#//she baked and cookied a lot when she was alive ^^

[lcftcult]

@hashtag-bitch || x

What could she do? Black Star had an arsenal of skills, though they were mostly redundant to what someone of Velvette's status would desire, let alone care about. So the sinner furrowed her brows as she tried to come up with something, anything, that the Overlord would like.

She furrows her brows, looking thoughtful while her tail slowly swished from side to side. After a minute, Black Star thought of one of her special skills. Both her elbows are propped on the table and then she clasps her hands together. Following a hum, Black Star asks "do you.. like cookies?"

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 — 𝐣.𝐚.

summary: you're too young for me and this is wrong and i'm supposed to be teaching you float around jack abbot's head. but every time, knowing that he shouldn't, he still leans in to kiss you.

word count: 17.9k

tags: first year!reader (but no age mentioned + she has a stupid nickname), illicit workplace relationship, lots of guilt/we shouldn't do this (mostly from jack), yearning/pining, shea's version of slowburn and a bubbly reader and much too much dialogue, regular hospital talk/mention of injuries/death and fourth of july special scene <3 maybe out of character for the other doctors but i tried my best!, smut (fingering, orgasm denial, dirty on-call room sex, creampie because.. duh).

note: based off of the intern baking for jack during his bad week blurb, also known as i can't help myself

jack abbot stares at you, then down at the containers in his hand filled with cookies that you baked for him after he spent the better part of a week yelling at you, and then back at you. 

and then he laughs for the first time all week and wonders to himself—what the hell am i going to do with you?

because truly, you are something else. jack’s seen you in passing during day shift sign-offs at seven pm, and occasionally walking to the lockers a touch early. reflecting back, while placing the yellow tupperware into his own locker, he thinks he’s even seen you as early as six-thirty in the morning some day, if not most days.

he can’t resist—who told you about his sweet tooth, he’s not actually sure—but he opens up the lid. just like you had told him before you walked away to start your shift, the round chocolate-chip cookies don’t have any sea salt on them, not that he minds.

he bites into one and chews on it while trying to remember what else he knows about you—all that comes to mind is your teary eyes day before last when he yelled at you over something he can’t remember right now.

it hadn’t been that big of a deal—there was a patient presenting with disrupted kidney function and you hadn’t discontinued their nsaids on your initial evaluation. the solution, usually, is a stern conversation and to inform you for next time. no ibuprofen for the guy with bad kidneys, something you would have figured out in the next hour even if they hadn’t immediately caught it.

but for some reason (he knows the reason, he thinks grimly) he had yelled instead. raised his voice, caused a scene. every nurse nearby had looked up and started whispering—and he knows how the gossip goes in this place.

even ellis had intervened and dragged you away, glancing back to give him a look something akin to what the fuck, man? 

because he doesn’t yell—it’s not hardwired in him to do so. he was raised in a loud house but he’d almost looked to avoid it everywhere he went, trying his hardest to not become like his father in that way. 

the realization that he never yelled when his wife was still alive hits him like a slap to the face every time. he can’t help it, and he’s sure everyone justifies it for him. even when he’d yelled at you and you’d stood in front of him like a kicked, teary-eyed puppy, he hadn’t realized he’d done it again—taken out his frustration on the nearest thing. he’s sure that parker’s with you in some corner, telling you how he usually never yells and it’s his week from hell and you’ll see the real abbot next week. 

that doesn’t take away from the fact that he made you cry, though. 

nor does it erase the fact that you made him cookies. quite frankly, delicious cookies. maybe the best ones he’s ever had. soft and chewy and made with semisweet chocolate chips. before he realizes it, it’s seven pm sharp and he’s eaten the whole thing, shoving his go-bag into the locker carefully on top of the container you gave him and going out to join you for sign-offs.

and he doesn’t realize it either, not until you stare at him for a moment too long, garnering a cough from mckay as she tries to tell you about the patients from the chairs, the ones that you’ll be following up on and taking care of for the rest of the evening. 

there’s chocolate smudged on his fingers, and he’s licking it off, trying to pay attention to robby—who looks at him confused, and then glances at you, and turns back to jack almost… knowingly—while you’re paying attention to him.

and jack, well, everyone knows about jack’s staring thing. they call it just that—he has a problem with overdoing eye contact. he doesn’t know when he picked it up, though he’s sure it’s another one of those military attributes he pretends he doesn’t have. what he does know is that he’s always been able to tell when someone’s looking at him, like you are now.

jack turns his head just to look in your direction for a moment and he finds you already facing in his direction. your gaze quickly goes from his eyes to his fingers and then back to cassie, and he doesn’t have to be near you to know that you’re flushed.

then he stops himself—he doesn’t have any business digging around in your thoughts, wondering what exactly made you look away, was it the fact that he turned to look or that he already knew you were staring—and for the first time all night, he tries to pay attention to robby.

fuck. is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of your time on nights? resisting the urge to turn and lock eyes with you, to make sure you’re there and make sure you’re looking, even when he knows you are? 

no, no. he’s not that guy. he’s not the guy who obsesses over the nice, pretty intern and accepts her cookies when he’s the one who made her cry to begin with. 

you have a place in this hospital, and it’s to learn and grow and better yourself under his guidance, not stay nestled in his thoughts that linger somewhere between inappropriate and really inappropriate.

no, what jack wants to do is get you alone somewhere quiet so he can apologize, and make sure that you believe him. 

rarely does jack abbot get what he wants.

you’re talking with mckay still, going on about something at a mile a minute, in more of a carefree tone that he’s never been on the receiving side of. every time he’d spoken to you the previous week, he’d been angry and you’d been dejected. it’s not how teaching is supposed to be, especially not jack’s teaching. he’s always been proud of how he treats residents, how they flourish under him, how they end up liking nights like john and parker did. 

he catches the ending half of your conversation with cassie.

“-but the recipe doubles really, really easily, so if you make them and you feel like you want more, because, i mean, i made them for a bake sale once-”

“and it’s always a crowd pleaser?” cassie asks, tilting her head at you, looking as focused as jack has ever seen her. he doesn’t know the context, though he’s sure it has something to do with harrison and his school. 

you, on the other hand, are completely engrossed in the conversation. as though cassie’s son and his school’s bake sale are the most important things on the planet.

“always! it’s so good. but just make a test batch—it’s so easy. half the recipe, try it out, and then if you like it, you can use the extras to let people try it before they buy it-” you’re interrupted, parker calls out your name somewhere in the distance.

the day shift has began to filter out. robby pats jack’s shoulder firmly before muttering i’m outta here, but jack stands frozen in place, wanting for some reason, to hear the end of your conversation.

he didn’t know people could be so passionate about baked goods—but he guesses it makes sense. for you, that is.

“actually, that’s not a bad idea. you sent me the recipe already?”

“yes, i texted it. but i can email it if you want, or i-”

jack actually laughs—you’re so eager to get cassie this recipe. he thinks you have more energy right now than he’s had all day.

he hears cassie thank you, and he gets a glimpse of you beaming at her, a bright, pretty smile, before the charge nurse calls out his name and his shift really starts. 

shen jumps on with him and he sees you somewhere in the distance, probably running through your game plan for some patient in the chairs with ellis. you smile brightly at her too, and for the first time in a long time, jack has a thought that he deems in the category of uncontrollable. 

he’s a disciplined guy, always has been. thoughts don’t consume him like wildfire, rather they run through a series of checks and balances before he even fully thinks them. last week his system had been all off, leading to you getting yelled at in the first place, and right now, the whole thing seems like it’s gone haywire, focused on one thing in particular.

what does he have to do to get you to smile at him like that?

+

the night shift is a place of routine. jack wants to get you on a trauma with him, wants to show you what he’s like when he’s of sound mind and not thinking about how last week, a couple of years ago, he had the worst day of his life. and then a couple years before that, another worst day of his life. 

he has an overpowering urge to show you what he’s like on a normal week. he can even picture it in his head—handing you gloves and asking you questions that help you run the trauma, to get you in the habit of approaching the cases like he does. the questions are to make you believe in yourself—if you know the answers, you could have run this whole thing by yourself. if you get something wrong or don’t know, he throws in an easier one next time. 

you might be a little worried at first but you’d get the hang of it. and then, after the patient was stable and he got to tell you good job, you’d do it. smile at him, beam up at him like you’ve been doing to the others. the kind that makes your eyes light up, makes little lines crinkle in the corners of your face, lets him see your lips—well, that’s not important.

what is important is that you realize that jack abbot is there to help you, not to make things worse. that’s the side of him he wants you to see.

but unfortunately, the night shift is a place of routine. interns are on chairs, getting every move double-checked by a senior resident. there’s enough hands on the day shift to allow first years to jump on every incoming but nights are not nearly as well distributed.

so, you and jack fall into a routine—you both show up early for your shifts, walk to the lockers together in silence. sometimes you stare and he catches you, and other times you catch him. you think about asking him what he thought about the cookies, or if you can get your tupperware back, but then you stay silent and head out into the chaos.

one day at six forty-five, he sees you looking at him while mel is trying to tell you something that you are decidedly not paying attention to. after he looks your way, you turn back to her and start profusely apologizing.

he turns back to robby, missing half of what he said. 

“you okay?” robby asks, gaze flickering towards jack, and then back at you, somewhere in the distance. jack nods. “how’s she been doing?”

he doesn’t have to say your name for jack to know who he’s talking about.

“fine. good. i haven’t gotten much of a chance to teach her, so-”

“right. teach.” robby says it and looks at jack differently—as if he’s amused. 

“what?” jack snaps, suddenly irritated by the line of questioning.

“nothing. this week’s probably gonna be her last on nights, just so you know.” before jack can respond, robby puts his hands up in defense. “don’t shoot the messenger. apparently we’re supposed to be cycling interns and r-twos so they all get to experience nights. something about equality and fairness. i don’t know but you can read the memo.”

“fairness?” jack grumbles, though it’s mostly to himself. he’s annoyed, and he knows why, and he doesn’t like the reason why. “they used to put us on nights for three months at a time and the only memo i ever got was too bad.” 

“careful, jack,” robby says, a little too sing-songy for his current mood. “you keep talking like that and she’s gonna think you’re an old grump.”

jack glares up at robby, wanting to reply but nothing biting comes to mind. 

“you have a good night, jack,” robby says and jack mutters back a yeah, yeah. he turns to watch robby leave, but somehow, his gaze still ends up back on you, like it always does. it’s harder still throughout the course of the night, nerves somehow taking over him every time he wants to tell you to drop whatever patient’s hand you’re stitching and jump on this trauma with him. 

the vision he’s been chasing, aimlessly at that, seems further and further away as the hours pass each night. your shift is filled with first degree burns and sprained ankles and kind-of, sort-of allergic reactions, when it should be spent by his side, learning everything he has to offer you before you’re back with the day shift.

because that’s why he’s so invested in making sure you’re on a trauma with him—because of how much he has to teach. parker and john haven’t said a bad thing about you, and even the day crew during passing exchanges—nothing besides wondering how you have so much energy at seven am without a cup of coffee in your system. 

that is why he’s so invested—right?

on your last shift of nights for this block, you show up a little extra early. you think you can avoid jack by doing so, but he comes early too, wanting to catch you alone, if just for a moment. 

you walk with your hands filled with more tupperware that he recognizes. the very same containers are sitting on his countertop right now, the contents mostly eaten. he doesn’t want to finish the last of your cookies even though they’ll get stale soon. and why that is, he pretends to not know the answer.

he follows you into the break room at six twenty-five while you open the lids and set out napkins. 

“oh,” you say, surprised when you hear the door click behind you. you didn’t think anyone would have noticed you sneaking in there. “dr. abbot-”

“listen, kid, i need to-” jack’s eyes, without intending to, fall from your confused expression to the table in the room. you have more cookies—maybe snickerdoodle—in the containers. “what’s this for?”

“it’s my last day on nights.”

“so you made cookies?”

“it’s to thank everyone,” you ramble on, like you have to justify the idea to jack. “for being so patient with me. interns are already so annoying and then on top of that when they’re not sleeping. i just thought it would be nice. and there’s no nuts or chocolate so it’s more allergy friendly, you know. i-i’m gonna stop talking now.”

“no-” he says, too quickly, and you look just as confused as ever. your eyebrows knit and your mouth opens a bit and he stares at you, while you stare at him. in fact, jack wishes you wouldn’t look at him like this—cute and confused and too nice for your own good. “no, i mean-” 

what does he mean? what he really wants to say is please don’t stop talking, but all that comes out is—

“that’s…nice. i’m sure they’ll appreciate it. and interns, well, they’re supposed to be annoying. that’s how you learn.” jack pauses, thinking he’s done well, that this is a good place to stop. “not that you’re annoying, that’s not what i-”

“thank you, dr. abbot,” you supply, smiling at him. and god, if it isn’t exactly how he thought it’d be—your bright smile feels like it sends a halo of warmth over the person you’re looking at, and this time, it’s lucky him. your face changes too, the confusion and concern melt away and are replaced with sheer joy, like you’re thankful for every bumbling word in a fairly awkward conversation. 

he’s never been like this, he thinks, or maybe the confidence that surged through him during every trauma had nestled somewhere permanently, constantly hitched along into his real life. he’s never considered himself a don juan but he’s not a stranger to women either—and he certainly doesn’t stutter through sentences and backtrack because he’s worried he’s offended you. that doesn’t happen to him. it’s never happened to him.

but he supposes, taking in how you smile with your entire face and what else he can do to get you to stay smiling, that there’s a first time for everything.

“you were saying something? when you came in?” you ask.

“yes, uh-” 

damn it. what was he saying? he can’t remember. it’s distracting—you, the cookies, your radiant smile, all of it. especially when he thinks about a week ago today, when you were standing in front of him with your wet eyes and wobbly chin, when he was angry about something he can’t even piece together right now. right—the apology. 

“i just wanted to apologize for my behavior last week. i-i hope you-”

but before he can finish the sentence the door opens. it’s dana.

“jack, robby’s asking for you. three incoming mvc’s and mckay left early for something with her son and no one else is here yet, and-” she stops, glancing between you, jack, and the cookies on the table. “hey, kid. you jumping in?” 

you glance to jack when dana asks that, big eyes staring at him for permission. you really shouldn’t have done that, because he thinks you’re only making all the rest of this much worse, whatever he’s been pushing down and burying for the last week that seems determined to hit the surface today. 

“tell him we’re coming,” jack says, and though he had more to say to you, he has to stop for now. on the walk to the trauma bay, jack recaps how he runs through traumas with you. he ties your gown while you pull gloves in his size, and then the ones in your size.

when you hand him the gloves, he gets a look into your eyes—pretty, nervous, excited. in that order.

“what do we have?” jack asks, and trail behind him momentarily, taking a big breath before walking out and following him into the trauma bay. robby jumps on the first ambulance with heather and leaves the second to you and jack. you see frank and mel walking towards the third one, still driving up.

the paramedic starts rattling off the vitals and the patient keeps speaking over him, thrashing up and trying to crane her neck despite the c-spine collar wrapped around it. 

you know what you’re trained to do in these situations—listen to ems, treat the patient, figure out what she keeps interrupting for after you’re positive that she’s not going to die on your table. but some part of you just can’t let it sit like that. you can’t stand when someone thinks you’ve ignored a part of their sentence, much less ignore them entirely.

“wait, wait,” you tell the paramedic as they’re wheeling the gurney into one of the trauma rooms. all around you, the nurses have started their work, setting up iv’s and rolling in portable x-rays. they set aside blood and wait by the phone to call for the surgical consult or to clear up ct as soon as you and jack decide the patient needs one.

“excuse me?” he replies, turning to look at jack with an expression that asks are we listening to her? and even jack looks at you a little confused while you get closer to the patient, until you’re in her line of sight and she stops moving so much. the noise around you will never fully go quiet, but it dims down for thirty seconds.

“you have to stop moving so much, ma’am. what are you trying to say?”

“i really think we should-” the paramedic interjects, but you snap your head towards him, trying to figure out how to say shut up without really saying it.

“can you please, just give me a second?”

“my daughter, my daughter, she’s hurt, please-” she responds, not thrashing anymore, just crying.

jack looks between you and the patient for a moment. this case is surgical—she practically went through the windshield. there’s glass that needs to be removed, a concussion, possibly a chest tube, and an airway if she crashes. 

“you guys need hands in here?” you hear trinity ask from somewhere behind you.

jack knows you have a choice here, and he thinks, for a moment, you’ll tell her to find the daughter while you finish this trauma with him. it’s for your own learning, your education. it’s to show you what the some of the worst outcomes from car accidents look like, things to check for in the future even if your patient looks fine.

“i’m gonna find your daughter, okay? but i need you to stop moving so they can take care of you. because she needs her mom, too.” you turn to santos, and trinity jumps in while you walk out. jack catches one glimpse of you before turning to his patient, laying still and compliant, crying silently. 

an hour later, most of the day shift has gone home. trinity even stops at bed 19 where you’re suturing the little girl’s arm while she drinks a juice box and waits for a head ct in case she has a concussion too. 

“when is it gonna be my turn on nights? abbot is so cool. i put in the chest tube and got to bring her up to surgery.”

you get an uneasy feeling in your chest thinking about someone else on nights with jack in your position—not the yelling, but rather the apology he never got to finish. how sincerely he looked at you when you left to find the daughter instead of finishing up with your patient—maybe it was a mistake. maybe he’ll be upset with you, but it doesn’t matter, since it’s your last shift, anyways.

“and those cookies are fantastic. alright, thanks bubbles. i’ll see you back on days.”

“bubbles? wait, those cookies weren’t for you-” you call out after her, but she walks away without responding. you turn back to the little girl.

“there’s cookies?”

“yes,” you sigh, taking your seat again. her arm is nearly done, just needs a bandage. dad is on his way, the social worker is informed, and someone should be coming over to take over to watch her until ct is ready. “i can give you one after your dad gets here, if he’s okay with it. but for now you have to rest.”

she asks you if her mom is going to be okay, and in truth, you don’t know the answer. you should, but you don’t. you excuse yourself when one of the nurses gets there to monitor her, and try to find parker so you can move onto the next. 

jack must be in another trauma, because you don’t see him anywhere and though you’re not eager to get yelled at again, you do need to finish the conversation from earlier.

and you need your tupperware back.

you end up seeing six patients, getting four of them ready to be sent home and two waiting for beds upstairs and consults that are taking far too long. parker pulls you aside while she chews on one of your snickerdoodles.

“can you do nights more often? these cookies are great, bubbles.” 

“okay, when did this catch on? i know trinity likes her nicknames but this is the first time i’ve heard it. also, what the hell does it even mean?”

parker looks at you with a tilt of her head.

“seriously?”

“bubbles? maybe something like, i don’t know, crybaby, i would have understood.” you pause, hesitating, and then glancing up from the screen you’ve been staring at, your half-assed attempt at a proper note. “wait, how long has she been calling me that?”

“since your first day. but it doesn’t sound like nearly as much of an insult as it used to.”

at least parker will give it to you straight.

“can i ask you something? about dr. abbot?” you don’t know where the surge of confidence comes from, but you think you need to ride the wave to some answers before your shift ends. you glance at your watch while parker does the same. almost midnight.

“i’ll give you five minutes. by the way, he was in the break room if you want to ask him directly.”

“really?

“yeah. shoveling down cookies. you’re gonna give him pre-diabetes.”

“really?” and it’s hard to hide your smile, entire face lighting up. “it’s my favorite recipe. well, second favorite, i guess. my roommate in medical school had a nut allergy so i always made snickerdoodles for her, but those brownies i made for him are probably are my actual favorite-”

parker’s expression changes.

“you made him brownies?”

“yeah?” fuck. “it-it was to apologize. for last week, the nsaids thing.”

“he yelled at you.” she pauses, staring at you a little more quizzically. “he made you cry.”

“he was having a bad week?” you offer sheepishly. 

“right.” another pause. “what was your question?”

“i don’t remember. i’m gonna go see a patient now.” you save the contents of your note and decide to finish it later, during the three am lull with a hot cup of coffee and a cookie if there’s any left.

your question was going to be disguised with a ramble of some sort, asking ellis if she thinks jack abbot is the type to apologize for yelling at her or if there was something else he was going to tell her before those traumas came rolling in.

but lucky for you, you get your answer. four am, in the break room, running a little late on finishing your notes, behind on a schedule that you had invented in your own head. the last patient you saw had been really frightened of the hospital, as well as a language barrier that you had to wait thirty minutes to find a translator for at this hour.

you need a coffee, a cookie, and a computer to finish your notes. and then you need to leave the night shift and not be stuck in the hospital with jack abbot for twelve hours.

though there’s a smile on your face when you open the door, at the very idea that jack liked your snickerdoodles enough to shovel them down, or whatever parker had said. you look up and your smile gets replaced with surprise at the man standing in front of you.

it’s mental beetlejuice, or something. every time you think about him, boom, there he is. facing the counter, pouring black coffee into his steel gray tumbler.

“oh. hi.” how can you be so shocked that he’s in here? it’s four am with no incomings and it’s really not that big of a department. you passed the other two doctors on with you on the walk here—parker at central talking to a nurse and shen at a computer eating a granola bar.

“hey, kid. coffee? just made a pot.”

“yes, please.” you walk over, fetching your yellow mug from the cabinet. you glance at the table—your containers empty save for the crumbs of cinnamon sugar on the bottom. “was gonna have a cookie too. i should have made more.” jack pours you a cup and then hands you the creamer and the sugar. you notice that his own coffee is drunk just black though.

“it’s john, i’m telling you. he’s got a sweet tooth worse than mine. and don’t let parker fool you. i saw her in here three times tonight.” jack takes a seat in one of the chairs, but first he pulls one out for you.

you sit down and smile, laughing at his comment.

“well, she said that you were in here shoveling them down, so, i don’t know who to believe.”

“she said that?” you nod, taking a sip of your sweet coffee.

the coffee in the break room is notorious for being just fine. it’s never great, or even just good, it’s just fuel. but it tastes a lot better today.

“i’m gonna plead the fifth on that one.” 

you laugh again. you look over, realizing there’s one cookie left in the container.

“one left. but you can have it,” you say, the caffeine and this conversation doing wonders for your energy levels. “i had a bunch at home earlier today and i make them all the time, so-”

“nah, kid. we’ll split it.” jack breaks it in half and slides it towards you on a napkin, and you smile at him again—warm, generous, compassionate. 

a lot of big words to describe the smile of a resident he just got to know better this week, but he can’t turn it off. the radar in his head alerting him that the person he’s been thinking about for hours is sitting in front of him now, nibbling on half a cookie.

“that was a nice thing you did, earlier. with the mom and the daughter. she was completely compliant after.”

“i figured. i can’t believe the paramedic didn’t listen to her the whole ride in, though.” you take another sip of coffee before putting your mug down on the table. “not that he did something wrong. i know he was trying to help and they’re trained to focus on the patient and all that. but she was moving around in a c-collar, so i figured-well, i’ll stop rambling. they said the surgery went good so that’s all that matters, i guess.” you go quiet, taking another bite just so you stop yourself from talking too much again.

“both things can be true. he should have listened and he did his job. how’s the daughter?”

“good, good. i gave her stitches and she had some minor cuts. i think the mom thought she was bleeding a lot worse. dad’s with her, so…” 

“you had the chance to jump on the trauma but you left to take care of the kid.” jack doesn’t say it with any sort of tone, presents it to you plainly, like a statement.

“is this the part where you’re gonna yell at me?” you blink up at him, worried again.

“no, no. i just-” he pauses, thinking about his words carefully. he smiles, like he’s about to laugh. “it’s just the sort of thing i can’t teach, so-”

there’s a knock on the door, and you audibly sigh. is it the worst thing in the world to ask for some privacy for five minutes in this place, to be able to finish a conversation with your attending for once?

it’s john.

