obtainable celebration at the nearby bar, almost as if it was too good to be true.

He needed to learn to trust his gut more often.

Double the number of vampires were present, well over what was initially inspected. (Y/N) didn’t take into account the presence of a cellar. He should have known better. The house was most likely built in the sixties or seventies when it was more than common to include a shelter to fend off natural disasters. Why it never crossed his mind that a house in the middle of a large, abandoned farmland would have that sort of accommodation, he wasn’t too sure. It had been a lapse of judgment. Perhaps he was too overzealous. Zeal had claimed the lives of young hunters more than any monster.

The fight was long and agonizing - as tedious would be too lighthearted of a word to describe it. Some were skilled, others were followers. It was easy to take out some, but a good amount knew how to fight, which made it even more challenging than it had already become. A part of him wanted to retreat and return to his motel room to call for backup, but the continuous wave of enemies made it nearly impossible. He didn’t have a moment to catch his breath, let alone leave safely. He had to fight on. It was the only way.

In the end, the corpses of the vampires lay scattered around the wooden and stone flooring in the house and cellar. Heads were strewn about, blood splattered on the once-magnificent wallpaper. (Y/N) stood at the top of the stairs that led to the cellar, his lips slightly parted as pants fell past them. His chest heaved, sweat trickling down his forehead and neck, coating the collar of his t-shirt. The way his heart hammered in his chest, he swore it would break out past his rips. His arms and legs felt like jelly.

The adrenaline rush that once plagued his mind began to falter, and the aches and pains surfaced. A groan rumbled in his chest as he took a moment to look down at himself. Much like the walls and floors, he was covered in vampire blood. If he had any injuries, it was hard to tell which blood spots were his. He looked back at the carnage at the bottom of the steps. The bodies needed to be disposed of, but (Y/N) could feel the strength drain from his body. He would not be able to carry a dozen bodies to the middle of the field. Not that night. He made a mental note to come back the next day.

After some time had passed, he was able to catch his breath enough to turn and make his way out of the house, careful as he stepped over his fallen enemies. The front screen door was slightly ajar from when he came in. The closer and the hinges were rusted, so it was no surprise that they couldn’t work with the force of his previous entry. He was surprised it hadn’t broken off at that point. They didn’t make things like they used to.

The summer air was crisp and warm, with high humidity that made (Y/N) feel disgusting. Despite that, it was the best air he could ask for. His nose was cleansed from the stench of death, and, for that, he was grateful. Any smell was better than the smell of death.

(Y/N) began the quarter-mile trek back to his truck. His lips were parted, his breathing slightly labored with each step he took. It felt as if his chest rattled like a pair of dice were being tossed around inside. Something was wrong, he knew that much, but he couldn’t assess himself until he had his medical supplies on his person. The risk of infection was high when out in the open like that, especially with the ticks that were undoubtedly lying somewhere in the grass that brushed against his ass, and the last thing he wanted was the contract Lyme disease.

Every ten paces or so, (Y/N) had to stop to catch his breath. It got increasingly difficult to dull the ache as if smoke harassed the soft, pink tissue. He knew he had to continue. Had to get to his car. Had to leave.

In the distance, the roof of his ‘91 Dodge Truck glimmered in the pale moonlight. A sense of relief washed over him, and his steps quickened. The weak smile he had was prominent on his lips, despite the pain that resonated through the muscles in his legs. A way out. His escape. A light at the end of the deep, dark tunnel.

The cold metal of the door handle caused a shiver to run down his spine. As he tried to open the door, the handle caught. Locked. A curse fell from his lips as he reached into his blood-soaked pant pocket and pulled out his car key. He fumbled with them, his grip weak and fingers shaky. Just as he was about to place the key into the door, they slipped out of his grip, hit the dirt ground, and settled under the truck, barely out of sight. He closed his eyes tightly and leaned his forehead against the glass of his window. More obscenities.