“incoming. three minutes out. aw, man, are those the last of the cookies?”

you do get to jump on the case with shen and abbot, though the man isn’t in bad condition at all. took a spill on his kid’s toys and bruised his tailbone, but his wife called for an ambulance. he waits for a head ct and x-ray and the room clears out, and you wonder if you’ll get a chance to finish out your conversation with jack abbot.

you don’t.

he stays behind to tell robby something and parker and john usher you out for a celebratory latte—decaf, obviously—to finish your first small taste of nights. you carry your empty containers in the tote bag you brought them in, and realize you didn’t even get a chance to tell him to bring your containers back.

(whether you want the containers or an excuse to talk to him again, you don’t know. it’s a can of worms not worth opening now that nights are done—though you’re sure he must have finished the contents by now. the idea of your yellow tupperware sitting on his counter or his kitchen table, well… it leads your mind to wonder about other things.

what does his place look like? did he sit on his couch with brownies and farmer needs a wife, like you had suggested? what about in his bed? jack doesn’t seem the type to have a television in his bedroom, or the type to eat in bed, though sometimes you’ll make an exception for dessert, and maybe he can be convinced.

and then you cut the entire thought out of your head, because it’s downright unprofessional and you have no business spending time wondering about his bed or his couch or anything else. stupid tupperware. and what’s even worse is going home with the realization you might not get to find out what jack was going to say to you in the break room, either time.)

+

if you ask a hundred emergency room doctors what the worst day of the year is, you’ll get a hundred different answers. halloween, thanksgiving, and new year’s are all up there. 

but jack abbot’s answer has never changed—fourth of july. 

a day littered with sunshine, grilling, and sparklers. to any emergency medicine specialist, it’s more about sun-poisoning, choking on hot dogs, and burn injuries from at-home fireworks. the hospital is flooded with back-to-back traumas, ranging from people passing out at the beach in the afternoon to full body burns by the evening.

you had always predicted the worst part is how a lot of the injuries are on children. they’re the ones left unattended while mom and dad drink themselves silly or let them play with firecrackers on the pavement, assuming they’ll be fine. you’ve done two emergency medicine rotations in school and you think you know what the fourth will be like, that you’ll be unnerved the entire day by the sound of crying children and trying to hold back anger on the irresponsible parents.

but walking through the doors of the hospital on your second week back on days, you realize you really don’t know much. 

like, for example, that jack abbot walks in beside you and mel at six forty-five. you look at him confused, and then turn to mel, who doesn’t match your expression but is also confused, you’re sure. jack is quick by the lockers—takes off his backpack and heads straight back out. 

mel speaks up first.

“i didn’t know dr. abbot does days,” she says, taking off her jacket and folding it neatly. 

“i didn’t either. do you know why?” it’s really an unnecessary question—it shouldn’t matter to you at all. but it does, and you’re terrible at burying things. it’s written all over your face that you want to know the answer why.

“well it’s likely just for overflow. i’m sure they’re expecting double the amount of patients today.”

“right. yeah, that makes sense.” 

“though it is surprising-”

“what is?”

“-that he didn’t take the day off, i suppose.”

“why’s that?” you ask, and mel shrugs.

“fourth of july is a usually tough day for a lot of veterans. when i was at the va hospital, some of the other doctors who had served would stay at home with their families. and the noise from the fireworks, too-”

mel goes on, but you have a hard time paying attention to the rest of her story. one thought washes over you, filling you with enough dread to last all day, making your blood feel icy cold in your veins. jack doesn’t have any family to spend the day with at home, so instead he’s here for the day shift, to help with the extra patients.

“i hadn’t thought about that.” you say quietly. you put your stethoscope around your neck and hold the familiar container in your hands.

“that’s okay, a lot of people don’t. i don’t think i did before my year there. wait, are those more cookies?”

it seems that robby shares some of your dread. you head out with mel, putting the star shaped sugar cookies with red and blue frosting in the break room. during sign-offs you tell parker and john to grab a few—just a few! leave some for the rest of us—before they head home. you smile politely at frank, who seems very concerned with making sure mel knows how hectic this holiday gets in the pitt and ask cassie how that bake sale went.

and then robby pulls you aside, leading you in front of central.

“i brought sugar cookies, i hope that’s okay. is something wrong?” you ask, gauging how robby is looking at you right now.

“yeah, everything’s fine.” he looks around distractedly, or maybe like he’s trying to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “listen, i know you just got back from nights-”

“are you sending me back? to nights?”

“what? no, no, we need you on days. i mean, you just finished nights and you were with abbot for a bit. how’d that go, by the way?”

“dr. abbot?”

“nights.”

“oh,” you say, feeling yourself flush. warmth spreads over you despite how cold it runs in the hospital. flustered, you continue. “it was good. um, busy and i learned a lot.”

“and you got to spend some time working with abbot, right?”

“yeah. some-uh, yes. i did.”

“great. because today is a bit of a weird day for him. he’s not used to days and we get overwhelmed pretty quickly. he’s here to help and it’s always great to have extra hands, especially his hands, but-” you zone out for a moment at the thought of jack’s hands. “-he seems a bit off and i want to make sure he’s doing okay, and he’ll just ignore me if i ask. so if you could—?”

robby trails off and you stare at him blankly, blinking after fifteen seconds of silence.

“if i could what?”

“just, check on him, y’know, throughout the day. just make sure he’s alright. thanks a ton kid, i knew i could count on you.” 

“wait, what-” but then robby is gone, and you’re left at central with dana behind you, handing you a tablet with a patient’s name on it and somewhere to your left is jack, immersed in a conversation with heather. you stare at him, and the he notices you looking, and looks back.

any other day, you’d turn and go straight to your patient, but not today.

today your attending has given you a task—check in on jack. make sure jack’s okay. and you are not the type of person to disappoint your superior.

you walk over to them, smile at both, and then watch as heather excuses herself. had robby told her about the task he’d assigned you?

“hey, kid. don’t tell me—america themed cookies?” 

you shirk under his gaze, the idea that felt very cute last night suddenly seeming exceedingly corny.

“it’s just festive,” you argue. “the frosting is made with blueberries and strawberries instead of food coloring. it’s healthier, i mean, it’s practically like eating fruit.”

“i don’t think you’re winning that argument, but sure, whatever you say. if parker and john left any for the rest of us.”

“i made a bunch this time. i figured there’d be more hands on deck today, i guess.”

(you hadn’t figured that. your logic with doubling the recipe and yielding twice as many cookies was that maybe there’d be some leftover for the night shift to take home with them—specifically one salt and pepper attending who already has two containers of yours at his home. what’s a third?)

“smart. we’ll need them. it’s gonna be a busy day.”

“that’s what i’ve heard,” you look up at jack again with a small smile—trying to disarm him without alerting him of your motive from robby. “how are you feeling, by the way?”

jack knits his eyebrows together.

“how am i feeling?”

“are you okay? do-do you need anything? i can go get you a cookie now, if you want, before they’re all gone. it’s not just the night shift, you know, trinity plows through them. and mel doesn’t have as much of a sweet tooth but since it has the fruit frosting, you know, i think she’ll like them.”

jack looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes, like he’s holding back a laugh, stopping it short at just a smile.

“i’m, i’m fine, kid. and that’s alright, i’ll go get one in a bit.”

“oh. okay. well that’s good.”

“are you okay?”

“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” you lock eyes with him again.

“no reason. well, maybe we can go get that-”

“dr. abbot?” someone says, and you hold back the groan. it’s getting harder and harder to keep it inside. 

the people in this hospital really don’t want you to finish a conversation with your attending.

“yeah?”

he gets pulled up, and you do too—back to the chairs. it’s the usual residual patients from last night, but as the hours pass, you get more injuries related to the holiday. the allergic reactions and sprained wrists turn into burns from the grill and heat exhaustion. 

you find jack three more times in between seven patients—asking him he’s okay, how his patients are, if he wants that cookie now, or maybe water? all these people are dehydrated, it’s no good if their doctors are too, right? 

the next time you do it, he locks eyes with robby right after. you sneak your way past moving gurneys and crying patients, just to tap his shoulder and check in one last time before you sit down to debride a severe burn, one that’ll have you gone for at least an hour. 

“what the hell did you do, robby?” he asks, while they monitor a man who came in on the ambulance after setting half his body on fire trying to grill hot dogs.

“what do you mean? nothing.”

“that kid has-”

“did you try those cookies? they’re fantastic. no wonder you want her back on nights.”

maybe another two hours later, during a surge of ambulances, you realize you haven’t seen jack in a while. 

you pat your patient on the shoulder—a little girl with her mom who took a spill on the pavement while chasing her sister—and tell them you’ll send the nurse over with their discharge papers, and set out to find jack before sitting down with yet another burn—your tenth or so at least so far today. you close the curtain and look at the chaos in front of you—gurneys lined up against walls, patients crying and the entire place smelling of burnt flesh and salt water. 

dr. abbot is by the trauma bay, organizing patients as they come, and the whole thing feels more like a triage unit than it does an emergency room. 

you see trinity seeing the others from the chairs, heather jumping onto an incoming with robby. mel and frank are in one trauma room and jack is standing in the middle of everything.

is it the best time to ask him how he’s doing? no. that much is clear to anyone with a functioning frontal lobe.

but you are not just anyone, you’re you. you get slightly muddled in the head when it comes to jack abbot, and you definitely are not going to disappoint robby when he put you in charge of checking in on him.

you weave your way through the floor, avoiding nurses walking through with supplies in their hands and telling whoever you were supposed to be checking in with that you’ll be right back.

you dodge two gurneys that almost took your knees out just to get close enough to say his name and for him to hear you. you don’t see the one rolling right behind you.

“dr. abbot, are-” you’re interrupted by the sound of your own yelp, when jack reaches out to clasp his hand around your arm. he yanks you hard, pulling you out of the way, and suddenly, all the noises of the emergency room die down.

you hear the paramedic behind you, apologizing as he wheels the gurney out and back to the ambulance bay. you hear dana shouting from central to you—watch out, kid!—and even the wails coming from the trauma room robby and heather are in—a woman crying. 

but you don’t really hear any of it. your eyes are locked on jack’s hazel ones, his fingers still tight against your bare skin. his hands are softer than you’d imagined.

you blink at him stupidly, mouth falling open a little. you must look as dumb as you feel, almost getting hit by a gurney in the middle of a very busy shift. it’s like intern 101—things to avoid doing, especially in front of your attendings.

but jack doesn’t seem mad. he looks at you with concerned, pretty eyes, a focused expression. and then, at the same time—

“are you okay?” 

you both stare at each other for a while. you must look the equivalent of someone starstruck, staring with sparkling eyes, looking almost as grateful for him as you feel. that gurney would have taken you out of commission—at the very least you’d hit your head and be filling out paperwork under gloria’s watchful eye. 

but you’re fine, save for a large bruise forming on your upper arm with each second that passes by as you continue stare at jack.

“you two!” dana shouts over the other commotion, effectively snapping you out of it. all the noises return at once, making you wince, and what’s worse is that people are staring. “incoming, two minutes out. the rest of you, back to work-”

“come on, kid. you’re with me.”

you most certainly are.

+

at around quarter past eight on the fourth of july, you’re seated across from jack abbot at his favorite twenty-four hour diner. 

well, to be fair, you’re making more assumptions in the thirty minutes you’ve been sitting here with him than you have for the entire time you’ve know him. first—that this is his favorite diner. second—that he’s as interested in you as you are in him. and third—that you’ll finally get to finish the multiple conversations you’ve started with him and been unable to finish due to interruptions.

but there’s no interruptions here. post dinner rush, with a group of teenagers a few tables away and a couple in business clothes eating on the stools by the counter. there’s no nosy residents or gossipy nurses or incoming traumas. it’s just starting to get dark out, and you know the fireworks will start soon.

what you don’t know is if jack is going to be completely okay tonight. you don't care if you’re a temporary distraction from the noise, but you do care if you’ll be enough of a distraction for him.

the two of you order enough food to feed the entirety of the night shift at the hospital right now. the short staffing is the reason why you didn’t sit down to eat until seven forty-five, but it’s fine. as long as you’re here with him now.

you justify it mentally while jack steals one of your french fries—the ones he said he didn’t want half of when you asked—that you just need to finish the conversations from earlier. that it’s not wrong or inherently bad to order half the menu with your attending, one that was responsible for all of your anxiety three weeks ago. 

but staring at him like this, you wonder what you had been so worried about. in fact, over the last few weeks, you’ve realized he’s nothing like what you thought at first. 

“okay, i know this must be sound terrible,” you start, setting down your soda and reaching for another salty fry. “but that was amazing. like, the thrilling kind of amazing. does that make sense?” you stare at jack while you await his response.

“yes, it makes sense,” he says, but he can’t contain the laugh anymore. it comes out from his chest—unadulterated laughter, the rumble taking over his entire body.

“you’re laughing at me?” you ask, though you don’t actually seem upset about it. it’s hard to feel any sort of upset when you’re listening to what may be your new favorite sound in the world.

“no, no, i promise i’m not. you’re just so… you. even on a day like today.”

“what does that mean?” you reply quickly, sitting up straighter in your seat, expression turning deadly serious. “god, i’m so sorry. is that completely insensitive? i know it can be a hard day, i mean, well i didn’t know know. but mel brought it up this morning when we saw you and then robby told me to check on you and i thought i was helping until that stupid gurney almost took me out. but i just meant after that! the traumas and doing them with you. i-i hadn’t done any yet, with you, so i-” 

“when do you breathe?”

“sorry,” you sigh. “it’s a bad habit.”

“don’t apologize to me, please. it’s-” jack goes quiet, his mind searching to fill in the blank but coming up empty. 

it’s nice, he thinks. sweet. refreshing. funny. you’re all of those things and more. you don’t bite your tongue and hold back thoughts. you ramble until he can step into your thoughts completely—see it from your perspective like he’s inside your brain.

and jack—well, jack has friends. army buddies, guys he used to study with during medical school, a couple people from his residency that he stays in touch with. he has robby, though his friendship with him is going to be on thin ice after what he put you up to earlier, and dana. his parents are gone and so are his in-laws but he calls his sister when he really needs to talk about something and he checks in with his wife’s siblings once or twice a year, usually around the anniversary of her death.

(he hadn’t done it a few weeks ago, though, and he has trouble figuring out if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. but then he stares up at you, sipping your drink, patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence, before you, undoubtedly, ask him if he’s okay again. like if he tells you that he’s not—because really, he’s not—that you’ll make it your personal mission to make sure that he is. and that, well, what is he supposed to do with that?)

luckily the waitress interrupts the silence with the rest of the food—grilled cheese and waffles and whatever else sounded appealing in a hunger-driven craze—and he doesn’t have to finish the thought.

you two do talk about other things—how he’s sorry about yelling that week and how you completely didn’t deserve it. you tell him it’s fine and that he had a bad week and that you’re not upset, that it would feel wrong to hold that against him. he tells you about how good the brownies and the cookies were, and you beam at him with that smile again.

the conversations ebbs and flows—how it was nice of you to take care of that woman’s daughter. how great you did in the traumas today. how stupid robby is for asking you to check in on him—don’t listen to him ever again, just, come to me first next time. 

and then once the food is eaten and your drinks run empty, and the sound of fireworks is littering your eardrums, you just say it.

“i don’t think you should be alone tonight.”

“i’ve spent lots of july fourths alone, kid. i’ll be fine.”

he probably will be fine. he has noise cancelling headphones and though his apartment is close to the park where the fireworks are held—an oversight he didn’t think of when he moved in—he can distract himself enough to get through the night. he’s been doing it for years—taking care of himself when it comes to things like this.

“no, i-i know you will be. i just don’t think you should be alone.”

and then, for a split second, the force of your caring, of your affection for him hits him like a blow. it rushes over him—the feeling of how easy it might be to let you take care of him. to let someone else do it for once. reality seeps back in slowly, bringing his senses back one by one.

the first thing it does is remind him that you’re an intern.

“kid,” jack says firmly, sitting up straighter in the booth. he rests his elbows against the table, staring straight at you, boring into your soul like he always does. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?”

“well, for one, i’m your attending.”

“oh, who cares about stuff like that? it’s not like i’m gonna tell anyone,” you reply, as though the words had come to you quickly, like you really believed them. 

as if you’d already put some thought into your response before he’d asked you the question.

you don’t seem the least bit hesitant about basically telling him to spend the night with you—whatever that might mean to you. he doesn’t want to assume things, but it’s been a while since he’s done something like this. he doesn’t know what’s changed in the last decade and he certainly has never done something like this with a resident, much less an intern.

the whole thing is seeming much too bill clinton to him. he wants to express the thought to you, though it doesn’t make much sense—he’s not married and he’s not the president but you’re an intern and he was raised right so it feels wrong—and then he realizes it quickly. are you even old enough to remember that scandal? he shakes his head, as though he can dispel the thought by physically removing it.

“i care about stuff like that. there’s a power imbalance here, and-”

“i’m not even on nights anymore!”

“but you will be on nights again in the future. in a few months from now, when you’re a second year. you’ll do a whole month of nights in third year, too.” 

your lips curve up into a playful smile.

“getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”

“kid-”

“i said you shouldn’t spend tonight alone. you’re thinking three years ahead. i mean, don’t get me wrong, jack, i’m totally flattered, but i think you should scale it down. one day at a time and all that.” his expression changes and so does yours—it’s the first time you’ve ever called him anything other than dr. abbot. “i’m sorry. is that completely unprofessional? oh my god, am i one of those people? is that harassment?” you whisper the last part, as though you’re worried he’ll leave to report you this instant.

jack wants to bang his head against the table. he thinks, not for the first time and certainly not for the last time about what he’s going to do with you. 

the waitress brings the check and he places his card in her hand before you can so much as glance at it.

“i… i just meant that, i think it’s a bad idea if you spend tonight alone. we can watch a movie or make cookies or whatever you want to do. it’s just-” you trail off, suddenly quiet.

“it’s just what?”

“if we both go home alone, i’m just gonna spend the whole time worrying about you, anyways. might as well worry about you while i’m sitting next to you.” you stare at the table the whole time you say it, and then your gaze flickers up at him before looking back down quickly. “that must sound crazy. i’m sorry-”

“stop apologizing to me, kid.” 

it’s hard on a regular day to resist the urge to listen to everything you say, to comply since he knows how good you are. made of a kind of sweetness that he really doesn’t know the first thing about—how you got to be this way, with an abundance of compassion, enough to make him feel like he’ll explode from the sheer strength of it.

what jack does know is that he wants to find out.

you both get up, and you put on your pullover from what can only be your alma mater, grabbing the containers you’d brought into the break room this morning. he swings on his backpack and you both walk outside. it’s dark now, and you can hear fireworks somewhere in the distance. the noise is loud and uncomfortable even to you, and you briefly wonder how it might sound to jack, and decide again that you really, really don’t want him to be alone tonight.

“listen, kid. i don’t want you to waste your night worrying about me. you should-”

“oh, trust me, it’s not a waste. i have an ulterior motive for wanting to go back to your place,” you say, nodding when jack tilts his head at you in confusion, wondering if he’ll bite.

“yeah? and what’s that?”

“i need my tupperware back.”

+

your back thuds against the wall beside jack abbot’s apartment door. you’ve never been here but you try to blink open your eyes to take it in, to see if it’s just as you thought it’d be while his lips—soft and wanton and kissing you—stay against yours.

it’s stupid—why are you worried about his apartment when your attending is kissing you like you belong to him? but then you remember something frank had once told you during your first week, something about adhd and how all of you probably have it, and then you start giggling against jack abbot’s lips.

his fingertips, which were brushing against the skin of your waist after sneaking under your shirt, tighten around the soft skin there. you can feel them digging in, but stupidly, deliriously, and a little light headed, you wonder if you’ll bruise if he pushes hard enough.

“y’know, kid,” he mumbles against your mouth, pulling away for just a second. his breath is hot against your lips and his touch makes goosebumps rise all over you, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up tall. “i haven’t done this in a while but if you’re laughing, i must be doing something wrong.”

you should say something, say anything, so he stops talking and keeps kissing you, but nothing comes out besides another laugh. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, trying to catch your breath while jack’s hands hover over your hips. “i-” you glance up to lock eyes again, but when you see the way he’s looking at you, you stop laughing completely. 

“if you’re uncomfortable, we can stop. you don’t have to-”

“no! no, i’m not uncomfortable. i-i’m laughing because this is so funny. you’re my attending and now we’re kissing and i’m in your apartment and it looks, exactly how i pictured it. and you’re so nice to me, but it’s the fourth of july and i want to make sure you’re okay because-” 

jack interrupts you with another kiss, his lips pressing against yours. this time he doesn’t let up, his tongue slipping into your mouth while you collapse against the wall, knees suddenly very weak.

but it’s alright, because jack’s got you. he holds you up by your hips and your legs mindlessly wrap around him, his hands going to your ass to hoist you up and secure you around him. he lifts you up and starts walking, and you whine against him, impatient and fairly comfortable where you were.

it’s like he’s a mind reader.

“our first time is not going to be against a wall,” he mutters, mouth on the column on your neck, tracing kisses from your collarbone to your cheek and then back to your lips. you want to reply, you want to tell him that you would have been perfectly content against that wall, or the door, or the couch, or even the floor, but nothing comes out.

you pull away just for a moment to look at him in the dim light of his bedroom—flushed cheeks, breathing heavy, taking a moment to push a piece of your hair behind your ear before kissing you again. and then with his mouth on yours again, you realize that jack abbot has discovered some way to turn your brain off. 

his touch is rough on your skin—when your scrubs got peeled off of you, you don’t actually know. he throws them somewhere on the ground and you paw at his shirt until he gives in and takes it off. 

it should be slower, he thinks briefly, he should slow down and take his time and not even give in and slip inside of you until you’re already a writhing, aching mess. he’s out of practice but he knows how you are, knows what would make you fall apart piece by piece.

that’s what he thinks of when your hands go to the button and zipper of his pants. for everything he knows about you, you’re also impatient. and lucky for you, he is too.

jack is out of practice, but it doesn’t mean he’s forgotten everything.

“c’mon, kid,” he breathes against your collarbone, wrestling your hands away from and then pinning them over your head. “be patient.”

“i’ve been patient—!” you whine, but he doesn’t give in just yet.

“it’ll hurt, sweetheart. i have to stretch you out first,” he says, and you feel dizzy with lust. it washes over you and makes you dumb, and you, for everything you are, are not a dumb girl. at least—not normally.

jack skips the teasing this time, trailing fingers down your chest, between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach. when he gets to your leaking cunt, he collects the wetness there with two fingers, and when you start whining again, impatient and antsy and your entire body humming with want, he does it again.

reminds you to be patient, and then plunges a finger inside of you. a moan leaves your throat—choked and loud, but he wants you to be even louder. you don’t know when he adds a second, and then a third, but you feel the delicious stretch of your walls, how his palm stays in place for you to grind up against. your hips buck up and you’re ruining his sheets and crying for more though you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

and jack takes it all in. how wet you feel against his fingers, how beautiful the noises that you’re making are. so focused on you—the sheen of sweat on your skin and how responsive you are to his touch, the noises outside his walls get drowned out. 

“jack, jack, more—” you plead, but jack doesn’t listen. everything in your body feels ready to finish. your muscles ache, the knot in your belly tightens, and heat washes over you while your toes curl in anticipation.

and then jack just stops.

“no—” you whine, the rush disappearing all at once. “no, no, jack!”

“patience, kid.”

“you’re being unfair-”

“no, i’m not.”

“then why’d you-”

“because the first time i make you finish is going to be when i’m inside of you. understood?”

and for once, you’re silent.

+

“i would have gone to the roof, probably.”

you blink open your sleepy eyes. you’re pressed against jack’s chest, your head resting there while he trails his fingers through your hair. you’re wearing his shirt, sleeping in his sheets, a cup of water that he got you from his kitchen resting on the nightstand.

you can’t feel your legs, but that’s a problem for tomorrow—but at least you know now that you might have bitten off more than you can chew. 

“what do you mean?” you ask quietly. the fireworks stopped an hour or so ago, and the only noise you hear now is jack’s heartbeat thudding against your ear.

“the rooftop, at the hospital. i go there after my shifts sometimes.” 

a lot of the time—but you don’t need to know that. from the way you immediately sit up in bed, his sheets slipping a little and exposing more of your soft skin that you don’t seem to care about, he can tell you’re concerned already. 

his shirt looks good on you. 

“tell me it’s just for fresh air?” you ask, reaching your hand over to run your fingers through the hair near his temple. his eyes close when feels your touch there, and suddenly, it feels more intimate than it has all evening. jack takes a deep breath, and then sighs.

“something like that.”

“jack-”

“it’s just… i don’t know. i got used to it, i guess. at first it was just to see what it felt like being up there. then it just turned into something else. i go up there after a bad shift and look at all the people below and… decide if it’s still worth it, i guess.” his hazel eyes look towards you and jack nestles himself more comfortably against your hand that hasn’t left him. 

“what’s gonna happen if you decide it’s not worth it one day?” you ask quietly, wet eyes sparkling up at him.

teary-eyed and flushed in his bed, all for him. you feel your emotions so strongly that he can watch them flooding your body, taking their course, almost sense them radiating from you. 

that’s the second time you’ve cried because of him, and he decides he’s not going to let it happen a third time.

he takes the hand that you had extended against him into his own and presses a kiss against your palm. 

“i don’t think i have to worry about that anymore.”

+

you get back to your apartment around four in the afternoon—you have a rare day off today. jack’s back on the night shift at seven, and though he offered to let you stay the night while he was gone, you wanted to give him time to get ready before going into the hospital. everyone has a pre-shift routine, even if they don’t recognize it. 

now that you’re back on days, yours consists of waking up early to stretch and eat a big breakfast and leave enough time lay in bed for an extra ten minutes before you actually have to get up.

you don’t know what jack’s is but you’re sure you’ll find out soon enough. 

the two of you slept in, courtesy of his black out curtains. you’re more of a get up with the sun person, but exceptions can be made.

(you’ll be making a lot of them from now on. jack abbot made you cum three times in his bed and once in the shower, and then he washed your body with his soap, the one you can still smell on your skin now. he kissed you while making you breakfast—eggs and bacon—and then told you to stop apologizing every time you accidentally hit your foot against his prosthetic under his dining table. and finally, he gave you one of your containers to take back home, and said he’s keeping the other one here. why? you’d asked. insurance, he’d replied.)

so you go back home, make dinner for yourself and wash your singular yellow tupperware and text jack to have a good shift tonight. 

you set an alarm for five, get out of bed at five-fifteen and get ready for work, more giddy for a shift than you have been since your first day of intern year.

when you walk into the hospital, early like always, you see jack talking to parker. he looks in your direction and even parker can notice his gaze following something, but she doesn’t say anything. you look away before smiling to yourself, the grin being glued to your face the entire walk to the lockers as you recall memories of the last time you saw jack.

one of the perks of always being early is that there’s no one by the lockers when you arrive.

(you’ve never thought of it as a perk until now though.)

jack walks in behind you a few minutes later—right as you’ve tucked away your pullover and your bag and he stands beside you as you reach to pick up your stethoscope. 

“ah, hold on,” he says, taking the stethoscope of your hand and into his. he loops it around your neck carefully, setting it in place for you. “there you go.”

“really?” you ask with a laugh, closing the door to your locker. “when you walked in here i thought i was gonna get a kiss. wait, what did you tell parker-”

“c’mon, kid,” jack says, looking at you with an expression you’re not sure you could ever get tired of. “i’m not that obvious.” you stare at him. “yeah, okay. i told her to go finish the note from the last trauma.”

“lucky for you, i’m your best resident. these other chums don’t show up until much closer to seven. actually, one time, santos came five minutes late. so-”

and for the second time, jack interrupts you with a kiss. he leans in, pressing his lips against yours, and your hands go slack by your side. his mouth tastes like coffee and even after a twelve hour shift he still smells like jack, the way his sheets and his soap and his shirt had smelled when you wore it.

he pulls away, and your eyes blink open slowly, like you’re figuring out where you are. fluorescent lights and the smell of the alcohol wipes they use to clean everything lingers around you.

and, of course, your attending, the one who sneaks into the locker rooms before shift change to give you secret and likely highly forbidden kisses.

“my lips are sticky,” jack says, bringing a finger to his mouth and rubbing it against another. you can’t bear to look at his hands right now, so you look away, at the risk of being useless for at least the next hour.

“it’s this lip peptide thingy. i don’t know, it’s good for them, i think. better than chapstick and they have all these flavors. they say it-” you trail off, staring at jack while he stares at you. he licks his lips.

“tastes good, kid. see you out there.”

oh god. you lean against your locker and watch jack leave. a minute later, mel walks in with trinity.

“i don’t want to hear it, bubbles. i’m here extra early, and not just to prove a point-”

“well, actually, i think it is to prove a point, but not-”

“what’s wrong? did the cat finally get your tongue?”

“i never understood what that meant-”

oh god. it’s going to be a long shift.

and outside the lockers, robby finds jack.

“so?” robby asks, leaning against the counter while jack sorts through tablets. he hands one to parker and then another to john, and they go off to pass on their patients to everyone arriving. 

“am i supposed to know what you’re talking about?” jack replies, noticing you from the corner of his eye. 

you’re coming out with santos and king, a water bottle in your hand. he had filled it for you before you left his apartment, after you’d refused his offer of walking you home. you look in his direction, and then you both look away at the same time. jack picks up his coffee cup to take another sip—if he doesn’t get the taste of you and your lip peptide thingy out of his mouth, he’s going to have a freudian slip in front of robby.

“i’m talking about you and the kid.” jack sputters, choking on his drink mid-swallow. “woah. you okay?”

“f-fine. uh, what? me and the kid?”

“yeah. since the fourth, you know, are you two good again?” 

robby looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the silence with an answer. 

“uh, yes. yeah, of course.”

“good. that was my goal. she started on nights at a bad time, and uh, i mean no one blames you. but we don't want to scare away all our interns, either.”

“right.” jack looks back at robby. “anything else?”

“no.” robby arches a brow at him. “you sure you’re okay? because she’s back on nights soon, and i don’t want-”

“i’m good, robby.” 

“alright then. where are we with sign-offs?”

you on the day shift is something manageable. something he can handle, something that shouldn’t be too terrible for you two to figure out. you always come early and he always stays a little late, and he’s sure that it won’t look suspicious. 

if you’re on days, then he’s not the one primarily in charge of your post-graduate medical education. that falls to robby and heather and frank, and he can trust that none of them are going to accidentally interfere with you learning everything you need to learn to be a good resident. 

to be a great resident—because he knows you have it in you. you’re made of the stuff it takes to be teaching other interns one day—compassion and kindness and how to treat the person while you’re fixing the patient. 

robby and heather and frank can help you with that. but if you’re on nights, it’s an entirely different ball game. he’s responsible for your education, for approving your notes and questioning your decisions and making you jump onto incoming traumas and justify every choice you make. he’s also responsible for correcting you when you’ve made a mistake. making you drink a cup of coffee if he thinks you’re getting tired. waking you up if you fall asleep at your desk at three in the morning.

and that’s just the problem. for the first time, jack abbot wonders if he can do all of those things if you’re the intern he has to do them to. 

for god’s sake—he couldn’t even wake you up to ask how you wanted your eggs. 

that’s the conundrum he’s facing when you come back home that night, near seven thirty. he’s off tonight and back tomorrow night, which means he gets about eleven or so hours with you until you leave tomorrow morning.

“hi,” you breathe, when he opens the door to let you inside. you’re clad in your pullover and you drop your bag by the front door when you come inside. “it feels weird to not go straight home.”

“oh, sweetheart, you could have gone home. i could have met you there-”

“no, no, it’s okay. i have a noisy neighbor and, well-” you drift off, smiling up at him the way you usually do.

“well?”

“i’d rather wear your clothes anyways.” 

what’s he supposed to do when you say things like that? a couple of words that make him happier than he’s felt in years, lifting the storm cloud that’s been following him around since the conversation with robby this morning. 

but it’s an important conversation, one that needs to be had. jack is a lot of things, but he is absolutely not a meddler in the lives of pretty interns or in the business of hindering their education.

“did, uh, robby say anything to you today?”

“jack,” you start slowly, turning on the couch to face him completely. “he’s not a mind-reader, you know.”

“no, i know. i just meant—well, did he?”

“no. he was normal. he even apologized for giving me side quests on an already busy day.”

“oh. that’s good.” 

you bring your hand to his hair again, running your fingers through it. it’s almost an instinct to him now—jack closes his eyes for a moment and you watch his shoulders relax.

“what’s wrong? what’re you thinking about?” his pretty hazel eyes meet yours.

“i just want us to be careful-”

“hey, you’re the one who kissed me this morning-”

“i know, i know. i need to be careful, too. i don’t want-”

“i understand. i wouldn’t want everyone knowing i’m screwing the intern either. it’s kind of a cliche, honestly, we’re no better than-”

“what? no, no. i don’t want anyone to say anything that could hurt you, or for this to interfere with your education. it is a cliche, and i know you’re close with the others and people can act very differently when they think that-”

“jack,” you start, moving yourself closer until you can crawl into his lap. his eyes flick over you, settling to watch your lips before he locks eyes again.

“yeah?” he asks, his throat dry.

“in five minutes, i’m going to be wet and naked in your shower. you can either keep talking about this or you can come join me.” then you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. “c’mon, i wanna hear all about how you spend your days off, old man.” 

and then you get up, peeling off your sweatshirt, and then your shirt, and leaving him a trail of your clothes that ends with your panties on his bathroom tile. 

jack is a lot of things. but stupid isn’t one of them—so he follows you in there and leaves the rest of the conversation for another day.

but that day doesn’t end up coming that quickly.

as it turns out, interns on day shift barely get to spend time with their attendings from the night shift. on top of that, he has no idea how anyone manages to have an affair with a resident—they’re at the hospital every single day, pulling eighty hour weeks and coming home, if jack is even at home, completely exhausted.

but he also learns that glimpses of you at shift change and sign-offs at seven am and seven pm are enough to sustain the two of you. 

it starts with conversations in the locker room before your shift starts. he makes sure his residents are distracted before sneaking away to get a kiss or two and leaning against the metal lockers like a lovesick high schooler.

“you know that patient i was telling you about yesterday? with the bleeder? well, i came to change my scrubs and trin was grabbing something and she saw me and asked if i was mauled by a bear.”

“oh, god,” jacks says from his position, watching you do the same thing you do every morning. put away your hoodie, grab your protein bar for later, tell him whatever you’ve been thinking about since he left you yesterday night. “what’d you tell her?”

you smile.

“something like that.” you laugh, so then jack laughs.

“that’s a little dramatic, no?”

“i also told her i’m clumsy, but i think she’s come to the conclusion that i’m a sex freak.” you close your locker, facing your boyfriend-slash-attending.

“well, i mean-”

“shut up. do not-” you start with another laugh, but your smile fades when you see mel walking in with frank.

“uh, make sure to check that with ellis, alright?”

“yes, i will, dr. abbot.” jack leaves, smiling politely at frank and mel and turning back to look at you once. he really shouldn’t but he’s gotten in a bad habit of it, even though one day, someone is going to notice.

“did you just tell abbot to ‘shut up’?” frank questions, and they both look at you, waiting for your answer.

“no! no, of course not. i was just telling him about something a patient said and, um, dr. ellis wants to document it. yeah, she wants, like, really thorough notes, so he was just telling me. about that. um-”

mel looks at you thoughtfully, before bringing her hand to frank’s arm.

“i have noticed that she writes her patient encounters in a very specific format,” she says, and you sigh without realizing it. you let her carry the conversation into how frank’s notes could use some work, and then the two tease each other while you quietly make your exit.

+

another morning, jack stands at central with dana and robby, filling both of them in on two patients who are due to come back in the afternoon and the three patients still waiting for a bed upstairs.

heather and frank are bickering next to the three of them like they always do, like they’re siblings fighting in front of the parents, when he hears what they’re talking about.

“well, now i feel bad, ‘cause she’s mel’s friend, but i don’t even have that kind of energy after two red bulls, so-” frank starts, before heather interjects.

“it’s not about energy, it’s just a conversation about burn-out. candles don’t burn on both ends for a reason.”

“okay, you lost me with the metaphor.”

“you can’t be that nice to every patient forever. at some point you have to pick.”

“be nice or save their life?” frank supplies. “so basically, when is she gonna become like the rest of us?”

“i mean…” heather trails off, turning to dana. “what do you think?”

“i think they call her bubbles for a reason,” dana says, pushing up her glasses. she cranes her neck to stare at the screen of patients, looking for the next empty bed. “and i think north-two needs to be discharged, so if you two are done-”

“let me test our theory,” frank says. he waves over the lot of you coming in for your shift—you, cassie, mel, and trinity. you look over at jack, and he looks over at you, before you focus back on frank. “need someone to discharge this bed and then go grab the next patient from chairs. dana—?” he holds the clipboard and looks over at all of you, but it’s only half a second before you chirp up.

“i can do it,” you say brightly. you smile at frank and dana, reaching for the clipboard, while jack watches it happen.

“thanks bubbles,” trinity says, while the others dissipate. you make a slightly dampened face at the use of the nickname.

“one other thing,” heather asks. “when are we gonna get more cookies?”

“oh! i’m so glad you guys liked them. i guess another holiday, if there’s one coming up? or someone’s birthday? actually, i think there’s just labor day and i don’t know what kind of themed cookies i’d make. well, chocolate chip cookie day is in august, i think-”

“kid?” dana asks. “the patient? north-two?”

“right. i’m sorry. i’ll come check in after i bring the new patient back,” you say, still smiling when you walk away with the clipboard in your hand.

“what exactly were you testing?” heather asks.

“i don’t know, but she’s definitely doing whatever your metaphor meant. are we taking bets yet? i wonder how long she’ll last-”

“alright, enough,” jack snaps. “do you two not have anything better to do? who’s this helping?”

“jack?” robby questions, his eyes flicking towards dana, who looks back at him with a shrug.

“why would you want her to be jaded? isn’t it better for our patients that she stays like that for as long as she can? i thought you’d try to keep her that way, but i guess-”

“jack-” robby interrupts. 

“you two, go help somebody,” dana says to heather and frank, before turning to jack. “what the hell was that about?” 

jack sighs, not realizing when his hand had turned into a fist. probably when your name was brought up.

“nothing, i just- bad night. that’s all.”

“o-kay,” robby whistles. “you going up to the roof, or?”

“no. no, i’m going home.”

jack walks away, not in the direction of the door, but rather towards the beds on the north side, almost instinctively.

“what the hell’s wrong with him?” dana asks.

“i don’t know. since when does he just go straight home after a bad shift?”

“i have no idea.”

(that night at six-fifty, trinity pulls you aside before you two head home. you’re antsy since you want to get a couple of quiet minutes with jack before you have to leave, but when she starts talking, you forget all about it. listen, trin says, i’m sorry about the whole bubbles thing, i didn’t think it was bothering you. but collins told me that abbot was yelling at them about it and he was pretty upset, so i- but sadly, you don’t hear much of the rest of the conversation.)

you walk away from her after she finishes, reassuring her that you’re fine, before setting out to find jack. he’s putting his backpack under the desk at the hub, and you go straight to him, not entirely caring that people can see the two of you, supposing it’s fine as long as they don’t hear you.

“what’s the matter?” jack asks, and then much quieter—”everything okay, sweetheart?”

“you defended me?” you ask softly. you’re normally full of words but it feels hard to find them just now, your head feeling cloudy. 

“no, no, i just told them to knock it off.”

“was it something bad?” you question, your expression knitting into worry. 

this is exactly why he got upset—why he didn’t like their conversation from the jump, why he knew that he wanted frank and heather to stop talking before someone else overheard and jumped in and you found out what they were saying.

it’s not bad, even you wouldn’t think it’s bad. but jack doesn’t like it. he doesn’t like anyone speaking of you in any way that he doesn’t like and he especially hates the idea that you’d be upset when you found out. 

“no. i just-” jack trails off.

“you just?”

“i don’t like anyone talking about you. and i don’t like that stupid nickname, so-”

you smile at him, not the sort of innocent smile one casts at their attending—the result of being told good job on a case or have a good night on your way out. no, you smile at jack the way you do everything—with the full force of every emotion behind it, wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

and jack couldn’t look away from you, even if he wanted to.

(the two of you look like idiots—googly eyed and lovestruck and every other way to describe people who like each other a bit too much. this time it’s dana who sees the two of you. she does a double take on her way to hand a stack of tablets to the night shift charge nurse and blinks twice to make sure she’s seeing the right thing. jack abbot, a regular on the roof, and the intern who they call bubbles, looking at each other like the rest of the hospital has faded away into nothing. and then she walks away, and decides she’ll wait for robby to bring it up.)

+

it’s mel next—she’s incredibly observant as it is, but even more so when it comes to someone she considers a friend, someone like you. trinity jokes about the continual bear attacks that explain the hickies on your neck and chest when you change out of your scrub top and pull on your hoodie, but mel knows it’s more than that.

she’s always known you get to work early, but recently, every time mel comes in to put away her belongings, the space that you usually occupy is already empty. your things put away, locker closed and locked, your yellow water bottle already resting by the computer that you usually write your notes at. 

and after that, it’s just a game of paying slightly closer attention. you walk out from behind a curtained bed and come say hi to mel, ask her how her evening was, how becca is doing. but when mel glances up at the screen to see what patient you were with behind that curtain, it’s empty.

that bed was empty. and well, mel’s not much of an detective (though she has her moments), but it’s worth a shot. waste a few minutes, stare at that curtain to see if she can figure out what, or rather who is behind it. she’s almost about to call it quits, frank was running late but he’s here now and there’s an incoming so she should start moving and then—

dr. abbot comes out from behind that same curtain. he leaves it open, comes to the hub, smiles politely at mel and tells her to have a good day, dr. king, and then he walks away.

more specifically, he walks in your direction. the back of his head moves slightly in your direction. you beam at the tablet in your hands. and then—

“mel? you okay?” frank asks, and she’s snapped out of it.

(she could have figured it out ages ago, she thinks afterward, reflecting on how dr. abbot never used to tell anyone to have a good day or hum while finalizing notes or look up and smile in your general direction before looking back down at whatever’s in his hands. the first time she met him, she thought he was the type of person you categorize in the debbie downer sort of group, whereas from the moment she met you, you were clearly more of a chatty cathy. but you’re her friend. and when she had told you about her feelings for frank, you had listened and supported her and never made her feel that it was anything less than okay.)

so the next time she sees you at seven am, already out by your computer or walking back from around an empty corner, when she notices dr. abbot trailing behind you, she doesn’t say anything. when dr. abbot hangs around late finishing up a trauma and you go ask him for his opinion on whatever patient you’re seeing, even when robby is free just over there, she doesn’t say anything.

even when frank brings it up over dinner with her and becca, a side conversation while they eat spaghetti—you noticed anything different with abbot recently?—she doesn’t say anything. 

in fact, the closest she gets to saying anything is when dr. abbot comes in early—maybe around five-thirty one evening—because they’re getting swamped and heather and cassie have the flu and it’s been a terrible mess of a day.

you and mel have been running around the entire shift, barely stopping to drink water or eat something. when jack shows up and flocks straight to you and leans in to tell you something, your hand moves to touch his arm for half a second before you remember where you are and put it down. jack pulls out a granola bar from his pocket and leaves you with it to jump on the next incoming.

mel watches the encounter and puts her head down when you look her way, pretending that she’s drinking her water and staring at a tablet. when she looks up, you’re gone in another direction, but dana stares at mel, both with an understanding of what they just saw.

and then they go on with their shift.

+

it all comes crashing down, just as it had the first time, after a particularly terrible night shift. it’s always hard when someone dies in the first few hours, leaves a horrible, bitter taste in his mouth that makes him want to walk outside and not come back in. 

it’s even worse when he knows he did everything he could, that there was no way this patient was making it off the table. that the devastated husband and the crying kids were completely unavoidable, that he still has to go back and jump on the next case and start fresh and try to drown out those noises.

drowning, drowning, drowning. he’s always trying to drown out something. if it’s not the fireworks then it’s the kids sobbing over their dead parent, and if it’s not that, then it’s how he relives his own worst day of my life every time someone’s wife dies in front of him. 

it’s been one of those days. you’re due to start on nights in two shifts from now, and he still has no idea how he’ll manage to be any less obvious when it comes to you.

(the last thing he keeps trying to drown out is how wrong this is. the voice in the back of his head keeps reminding him, seemingly unable to stop, no noise being loud enough to get it to stop repeating itself. you’re still a while away from being a second year, but is that even any better? or is that another excuse he’s invented to stop feeling so guilty about the fact that you sleep in his apartment every night and leave cookies for him on the counter so he has something nice to come home to? jack doesn’t know.)

you show up at six-thirty, smiling sweetly at parker and john, telling them to grab a cookie on their way out. parker asks you why and you tell her just because, and you want five minutes alone with your boyfriend before he leaves.

you’re impatient, always have been and always will be, especially when it comes to any and all matters related to jack abbot. you’re eager to go back on the night shift because you think you’ll be able to appreciate it so much more now—learning under his tutelage, being able to discuss those foreign medical journals he shares with you over coffee at four in the morning rather than through his illegible, scribbled print on post-its and your neat handwriting in the margins. 

you want it all, and you want it now.

so you made more cookies—oatmeal raisin—to make jack’s apartment smell nice, and you pack several of them to have a valid reason to distract the others so you can get those five minutes, maybe ten, in peace.

“hi,” you sing, while jack stands in front of you, tablet in his hand and blood on his shoes. “how was your night?” he doesn’t look up, but you don’t wait for an answer. “i made oatmeal raisin last night and i put some in the break room so i think we have five minutes. i want ten but i won’t be greedy, i mean, we’ll be on nights together soon, so at least that’ll be-”

“we need to talk, kid,” jack says, looking up at you with an expression you don’t recognize.

“what’s wrong ja- dr. abbot?” a nurse walks by just as you start your sentence, changing it mid-way. 

“that,” he says, coming out a bit louder than he meant it to. “that’s what’s wrong.” 

“jack?” you say it quietly. he doesn’t mean it like that—he doesn’t want you to be upset and worried about him when you have a whole shift ahead of you, one that you show up early to with distractions so the two of you can have a few minutes alone.

it’s all of it—it’s the fact that you even have to do things like that to get five minutes alone with him. it’s that you can’t let someone overhear you calling him anything besides dr. abbot.

it’s the realization that you deserve much better than what jack abbot can give you. more than five minutes behind a curtain or a couple minutes in the break room or thirty seconds at central hub before the charge nurse comes in with another incoming. 

“come on,” he says, leading you away for a moment. you have twenty-five minutes before your shift starts and he has two senior residents who can run the show until robby walks in. he leads you to the on-call room, four walls enclosing four beds. surgery has rooms of their own, but sometimes the trauma surgeon on deck will crash in there waiting for the next page, so he checks the room before letting you into it, closing and locking the door behind him.

“i thought you were gonna yell at me. this is so much better,” you say.

your mouth has gotten you into trouble before, especially with dr. abbot. in fact, it’s what got you into this whole thing to begin with, but where you expect jack to laugh in the privacy of this room, he doesn’t.

“kid, we need to have a serious talk about this.”

“about what?”

“this. us.”

“oh, jack, come on-”

“no, i-i’m being serious. this is not okay, it’s not sustainable.”

“you’re upset because we don’t see each other? honey, i start on nights in two days, i think we can make it,” you say, coming in closer to bring your hand to jack’s shoulder. “what’s going on? really?”