He had to be strategic. Every part of his body hurt. Which was the best way to get on the ground that would result in the least amount of pain? He was sure there was a way, but his brain wasn’t working as it should. Any critical thinking had gone out the window. The only option, at the moment, was the simplest.

Using whatever strength he had left, he held onto the door handle for support and lowered his right knee to the ground. His movements were slow like his entire body was covered in molasses. For a moment, all that appeared were slight aches in his thighs, and he had high hopes that he would be able to make it. However, as he reached the halfway point, a sharp, needle-like pain washed over his stomach, striking his entire nervous system.

(Y/N) let out a cry of pain as his body collapsed onto the ground, which sent even more agony through his limbs. He turned and landed on his ass, his back pressed against the truck’s chipped frame. In an instant, he could feel any energy he had vanish, immediately replaced by exhaustion. His eyelids were heavy, and the urge to sleep overpowered any other desire. He knew he couldn’t, though. The possibility of him having a concussion from the hunt was great, and he wouldn’t risk the damage it would do to him if he did slumber.

Then again, the injury he was sure to have under the blood-stained clothes was even more of a risk.

With great struggle, (Y/N) removed his flannel. As he moved, he took note that the pain came from his right side. He grunted as he lifted the side of his shirt, the blood acting as a glue to hold it in place against his chest as his hands came to rest at his side. That was when he saw it.

An eight-inch gash was present, starting from his side and ending right above his naval. It wasn’t a simple surface scratch, either. Layers of muscle and skin tissue were visible. If it had gone any deeper, (Y/N) was certain his organs would lay in his lap. Blood spilled like a waterfall out of the wound, slowly, but aggressively. Most of the blood he had lost was no doubt already soaked into his shirt. It was the biggest injury that he had gotten in his whole hunting career. It was one that he knew he couldn’t fix with the simple sewing kit in his first-aid bag, but one that needed to be medically attended. He didn’t have the willpower to stand up and drive himself, though, let alone get the keys that rested under the car, merely a foot from his hand. Regardless, the nearest hospital was over forty minutes away. An ambulance, even when a hospital was around the corner, could take over an hour to get to the location of an accident. He couldn’t imagine how long it would take to get to him, let alone the legal trouble he would be in when law enforcement discovered the house.

It was then that the realization struck him;

He was going to die.

He tried to convince himself that he was fine. That he could get up. He was just in a negative mindset. He would be fine.

In reality, any movement he tried to make only made his muscles tense and seize. He had to face the truth. He was going to die. But, damn, if he didn’t go down fighting.

It wasn’t obvious to him how long he had left, but he knew, just the same as anyone else, that he had to make his final moments last. So, with his last bit of might, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen was stained red but, thankfully, the device was intact. He opened it, went to his contacts, and clicked on the one at the very top.

Dean Winchester

He had met the Winchesters over ten years ago through Bobby Singer. Fate had decided that they would all meet at the Singer residence after their respective hunts. They were introduced, and it was as if they clicked instantly. He got along well with both brothers and connected with many of their friends throughout the years. He considered them family. Sam and Dean offered him a bed in the Men of Letters bunker, which he had turned down, as he had become too accustomed to motel hopping to accept.

God, he wished he would have.

At first, he opted to place the phone next to his ear, but a couple of seconds in that position proved too long as his side cried out. Instead, he placed the call on speaker and sat it in his lap. The ring was dull and echoed slightly through the trees. A part of him was nervous that no one would pick up, that it was too early. He was conflicted, though. Did he even want them to answer? If he knew anything about the Winchesters, they were naturals at taking the blame for any deaths around them, even if they did nothing to warrant fault. He didn’t want to add to that burden.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Dean’s voice greeted him.

(Y/N)’s lips curled upward into a weak smile as he let out a rattled sigh.

“Hey, Dean,” he replied. It was the first time in a couple of hours that he truly heard his voice. He sounded faint, hoarse, weak. He wondered if he looked nearly half as bad as he sounded.

“Man, I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks. What’s been going on?”

“Oh, you know,” he trailed and leaned his head back against the truck. “Same old, same old. What about you guys?”