“don’t you think that… what i’m doing is wrong? you’re an intern. this is about your education, i-”

“why do you think you’re disrupting my medical education just because you’re my attending? i know i get stupid around you but i promise, i’m not gonna stop paying attention to my patient because you’re standing near me. i am a doctor, you know-”

“kid, i-”

“no, stop. half this hospital is dating each other. robby is heather’s attending and i don’t see you storming them into on-call rooms to debate about his influence on her medical education-”

“that doesn’t even make sense-”

“it doesn’t have to,” you sigh, out of breath and a little winded from how loud you’re being. “we make sense. you and me. we’re good together. a lot of things in this place don’t make sense but we do. people die everyday and i don’t want to die wondering what could have been if i’d just-”

“don’t,” jack interrupts, his hands coming to your waist. they feel tight, like the first time he’d help you like this. he brings his face closer to yours, foreheads almost touching. “don’t say that.”

“oh my god. i am so sorry. that must sound so insensitive, i just meant-”

“stop talking.”

“but i-” 

and this time, he doesn’t give you a choice, pressing his lips against yours quickly. you mumble against else against his mouth, but he can’t make it out, choosing instead to ignore it. like always, jack’s mouth tastes like coffee and you take it in—your boyfriend, your attending, and whatever else jack abbot is to you, kissing you like he’s finally realizing that he belongs to you, just as much as you belong to him. 

jack’s fingertips travel under your scrub top, hands roaming the expanse of your back and then settling onto your waist again while you keep kissing, realizing that when you go back out there, you’ll be flushed and warm and your lips will be swollen.

and then you realize that you don’t care, and you let your body lean against jack’s. he pulls away for a moment, but you don’t let him get the chance to stop, leaning in to resume the kiss, desperate to feel his tongue against yours again. 

jack does pull away finally, holding your jaw with his hand.

“this is so much better,” you mumble again.

“kid, we can’t-”

“yes, we can. we have so much time, jack,” you say, trying your best to sound convincing. 

“it’s seven in the morning,” jack argues, though he doesn’t resist when you pull his navy shirt off and over his head, exposing his chest to you. you run your fingers down the exposed skin, pressing your mouth against his shoulder.

“no it’s not,” you reply, leading hot, open-mouthed kisses from his collarbone to his neck, back up to his lips. “it’s six forty-something.”

“someone’s gonna-”

“no one’s gonna,” you say, smiling in that way that you do, the way that makes it impossible for him to say no. “not unless you stop talking, old man.” 

“oh. that’s how you wanna do this?”

“i’m not doing anything,” you say, pulling off your own scrub top, and then your shoes. 

“you’re gonna kill me, kid,” leaves his mouth as your hands go to the tie of his scrub bottoms, undoing the knot. jack brings his hands to either side of your waist and lifts, bringing you down onto one of the beds with all of his strength, making you squeal as your head hits the pillow. 

he starts with a kiss to your jaw, and then your neck, trailing down between your breasts while he undoes your bra. your hands find his shoulders, gripping him tight while he works his way down, littering your stomach with kisses until he gets to the drawstring of your pants. 

his fingers work on undoing it while you whine, and then try to push yourself to sit up against jack’s weight on top of you.

“oh my god, this is so embarrassing. i didn’t know we were doing all this. i have so many matching sets of underwear for this very occasion and the one day-”

“sweetheart, i love you, but you really need to stop talking right now.”

“you love me?” you repeat back. “you love me. oh my god, i-”

you lean in, lips crashing together hard, until jack moves and he’s on top of you again. he slides off your bottoms first, his fingers dancing around the waistband of your panties—navy blue with lace on the sides and he thinks they’re awfully great so he’s not sure what you were talking about—and then you start giggling. nearly uncontrollable.

“kid, that’s twice now you’ve done that-”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry jack,” you plead, trying to keep a straight face but being unable to stop laughing. “i can’t believe this is how we’re saying i love you to each other-”

“you’re the one who wanted to date your attending-”

you burst into another fit of giggles, which jack effectively silences by kissing you again.

“one day,” jack starts, tugging your underwear down until it’s discarded somewhere by your feet, or maybe somewhere on the floor next to your clothes. “i’ll get to take my time with you again.”

that sentence leaving jack’s mouth makes your entire body tense up, a flood of want washing over you until you feel loopy. 

you pull him in for another kiss, and you feel him against you, memories of the first time he stretched you out on his fingers running through your mind. you two don’t have enough time for that today, and you both know it, but it still makes your cunt throb with anticipation.

jack lines himself up against you, running his thick tip over your opening, collecting wetness and making pleasure course through your body when he bumps against your clit. it’s electric—like a live wire hitting your nerves and making everything feel like lightening.

your limbs already feel like jelly, and you let jack maneuver your legs up onto his shoulders, watching him while he looks down at where you two are connected. 

he pushes inside and you moan—loudly and unfiltered—feeling that ridiculously amazing stretch again, your toes curling and every muscle tensing. jack leans in to kiss you and swallow the noises you make, but you still think it might not be enough.

when he pushes all the way in, your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head. 

“i’m sorry, kid, we can’t be loud,” he breathes, followed by a groan. he uses his hand to cover your mouth, pulling out and then thrusting back in all at once. the bed creaks as jack starts fucking you with an intense rhythm, the thin wooden frame hitting against the wall repetitively. 

you lock eyes with jack, moaning against his hand, feeling how big he is like it’s the first time all over again. 

every ridge and vein makes you see stars while you focus on how full you feel—full of jack, how you want stay like this forever if he’ll let you—in a tiny on call room with the door locked and people looking for the two of you. 

you repeat it against his palm—jack, jack, jack—while he keeps fucking you with an intensity that makes the coil in your belly keep tightening. he’s so deep inside of you that you’re sure you won’t be able to walk after this, let alone finish your shift, but the thought drifts somewhere far away when he changes the angle slightly. 

jack pushes his hand against your lower belly and thrusts back into you, while your back arches and tries to fight him. maybe you’re trying to get away from how good it feels, that overwhelming sensation that the ground is about to give out beneath the two of you. you stare up at jack through teary eyes, taking in how he looks hovering over you, taking care of you and watching out for you and thinking about you first like he always does. 

and then it happens, the hot sensation in your belly tenses, and then snaps, and it washes over you like a current. you feel it—the ringing in your ears feels like it’s making its way through your entire body and your walls clench and pulse around jack’s girth. 

your eyes snap shut but when they open, you keep looking up at jack, finally forcing his hand away from your mouth. 

“jack,” you get out, your throat dry and sore and lips aching. “i love you too-”

you hear jack groan, a noise that makes your walls flutter, and then you feel it again—jack’s hips stuttering, his grip on you tightening, and then warmth filling you, hot streams of cum coating your walls until it’s leaking out of you. 

you take deep breaths, head hitting the pillow while jack collapses on top of you, and then rolls over until he’s beside you. 

the room is silent besides the two of you breathing, until of course, you speak up.

“i can’t believe this is how we said i love you.”

“you already said that, kid.”

“i know. i just really can’t believe it. i figured it would at least be outside of the hospital, but, i guess that wouldn’t feel right.” 

“sweetheart-”

“am i doing it again? the not knowing when to be quiet thing?”

“no, but i-”

“wait,” you cry out, sitting up immediately. “what time is it? oh my god-”

“don’t worry about that right now. i gotta get you cleaned up before-”

“jack, i have never been late for a shift before.” you sigh dramatically before you keep going. “i just knew it. this relationship is completely affecting my medical education-”

jack shuts you up with a kiss before you can finish the sentence, capturing your laugh against his mouth. 

he starts making half a plan in his head, though what he wants to do is take you home with him right now.

“i think i’m ready for you to be back on nights now.”

“yeah? why’s that?”

“because at least we can sleep next to each other if you-”

“jack!” he hears robby’s voice shouting from the other side of the door, followed by three pounds that rattle the wood. “do not tell me that my intern is in there.”

“fuck,” jack whispers, while you stare at him with wide eyes.

“what should we do?” you mouth, while jack gets up, finding your scrubs and pocketing your underwear while he pulls on his own clothes.

“stay in here,” he tells you quietly. “just take your time.” 

“okay,” you whisper back, leaning in for another kiss with a smile. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

jack pulls on his shirt and unlocks the door, closing it quickly behind him as he steps out to meet robby on the other side. 

“you’re kidding me, right?”

“i can explain, robby. we-”

“i don’t want to hear it. the on-call room? that’s disgusting, you know.”

“robby, i-”

“go talk to hr before gloria gets on my ass about this.” robby walks away, shaking his head. 

you open the door, poking your head out, and jack turns back to look at you.

“gosh. i sure hope hr doesn't think you’re interfering with my medical education-”

♡ thanks for reading!

[millermouth]

Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel never meant to let you get under his skin, but you did—slowly, quietly, until you were all he could think about. When you go missing on patrol, the months of keeping his distance end in an instant. Finding you hurt, vulnerable, waiting for him— he finally stops fighting what was inevitable.

babes idk this has been plaguing me all damn day okay? angsty, grumpy, eventually fluffy Joel Miller. im all about the drama today I've been getting a lot of requests about Joel tending to reader on a patrol gone wrong / Jackson!Joel so here is a whole one shot dedicated to all of you ♥︎

When Joel Miller came back to Jackson after taking Ellie from that hospital, he was on edge. Always on edge. The bags under his eyes darkened by the day, deep-set proof of sleepless nights spent tangled in sweat-drenched sheets, jolting awake from nightmares that left him breathless and clawing at the past. So he worked. Took on more patrols, fixed fences, chopped wood—kept his hands busy, his mind busier. If he let up, even for a second, the memories crept in like rot in the walls. That way when his head hit the pillow at night, he was too exhausted for dreams.

Then spring came, and with it, something new. Something warm. Something bright.

You.

He didn’t know where the hell you came from at first. Just that Tommy had dragged you in, half-dead and shaking, after your group got torn apart by Infected out near the old hunting cabins. He heard about it once Tommy could stomach telling the story—another tragedy, more unknown lives lost—but you? You survived.

And now he hardly recognized you as that scared, bloody thing they found in the snow. You were—Jesus—you were everywhere. Helping in the garden, stacking supplies, chattering with the old folks who baked you fresh bread or cookies because they liked how sweet you were. It was annoying. Distracting. You were too...bright. Too alive. Too much of a reminder of something he shouldn’t want. He didn’t even want to know your name, but it found him anyway.

“She wants to start helping on patrols,” Tommy said casually, slicing into his steak one Sunday night over dinner. Maria nodded, considering.

“We could always put her with—”

No. It was all Joel could think. Not you, not out there in the wilderness again. There was so much shit out there, you’d faced enough. Couldn't you just stay here, safe?

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “No?” he echoed, a little amused, a little suspicious.

Joel clenched his jaw, shoving another bite of food in his mouth, chewing slow to buy himself time as he realized he must’ve said it out loud. His throat went dry as he forced himself to swallow.

Joel forced a grunt, waved a hand vaguely. “Just think she’s too young to be goin’ out there. Didn’t she just get here?”

“She’s older than Ellie,” Tommy pointed out, spearing a potato on his fork. “And Ellie’s out there right now, you know that.”

Joel’s fingers curled tight around his knife. Yeah, he knew. Ellie was out on her first real two-day patrol, and he’d spent the last twenty-four hours half-sick over it. His eyes flickered to her empty seat, and he sent up a silent prayer that she was still safe.

“Well,” Tommy continued, oblivious, “I’m plannin’ on buddyin’ her up with one of my best guys. Jesse can take her. Shouldn’t be an issue. He’s quick on his feet, got a good eye.”

Jesse. Joel barely held back a sneer. The kid was fine, sure. But Jesse wasn’t the issue.

You were.

Joel sipped his shitty, lukewarm coffee from a chipped mug, scowling at how diluted it was as it settled on his tongue. He missed real coffee. Hated that he had to drink this watered-down bullshit. The only thing worse was the sharp knock at his door.

His jaw clenched.

With a heavy sigh, he set down the mug, already annoyed, and stomped over. If this was Tommy with more goddamn chores or Maria with another lecture about community responsibility, he was gonna—

Joel yanked the door open, glare already in place. But then he saw you, and his stomach dropped.

You stood there, a little breathless, strands of hair falling loose around your face despite how you’d tied it back. Morning sun caught on your skin, the warm glow of sweat making you look… Fuck. His grip tightened on the doorframe.

"Oh–Hi," you said, a little uncertain, shifting on your feet.

Joel just stared.

He hadn’t spoken to you. Not once. Hadn’t let himself. You were too damn…well, whatever you were, whatever part of him that couldn’t quite place what you did to him…he wanted no part of it. But now you were standing at his door, looking at him with those bright, wide eyes, and he felt like a teenage boy again.

His brows furrowed, lips pressed into a hard line. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He had no clue what the hell to even say.

Your blush deepened under his stare. "Um," you murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Ellie told me to come grab her before I left for patrol. First time and all." A nervous laugh puffed out of you, light and breathy. "She said she keeps a map of the area—marked with all the bad spots. Ya know."

Joel blinked. His brain finally caught up.

Patrol.

Your patrol.

His jaw ticked. So Tommy still had you paired with Jessie then?

"Ellie," Joel called behind him, finally tearing his gaze from you.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs before Ellie appeared, still in her pajamas, rubbing at her eye with the heel of her hand.

"Hey!" she called when she met your gaze, brightening.

Joel grumbled something low and incoherent, something that excused him as he turned on his heel and headed back toward the kitchen. He didn’t dare look at you again. But he felt your eyes on him. Questioning. Curious.

He hated it.

You were in his house.

Moving around upstairs. Talking to Ellie. When the hell had you two become friends? Your voice filtered down, mixing with the soft creak of the floorboards, and Joel stood in the kitchen, fuming.

He shouldn’t care.

Shouldn’t give a shit about where Tommy had you stationed, who you were paired with, how ready you were or weren’t for the outside. It wasn’t his goddamn business. But the thought of you out there—stumbling into an ambush, stepping too loud in a place you shouldn’t, a clicker lurking just out of sight, waiting for one wrong move—made his chest tighten in a way he really didn’t like.

He braced a hand on the counter, fingers drumming against the wood.

A few minutes later, your footsteps padded back down as Joel was heading out the door for his own chores. He didn’t turn, didn’t move as you crossed through the house. Just as you made your way past him, your flowery scent, so feminine and light and soft—

"Bye, Joel."

Your voice was light. Casual. Like it was nothing. Like saying his name didn’t do anything.

But it did.

His body went rigid, like something had yanked him back into himself, back into that dark and tangled place in his head where things got real complicated real quick. His name in your mouth, soft and easy, made his skin prickle, made something heavy settle deep in his chest. It stuck to him like a damn burr, taking place and nestling tight in his mind. His name on your lips was like a song, something like a siren’s call made specifically for him. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

He was so fucked.

Joel spent the day trying not to think about you.

And managed to do a shit job of it.

His hands worked—fixing a busted stable door, making sure the latch held, leading the horses out into the pasture on the warmest day so far—but his mind stayed locked on one thing. Had you made it to the outpost? Was the trip quiet? Had Jesse kept you close? Had he been watching your back?

It was pissing him off, all this worrying about someone he barely even knew.

Joel huffed, trying to shake the gnawing in his chest. He just needed to get through the work. Keep his head down, get home, and sleep it off.

Then he saw Jesse.

The kid was near the stables, talking to Dina, grinning like he didn’t have a single worry in the goddamn world. Joel’s brow furrowed. His steps slowed as he stared, confusion creeping in. Jesse was back? Already? That didn’t make sense. It had only been half a day. Patrols didn’t wrap this early, not unless something had happened.

For a moment, he almost convinced himself he was grateful that the hours had passed without sight of you. Maybe that meant his mind was finally loosening the barb you’d stuck in him. Maybe, after today, he wouldn’t waste any more time thinking about you.

But that was a damn lie.

Because hadn’t he thought of you every single hour since you left his house this morning? Hadn’t his eyes kept tracking the road, half-expecting you to appear? Hadn’t he been waiting—hoping—for some confirmation that you were fine, that patrol had been canceled, that you had never even needed to go in the first place?

Something was wrong. He felt it.

His jaw clenched. “Jesse.”

The kid turned, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey, Mr. Miller. What’s up?”

Joel frowned, eyes narrowing. “You’re already back?”

Jesse tilted his head, looking confused. “Uh… yeah?”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, patience wearing thin. His fingers twitched at his side, a slow, creeping sense of unease taking root in his chest. “Patrols don’t usually wrap this early.”

Jesse blinked, then let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, right—yeah, I didn’t go. Switched last minute, said it was some schedule mix-up.”

Joel barely heard the rest of the explanation.

I didn’t go.

The words hammered around his skull, his stomach twisting. You hadn’t been with Jesse.

You’d been out there—out in those woods—this whole time without one of the few people in this place who could actually handle themselves.

His fingers twitched at his side, curling and uncurling. His breathing stayed slow, even, controlled—but that was only because every part of him was focusing on not snapping. “Who’d you switch with?” His voice came out too sharp, too flat, but he didn’t care.

Jesse shrugged, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind Joel’s eyes. “Uh… can’t remember his name. New guy. Kinda scrawny, blond—”

Joel didn’t need to hear any more.

He knew exactly who Jesse was talking about.

Fucking Caleb.

Barely twenty. Couldn’t shoot for shit. Slow on his feet. Jumpy. The kind of kid who hesitated. And Joel had seen firsthand what hesitation got people. It got them killed.

His vision went red. You. Out there. With some stupid kid.

His pulse was a dull, thudding roar in his ears. He should’ve put his foot down with Tommy. Should’ve stopped you from leaving his house this morning. You might've thought he was insane, maybe even hated him for it. But he had known it was a bad idea. He felt it in his gut. And now you were out in the goddamn wilderness with someone who barely knew his left from his right, and there wasn’t a damn thing Joel could do about it.

His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths. His hands curled into fists.

Dina and Jesse went back to talking, still existing like everything was fine, like nothing had shifted, like nothing had gone wrong.

But Joel was already moving.

He needed his gun, he needed a horse.

And he needed to get to you—now.

Joel stormed toward the gates, his blood hot in his veins, fists clenched so tight his knuckles ached. The second he spotted Tommy, standing near the watch post, chatting with one of the patrol leads, he nearly exploded.

"What the hell were you thinkin’?" Joel’s voice came sharp, cutting through the quiet.

Tommy turned, brow furrowing. "What?"

"You sent that girl out with Caleb for her first patrol?" Joel seethed, stepping closer, his frame tense, his breath coming out hard and fast. "Are you kidding me? You said she was goin’ with Jesse, and I just saw him at the barn."

Tommy’s face darkened. "I didn’t do that."

Joel let out a harsh, humorless laugh, his hands going to his hips like he was physically holding himself back from breaking something, “That so? So why is Jesse tellin’ me you did?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "No, Joel, I wouldn’t send two damn novices out together. They must’ve switched last minute and didn’t tell anybody."

Joel’s jaw locked. That answer didn’t make him feel any better.

"Christ," Tommy muttered, shaking his head. "Look, we’ll deal with it when they get back—"

"Deal with it?" Joel barked. "If they get back, Tommy. That dumbass kid don’t know his left from his right. He hesitates, he panics—she’s out there alone."

Tommy held up a hand, voice leveling. "Joel. Just wait. We don’t even—"

"RIDERLESS HORSE COMING IN!"

The shout came from above.

Both brothers whipped their heads toward the gate as someone from the watchtower pointed out toward the open plains.

Joel’s stomach plummeted. Every muscle in his body went tight as the gallop of hooves thundered against the dirt, stirrups flapping madly at its sides, the dark blur of a horse sprinting toward the gates.

"Shit," Tommy muttered, already waving for them to get it open. "Whose is it?"

The guard peered over the ledge, adjusting his scope. "Looks like… it’s Eclipse. Who took him out today?"

The world dropped out from under Joel’s feet. The barn door he was working on, it was that horse. He saw your name on the check out clipboard by his stall. No, no no. This was all some sick nightmare he was in. 

Tommy’s eyes went wide as he looked at Joel, all the color draining from his face.

The sound of his own breath—too loud, too ragged—roared in his ears. That was your horse. Your only goddamn way back. And now it was here. Without you.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. His feet were already moving, shoving past Tommy, heading straight for the stables.

"Joel—"

He ignored Tommy, grabbing his saddle, moving with a purpose that wouldn’t be stopped. Strapped on his rifle as he checked it out at the booth, barely sparing a glance at the patrol guard logging the weapons. His hands worked fast, quicker than they had in a long time, muscle memory kicking in as he moved on autopilot.

He made his way straight to his usual horse, Diablo, getting him tacked up in record speed. The gelding shifted under his hands, picking up on the tight, coiled tension radiating off of him. Joel didn’t ease him. Didn’t whisper the usual steadying words, consumed only with thoughts of where you could be.

"Joel, dammit—think about this," Tommy’s voice rang out behind him, stepping up into the stall, frustration biting at the edges of his words. "You can’t just go out there alone. We’ll send a group—"

"Don’t have time," Joel muttered, cinching the saddle tight.

"You don’t even know what happened—"

"Exactly."

Joel’s voice came sharp, bitter, final. He turned, finally looking at Tommy, and his brother must’ve seen something in his face—something dark, something unmoving—because whatever argument he was about to make died on his tongue.

Joel led the horse out of the stables quickly, boots heavy against the dirt. Diablo tossed his head, nostrils flaring, sensing the shift in him. Once they were outside, Joel hoisted himself into the saddle in one swift motion, gathering the reins, already angling the horse toward the gates.

"Joel, for fuck’s sake—"

"Open the gate."

His voice was low, commanding.

The men guarding the post hesitated, glancing at each other, then at Tommy.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Joel’s jaw ticked, grip tightening. "Open the damn gate!" he snapped, his voice a sharp crack of thunder, booming across the yard. Diablo snorted beneath him, ears pinning back as his hooves shifted nervously in the dirt.

Still, no one made a move. Joel’s patience snapped.

He swung his glare back to Tommy, voice low, dangerous. "You can stay here and play it safe, but I’m going."

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath. But he gave a quick nod to the men at the gate.

The locks disengaged. The doors groaned.

Joel didn’t wait.

The second the opening was wide enough, he kicked his heels in, sending Diablo into a hard gallop, tearing out into the open.

He didn’t care what Tommy had to say.

Didn’t care that he was riding into the unknown, alone.

Didn’t care that this wasn’t his fight.

He didn’t care that he hardly knew you.

Because he did know you, after all.

You were light and soft and gentle in a world that hardened even the best of souls. You smiled at people when they spoke to you, laughed easily, touched others when you talked—little brushes of your fingers over an arm, a squeeze to a shoulder, things Joel wasn’t used to seeing anymore. You had no reason to be kind, no reason to be so goddamn good, and yet, you were.

And now the world had you.

It didn’t matter that he’d never spoken to you, that he had tried so damn hard to keep his distance. He had stayed away, convinced himself it was better that way, easier. But that hadn’t stopped you from getting into his head, hadn’t stopped you from settling into the places he didn’t have room for you, hadn’t stopped his chest from tightening all goddamn day wondering if you were still breathing.

Because he knew what was out there.

He knew what waited in the trees, in the shadows, in the abandoned places people never came back from. He knew how quickly a routine patrol could turn into a massacre, how easy it was to be there one second and gone the next. He knew how fast infected could pop up from the dark, how quickly a gun barrel could press against a skull, how little it took for someone like you to disappear forever.

And if that happened—if he found you out there, lifeless and cold—Joel didn’t know what the hell he’d do.

Joel spotted the outpost cabin up ahead, barely visible through the dense green of the trees, its frame old and weather-worn. A lone horse stood tied outside, shifting restlessly. As he rode closer, his eyes flicked to the J brand on its croup. Caleb’s.

His stomach twisted.

He swung off Diablo without thinking, barely registering his own movements as he tied the reins to the nearest branch. His heart was hammering, his breath coming hard and fast, sweat slicking the back of his neck as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

His heart launched into his throat when he first saw you. You were slightly slumped against the wall, your fingers curled tenderly around your leg, face pale.

Joel could barely breathe. His body moved quickly, crossing the space in seconds. You were alive, you were alive. Everything was fine.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but then something in your face softened—relief, gratitude. "Joel?"

His throat was dry. "What happened?" His voice came rough, low, sharp with something too close to panic.

Your lips parted like you weren’t sure if you were hearing him right. This was the first time he had ever spoken to you—really spoken to you—but right now, none of that mattered.

You exhaled shakily. "Eclipse spooked at something. Threw me off. I-I landed wrong." You grimaced, shifting slightly as you gripped your leg. "I think it’s broken.”

Joel’s chest went tight. Broke your leg. Out here. With no way back.

The scenario was too damn close to something worse, and he hated how easily his brain filled in the gaps. If you hadn’t made it to the outpost…if you’d landed just a little worse. Where the hell was your supposed patrol partner and why wasn’t he taking you back to Jackson?

"How long you been here?" His voice was clipped, his hands already moving, pushing back the fabric of your pants to see the damage.

"Couple hours," you murmured, watching him. "We managed to get here, checked the logbook like we were told to. I didn’t know what else to do."

Joel’s jaw flexed. You were trying to be strong. He could see it in the way you held yourself, in the way you downplayed the situation, like you weren’t sitting here with a broken goddamn leg and no real protection.

Before he could say anything else, footsteps sounded at the doorway.

Caleb.

Joel looked up, and something in him snapped.

The kid had the nerve to look relieved. "Oh—Joel, you found us."

Joel was already on his feet, moving. He shoved the kid—hard.

Caleb stumbled back, barely catching himself against the doorframe. "H-hey—!"

"The hell were you doin' leaving her here?," Joel seethed, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous. "You left her here hurt and alone while you what? Sat on your ass?"

Caleb swallowed hard, eyes flickering between him and you. "I didn’t—I didn’t leave, I was out checking the perimeter—"

"Checking the perimeter?" Joel’s breath came sharp, bitter. "She’s got a broken goddamn leg. What the hell were you gonna do if something came through that door? If infected caught her like this? Why didn’t you turn back and take her home?!”

Caleb’s face flushed, his mouth opening like he wanted to argue, but Joel was already done listening.

"Get back to Jackson." He shoved the kid toward the door again, barely resisting the urge to do worse. "Tell ‘em she’s alive. Tell ‘em we’ll be back once I've patched her up.” Joel leaned in, voice dropping into something dangerous. "I’ll deal with you later."

Caleb hesitated, like he wanted to say something, but one more look at Joel’s face must’ve changed his mind.

He left, the door shutting behind him, and only silence followed.

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, still standing there, still furious, still running too hot, his hands clenched into fists.

“You didn’t need to be so hard on him,” you said softly from where you sat.

Joel’s scowl was back in full force as he turned toward you. "And you—" His voice came sharp, and that was when it hit him.

He was here. With you. Alone. And he was speaking to you for the first time. He had been so panicked when he walked in he barely noticed.  The words he was ready to lash at you to you weren’t kind, weren’t measured. They were biting. They came with anger and frustration and fear and all the shit he hadn’t let himself process on the ride over.

He scrubbed a rough hand down his face, trying to reel himself in. "What the hell were you thinkin’? Switching out Jesse from your crew? Ain’t this your first patrol?"

Your mouth parted slightly, caught off guard. "I didn’t—" you hesitated. "I didn’t think it was a big deal. Jesse misses Dina, they wanted to spend more time—"

"Jesus, girl," Joel muttered, shaking his head. "That shit don’t matter! He was supposed to watch you because this is your first time out here. You needed someone in charge. Someone who knows the way."

You scrunched your nose, a flicker of irritation sparking across your face. "We were doin’ just fine."

Joel let out a dry, humorless scoff. "Yeah, looks fine to me."

And then—he stopped himself.

The words sat between you both, heavy, cutting.

This wasn’t how this should go.

He didn’t want this to go like this. Didn’t want the first real conversation between you to be this snappy, this barbed. You’d just made him so goddamn angry with your irresponsibility, had scared him too damn bad, and now he was running his mouth like some short-tempered asshole.

He needed to breathe. He needed to calm down.

Joel took a slow breath, scratching his beard before crouching back down in front of you. His fingers were still twitching, his body still wired too tight, but he forced himself to focus.

"Let me see again," he muttered, voice still gruff, but quieter now.

Your eyes flickered over his face, searching, but you didn’t argue. You shifted slightly, biting down a wince as you let him push the fabric of your pants up further to assess the break.

Joel’s jaw ticked. It was swelling badly already, bruising and tender to the touch, but at least it was something that could be fixed. That he could fix.

"Don’t look too bad," he murmured, rolling his shoulders to shake off some of the tension.

"Really?" you huffed, shaking your head. "Cause it sure hurts."

Joel reached for his pack, pulling out what little medical supplies he had before scanning the cabin. "Just need to make a splint," he muttered.

His hands moved carefully, barely grazing you, barely touching you any more than he needed to. He worked in silence at first, securing the wood, wrapping the bandage around your leg in tight, practiced motions. You kept still, your breath catching here and there when he adjusted the angle, but otherwise, you didn’t complain.

And maybe that should have been his first sign.

Joel wasn’t sure when he noticed it—the way you were watching him, the way your fingers curled just slightly into the fabric of your pants, like you were bracing yourself for something more than just the pain in your leg.

He should have ignored it. Should have finished his work and moved on. 

But something about the way you stayed quiet, your lips pressed together like you were holding something back, made him pause.

"You’re quiet," he murmured, tying the last knot in place.

You blinked. "What?"

Joel smirked, just slightly. "Was expectin’ more complainin’. But you’re sittin’ awful still."

You swallowed, your eyes flicking away for just a second before you forced a small, breathless laugh. "Just tryin’ to be a good patient, I guess."

He could tell that wasn’t the whole truth. And for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing.

"That so?" His fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, grazing against the bandage before he pulled back. "You ain’t the nervous type, are ya?"

You let out a soft scoff, but your voice was quieter now. "No."

But you hesitated, and Joel noticed. He wasn’t supposed to like that. Wasn’t supposed to let it sit in his chest the way it did. But you did things to him, even from the very moment you’d arrived. You’d gotten under his skin in ways he hadn’t been prepared for, and even now, as he knelt beside you, his fingers still lingering over the bandage, he wondered—

He thought he’d been the one avoiding you at all costs. He thought he’d been keeping clear of the girl who was too bright and bushy-tailed, someone who was so different from him, so good. He thought he’d done a damn good job of steering clear, of making sure he was just another face in Jackson to you.

But now, looking at you—your cheeks tinged pink, your breath just a little uneven, your hands clenching and unclenching like you didn’t know what to do with them—his mind pulled back to the little things. The way you would duck out of his way every time too. The way, if he ever caught your eye across a room, your cheeks would flush, your fingers would twitch, and you’d excuse yourself just as quickly as he had. 

And when you had come to his house to find Ellie… You had been flustered then, just as uncertain as him, though he had been too wrapped up in his own damn head to see it. He’d been too focused on why the hell you were standing there in his doorway, too busy trying to tamp down the immediate, sharp pull in his chest that had threatened to unravel him the second he saw you in the morning light. He had been so sure he was the only one feeling it, so convinced he was the only one being rattled by your presence. 

But he remembered the way you had blushed under his stare, shifting on your feet, your voice softer than usual, your breath catching just slightly when he didn’t say anything right away.

Jesus. Had you felt it too? 

Had you been trying to stay away from him just as much as he had been trying to stay away from you?

Had it been there this whole time?

And if it had…

Then Joel didn’t stand a goddamn chance.

Something slow and warm uncurled in his chest, something dangerous that he swore he’d lost for forever. His fingers brushed against your knee as he adjusted the wrap, just the lightest graze, but it was enough to make you shift, to make you pull in a breath.

His throat very dry suddenly as he spoke, "Somethin’ wrong?" His voice was low, quiet.

You blinked, shaking your head too quickly. "No."

But you hesitated. Joel smirked. "No?"

You exhaled sharply, dropping your gaze. "Joel—"

His name in your mouth did something to him. Something deep and warm and dangerous.

"Hm?" he hummed in question, his voice quieter now, rougher at the edges.

You hesitated, shifting slightly under his touch again, your fingers tightening against the fabric of your pants before you finally looked up at him again. There was something in your eyes—uncertainty, hesitation, something else—and for a second, he almost thought you wouldn’t say it.

Then, softly, you whispered, "Why’d you come all the way out here?"

His chest went tight, his breath uneven. There were a hundred ways he could answer, a hundred ways he could try to explain what had driven him out here, why he had stormed out of Jackson without a second thought, why he had spent every damn second of the day thinking about whether you were still alive.

His fingers found yours, brushing over your knuckles before he took them, his touch hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if he had any business holding you like this. His grip was steady, warm, his thumb grazing over your skin in slow, careful circles—maybe to soothe you, maybe to soothe himself.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to just say it.

"I had to," he murmured.

And then, before he could stop himself, before he could think about how much of a fool he was making of himself if you pulled away, how out of his depth he was, he kissed your hand.

Your fingers were so soft, so small in his wide grip, his calloused palm swallowing yours as his lips pressed into your knuckles. His eyes stayed on you all the while, drinking in every shift, every reaction—how your pupils blew wide, how the flush crept hot across your cheeks, how your tongue darted out to wet your lips like you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

Joel didn’t move, didn’t let go, didn’t do a damn thing but hold you there, feel you there, his lips pressed against you like he had any right to be touching you like this.

Slowly and carefully, as if you didn’t want to startle him, you lifted your free hand. Your fingers brushed tentatively along his jaw, skimming through the rough patch of stubble on his cheek, tracing over the lines life had carved into him. You were watching him now, your eyes flickering down, settling on his lips.

Joel only released your knuckles from his lips when he felt your hand pulling him closer to you, and he let you. 

For once, after so many years of feeling like he needed to always be thinking of the next move, to be in control at every turn, his mind went quiet.

It was never quiet.

Not since the world had ended. Not since he’d lost everything. His thoughts had become a constant, grinding machine—always assessing, always calculating, always searching for the next threat, the next weak spot, the next thing that could go wrong. He had learned, too many times over, that the second you let your guard down, you paid for it in blood.

So he never let himself stop.

But now, you were touching him. So soft, so gentle, so careful. Your fingers running over his jaw like he was something worth handling carefully. Like you weren’t afraid of him.

And for the first time in years, that instinct—the one that told him to always be ready, to be hard, detached, sharp—just… stopped.

His mind went quiet.

And then your mouth found his.

The kiss was tentative at first, cautious, like neither of you wanted to be the one to break it, to admit this was happening. But then your fingers curled into the nape of his neck, your breath warm against his, and Joel—god help him—tipped his head and deepened it.

His hand found your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek, holding you there, steadying you like he needed to, like he had to.

And for the first time in a long, long time,

Joel let himself have something good.

[bloodstainedsapphic]

marigold crush

gardener ellie!au. what you thought would kick off a petty neighborhood feud ends up turning into something a whole lot hotter than the summer sun above. the reason? it starts with ellie, the cute employee at the garden center—who knows a thing or two about getting her hands dirty. thank you to my @meganegatari for providing input and proofing as always <3

wc 3.1k minors dni - making out, dirty talk, fingering (r!receiving)

with summer rapidly creeping up, you set your sights on a new project—upgrading your gardening skills. it sounded simple enough at first. plant a few things, water them, watch them grow. oh, how wrong you were. you realized, much too late, how surprisingly demanding it all was. soil types, lawn maintenance, what plants thrived where, which ones were perennials, how to keep them alive with proper care like watering, pruning, and mulching. before long, you were making an embarrassing number of trips to the nearby garden center.

not that it had anything to do with the pretty employee who was always ready with a new tip just when you needed one.

miss ellie—as per her name tag—carried herself professionally, politely enough. always eager to explain answers, she sometimes skipped over beginners’ tricks, then circled back to catch you up. everything she suggested, though, ended up helping immensely. you liked that. she was sweet.

you told yourself it was a coincidence, how often your visits lined up with her shift. you weren’t memorizing her schedule—god, no. you just… noticed a pattern. for advice purposes. obviously. she had the best advice.

while the trial and error of gardening took up most of your time, another thorn lodged itself in your side—this one not literal. your newish neighbor had apparently taken up the same hobby, and, enragingly, their results far outshone yours. how was everything so lively? why were their perennials already blooming? their yard looked freshly trimmed and popping with color every single day. yours, a work in progress, wilted a little more every time you glanced at the progress next door. you couldn’t help but sulk from time to time. it was starting to feel personal.

a part of you really wanted to give your neighbor a piece of your mind. in your opinion, there was absolutely no way they weren’t doing this on purpose. ever since they moved in just under a year ago, it had been the same infuriating pattern—everything you did, they somehow managed to do ten times better. halloween decorations, holiday lights, even their progressive political flags had wittier slogans than yours. and the worst part? you’d never even seen them. not once. this silent gardening supremacy—that you weren’t even sure they knew was a competition—was the final straw. how they pulled it off while staying completely out of sight was beyond you.

granted, your competitive streak might’ve been clouding your better judgment, and you were, admittedly, acting a little unhinged—but you had to know their secret. you had to meet them, to understand the method behind the madness of their picture-perfect flower beds.

so, in a move wholly unlike you, you got up early one sunny morning and baked cookies. warm from the oven, stacked neatly in a sewing tin—just a friendly, xenial gesture. no ulterior motives. none at all.

you step out your front door, ready to march up their porch and put an end to the mystery once and for all—only to freeze in place.

imagine the shock when there, in the garden next door, kneeling in the dirt with gloved hands and a quiet hum under her breath, was the very same ginger woman who had been giving you advice all summer.

ellie.

suddenly, it felt really personal.

she must have witnessed you struggling in your yard at least a dozen times by now. the tips. the encouragement. her uncanny ability to know exactly what should go where. the conveniently timed suggestions that always hit just right. and not once had she mentioned she lived next door?

diabolical, honestly. ellie was gradually unfurling under the strain of the heat and her work, of course. her white tank top, drenched in sweat, clung to her like a second skin. she tugged at the fabric to fan herself off. her flushed, freckled skin glistened under the early morning rays, and her auburn hair was plastered to the back of her neck. your gaze shifted to her arms—tense, fit, and tattooed—then to her hands skillfully handling the tools.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you huffed, louder than intended, managing to reach her ears. 

ellie looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun. and then—she grinned. of course she grinned, like she hadn’t just upended your entire understanding of reality. like you weren’t standing there, tin of cookies in hand, suddenly feeling ridiculous, and very underprepared for whatever this was.

“well, hey there, neighbor.” she greets you far too warm, too chipper. 

you stared at her. “you live next door?”

“mm-hmm,” she said, standing up slowly to stretch out her legs and dusting her earth-covered hands off on her thighs. “for, like, ten months now. give or take.”

you glance down at the sewing box of cookies in your hand. despite ellie’s state—sweating, smudged with dirt—you hold it out for her.

“a welcome gift,” you offer. “just… ten months late. give or take.”

ellie breaths a laugh and takes the box, peeking inside, nodding in approval.

“damn. look at you. thanks,” she mutters, setting it down on a nearby plastic chair cluttered with gardening tools. your eyes flicker between your sad little yard and her perfectly maintained one.

“did… did you know? all this time? when i came in to ask questions?”

“yep,” ellie says, totally unfazed, hands settling on her hips. “it was kinda cute, watching you take my advice and, y’know… try it out.” she pauses, then adds to soften the blow, “i thought about coming over a few times. offering a hand. but you looked so determined, hacking away at weeds, replanting flowers i suggested, i didn’t want to interrupt...” she trailed off. 

you blinked, trying to recalibrate. “that’s okay, i just… wow.”

ellie notices your stupor and an idea comes to mind. “well. since you’re already here—i was about to head to the shed. wanna stick around? i could show you a few things. if you’re cool with that.” then, teasing, “no charge. this time. cookies count though.”

you find yourself trailing after her into the backyard—just as immaculate as the front—to a small shed tucked in the far corner of the lot. it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but inside, it’s packed chock-full with every gardening item you could imagine, from seed packets, terracotta pots, and shelves lined with tools. half of them, you didn’t even recognize, which only made the sting of your amateurity more potent. 

thankfully, ellie’s easygoing explanations help ease the mood. she’s showing off her tools, fertilizers, and offering tips, and you’re taken aback by seeing her in this new light. she was always cute, which is why you’d kept timing your visits to the garden center a little too well. but this? watching her work in the summer heat, flushed and confident, completely in her element—it ignited something new in you. here you were, ready to start a petty squabble with your new neighbor, but instead, your stomach was full of butterflies. ellie added a few well-loved, indiscernible tools to a bag, slung it over her freckled shoulder, and ushered you outside before closing the shed door behind her.

“alright, so. show me the damage,” she said, jerking her chin toward your yard.

“my what?” “your flower bed,” she called over her shoulder, already walking ahead. “gotta check if you actually listened to me.” before you can say anything, ellie’s already knee-deep in your garden, pulling up the weeds you missed and fixing the patches where your mulch is spread too thin. you’re not sure what hits harder—the embarrassment from the sheer number of mistakes she’s quietly correcting, or the way her initiative turns you on.

your role is mainly reduced to handing her tools and keeping her hydrated. water swiftly proves to be necessary as ellie worked diligently, showing off her mastery, the early morning sun rises to a brighter, more oppressive, sweltering heat. you try stepping in to help a few times, but the firm swats from ellie’s palm—quick, pointed, and slightly amused—make it clear she’s not about to let you much of the heavy lifting.

still, she doesn’t treat you like a helpless maiden. eventually, she has you kneeling beside her, guiding your hands, her calloused fingers splayed atop of your own, instructing you through the same techniques she’s spent the season explaining in passing. her voice is low, sure, and steady beside you, her skin warm where it brushes yours under the sun. 

she starts with the marigolds, helping you replant them first—their vibrant yellows and oranges thriving in this full-sun corner. from there, it’s onto the petunias, where she fusses over spacing, then the dusty miller and the salvia. her encouragement is doing the opposite of helping. you try to stay focused, to press the soil like she showed you, but your thoughts keep drifting to the feel of her hand on yours.

"no—don’t just pat it down like that, you need to press a little firmer with the trowel. yeah, like this." she shifts closer, her hand curling over yours, both of you bent low over the bed of marigolds. you can feel her breath at your temple, her voice gone a little quieter, more raspy now. "there you go. knew you had it in you."

her sheer determination shouldn’t affect you the way it does, but damn. the moment your thoughts start lingering on the idea of licking the brine off her neck, you know you desperately need to cool off—literally and figuratively. it only gets worse when her hand holds the small of your back for half a moment too long, steadying you as you dug further into the soil. the simple touch sent a shiver through you, making your pulse race. it wasn’t just the heat anymore. did she know what she was doing? there was no way ellie wasn’t this self-aware. given she had let you try and fail at this garden all summer, she was probably more aware of her actions than you could easily wrap your brain around.

the rest of the adjustments come together quickly after that, both of you worn out and damp with sweat, but working in sync. at long last, ellie straightens up with a groan, wiping her glossy brow, appraising your now vastly-improved flower bed with lazy pride. “muchhhh better,” her eyes glint with approval, tossing the trowel practically molded to her hand aside. then she stretches, slow and unbothered, muscled arms rising overhead until they’re drawn taut, her off-white tank lifting just enough to entice your most lewd thoughts into wanting to see more. then she runs a hand through her damp, disheveled auburnette hair, leaving it even more a mess. “may i ask the lady for a drink? and a chance to wash up a bit?” your yes is obvious. you leave your tools just as they are on the ground and motion for ellie to follow you inside. of course she needs a rest, probably dying of thirst—though you’re probably the thirstier one in that moment.

the space is filled with the sound of the rush of crisp water and the clink of glasses as you both scrub dirt off and pour drinks. ellie mutters a soft thanks, taking hers after drying her hands on a dish towel.

she looks hot here. out of place, certainly—sun-streaked and a perspiry mess in your nearly spotless kitchen. but it only makes you want the cute gardener turned hot nuisance of a neighbor-turned... whatever this is... even more.

you swallow your nerves, chasing them with another sip of water.

“you know, i always thought you were cute,” you tease, eyes flicking to hers. “ever since you helped me pick out my first supplies.” you reflect like you’re feeling nostalgic, though you’re definitely up to something.

“yeah?” ellie quirks a brow. she’s smart, knowing exactly what you’re doing. the cute, tentative girl from the garden shop was gone- this was someone confident in every move. her voice dips low, eyes narrowing with a flirtsome gleam. “you still think i’m just cute now?”

“well,” you murmur, voice low, a little shaky, trying to match her coy pitch, “i wouldn’t say just cute.”

she tilts her head, flashing a zealous, lopsided grin. “i’ve got a lot more i could show you. with my hands. can i?”

when she then takes a step closer—your heart seizes.

was this really happening? were you about to get fucked into next week by the cute gardener turned next-door neighbor? your mind races a million miles a minute, the whole scenario unraveling like a scene straight from fanfiction.

well, you were right! just like that, ellie closes the space between you, her hand sliding around your waist as she nudges you back against the cool, angular side of the kitchen island.

the marble presses against your lower back, forcing a half-giggle, half-stunned, shaky exhale from your lungs. you realize you’re probably not hiding the gleeful expression on your face as well as you thought, especially given the cheesy grin the hot dork returns.

her roughened hands trail along your jawline, the juxtaposition of her tough-feeling skin with the most gentle gesture makes you feel woozy. “you know,” she murmurs, voice low and almost amused, “i thought about you a lot. the clueless girl always showing up on my shift, asking the kinda questions you knew i’d love answering.”

your face warms, and ellie clicks her tongue, clearly satisfied. “and here's the thing. i didn’t mind. kinda liked knowing you’d come find me.” she pauses, smirking as a vexing fire ignites behind her eyes. then she adds, “figured you’d eventually need help with the yard. saw you out there, all hot and frustrated trying to figure it out on your own. guess i was right, huh?”

the reminiscent teasing is cut short when her lips connect with your own, tossing the last of your inhibitions aside and letting blind instinct take over. all nerves melt, and your mind goes blank as her teeth catch your bottom lip and tug. you grab at her waist, hands sliding up to her ribcage — one curling into a fistful of her auburn hair, the other slipping beneath her dirtied tank top to caress the warm skin at her side.

time ceases to matter. all you feel is her hands, fervid and searching, and her hot, wet mouth moving against yours — heaven. the soft, immodest moans she lets slip only pull you deeper in. ellie traces your lips with her tongue, coaxing them open, chasing breathless sounds from you. the kiss is messy, to say the least. your front teeth collide with hers, noses bumping, spit dribbling down both your chins— it was clear she wanted you just as much as you wanted her. the waiting paid off. 

but, you feel a pause, and then loss of contact.“fuck i—” ellie huffs. she's breathless, her voice scratchy with need. the voracity at which she pulls away, breaking the fragile strands of spit that webbed across your mouths— it concerns you. 

you open your mouth to inquire, but she cuts you off by grabbing your hips with her muscled hands, and fleetly turns you around so you're facing away from her, and are bent over the counter. its hard surface is chill to the touch- your only reprieve from the heat between you two. 

your mind practically short-circuits. even though she isn't too forceful, the motion still makes you yelp. you want this, no— you crave it, and ellie’s animalistic side takes over, leaning over you with her front pressed flush against your back, one hand perfecting the arch of your back and then finding purchase at your waist. she starts shamelessly sucking purpled marks into the side of your neck and rutting her pelvis against the swell of your ass. pushing your hair further to the side, she bites down on your skin and soothes with her tongue, the acts sending goosebumps all over you.

you were completely at her mercy, no thoughts occupying your head other than everything about her: her voice, her touch— you couldn't get enough.  “ellie,” you moan her name, and she damn near purrs into your ear. you brace yourself against the cool surface, clinging onto it for respite, grounding yourself to keep steady as your legs grow weak. 

her right hand is pawing all over you, stopping to fondle your clothed breast, then snaking down your stomach and into your pants. hooking your panties aside, ellie lets out an unholy sigh at how wet you already are. 

her greedy fingers graze your slit, then begin steadily circling your clit as you mewl. ellie groans like she can feel it herself. her voice breaks, but she mutters against the nape of your neck, “fuck, damn baby. all this f'me?”

you weren't going to last, all the build up was about to bubble over momentarily. but you had to try, because it was all too good to end so soon.

descending further, she pushes her two middle digits inside your eager, sopping hole, curling as she fucked into you, your body gradually rising like a crescendo to a dizzying peak. “come on, cum for me,” ellie encourages, her free hand reaching out and landing on top of yours to share in your pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. she soothes you with a placid squeeze, a silent reminder she's got you. the pressure in your lower abdomen builds, until one last thrust sends you spilling ecstasy all over her fingers. she helps you ride it out, lightly rubbing your twitching clit and mumbling praises all the while. as your body shudders, ellie’s rutting against your ass slows, mirroring your panting and humming some encouragement.

upon coming down from the buzz, you rest your forehead on the counter's surface, trembling whimpers leaving your fucked-out form. the fingers just inside you meet ellie’s lips, tasting you on her like you’re something ambrosial, already addicted to your essence. her hands then run over your form in calming passes as you fully return to reality. “you know…” after some comfortable silence she starts, voice smug, “this could’ve happened a lot sooner—if you’d just said something instead of memorizing my whole damn work schedule.”