“Well, we just got back from - hold on, Sam wants me to put the phone on speaker.”

Pause.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Sam’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hey, Sammy,” (Y/N) felt his smile become weaker.

“So, anyway, as I was saying,” Dean continued. “We just got back from a week-long hunt in Baltimore. Nasty ghost business. The news articles about this guy seemed like it came right out of Law and Order. I was so happy to pump some rock salt into that son of a bitch.”

“Since when do you watch Law and Order?” He asked.

“Law and Order: SVU to be exact,” Sam said.

“All I’m going to say is Detective Olivia Benson can arrest me any day.” There was an obvious smirk on Dean’s face.

(Y/N) let out a chuckle, which instantly progressed into a coughing fit. His fist was balled up in front of his lips as he tried to will his lungs to have mercy in his final moments. What seemed like an eternity later, his lungs listened, and he pulled his hand back. His thumb, index finger, and part of his palm were covered in blood. He brought his hand back up to his face and wiped his lips. More blood.

“Shit,” (Y/N) mumbled.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,”

“You feeling sick?” Sam added.

(Y/N) hesitated. “Sort of.”

“That sucks, man. Have you gone on that vampire hunt yet?”

“Wait, what vampire hunt?” Dean inquired.

“The one near Wichita? I told you about it a couple of days ago.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! You were watching The A-Team.”

“Oh yeah…I remember that. Hey, why do you get told about his hunts but not me?”

“Because, unlike you, I actually talk to him on an almost daily basis.”

Tears appeared in the corners of (Y/N)’s eyes, but he had little stamina to cry. He was going to miss this, the bickering. The brotherly back and forth between Sam and Dean. The late-night talks they would have over the phone. The week-long trips he would take to the bunker after recovering from a hunt. The prank wars. The diners. The bars. The terrible karaoke. The movie nights. The long hugs as they bid farewell. Oh, how he wished he could hug them one last time.

“(Y/N)?” Sam’s voice sounded more distant than before.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I’m here.” He weakly cleared his throat and brought the phone closer to his ear, ignoring the throbbing in his stomach.

“Everything go okay with the hunt?”

“Well…going into it, I figured it would be about half a dozen vamps or so? Not much activity when I scouted. Turns out, there’s about a dozen or more.” He explained.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled.

“Do you want us to come down and help you? It won’t take us that long to get there. Maybe two hours or so.” Sam added.

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, no. I took care of them…but it seems like they took care of me, too.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his voice low and on edge.

A lump appeared in his throat and threatened to cut off the next couple of words. He tried to push through it as he spoke.

“I’m not gonna make it.”

As soon as the words fell from his lips, shuffling could be heard on the other end of the line. No one said anything for a couple of seconds. The next person to speak was Dean.

“Listen, (Y/N), tell us where you are.” Dean’s voice was louder and more frantic, indicating that he had been taken off speaker. “We can come get you, patch you up, and you’ll be good as new, alright?”

“No, no, Dean-”

“Sam! Where are my keys!?”

“Dean-”

“You’re going to make it, okay, (Y/N)? Then, we can come back to the bunker and watch that stupid horror movie you’ve been begging us to watch.”

“Dean, I-”

That time, (Y/N) was interrupted by another coughing fit. Blood and spittle dribbled down his lips and chin. He could feel just how weak his lungs were, so it took some time for him to recover. Once the coughs died down, he was able to hear the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine over the phone. What a beautiful sound. He was going to miss it.

“Did you get ahold of Cas?” Dean mumbled.

“I’m here, Dean,” Castiel’s voice came through.

“Great! (Y/N), tell us where you are, come on, buddy.”

“Cas,” (Y/N) croaked. “It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you?” His words were slow.

“(Y/N) you need to tell me where you are. I can come heal you.” Castiel’s voice was laced with seriousness and worry.

“No,” he said simply. “It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late!” Dean shouted.

“It is,”

“No, it’s not! You’re still talking to us, you’re still awake. Cas can come over and heal you.”