“oh, shut up,” you manage, still catching your breath, but content nonetheless.

ellie grins, brushing her thumb along your cheek. “what? i mean it. you're sweeter than anything i’ve ever grown.”

[quarterlifekitty]

cooking was mentioned but I kind of wonder how the cod men would react to reader bringing them cookies/some sort of pastry they know they like. Ive also had the idea of price getting turned on watching reader knead bread dough stuck in my head for some reason.. or ghost coming home to the smell of freshly baked pie (or something similarly wholesome) with blood still caked under his nails.... wrapping those large hands around my waist while i'm making the crust.. ughhh..sorry just- housewife reader who bakes treats and takes care of and dotes on a big military man and gets fucked senseless in return is so stuck in my head.

So I’m going to use this opportunity to speak gratuitously about Ghost’s relationship to food. Others have spoken of it at length before, but hopefully I will be able to add something new!

So we all know that Ghost did not have a happy childhood. He did not grow up in a secure home. He did not grow up with means. He was not nurtured, nor was he nourished. He enlisted at the first opportunity, and I think he nearly cried from being able to eat three, full meals a day that weren’t even that bad.

The next section of his life is a bit better in regards to eating, but not great. He knows where his next meal is coming from, and he doesn’t have to worry about there being enough to eat. He’s a grown man with a paycheck, he can buy food if he likes. But we all know the cafeteria food and MREs are demoralizing. They’re edible, but nothing more than that.

The first time he has leave, has to stare at the walls of his own empty studio and live for himself with the means to go grocery shopping as much as he likes— he’s at a total loss. No one ever taught him what he should be eating. No one ever showed him how to wash mushrooms. How to cut against the grain of a cut of beef. How to separate an egg yolk from the white. How to reduce a sauce. How to make sure scrambled eggs don’t overcook by taking the pan off of the heat.

So he starts very small. Eats like a college student. Lots of microwave shit. Works up to cooking himself some eggs. Almost moans at how good they are when it’s freshly cooked, on toast, and there’s no eggshell in it, and no one is yelling at him while he eats, he doesn’t have to hurry and get moving— it’s a really beautiful feeling he’s never gotten.

And maybe he had a neighbor at this time. Some older woman who noticed that the apartment that sat dormant most of the year had an occupant. One that still looked like a kid. Wore fatigues. Clearly didn’t have a family to go home to, if he was hanging around here on his shore time.

So she starts feeding him. Giving him a portion of what she makes for her own family. Casserole, cakes, stroganoff— anything. And Ghost will never forget that. The unparalleled joy of being given food from someone’s own home. Something they made. Something good. The food always tastes better when it isn’t mass produced. It always tastes better fresh. And it always tastes better when it was made by someone who cares.

The trajectory of his life and career don’t afford him much time. He spends most of his leave time cooking. Experimenting with recipes and learning. But that’s still such a small minority of his life.

When you, the fresh face in the 141 start bringing in food regularly, Gaz jokes that you’re buttering them up— trying to get in their good graces. You’re warned that Ghost is a hard won man. The truth is that no one has really tried home made lemon bars on him before. And they work like a charm.

Maybe a year or two later, you’ve gone on leave for maternity. You’re moved in together. It’s his first deployment without you working at his side. His first time coming home, and actually having someone to come home to.

And the house is alive. He can smell the currant and blueberry pie in the oven. You’re playing music in the kitchen. The house is so warm. There’s an unfolded blanket on the couch. The couch has a spaghetti stain on one of the arm rests.

And you. In loose pants and an even looser shirt with your bump visible. There’s blood under his nails. He smells like sweat and hot old dirt. But here you are, making the perfect nest for him. Not minding when he lays his head on your shoulder, embracing you from behind while you idly check the sauce simmering on the stove.

So are you getting fucked tonight? Baby, you’re getting fucked while that pie is on the cooling rack. You are getting railed after dinner and then you’re getting railed after dessert. And then you’re getting pounded in the shower and then he’s taking you in your fucking bed. And if you weren’t pregnant before, you definitely would be now.

[the-brave-gang]

CHAT IVE DONE IT FINALLY I DREW THE GANG !!!

more info below + general headcanons for these guys

GingerBrave

He/him - 16

Gingerbrave yippie! i was not going to stay canon compliant with him guys im so sorry but like. i wanted to dress him up i think he looks cool here!

Sort of based off of his Shroomie design, with a few tweaks to make it my own

his candy cane is double action! Using it as a weapon when needed, but also as an actual cane! problem with jumping directly out of an oven without having time to cool down and then immediately running off means his legs are a little messed up, so he sometimes needs a little bit of support

very much NOT a fan of the witches, doesn't like to talk about them and has a bit of a fear of them - also has a fear of being eaten alive. i wonder why

He's the second oldest, only being a bit younger than Wizard cookie (by like, maybe a month or so)

He's the tallest out of the three, a bit taller than Strawberry cookie and waaay taller than Wizard Cookie

doesn't technically have any family, if anything the Witch who baked him would be the closest thing to a parent that he has, he pretends he's okay with this.

Only ever refers to ppl with their full name. For example, he'll never shorten names, and he never drops the 'cookie' part of names ( ex. He'll only call pv, pure vanilla cookie, and so on)

Strawberry Cookie

She/her - 13

my shayla.... MY SHAYLAAA i love her sm guys she might get more info bc i just love her sm

Youngest out of the three, only by a year but she's still more aware and cautious about most things.

she has family who live in the Hollyberry kingdom, and is actually the sister of Raspberry Cookie!

She's actually quite strong too, coming from house Raspberry and the kind of family she has means she did get in some training before she ended up leaving to adventure with GingerBrave and Wizard cookie

She has Very bad Anxiety and she has Autism, GingerBrave and Wizard cookie help her with both, Gingerbrave helps with her anxiety and helps her become more confident, while Wizard cookie helps her with the autism symptoms she experiences, both stand up for her when needed.

her design is also based off of her shroomie design, but with some tweaks because i wasn't fond of how her hoodie was done

her hair is actually kinda long! she usually wears it in a low bun/braid to keep it neat though

Wizard Cookie

He/him - 16

The oldest of the group, and the one who's stayed closest to canon because i actually really like how simple his design is.

Shortest of the group! he makes up for the height difference with his hat being as tall as it is. it doesn't work.

Is actually really skilled in magic, studied a lot more and waaay ahead of his grade in his spare time.

He often considers himself the smartest out of the three, but in reality he's only book smart. doesn't know survival skills to save his life.

Honestly relies on his magic a little too much sometimes and ends up super drained at the end of most days

even though he acts all tough and as mature as possible he still is a kid, he still gets as moody and emotional as your average teenager

[fae-cookie-run-madness]

Fluff Ancient x beast au (needs a name, help) Burningcheese rambles

More for this fluffy au, I still sort of need a name and will be taking suggestions. Until then enjoy the burningcheese.

Burning Spice x Golden Cheese

I think it was back when Golden Cheese was trying to find the best place to set up her kingdom, she stumbled across a powerful spice cookie by the name of Burning Spice who challenges Golden Cheese to a fight for stepping in his territory. However it takes a dark turn once the fight ends, where Golden cheese wins and promises to fulfill Burning Spice's wish if he will trade some land to her, however when he asks to be crumbled, Golden cheese realizes needs to do something. 

Golden cheese sits and talks to the man as he vents about his life and how boring it becomes. Golden Cheese offers to join her kingdom, not living as a king or a bringer of change but a normal cookie as once. Burning spice doesn’t agree at first but Golden cheese basically says she won’t unless he beats her a fight and he’ll never beat her if he doesn’t study how Golden cheese fights. So, burning spice reluctantly agrees and joins Golden cheese cookie.

Growing relationship:

Burning Spice joins Golden cheese as she finds her kingdom, they have their weekly spars and Burning Spice starts to feel alive again, not just from the fighting but sort of finding a purpose. He doesn’t realize his feelings for Golden cheese at first and when he does, he promises not to act on them (for fear the joy he has now will be taken away if rejected). Thankfully Golden cheese saw the writing on the wall and liked him back. They have been dating for a long time and have just not gone through the ceremony to be married. This might be due to the fact a lot of other kingdoms view spice cookies as beasts and he doesn’t want to ruin their relationship with the golden cheese kingdom (Golden cheese thinks this is a stupid reason but due to Burning spice’s pleads, she allows it, even if she just counting down the days she can scream she loves him from the roof). So, to everyone in their inner circle, they are married but to every new cookie he is just her bodyguard. To everyone who doesn't know him, he is Warming Spice cookie.

Children:

Adoptive children:

While Golden Cheese cookies see others as her treasures to be protected, Burning spice often sees these cookies as children, smaller and weaker and needing to be protected, with the running joke is he has adopted all the cookies in their kingdom.

Burning Spice is closest to Burnt Cheese and Smoked Cheese cookies as they are guards a lot like him and he can help train them. Mozzarella, he has a bit harder time relating too, since she mainly works with technology but he is happy to listen as she explains stuff. Fettuccine is the smallest, almost newly baked, leading to Burning spice being split because he wants to protect her but is also terrified of actually hurting her.

All the citizens of the Golden Cheese kingdom know about Burning Spice and their queen's relationship, so most understand why he is so protective of them. A few like to tease him for it while others (like Fettuccine) use this knowledge to get away with stuff like braiding flowers into his hair.

Bio Children:

Capsaicin:

Burning Spice wanted to have children of his own to provide to himself he can do something other than destroy. He neglected to tell Golden Cheese thinking she had a kingdom to run and wouldn’t want children, so he decided to make a kid solely from his dough alone. Of course, when Golden cheese finds out she smacks him with her spear and lectures him for like an hour on bottling up his feelings and wants. The two come to the agreement that they want kids and because the current one has all the dough he needs; Golden Cheese supplies the life power. Everything was going well until he was baked, and a reaction happened with his dough, becoming more spice and heat to the point he melts stuff. The two had to build special rooms for their son, named Capsaicin, so he doesn’t melt the floor or important stuff. Despite being a walking destroyer, Capsaicin is really happy, trying his best to be helpful. Currently he’s looking after the spice kingdom trying to get things settled so they can eventually join the Golden cheese kingdom.

Rich Cheese:

After Capsaicin, they decided they wanted more children. However Golden Cheese wanted to use her dough this time since Burning Spice used it last time. So Rich Cheese is made from Golden Cheese’s dough but Burning Spice life powder. She is baked and comes out a cheese cookie. A royal like her brother, she is slowly being trained to take over the Golden Cheese kingdom should anything ever happen, and she works closely with Capsaicin, looking forward to the day that the Cheese kingdom and the Spice kingdoms can be combined. Rich Cheese deals with a lot more fears and anxiety then her brother, it does not help that she inherited her father’s temper when angered. This isn’t helped by the fact every person in the kingdom knows she is Golden Cheese’s daughter, so most don’t treat her like a normal cookie. This results with her running away, just to find a place where she can be treated normally. 

They want more children however right now Golden Cheese and Burning Spice are too focused on finding their lost daughter.

Dark Flour War:

Unlike in Canon, because of Burning Spice and Capsaicin cookie, the Golden Cheese kingdom wasn’t completely destroyed. However, they still suffer heavy losses, Golden cheese was able to save their soul, using a digital world and her own soul jam to bring them back. But this still feels like a failure on Burning Spices part, causing him to be more protective of the kingdom (aka friends never allowed out of his sight) and a hunger for revenge against Dark Enchantress cookie for trying to take away the things he cares about. Golden Cheese sympathizes, sometimes she doesn’t know whether to talk him down or join him in the fight.

There you go, would love your thoughts or ideas!

[redvexillum]

Alastor baking you cookies because its your birthday and they come out tasting just like your grandmothers old recipe your family lost when she went missing. While you guys are eating them Rosie comes in and asks about them and he says he made this recipe when he was alive and stole a family cookbook from a victim he ate.

I was sleep deprived and totally misread your ask and added a lot of my own flair to this and ended up writing whatever this is. I almost followed your request to the tee - "almost" being the operative word. Basically I wrote smut. Don't ask me how. XOXO, RedVexi 💋

A/N: I am contemplating on a part two (plot heavy), but as it stands now, this is a one shot.

SUMMARY: Alastor, the love of your life with an insatiable need when it comes to your flesh.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, fluff if you really squint super hard, alastor is in hell for a reason, blood kink, implied cannibalism, established relationship, possessive/obsessive love, p in v, love at first bite

You never imagined meeting the love of your life in Hell. The mere thought would have your family doing somersaults in their graves – if they weren’t already in Hell or Heaven themselves. Yet here you were, surrounded by the strange beauty of the underworld.  

Fireflies, glowing like tiny flickering embers, danced around you, their soft light wrapping you and your love in a shimmering embrace. The marshy grass beneath you sank under your weight, while tall, gnarled trees bent over, casting a long shadow in the dim light. The distant chorus of croaking frogs and chirping crickets echoed the bayou you loved when you were alive.  

It filled you with warmth that the demon – the man – you fell for shared that sentiment. The earthy, musky scent in the air brought back memories of summers spent trekking to your grandmama’s cottage. But those sweet memories quickly turned bitter as you recalled the last moments you had with her.  

“Focus on me, my dear,” came the crackling, layered voice of Alastor. His eyes, glowing red like the fires of Hell, burned into you. The sharp points of his claws traced a slow, deliberate path from your hip up to your sides, before he stretched his arms out to clasp your wrists. He brought your hands to frame your face, his imposing form looming over you.  

Your eyes roamed over his features, taking in the twitch of his big, fluffy ears atop his head each time your breath hitched. His large, unblinking eyes tracked every tremor, every shudder that wracked your body. Whereas the most intimidating feature of him, his teeth – his sharp, dangerous teeth – glistened with saliva as he trapped you beneath him, bare and vulnerable.  

Lowering his head, his grip around your wrists tightened as his tongue laved against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He moaned in a depraved tone that would scandalize the ladies of your time. The sound he made was reminiscent of when he had a particularly delightful time eating a hunk of fresh Sinner’s meat in Cannibal Town.  

His hot tongue continued to suckle, as if trying to drink in the blood pumping quicker and quicker beneath the thin layer of your skin.  

Heat and pressure lanced through you, coursing down every nerve ending before igniting in your core. Your breath came out in louder gasps from each suck, urging Alastor to bring his hips closer to your aching centre until you couldn’t tell where you ended, and he began.  

“Mhm,” he hummed, “patience, darling,” he murmured, trailing kisses up your neck, leaving a cool trail along the edge of your chin before hovering close to your lips. “All good things must be savoured, love,” he grinned, as if the very word ‘love’ was the funniest joke he had ever heard in all layers of Hell.  

Stifling your whimper, you closed your eyes, trying to endure Alastor’s relentless teasing. Lovemaking with him was a torment of pleasure, his games designed to push you to the brink until your eyes watered from the unbearable barb of desire that prickled before sinking a thousand sharp claws into you.  

When you reached that pinnacle, sobbing for relief, Alastor’s red, intense eyes would nearly lose focus as he savoured your expression. He would then take you with a fervour as if it were his last act before his final breath.  

His love, if it could be described with one word, would be: voracious.  

His hands and body immobilized you, leaving you to writhe under the weight of his control and desires. He pressed the shaft of his hardened cock right up against the lips of your entrance. You almost cried, desperate to grind against him to relieve the pressure, the throbbing, the heat that built steadily inside you without any sign of granting you reprieve.  

A whimper escaped your lips, causing his ears to twitch, before he groaned against your sweat-slicked skin. His breath came in short bursts, his body trembling before he finally relented. Pressing, pressing, and pressing against your core, grinding and coating his cock with your essence.  

“Al-Alastor,” your voice, thin and wispy, barely made it past your throat, “p-please?” Your pleas didn’t fall on deaf ears. Alastor’s muscles seized, and he drew back, the grin on his face slowly splitting past his cheeks.  

“Please, what?” his lips curled with wicked delight as his eyes danced with amusement.  

Despite being with him for over half a century and sharing your body in an act of union for hundreds of nights and mornings, you could still feel the heat blistering your cheeks.  

Trembling, you fought against his grip around your wrists, but he pressed your arms down, letting the soft, marshy grass embrace your form. You wanted to embrace him, feel the warmth of his chest against yours, feel the thrum of his heartbeat pounding as he continued to ravage you.  

“Most improper, a lady must not act like some wanton whore in front of an unmarried man,” your grandmama’s voice echoed in your ears. Yet, despite both you and he being unmarried and sinning in front of the Lord by indulging in each other’s flesh, this was Hell. Here, propriety didn’t matter. Here, you could be true to your desires.  

“Please,” tears of uncontrolled shame pricked your eyes, “I want you, love.” Unlike the way Alastor said ‘love,’ your tongue wrapped around the word, caressing the sound as you infused it with every drop of your feelings that resided within your heart.  

You wondered if Alastor knew how much you meant to him. How much you truly loved him despite both being damned as cursed creatures.

Alastor shuddered an exhalation before his lips touched yours, sinking into your embrace. He melded with you, stretching you to make his presence known.  

A sharp yelp ripped away from your throat as Alastor increased his pace, his hips slapping against your core. The wet, sodden mud squelched beneath you, mingling perfectly with the sound of your bodies coming together over and over again.  

His hardened cock bruised the inside of you, each thrust making your body shudder. His forehead drifted lower to rest against your shoulder, the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin. His claws freed your wrists, now grasping your hips with a possessive intensity.

In and out. You moaned as your fingers found purchase on the back of his head, clutching his hair tightly. In and out. His cock slide with ease through your dripping arousal, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your core.

The sound of the artificial bayou melted away, replaced by the sounds of your keening and lovemaking. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire. Legs wrapping around his waist, you sobbed as his cock penetrated you, going deeper and deeper with each powerful stroke.

You were so close, the tension coiling tightly within you, and Alastor knew it. He growled like a feral animal, his grip tattooing your skin with the shape of his fingers. He doubled down, fucking you into the ground with relentless fury. His movements were uncontrolled, each thrust a testament to his desire, as he drove you toward the edge.

Your voice, broken in staccato, climbed higher and higher, your peak approaching at dizzying speed. With one particularly hard slam of his hips, your breath was knocked out of you. Head spinning with vertigo, your eyes rolled back as your spine arched upward as if a current of electricity shot through you.  

Your walls fluttered against the molten heat of his cock, clenching tightly around him, beckoning him to join you in release.  

Raising his head, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. Warm breath tickled the sensitive nerve as he spoke, his words mingling with his breath. “How sweet your voice is, darling,” he murmured, grinding the front of his hips against your swollen, wet centre.  

“Al - t-too mu-mu-ah!” you managed to choke out before he jerked his hips, kissing the deepest part of you with the head of his cock.  

“Let me taste you, my sweetheart,” he groaned, his tongue licking the same spot he always gravitated towards. “I want to hear you scream my name.” 

If there was one thing that was peculiar with Alastor, it was that he could never finish unless he bit you, hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to drink your life’s vitality.

Soft moans filtered through your lips as you lolled your head to the side, like prey on its back, open and submissive. Your neck bared for him to bite you however he pleased. Still, the tremor continued to infect your nerves. No matter how many times he had done this, you couldn’t stop the quiet whimper from escaping as you fidgeted under him. 

“Shh,” he soothed quietly, his cock buried deep within you. “You know you love it when I make you feel this way. Just give into me, darling,” his tone pitched high as he tried to smother away his chuckles. “Let me hear you beg for it,” his words laced with a dark, sinister tone.  

His breath ghosted over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The sensation was a blend of ice and fire, each touch shooting liquid heat through your veins. You could feel every inch of him inside you, the deliberate, slow pace driving you to the brink of madness despite finishing first. Your body responded to his every move, arching into him, craving more.

Always, craving more.  

When his teeth finally sank into your flesh, the pain seared through you. But immediately after, it was followed by a wave of euphoria, a release so intense it squeezed the breath out from you. The contrasting sensations of pain and pleasure intertwined, and you responded by clenching around him tightly.  

Alastor’s grip punctured your skin, his hips moving with a renewed urgency. His growls of satisfaction reverberated through your body, a primal sound that echoed in your ears. You could feel the pull of his lips, the suction as he drew your blood, mingling with the heavy thump of your heartbeat pounding in your head.  

Your lips traced over the letter of his name over and over again. The thick scent of metal blended perfectly with the earthy scent of the bayou.  

Dizzying.

Intoxicating.

Addicting.

“My dear,” he moaned into your skin, “give me more,” his voice a long, drawn-out purr as his pace slowed. A loud exhalation accompanied the throbbing of his cock inside you. He poured into you, filling you to the brim while continuing to suck and consume your essence. 

As his hips slowed to a stop, he stayed buried within you, his tongue meticulously licking you clean of any crimson liquid that escaped your wound. Your eyes fluttered shut, your body going limp as you surrendered to Alastor’s ministrations, letting him savour the moment for as long as he desired.  

His lips remained affixed to your neck, drawing out every last drop, until his cock finally softened and slipped out of you.  

He slowly drew himself up, and you could see the faint stain of your blood shading his teeth as he grinned. Leaning his forehead against yours, he said, “Sweetheart,” in a southern drawl that reminded you of the people from your hometown from bygones past.  

A worm that continued to fester and grow inside you, feasting on your brain matter, squirmed its way through your thoughts. His tone was so familiar, like you’d heard it before, but the memory was shrouded by static, a white noise that covered what your mind was trying to recall.  

When his claws reached your cheek, you knew he was waiting to hear the words you always whispered after every intimate moment you shared.  

“I love you,” you said softly against his lips. He hummed in approval. He never said those words back, but you knew that men were taught to be stoic, as you had seen countless times while growing up.  

He chuckled lightly as he returned your kiss, the saltiness of your blood mingling with the taste of his tongue as it plunged into your mouth. He licked and massaged the sensitive walls inside you, each stroke sending a pleasant tingle down your spine. You felt a small twitch of his cock resting against your cum-soaked inner thighs. 

As he pulled away, his eyes softened, the fierce red glow dimming into a warm ember. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice taking on a rare tender tone. “I have a surprise for you.” 