“Got it!” Sam exclaimed. “Make a left.”

“Guys, it feels like half of my blood is outside of my body. If I move, I think my stomach will fall out. I don’t want you to see me like this. You don’t deserve that.”

“(Y/N), please,” Castiel said. “I can help.”

(Y/N) huffed and would have smirked if he could. “You Winchesters with your stubborn attitude…” he took a few shaky breaths. “No matter what I say, you just never listen.”

“We never listen!?” Dean yelled.

“Dean-” Castiel began.

“No, Cas, this is bullshit. (Y/N), we are family, and family is supposed to be there for each other. They’re supposed to help each other when things get back. Why the Hell won’t you let us help you?”

“Because I’m already dead, Dean. I put this on myself. I-” he stopped to catch his breath. “I blindly went into the house without backup. This is on me. I’m meant to have-” breathe. “-a hunter’s death. To die fighting, and I can proudly say that I killed every last one of those slimy bastards.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Dean, let me finish. Please. I don’t want our last call to be remembered like this.”

Dean stayed silent. (Y/N) waited a moment. The corners of his vision had gone blurry, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. He didn’t have much time left.

“I love you guys, all of you. My life wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting as it was without you. Sam, I’m going to miss our little nerd talks. Miss seeing Dean’s face when we talk about Lord of the Rings. Dean-” his voice trailed as he felt his head lull to the side.

“(Y/N)! Hey, (Y/N), stay with us,” Sam said.

(Y/N) lifted his head. “Dean, I’m going to miss trying to out-drink you at the bar.”

Dean gave a sad, dry chuckle. “You never even got close.”

“And, Cas, God, I’m going to miss our late-night talks. I can’t even count on one hand the amount of times our calls lasted longer than four hours.”

“I do enjoy talking with you,” Castiel confirmed.

“(Y/N), please,” Sam begged.

“I love you all. I love you, Dean. I love you, Sam. I love you, Castiel.” (Y/N)’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“I love you, (Y/N),” Dean answered.

“Love you, (Y/N),” Sam followed.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).” Castiel finished.

Their voices were quiet, filled with sadness and defeat. He hated that that was the last he would hear from them.

“Goodbye,” he breathed.

“No, (Y/N), please,” Sam tried to plead.

The call ended.

(Y/N) took one last look at the phone before he gave into gravity and let his arm drop to his side.

By then, his breathing had slowed substantially. His chest barely rose and fell with the efforts his lungs put in. And that rattle, the death rattle. He knew it all too well. Years of witnessing death firsthand made a man knowledgeable on the topic.

On the horizon, past the field and toward the distant treeline, the sun began to rise. Speckled layers of early morning sunlight coated his skin, but he felt no warmth. On the contrary, he felt cold. Slow. He didn’t know that a human’s body could get so cold. With it, though, there was numbness. No more pain, no more aches. Just peace.

He never knew what it would be like to die - it didn’t occur to him to ask Sam and Dean about their countless encounters with death - but if he knew it would be so calm and, dare he say, tranquil, he might not have spent so long fighting for his life as he had in the past. It was an experience unlike any other. Perhaps that wasn’t his true feelings on the subject. Perhaps it was because he knew that was his fate, that he had no chance. Acceptance. He was ready.

The last thing he saw before his vision faded to black was the sun, uncovered by the foliage, in its bright glory. It felt like an old friend who wanted to greet him one last time, and he appreciated the sentiment. The welcoming of a new dawn was short-lived. Once his vision faded, his eyelids closed, his muscles relaxed, his head lulled to the side;

And he died.

*~*

Dean didn’t drive nearly as fast as he had wanted to. The foolish part of him still had hope. Hope that they would find their friend unconscious, but alive. That (Y/N) had been exaggerating his wound. That he would be fine.

He has to be fine.

But the logical side of him, his brother, told him that he knew better. He had seen more than his fair share of friends die in his life, and it seemed to develop into a pattern. He met someone, promised himself he wouldn’t get close, got close, and then they died. An endless cycle. Wash, rinse, repeat.