A well of emotions burst from your heart, flooding you with warmth and gratitude. You showered him with kisses, your lips trailing over his own and across his cheeks. Each kiss was proof of your love, a silent thank you for remembering and cherishing your special day. Despite the passage of countless years, he had never once forgotten your birthday.  

He closed his eyes, his grin softening around the edge as he basked in your adoration. His hands stroked your side, soothing and comforting. The weight of his affection wrapped around you like a toasty warm blanket.  

At that moment, you felt completely and utterly cherished, every fibre of your being attuned to the demon who held your heart in his clawed hands.  

You sat on the chair, your nerves buzzing with excitement as Alastor sat across from you. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table and resting his chin against his hands. His grin widened, eyes squinting with a mischievous glint. Rolling his head slightly to the left, his right hand snapped his fingers. A plate of cookies appeared before you.  

You blinked once, then twice, in sheer disbelief. Alastor had cooked for you before, but as he wasn’t a fan of sweets, he had never once attempted to bake anything for you. The sight of the cookies made your cheeks flush with warmth, and giddy delight filled your heart.  

“Thank you, Al,” you beamed, your smile bright and sincere. You reached for the first cookie on the plate, noticing how it was baked to perfection. You giggled lightly as you weren’t surprised as Alastor did everything perfectly. There was nothing he couldn’t do.  

The rich smell of butter hit your nose first, and you muffled a squeal of delight as you recognized the familiar scents of nutmeg and cinnamon.  

You took the first bite, and your eyes widened. The crunch was perfect, and the taste of times long passed flooded your senses. Tears welled up as you slowly looked at the cookie now bearing your bite mark.  

It tasted like home.  

Gritting your teeth, you swallowed the bite along with your unshed tears.  

You took another bite. 

Memories surged forward – your grandmama stroking your head as you munched on her cookies. The memory was so vivid, you could almost feel her gentle touch.  

Another bite.  

The memory of her warm smile greeting you at the door, the comforting smell of cinnamon filling her cozy cottage.  

One final bite.  

The image of her packing cookies into your wicker basket to share with your family, knowing full well you would finish the rest as you walked through the bayou.  

Despite the intense desire to sob your eyes out, you chose to laugh instead, wanting to celebrate this moment with happiness and gratitude. You stared at Alastor, your heart swelling with so much love for the man who let you experience your most treasured memories with stark clarity. “Al, thank –” 

Your voice was cut off by a knock on Alastor’s door. It swung open to reveal one of Alastor’s very good friends, Rosie.

“Alastor!” Rosie exclaimed as she strolled in, her dainty fingers covering a giggle. “Oh, you’re with your sweetheart,” she said, her depthless eyes curved with amusement and her sharp white teeth glinted from the dim light. “I won’t take up too much of your time.” 

“Oh, nonsense, Rosie,” Alastor waved his hand, summoning a shadow tendril to drag your chair so you would be sitting right next to him. “Do stay for a chat! It is my sweetheart's birthday, after all! It’ll be a party!” He stretched his arms out theatrically, the room seeming to pulse with his infectious energy, making you laugh from his cute gesture. 

“Is it now?” Rosie’s face lit up with delight. “Happy birthday, sweetie.” 

You smiled brightly in response thanking her as Alastor snapped his fingers and another chair materialized by the table.

Rosie gracefully took a seat across from Alastor, looking down at the plate of cookies and tilting her head, confused. “Didn’t think you would change your taste for sweets now!” she remarked, leaning closer to inspect the cookies.  

Alastor’s hand naturally rested against the top of your thigh, his claws lightly grazing the sensitive skin. Though hidden beneath the table, his touch sent a wave of embarrassment blanketing your body, but you did nothing to push him away. His touch was a peculiar comfort, a reminder of his constant presence in your life.  

“Oh ho!” He laughed, his voice rich and resonant. “This is a gift for my sweetheart, and I daresay, it’s a hit!” 

Distracting yourself from Alastor’s claws slowly drifting closer and closer to your inner thighs, you nodded emphatically. “It’s really delicious!” You glanced over at Alastor, your eyes shining with genuine appreciation. “It’s probably the tastiest cookies I’ve eaten since coming down here!” 

“Oh, you lovebirds,” Rosie giggled as she teased lightly. She picked up a cookie, inspecting it with a curious tilt of her head. “Did you add some special meat into this?” she asked with a dark, mischievous smile.  

Your shoulders jolted up, a chill running down your spine as you looked at the plate of cookies. Alastor knew how you felt about eating other Sinners. He had reassured you time and time again that he wouldn’t push you to indulge in such a macabre practice.  

Alastor laughed boisterously, his hand still smoothing against the top of your thigh. “Oh, heavens no!” he exclaimed. You felt a wave of relief settle within you. “The recipe was from an elderly woman I’ve met in the bayou back when I was alive.” He snickered darkly, his hand climbing up closer to the apex of your thighs. “I wasn’t a fan of her taste, if you know what I mean.”  He waggled his brows, making it clear of the true meaning behind his words.

Rosie tittered in response and you... 

You froze.  

His words slowly sank into the depth of your mind. Your brows knitted together, the warmth that had previously suffused your chest turning icy. Dropping your hands, you grasped Alastor’s hand that was on you, a plea for stability, a plea that you heard wrong.  

“She had a cookbook, I believe it was called...” Alastor hummed, tapping his lips as his eyes rolled upward, trying to retrieve the lost information.  

“Cooking in the Bayou,” you whispered, the words slipping out involuntarily. It was a book your grandmama cherished, filled with recipes passed down from generation to generation. 

The sharp snap of his fingers shattered the frigid air, his smile morphing into a sinister grin before your very eyes. “That’s right!” he confirmed; his voice filled with eerie delight.  

He didn't ask how you knew the name of the cookbook.

The rest of Alastor’s and Rosie’s conversation drowned in your ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Alastor. Your gaze fixated on the plate of cookies as your stomach churned with nausea.  

His hand, heavy on your thigh, continued its ministrations, gentle strokes as he laughed and talked with Rosie.  

You were on autopilot, politely nodding and smiling, pretending to hear the words that came out of their lips. Yet, your mind buzzed with the same white noise that had plagued you for years, ever since you first heard Alastor’s southern drawl peeking out from beneath his radio-static filter.  

The static grew louder and louder, engulfing your thoughts until you felt as if you were entering a void. And then, as if tearing through the very fabric of your reality, the words that had been lurking in the shadows of your mind finally broke free. 

The pupae of truth that had writhed within your consciousness finally transformed, bursting through its thin membrane. Clarity washed over you, harsh and undeniable.  

Every fond memory, every tender moment, every laugh shared with him now felt like a cruel joke.  

Rosie’s laughter echoed hollowly in your ears, a distant and mocking sound. Alastor’s touch now felt like a brand, burning into your skin. The room seemed to spin around you, the walls closing in as the weight of the truth threatened to crush you.  

Alastor’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he continued his conversation, oblivious to the turmoil that was shredding apart your sanity. He turned his head to face you when he noticed you now openly staring at him. He smiled at you, his grip on your thigh tightening.  

Alastor was the man who had killed and eaten your grandmama. 

Alastor was the man who had killed you.  

🔹️ Join my Taglist 🔹️ Alastor x Reader Masterlist 🔹️

☎️ Calling all Vexi's Fawners ☎️

@todash-darkness @im-so-tired52 @eris-norwega @pentergeist @sirens-and-moonflowers @l3rittany @alastor-simp @yui-onnero @florist-of-the-valley @ustulia @briethekitsune @mistressnya @nyx91 @xalygatorx

[peach-top]

❝𝙑𝙄𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉❞

➤ ACT O. | FINAL

➤ FAREWELL DARK CACAO KINGDOM

“Ah? A letter from Dark Cacao Cookie?” the pure blonde questioned as the blue bird arrived with a letter.

The pure blonde gently grabs the letter and reads it. He perked up.

“....Who's…Dark Cacao Cookie…?”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“Your majesty, you have a letter from the Dark Cacao Kingdom.” Smoked Cheese Cookie announced while holding a letter.

“Oh? That's rich coming from someone who's always so grumpy!” Golden Cheese Cookie chuckled. “Read it for me!”

Smoked Cheese Cookie huffed then read the letter out loud. While through the letter, the general was interested, but also unsavory by the idea about the wanderer. Golden Cheese Cookie was interested upon hearing what's going on at the Dark Cacao Kingdom.

“Oh? A wanderer who ends the madness of those beasts that attacked the kingdom? Most of all, since when did that gloomy king become so soft?” Golden Cheese Cookie questioned. She then murmured, “...Hm…Should I trust him into my kingdom…?”

Smoked Cheese Cookie overheard her words, “A wanderer…there's something about him…”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“Oh-ho! A letter from my dear friend! I didn't know he missed me that much!” unnamed huntress laughed.

The unnamed huntress opened the letter. The female read through the letter from top to bottom and she couldn't help but burst out laughing upon reading it, “HAHAHAHAHA! It looks like Dark Cacao Cookie grew soft for this wanderer! I would like to see him for myself!”

“But unfortunately…I'm not in the kingdom at the time being…”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“Elder Faerie Cookie, it's a letter from the Dark Cacao Kingdom.” Silverbell Cookie called out to the guardian. “It was given to White Lily Cookie, but— Would you like to read it?”

“...?” Elder Faerie Cookie was going to hesitate but took the letter anyway. The elder faerie opened the letter and read them. His eyes widened with interest. The wanderer known as [Y] is someone that Millennial Tree has mentioned to him.

“Impossible…You mean…?” Elder Faerie Cookie gasped. Millennial Tree nodded, “I was surprised that it worked. I was able to give him the life stone to keep him alive.”

“But why? What if he remembers it all and destroy—”

“No worry, Elder Faerie Cookie. He won't be able to return back to the past. Besides…he’s the one who ended himself.” The spirit of the forest stated. The faerie’s eyes widened, “You mean to tell me that the lord ended himself? But why?!?”

“That's just a theory. I theorized that something inside him wished to end it all. He…was just a different cookie before being corrupted…” Millennial Tree frowned.

“...How did you know about that?” Elder Faerie raised his eyebrows. “Not many cookies knew how he was made nor knew if he was a different cookie. You weren't made when he was baked.”

Millennial Tree sighed, nervously fiddling his fingers, “...Will you believe me if I say that I've seen the one who created him was in my dream?”

“...!” Elder Faerie was taken back by this. He knows Millennial Tree wouldn't lie which is impossible not to believe him. “...Can't say that I don't…”

“The creator is someone I'm worrying about. They sometimes appear in my dreams, threatening me to hand him to them.” Millennial Tree furrowed his eyebrows. “But I will not allow that even if it risks my life. [Y] must live on with his new life as someone new. I cannot let him feel guilty of those sins he caused. He has the right to be happy and a second chance at life. Just trust me on this, Elder Faerie Cookie.”

“...If I were to meet this [Y], I'll see what he's capable of…” Elder Faerie sighed.

“This is him. The one who Millennial Tree Cookie was talking about…” Elder Faerie thought. He then turned to Silverbell Cookie, “Silverbell Cookie, here's someone I would like for you to trust once they arrive in the kingdom.”

“Huh?”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The next day, it's time for [Y] to leave. Most of the people really don't want him to leave because they admire him a lot. They give him gifts and souvenirs to show their gratitude.

“It's a shame to see you go, Sir [Y]...” One of the warriors frowned.

“Yeah. Without your help, we would've been done for…” another warrior said.

“I don't want to go either, but there's still more places to explore. I would like to know more about the outside world.” [Y] smiled. “Don't worry, I will return if you ever need my help. Just send me a letter. I have animal friends who can help you send the letters.”

“We won't forget your heroic act in saving the kingdom. We will honor you.” Caramel Arrow Cookie genuinely smiles at the taller male.

“Thanks, Caramel Arrow Cookie. I'm sure you're even more heroic than I am. It's a great choice to have you as the first watcher.”

“Remember, I've given you one of my specialties. The smell will follow wherever you go so you can think of me.” Affogato Cookie chuckled. The first watcher huffed, “Hope you're not poisoning him.”

“Why would I poison such a pure soul?” The priest glared at the female. “I'm only giving him something as a gift. I adore him after all.”

“Thank you, Affogato Cookie. I won't forget you or that ice cream coffee. It's one of the best ones I've ever tasted.” [Y] beamed.

“...!” Affogato Cookie blushed then looked away while fiddling with his staff, “A…ah. Don't worry, when you return, I'll make you more. I've left you a recipe in case you need it!”

“I'll be sure to remember.” The taller male nodded.

Crunchy Chip Cookie pushed Affogato Cookie aside, “Hey! We haven't finished our training yet! You promise that you'll teach me how to communicate with dragons!”

“Oh, right. We can continue when I return. Licorice Dragon would like to communicate with you while I'm gone. You'll be able to understand.” [Y] said then handed the short male a handmade whistle. “Since she's an ally, you just have to blow the whistle if you need anything. I entrust you to take care of her and her babies.”

Crunchy Chip Cookie saluted, “I vowed to protect the Licorice Dragons and the kingdom! If anything happens to them, I won't forgive anyone who harms them!”

“That the beast tamer for you.” [Y] chuckled, patting the male on the head, much to his please.

Dark Cacao cleared his throat to grab [Y]’s attention, “We thank you for protecting our kingdom, [Y]. We'll be looking forward to your next visit.”

“My pleasure. It was nice to be here. I was able to learn so much about this kingdom and meet new people. Thank you for having me here.” [Y] grinned.

Dark Cacao was a little taken back, but softly smiled, “I'm glad we were able to give you fond memories. You are free to enter the kingdom even if it's set. There's no need to wait for anyone to open the gate. They just open it for you.”

“I will remember. Thank you.”

“...” Dark Cacao Cookie wanted to give him one last gift, but he's not sure if he was prepared for it. However, he can't let [Y] leave with a gift from him. He remembers what he told himself:

ACTION SPEAKS LOUDER THAN WORDS.

“Well…bye. See you all again.” [Y] waved. The others excluding the ruler wave back to him as he is about to leave. Before he could leave, Dark Cacao grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him in a kiss, shocking everyone around him.

“M-my liege?!” the second watcher gawked.

The raven haired ruler pulled away and left without a word, leaving everyone flabbergasted. [Y] was more confused than shocked. He has seen his animal friends with their nose nuzzles together, but people who are his kind do mouth-to-mouth. So…that was his first kiss.

“Is that a normal way to say goodbye?” [Y] asked innocently. The denizens look at the male with concern.

“Pure soul doesn't know what a “kiss” is…”

“Ah…No, [Y]. It's—” Caramel Arrow Cookie leaned over and whispered in the taller male’s ear.

“Oh. Then is it ok to kiss you guys, I like you guys a lot.” [Y] asked.

The denizens were flustered by the fact that the wanderer admitted that he likes them, but the kissing is out of the question.

“N-no need.. “ Caramel Arrow Cookie sweatdropped. “I don't know if I could explain any further. How's his majesty doing?”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Dark Cacao Cookie was burning up. Kissing the wanderer then walking away, he must've thought the ruler is weird. A knock on his door was heard, “Come in.”

“My liege.” Caramel Arrow Cookie peek into the room. Dark Cacao Cookie sighed, “Did he leave?”

“Yes, he did.”

“...He didn't look disgusted, did he?”

“Well…more like clueless. He seems to like it, but he was bewildered on how it works.” The first watcher scratches the back of her head with a nervous smile on her face.

The raven haired ruler was astounded, but he found it amusing, causing him to chuckle softly upon realizing how daring the wanderer can be.

“Hahahaha…I see. Good to know.” Dark Cacao Cookie smiled fondly.

“His majesty has acted differently since the wanderer arrived. Seeing him smile for the first time is like a blessing. I hope nothing takes away that smile.” Caramel Arrow Cookie chuckled quietly.

╭ ⁞ ❏. facts

┊ ⁞ ❏. there are so many things [y] still need to learn

┊ ⁞ ❏. dark choco cookie, here we come!

┊ ⁞ ❏. fire spirit once trying to get [y] to swear, but failed when wind archer find out

┊ ⁞ ❏. [y] may or may not have connection to the beast cookies

➤ chapter vi

➤ act i. | non-existent friend.

[sunseed-fandump]

Gingerbrave & Friends Headcanons I Spin Around in my Head like a Microwave

Strawberry Cookie always wears her hair in a braid that's tucked in her hood. Her hair is really long (the idea of scissors being near her head makes her anxious).

Wizard Cookie used to braid her hair for her every day and he eventually taught her how to do it herself. He will still braid it for her if she asks.

Gingerbrave and Wizard Cookie are the only ones who have seen Strawberry Cookie with her hood down.

Custard Cookie III likes to call Chili Pepper Cookie his "Bodyguard". His friends are usually called his "subjects" so he essentially promoted her by giving her a special title. (He thinks she's really cool.)

He also calls Strawberry a "Knight", Wizard the "Court Magician", and Gingerbrave his "Advisor". Everyone has just kind of gotten used to these nicknames.

If Custard Cookie III doesn't like someone, he will call them by their full name. It SOUNDS polite enough, but if he doesn't consider someone to be one of his subjects, that means he doesn't want them in his kingdom. And by extension he doesn't want to hang out with them.

Custard Cookie III likes riding on people's shoulders. He likes to feel tall.

Wizard also likes being tall, but he thinks being picked up is embarrassing, so he sticks to levitation spells.

Since Gingerbrave, Strawberry Cookie, and Wizard Cookie were baked by a Witch, they're actually a lot stronger than normal Cookie children. Strawberry's unnatural strength, Wizard's magical skills, and Gingerbrave's unwavering courage are proof of this.

As adults, the three of them are going to be VERY formidable because of this.

Chili Pepper Cookie runs warmer than most cookies. The children take advantage of this. She has been trapped under many a cuddle pile. (She thinks its sweet. But she has a reputation to uphold, so she puts on a fake pout.)

Wizard has been tutoring Custard Cookie III when they both have free time.

Chili Pepper cried (in private) when one of the kids gave her a gift for the first time.

Strawberry Cookie, Gingerbrave, and Wizard Cookie aren't exactly sure when their birthdays are. (Escaping took priority over keeping track of exact dates.) So they picked the day they escaped from the Witch as their collective birthday.

Custard's father is alive, but in hiding. He has been keeping track of events from the shadows. He misses his son, but glad that he at least has reliable friends taking care of him.

Chili Pepper Cookie can curse in multiple languages.

Gingerbrave would actually be a really skilled swordsman. He's just really attached to his candy cane.

[halfd3af]

Hey, do you think the woman who was traumatized as a child by a cult and severed from her mother before she was ready—who later created many ‘metaphorical’ children by proxy of the severance procedure, that she takes active part in molding in the same traumatic ways as her aunt and academy-life did—had a realization (temporary, conditional, or otherwise) after she’s fired about how wrong all of this is, shown through a massive emotional breakdown where she destroys part of her home in a child-like rage?

She tells one of her “children” to “do it”, to “get away from them”, when he says he’s considering quitting his severed job?

Though, she utilizes the “misbehavior” of her children the innies as a way to get back in favor with the cult, because without Lumon she has NOTHING else as her purpose.

Additionally, to extend the ‘innies as children’ metaphor further, maybe it’s as if she lost her role as a very authoritarian mother? Baking cookies for her son’s outie? Checking in on him stealing his belongings at home? Being a lactation consultant for Devon?

With all the Greek symbolism and allegory, is she Jocasta, the mother of Oedipus, given Milchick’s explanation of her firing being her desire for ‘a throuple’ and the instances of overly euphemistic/flirtatious behavior with Mark? (Who didn’t know his boss was his neighbor, that reveal?)

Also, is she someone who could be potentially compared with Gemma—both wanting to be a mom, but being unable to (infertility) or restricted from it (focusing on her work with Lumon) in some way?

There is A LOT of motherhood, or parental, themes in the show.

Harmony’s mother dying and being raised by Lumon + her aunt

The man in the suit bottle feeding goats + Mammalians Nurturable—insert animal husbandry / slaughterhouse / child labor themes here

Devon giving birth to her daughter Eleanor

Gemma struggling to conceive, and seemingly choosing to move on, but there’s the theories that Lumon offered her a process to conceive children that ultimately led to her imprisonment

Gabriela, whose innie bears the experience of childbirth for her

Devon and Mark’s parents only being mentioned in passing during season 1, presumably no longer alive

Irving’s father appearing to have been in the US Navy, insert themes of being in a military family and being coerced/groomed into enlisting as well due to the (American) culture often surrounding it

Dylan and Gretchen’s three children, him taking on parental/domestic duties while his wife works third shifts as an EMT dispatcher

Helena’s relationship with her father and overall Eagen family

Ms Huang seemingly coming from the same academy as Harmony, which invokes ideas about the cycle of grooming/abuse continuing through a new child’s indoctrination into Lumon

Regardless, I am very curious to see where Harmony’s character goes next…

[allimili]

Hopefully your ok with lore… cause I have a ton with this sweet motherly Cookie and her adopted daughter.

The mother is Cinnabun Cookie a sweet and caring baker who one day found a lost little dough baby in the woods near her bakery. She decided to raise her as one of her own alongside her creations, the Cinnabunbuns, who she called her children.

She treated Candy Melt Cookie as her own daughter, and Candy Melt Cookie fully saw her as her mother.

However… the Cookies in Cinnabun’s village were very sceptic and superstitious. So when they heard that Cinnabun, a beloved baker to all sudden brought in a child with monstrous features, didn’t take to kindly to that.

Soon enough Cookies in the village decided that if Cinnabun was going to raise that THING as her child then she should owe them something in return.

They began to steal from her bakery or throw insults at her whenever she was in the marketplace shopping for ingredients. of course the shop owners themselves were kind to Cinnabun, them being from different places and traveling around got them accustomed to all kinds of cookies.

The shop owners even stood up for her here and there when they could but unfortunately it continued. As time went on it only got worse. To the point where they were now targeting the Candy Melt herself. Teaching the little cookies around her age to stay away.

Cinnabun had a lot of patience for these cookies, but you can only push someone so far before they crumble, and it happened to Cinnabun.

Some Adult cookie thought it would be “funny” if the little cookies played Monster and Knights with Candy melt cookie, where the children, doing as they were told began to throw stones at the poor cookie.

Cinnabun overheard crying and laughing outside her bakery and decided to go an see what was the commotion, but when she saw the adult Cookie telling the children to get rid of the “Monster” while pointing at HER daughter?

oh she was FURIOUS, her JAM BOILED. But you wouldn’t have noticed it at a first glance due to her very good poker face smile she had learned to do with dealing with other cookies making rude remarks or insults towards her.

She shooed off the little cookies after scolding them for doing such things to another cookie their age, and she saw as the Cookie had a smug look on his face.

She payed him no mind and picked up her daughter carefully, and brought her back to the bakery where she can patch up the bruises from the stones.

Don’t worry though! That adult cookie isn’t getting away with it. She will make sure of that.

later that very day, the adult cookie was invited by Cinnabun herself to her bakery at night after tucking in her children to bed.

She was going to try One. Last. Time. She asked the Cookie to apologize for his actions towards her daughter.

You wanna know what he did? He smirked and then laughed in her face about how he would never apologize to a monster, he was only teaching the little cookies when to know a monster when they see one-

Cinnabun finally snapped, and that’s when she remembered her oven was open and he was right in front of it…. He didn’t even notice her stepping closer before he felt himself being pushed and it was already too late.

She pushed him into the oven and closed the doors locking it and stopping him from escaping.

Burning the cookie alive as they cried out for anyone to save him. But all she did was give her SWEET SMILE as she peered through the cracks of the ovens’ doors.

once the screaming had died down her children had came downstairs to see what was happening, but they were stopped when they smelled a delicious aroma, immediately knowing that their Mother baked something!

Eagerly dashing towards her only to see the very cookie who had told the little cookies to bully and hurt Candy Melt all cut up and their dough being mixed into some batter.

When candy melt cookie asked her mother what she was doing, Cinnabun would never lie to her kids and told them everything that happened. Instead of her children fearing her, they loved her even more, that she would go this far to protect them.