And now, he was back on repeat.

It was nine in the morning by the time they spotted (Y/N)’s truck. Dean had to turn the car around, as they had passed it before. The treeline that sat on the edge of the road was thick, leaving visibility to be quite reduced. When they pulled onto the dirt path, they stopped a good twenty feet from the white pickup and sat there. None of them spoke. Instead, they sat in a heavy, dead, grief-filled silence, as if a fog had descended upon them. Time moved leisurely, at least from their perspective. In all actuality, it passed by them at the speed of light. By the time any of them moved into their seats, it was closer to ten.

They got out of the car and slowly made their way over to the truck. They walked steadily, as if on autopilot like their limbs were being held back by chains. They had to continue, for (Y/N)’s sake.

When they turned the corner of the front of the truck, they saw him. (Y/N)’s lifeless body lay against the side of the car, shoulders drooped, and mouth hung open. The gravel surrounding him was caked in uneven layers of dried blood, along with his shirt and jeans. Any color had drained from his skin. Bugs buzzed around the open gash still visible on his stomach, which had stopped bleeding at some point.

Sam choked back on a sob that tried to escape his throat, but he would not allow it. He covered his mouth with his hand and turned his back. He could feel the cry of pain threaten to claw its way out, threaten to break him down. He had to stay strong, though. He couldn’t possibly let Dean and Castiel deal with it all. (Y/N) was his friend, his brother, and he had to take responsibility for his body, as well. He couldn’t just let his brother and best friend handle it. That wouldn’t be fair to them. Wouldn’t be fair to (Y/N).

Dean stopped as soon as he saw his body. The visual of it made realization hit him like a truck. (Y/N) was dead. He was gone. All those times together watching movies, drinking at bars, or bickering with each other were a thing of the past, never to be repeated. The moments they shared would never get spread through a jovial reunion after retirement, nor would they get to grow old together. They would never get the opportunity to call each other ‘old bastard’ before they sat in their lawn chairs and talked for hours. Dean never even got the chance to teach him how to fish. The potential ‘what ifs’ turned into ‘what could have beens’, and the fact that he tricked himself into thinking it was possible made him feel like an idiot.

Castiel lagged when it came to turning the corner, for he knew what awaited on the other side. He had seen his fair share of death in regards to people he cared about, but he and (Y/N) had gotten rather close in the years they had known one another. He was the one who introduced Castiel to a larger variety of music, television shows, and films that Dean would have otherwise not done. He had opened his eyes to a world far beyond anything he could ever imagine. For that, Castiel would be forever grateful. When he saw (Y/N)’s body, he felt his chest ache. It wasn’t heartbreak, as Castiel knew he was unable to feel such emotion. Rather, he felt empty, as if a part of him had been ripped away and burned. One of his dearest friends had been taken. His family had been taken. True, he would get a chance to visit (Y/N) in Heaven, but it was not the same.

Castiel was the first one to move over to his body. The cut on his stomach made him realize that, perhaps, (Y/N) wasn’t lying. It was deep, ghastly. Most likely, the time between the call ending and his time of death was minimal. Minutes if not seconds. There was truly nothing Castiel could have done. Even if he had the grace of an archangel, there was not enough power to heal him. His body was too far gone.

With one look over at Sam and Dean, Castiel could see that any strength had vanished from their bodies. Their shoulders were slumped, and any light had left their eyes. He knew they would not be able to carry him, not while he was like that. He took the initiative and wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s back and legs. It took little effort to lift him, despite the dead weight. Castiel was cautious when moving his body, knowing that the wound was still fresh. (Y/N)’s head shifted to the side, cheek pressed against his chest. Castiel walked over to Sam and Dean. Their eyes never left his body.

“I believe someone should take his car,” Castiel’s voice broke the silence that had hovered over them for hours. His voice was uncharacteristically soft and quiet. “I saw the keys under the driver’s side.”

Tears were flowing freely down Sam’s cheeks, his eyes red and burning. “I’ll-” he cleared his throat to steady his voice. “I’ll drive it.”

“No,” Dean’s broken speech interrupted. “Um…I’ll take him. Do you mind driving the truck, Cas?”

“I do not mind.” Castiel shook his head.

Dean nodded. Wordlessly, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the Impala. He held them out to Sam, who looked at his brother to silently confirm his actions. When nothing was said, Sam took the keys. Dean dropped his hand to his side as if the keys had been the only thing capable of keeping them up before he turned back to Castiel, arms held out.

Castiel began to carefully transfer (Y/N)’s body from his arms to Dean’s. It was almost ceremonial, and when Dean felt the heavy weight of the body in his arms, he held him close, as if he were made of glass, that he would shatter into a million pieces if Dean moved the wrong way.

But he was already broken.

They spoke nothing more before they dispersed. Castiel turned back to the truck to fetch the keys, Dean made his way to the Impala, and Sam followed. Sam opened the back passenger door and took a step back. Dean got in, his movements deliberate and guarded, the lifeless body still held tight to his chest. It took a moment for him to finally get settled in the backseat. Once he was, Sam shut the door and made his way over to the driver’s side.

Dean’s eyes never left (Y/N)’s face, determined to take in every last detail. He looked so peaceful, as if only in a deep sleep. There had been a handful of times Dean had carried (Y/N) to one of the many spare bedrooms after he fell asleep watching a movie, but he had never felt so heavy. Maybe it wasn’t him, but, rather, the weight Dean could feel on his heart. Dean held countless regrets. He wished he would have talked to him more. Wished he would have remembered being told about the hunt. He would have suggested that they stop to help on the way back from their previous hunt. If only he had listened better, maybe (Y/N) would still be alive.

If only…

Dean didn’t even notice when Sam started the car, backed out onto the dirt road, and began to make the silent journey back to the bunker. As Sam drove, he would periodically sneak a peak in the rearview mirror at his brother and best friend. Each time, he had to swallow the lump that had threatened to make an appearance, but he let the tears flow. When he wasn’t looking at them, his mind wandered to the day ahead. The preparation for a hunter’s funeral didn’t take that long, as they were used to the process by then, but it didn’t make it any less painful. Everything had to be perfect. It was what (Y/N) deserved, and they would make sure to give him the best send-off they could.

*~*

They gave themselves time to grieve - a day and some odd hours - while they collected the necessary materials for the funeral. While (Y/N)’s body lay in the spare bedroom he always claimed as his, they took turns alone with him. They shared memories, regrets, jokes, and emotions that would have otherwise been kept under lock and key. Then, when the pyre, just northwest of the bunker, was ready, they had Sam carry him out to his final resting place, giving them each an opportunity to hold him one last time.

With his body wrapped up tightly, he was placed on top of the pile of wood underneath the stars. Dean, Sam, and Castiel stood back and silently stared for a couple of minutes. As the late-night song of crickets came, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out three lighters. He handed Castiel and Sam each one before he returned to the spot next to his brother. In unison, they clicked their lighters to life and tossed them to the pyre, one after another.

It took a moment for the wood to catch, but, in an instant, the faint crackling from the burning wood roared to life, engulfing (Y/N)’s body in its warmth. It was poetic, to die a hunter. To die protecting others, even when they didn’t know. They would never get their names in history books or their own documentary. No recognition is to be found. Only stories spread through fellow hunters and close friends kept their memory alive. They were true heroes of their time. Martyrs for a cause unknown.

That night, Sam, Dean, and Castiel vowed to never let his story die. In every way they could, they would spread (Y/N)’s story to everyone who would listen. They would light fires with their words and watch the world burn if it meant everyone knew of the person he was. For as long as they lived, (Y/N) would never truly die.

“Please, don’t worry so much, because in the end none of us have very long on this Earth - life is fleeting. And if you’re ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvety night, and when a shooting star streaks through the blackness turning night into day, make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular. I know I did.”

~ Robin Williams

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