In return they joined their mother in the little feast that she had prepared for themselves from the cookie’s body. They savored every last bit of it.

. . .

now onto some Fun Stuff!!

little fact about Candy Melt cookie is that, while she is an absolute sweetheart of a child, she is a gremlin, a very hyper active one at that, who also has a HUGE sweet tooth.

(Candy Melt cookie would totally try and take a bite out of Candy Apple Cookie’s Apple Pigtails((?))

but yeah… Cookies that eat other Cookies 👍

hope you enjoyed my long ramblings! (Btw! Your art is sooo pretty!)

What a loving family !!! I sure hope nothing happens to them.

[cookie-lore-keeper]

Hello Half-Moon Cookie. I am While Lily Cookie. Your research is very interesting to me, it's quite refreshing to see such a vast accumulation of knowledge from a more unbiased perspective. If I may, could I request a profile?

Regardless, do keep up the good work. Your studies are very beneficial for those of us who wish to understand Cookiekind better. Thank you for your time.

Oh my goodness! Hello there, White Lily Cookie! I'm so glad to be speaking to you! I've always loved cookies who yearn for knowledge <3

Cookie Profiles: White Lily Cookie

Full Name/True Name: White Lily Cookie

Species: Cookie

Ethnicity: Millenial Cookie (baked by the witches using ingredients from the Millenial Forest)

Element: None

Ingredients: Organic white sugar, Butter, Flour, Strawberry jam, Life powder, Pale white lily blessed by moonlight, Dewdrops, Fuschia eyecing

Born: Millenial Forest

Lives: Faerie Kingdom

Age: 2,000+

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthday: November 20

Family: Clover Cookie (oldest son), Lilybell Cookie (oldest daughter), Ponsietta Cookie (youngest daughter), (//ALL HEADCANONS!!!), Matcha Cookie (Dark Enchantress's daughter)

Alignment: Lawful Good

Status: Half alive, half dead

//like always, this is canon mixed with headcanon

Around 2,000 years ago, a witch baked White Lily Cookie. Though young and freshly baked, White Lily Cookie had a curiosity for the world around her and wanted to know everything it had to offer. She traveled the world with one thought on her mind: why were the cookies created? Eventually, her questions led her to the Blueberry Yogurt Academy, where she hoped to find answers, but it is also where she met Pure Vanilla Cookie. The two grew very close, and Pure Vanilla Cookie would often help White Lily Cookie research the answers to her questions. But, her studies led her to research the forbidden Dark Moon magic. Even though Pure Vanilla forgave her, she still felt very bad, and this incident would lead her down her road of penitence.

Eventually, when they graduated, they continued on their journey to find the answers to White Lily Cookie's question. Eventually, in the forest one day, they met Dark Cacao Cookie, Hollyberry Cookie, and Golden Cheese Cookie. The 5 cookies would eventually become friends and go on adventures together.

The Ancients would eventually go their seperate ways and start their own kingdoms, except for White Lily Cookie, who disappeared doing who-knows what. She came back on Pure Vanilla Cookie's corronation day. She stayed in the Vanilla Kingdom for a while before she would venture off to Beast-Yeast. Before she left, she gave Pure Vanilla Cookie parts of her dough to "remember her by." For cookies, doing smthn like that is usually a confession that they want to start a family with you, but she left before she got the chance. Still, Pure Vanilla cookie would later (like, a lot later) use this part of White Lily Cookie's dough to bake Clover Cookie, Lilybell Cookie, and Ponsietta Cookie.

During her time in Beast-Yeast, White Lily Cookie became an all to the Faeries of the Kingdom, and became close with Elder Faerie Cookie. He warned her about what she may find time her question, and while she appreciated his concern, she still wanted to know: why were cookies created?

Then, on the Night of the Witches, she finally met her divinely creators. But, what she saw was horrible: the Witches were eating the cookies.

White Lily Cookie was horrified and, in her terror, she fell into the ultimate dough. Her fear, anger, and hatred was combined with her genuine desire to create a better world for cookies, and she was rebaked into Dark Enchantress Cookie.

[aliendes]

One More Day (S.Coups)

a/n: SURPRISE! posting a day early cause ill be out of town tomorrow. here is 64 pages or 33k words of a cheol Christmas fic! reminders to HEAD THE WARNINGS, there is some deep stuff in this one. MDNI as always, esp since there is an added smut scene at the end. alsooooo remember this is a rewrite to a fic i did in 2020, so if it feels familiar, that is why. there are lots of addedd things and scenes, tho so hopefully it feels different enough. i only proofread this once cause its a doozy so if you see mistakes or I need to update tags PLS let me know. anywayyyyys, here's my behemoth of a fic. enjoy! warnings under the cut

w/c: 33.3k~ whoooooooooa!

banners & images made by me!

warnings: NSFW, smut MDNI, minor character deaths, talks of car accidents, su*cide attempt, talks of past attempts, reader is depressed af, drinking, eating, reader smokes cigarettes (its a plot point ok), cheol maybe ooc?, kissing, cursing, fingering, oral fem receiving, soft sex, messy dirty sex but make it loving, breeding kink KIND OF, p in v sex, no protection reader is on birth control, blonde seungcheol (yes that's a warning) and joshua is an asshole for the first half of the fic don't worry it gets better. let me know if I missed anything

You stood on the deck of your parents cabin, staring out at the frozen over lake, shrouded in darkness. You couldn’t remember what time it was, or really even what day it was, just that you needed to get away for awhile. Your breath was turning into white clouds around your face, and then drifting up into the atmosphere. It was calming in a way. Freezing, but calming. 

It was the middle of December, nearly Christmas, what used to be your favorite time of year. You and your mom, dad, and older brother Joshua would come up to this cabin and spend two weeks at the end of every year. Your dad and brother would always find the tallest tree for the living room of the cabin, with it’s high vaulted ceilings. You and your mom would spend hours decorating the tree, always turning out like a Better Homes & Garden magazine cover. Your mom loved to decorate, and she was damn good at it. You and Joshua would bake cookies together, despite your mom’s protests over Joshua being in the kitchen. He was always a disaster waiting to happen when you were younger, though that has changed with age. You can still taste the gingerbread like it was yesterday. You smiled slightly, remembering what Christmas used to be like. Now, Christmas was a shitty reminder of what used to be.

It’s been 7 years since the last time you were all together at this cabin. Nearly 6 years since your parents death, and 3 years since you last saw or spoke to your brother. You knew he was doing well, living it up in the big city of Seoul. He was a big-shot writer, and you would hear about him and his accomplishments through friends of friends or your neighborhood aunties. You were proud of him. Not that he would ever believe that, and it’s not like you would ever have the chance to tell him.

For the last few years, you had been coming up to the cabin alone. You always took two weeks off work and spent that time trying to keep your parents spirits alive in the form of Christmas cookies and movies. It was your own way of coping with their absence. Joshua found his ways of coping by blocking the memories out, you found yours in a glass of wine and a couple cigarettes out on this deck. Speaking of which, you should probably light one up now, you’ve been standing here for a while now.

Just as you were reaching in your pocket for your lighter, you heard a snapping sound from the left of the deck, startling you in your place, cigarette still hanging from your chapped lips. You turned your head towards the noise, face scrunched in confusion, almost giving yourself whiplash. No one should be out here at this time, you thought to yourself. You pocketed your lighter and took the cigarette between your fingers, slowly walking towards the edge of the deck. Sue you, you had a curious mind. Joshua always used to tell you it would get you killed one day. Not like you cared much anymore. 

“Holy shit!” you gasped, nearly throwing your cigarette, when you saw a figure walk out from between the trees lining your property and the one next to it. It was a man you didn’t recognize. You squint your eyes slightly to try and see better in the dark. He stepped closer to your with both hands raised in front of him as a way to placate you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I -” he started, but trailed off almost like he forgot what he was going to say. You raised a brow at him, still unsure of the stranger. “I’m Choi Seungcheol, I live next door. I promise I’m not a creep or anything, I just noticed you standing out here for a while and wanted to make sure you weren’t locked out or something, I - I, yeah that sounded creepy. I’m sorry.” He rushed out the last words, looking almost sheepish. 

Cute.

You stood there for a second too long, and Seungcheol, as you now knew him, looked almost like he was about to bolt back in the direction he came. “I - I’m sorry, I’ll g-”

“No, it’s ok.” You let out a deep sigh and chuckled darkly, no humor to be found. “You just startled me, is all.” You said with what you hoped was a small smile. It wasn’t, Seungcheol noted, but he didn’t care, just glad you were responding at all.

Another beat passes, “... so are you alright - did you need help?” He drawled, unsure of where the conversation was headed. 

“No, no. This is my par- mine- my house. Well, not my permanent house, but you probably already knew that.” You stuttered. He must’ve realized the house next door to him was vacant 11 months out of the year, right?

 “Ah yeah, I kind of figured that out.” he took a hesitant step forward. When he saw you weren’t running for the hills, he slowly made his way into the illumination provided by the floodlights on the back porch. You took in his features now that you could see them better. He had bleach blonde hair that looked a little fried, but that suited him nicely, large, doe-like brown eyes, and plump, cherry-like lips that were more than a little distracting. Had you not been in a crippling depression, you may have thought he was pretty handsome, you may have shot your shot with this pretty neighbor. He ran his hand through his yellow  locks, “This house is usually empty, I only notice it occupied around this time of year. I’m assuming it’s your vacation house? You said it’s your parents place, right?” He took hesitant steps up to the deck.

So he caught that. Damn. “Was.” You stated simply. “It was my parents place. It’s mine now, I come here alone.” Seungcheol knew that. He’s lived next door for 8 years now, on and off. Every Christmas for the last few years, you’d been alone. He wasn’t a creeper, but he did notice you smoking those nasty cigarettes out on this very deck, alone, every single year. He remembers you used to come here with someone. A boyfriend maybe? It wasn’t his place to ask. 

He’s at the bottom of the steps that lead up to your deck, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. Pity? No, there’s no way he knows what’s going on in your mind. He hesitates a moment before - “Are you ok?” 

The question catches you off guard. Were you ok? You knew the answer was a big, fat no. But was that something you should share with him? A near stranger? Aside from the obvious questions you had, when was the last time someone asked you that? You couldn’t remember anyone caring enough about you in the last few years to even utter those words to you. The only people you interacted with were your coworkers, who didn’t give a shit about your personal life. All your boss cared about was that you got the job done, not about your emotions. You almost wanted to trust this man, share with him how you’re feeling, God knows you need it. You’ve been staring at him for too long, he must think you’re crazy now. You shake your head slightly to rid yourself of the thought. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good.” You mutter, looking anywhere but his eyes. 

He pauses for a moment before speaking slowly. “Look, it’s not really my place to pry, but you’ve been standing out here in the freezing cold for over an hour.” Had it really been that long? Now that you think about it your hands and face were pretty freezing. “Do you want to maybe go inside?”

“With you?” you asked, slightly startled at his proposition. 

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and you had a distant thought that he looked oddly adorable like that. “No! No, no. I mean unless you want to come to my house?” He half asked, slightly confused, eyes narrowing at his own question, shaking his head. “I just meant, you aren’t really dressed for the 3 degree weather, don’t you think you should maybe head back inside?” 

Oh. He was just being nice. You weren’t used to this. Leave it to you to jump to weird conclusions. You cocked your head to the side, looking at him with a dumb look. “Yeah…” you trailed off. “I was actually just about to smoke a cigarette, then I’ll head inside.” He gave you another unreadable look, and slowly started to nod.

“O- ok then.” He seemed like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself.

“Do you smoke?”

“Oh no, I don’t. Thank you though.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at you, like he didn’t want to offend you.

“I’m not offended you know, I know most people think it’s a nasty habit.” You took the lighter back out of your front pocket and put the cigarette to your now very cold, very dry lips. “Want to sit with me?” You asked after you took your first drag of the cigarette.

Seungcheol looked back towards his house, and then back at you. “Yeah, let me go grab a coat and I’ll be right back.” he stuttered out. You hadn’t even noticed he was only wearing jeans and a flannel. Poor guy, you’ve been staring stupidly at him for at least 15 minutes, he must be freezing by now. 

“Take your time.” You waved him off as he jogged briskly past the trees and shrubs. You watched him enter his back porch and saw a few lights flicker on, then off again. Taking another drag from your cigarette, you looked back out over the lake. Leaning your elbows on the deck railing, you realized you were, in fact, freezing in nothing but a long sleeve t-shirt and pajama pants. You didn’t intend to be out here this long, only meaning to smoke one cigarette and head back inside, only to lose track of time.

“Want to sit down?” Seungcheol’s voice snapped you out of your reverie, slightly startling you. “Sorry - didn’t mean to scare you again” he laughed dryly. He pulled a couple of the deck chairs closer to the railing and sat down. It was then that you noticed he was now wearing a thick winter coat, and in his hands he held another coat, and what looked suspiciously like a blanket. You raised an eyebrow at him, but slowly walked towards the chair, holding your cigarette away from Seungcheol, respectful of others' distaste for the smell.

As you sat down in the chair to Seungcheol’s right, he dully shook the coat he was holding in your direction with a raised brow. A silent offering. “Thanks.” You muttered lamely, taking the coat from him. It was thick, and smelled citrus-y. Oranges? With maybe a hint of cloves. It smelled manly, it smelled nice, wrapping you in his scent when you threw it over your shoulders. 

“No problem” he gruffed out. His deep voice was soothing your cold soul at the moment, a feeling you haven’t had in a long time. “I- I brought a blanket” he hesitates, slowly unfolding the blanket, watching your face to make sure what he was about to do was alright, “is this ok?” he asks as he set the unfolded blanket over yours and his legs. You nod at him, taking another drag from your cigarette. Once the blanket is situated, he grabs one of the legs of your chair and pulls it closer to his in a quick show of strength, so the blanket drapes all the way over you. You offer him a small smile, and then turn your head to blow the smoke in the other direction. “I don’t mind the smoke, you know. My older brother smokes like a train, I’m used to it.” 

You smirk at him. “Are you implying I smoke like a train?”

“N-no! No, of course not - that’s not, that isn’t” he starts to stutter, shaking his head, thick eyebrows scrunching cutely.

“Relax, Seungcheol. I was kidding.” You let out as you exhale your last bit of smoke, putting your cigarette out on the deck floor. You should probably bring an ashtray up here with you next time you visit, which was becoming more and more infrequent as time went on. You used to come up here in the summer with Joshua, too, but those days were long gone. 

He ducked his head slightly, the flood light illuminating the side of his face from behin. He really was beautiful, you noticed. A strong, slanted nose, with cute puffy cheeks, a defined jawline and those plump lips. They were a little red from being out in the cold, but cute nonetheless. They kind of reminded you of cherries. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that..” he starts to trail off, realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“YN. Sorry - my name is YN.” You stutter out, embarrassed at not having had the manners to introduce yourself before.

“YN.” He tries it out on his tongue. He likes the way it sounds. “Pretty.” He noted, face heating after he realized what he said. You smiled at him, the first genuine smile he’s seen all night and he realizes he likes it, and wants to see more of it, preferably in the near future. He gives you a bright smile in return. “What brings you out here, at -” he quickly pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the time, “- nearly midnight?”

“Oh you know, just dealing with life.” You glance out into the distance, back at that damned lake. Seungcheol must have sensed your distress, because he is quickly switching the subject.

“It’s really pretty out here this time of year.” He states, lamely, looking out at the lake with you. “The lake freezes over in November, makes for some really beautiful scenery.” 

“Yeah… I know. I’ve been coming here with my family since I was 8.” You didn’t take your focus away from the lake as you spoke. 

“What… happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Seungcheol quickly read the expression on your face and added, “You totally don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry, that was a dumb question.”

“No, it’s ok actually. I haven’t really talked about it in a while.” You chanced a glance at Seungcheol, his expression serious, focused completely on you. You were taken aback for a brief moment, wondering what was making you trust this man, before you went on, “My parents died almost 6 years ago. We used to come out here as a family every Christmas for the last two weeks of the year. I still make the trip every year to keep their memory, alive? I guess. That sounds kind of stupid saying it out loud.”

“No it doesn’t,” Seungcheol stated simply, “That makes perfect sense. You feel closer to them when you’re here, right?” You slowly nodded, still staring into his deep brown orbs. “Look, at the risk of making myself seem like a peeping Tom, I noticed you used to come here with a man, but I haven’t seen him in a while. Is everything ok with…?” His question trailed off. So he has noticed you before.

“Joshua,” you said, turning your head away, “my brother.” 

Your brother. He didn’t expect that at all. From what little glimpses he saw of the two of you, you always seemed like a bickering couple, and you didn’t look all that similar either, at least from what he can remember. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” 

“No it’s fine, you’re very observant, you know. How long have you lived there, exactly?” You asked, turning back to look at the sweet man beside you, gesturing towards his home.

“Almost 8 years. Inherited the place from my grandmother. The first few years I was only here on and off, still living mostly in Daegu. Fully moved in about 5 years ago.” His expression changed, looking like he was reminiscing on the past.

“So you must’ve seen me and Shua coming together before. He hasn’t come up here with me in three years. We don’t - we’re not really on good terms. He lives a couple hours away.” You left it at that, not really wanting to indulge in the reason why you weren’t on good terms. That was a conversation for another day. Your stomach dropped at the thought of talking to Joshua again. You were lost in the feeling for a moment before Seungcheol was speaking.

“I get that. Me and my brother barely speak either. I can’t even remember the last time I saw him to be honest.” He gives you a sad smile, which you return. You’re unsure why you feel like you’ve known Seungcheol longer than an hour, but he makes you feel warm in the middle of the harsh winter. You noticed his cheeks were becoming increasingly red and cursed yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“Do you, uh, do you want to go inside? I can make hot chocolate, or something…” you trail off dumbly. 

“Uh, y-yeah that sounds nice”, he faltered, grabbing the blanket draped over you, folding it neatly before ascending from his chair. You get up quickly to follow after him, moving towards the back door of your cabin. You didn’t realize just how cold you were until you opened the sliding glass door and a wall of heat hit you in the face. 

“Wow, I must have been out there a while. I’m freezing.” You chirped as you slid the door closed after Seungcheol stepped inside the threshold. 

Seungcheol pegged you with a questioning look, and at first you thought he must think you’re insane, before he said, “If you want, you can show me where you keep the hot chocolate and you can go take a hot shower, or something?” he faltered before adding, “I mean, if that’s ok with you, I know you barely know me-”

You cut him off before he could start babbling again, though it was adorable, giving him a soft smile. “That would be really nice actually,” you said, leading him to the kitchen. “I’m not sure what all I have stocked up here, but you should find everything you need in the tea cabinet, above the stove,” you pointed to the stove, “and the mugs are in the cabinet next to the fridge. Feel free to make whatever you’d like. I’ll be down the hall, second door on the right if you need me.” You smiled at him again, causing him to internally melt at the sight, “Thank you, Seungcheol.” The sincerity in your tone hurt him. He could tell by the way you looked at him that you haven’t been thankful for anyone or anything in a while and he didn’t like that. 

“Of course,” he croaked, I’d do anything to make you smile, he wanted to add, but didn’t. He just watched you trudge off to what he presumed was the bathroom. He mentally slapped himself. Why was he acting like an idiot in front of this girl he hardly knew? He knew it was because he has seen your sad eyes staring out at the lake for the past three days now, and years before that. Watched you stand, emotionless, wondering what was going through your mind. He’s perceptive, you told him that earlier, and it was true. Though he never had the guts before tonight to approach you. Now that he has, and now that he’s seen what a smile looks like on your face, he never wants it to disappear again. He’s too empathetic, a trait he inherited from his mother, sometimes to a fault. But he didn’t care right now. Right now, he just wanted to make you happy, even if it was just for tonight. 

You let the hot water fall over your face, reveling in the way the steam was making your muscles feel. Even though your body was relaxing, your mind was starting to real. You think it’s December 21st, just a few days before Christmas, though you aren’t entirely sure. You’d sort of let time slip away from you. You’d arrived at the cabin three days prior, and would remain here for another week and a half. Usually, when you came to the cabin alone, you spent those two weeks wallowing in self pity, drinking yourself to near death. This was the first time you’ve had any interaction at the cabin in three years. Thinking back to three years ago, you recall your lowest moment at the cabin. The reason for the downfall of yours and Joshua’s relationship.

It was Christmas Eve, and you had just finished off a bottle of your favorite wine. The fireplace was going, and some sappy Lifetime movie was playing in the background. Not that you were paying attention in the least. You and Shua had just fought over staying an extra day. You wanted to stay, spend some time together since you didn’t get to see him often since he moved, but he wanted to go back to Seoul to his girlfriend, Yuna. You never really liked her, but that’s beside the point. He was in his room, probably on the phone with her if the soft whispers were anything to go by, while you were on the couch in the living room. You had just poured yourself another glass of wine and were staring out the large bay windows that had a beautiful view of the lake. You used to love that lake when you were a kid. You and Shua would swing on the tire swing attached to the tree that was partially submerged in the lake when your parents would take you up here in the summers. In the winter, you and Shua would walk along the edge of the frozen water, admiring the beauty of it, listening to nature. Joshua always did love all the little animals he would find down there, and the insects that he would find and chase you with. But now, as you looked out at the dark abyss of a lake, it only haunted you with memories of your parents.

You had contemplated it before, but was never brave enough to act. At that moment, though, you really didn’t think there was anything left to live for. Everything had fallen apart. Your parents were gone, your brother hated you, and you isolated yourself from all your friends so long ago, you really didn’t have anyone left. All you could think about, as tears streamed down your face, was how Shua wouldn’t care if you were gone, too. Your parents weren’t there anymore to care. You would be doing him a favor, right? He didn’t want to be around you, so if you weren’t here, he wouldn’t have to worry about your nagging anymore. 

It really wouldn’t be that hard, would it? If Joshua really did leave and head back to Seoul, he wouldn’t even know. He called you, what, maybe twice a year? He wouldn’t be able to stop you, he probably wouldn’t even find out for a while. He could continue living his perfect city life with his perfect city girlfriend for another few weeks, months even, before he realized you were gone.

It’s a thought that would linger in your mind every single winter following the last one you spent with your brother at the lake house. 

Shaking your head, you’re brought back into the present. Were there tears streaming down your face, or was it the water from the shower? The choked up feeling in your throat pointed towards the former. Great. Could Seungcheol hear you? You hoped not. God, you hoped not. He seemed like such a sweet guy, kind and soft. You didn’t want to bring him down in your spiral and potentially scare away the only human interaction you’ve had in a while. He really didn’t need to see how down in the dumps you really were, you didn’t need to ruin this poor guy’s Christmas.

Little did you know, Seungcheol did you hear you. He had finished making hot chocolate a few minutes before he heard soft whimpers coming from the hallway. He immediately made his way towards the noise, realising that once he reached the bathroom door, he could hear you quietly sniffling in the shower. His heart sank at the sound. He didn’t knock, he knew he shouldn't. Knew he should give you privacy. But God, did he want to. Wanted to pull you into his arms, tell you that everything was going to be ok, and see that gorgeous smile again. But it wasn’t his place, and he knew that. So he walked back to the kitchen, solemn expression on his face, and waited patiently for you to calm yourself, wishing that he could be the one to do it for you. 

Seungcheol was unsure why he felt the need to comfort you. He hardly knew you, apart from what he’s seen of you over the years. Still, those glimpses weren’t really telling of what kind of person you were. You seemed kind, warm-hearted. You let him into your home, or your parent’s home, he guessed, when you saw that he was cold. You trusted him enough to dawdle about in your kitchen while you showered. That had to take some real trust, what if he was some psycho stalker? He wasn’t, of course. But you didn’t know that. He could be a serial axe-murderer!

The trust you put in him told him one of two things - you we’re either a very trusting person, or you had no fear, nothing to lose if he was in fact, an axe-murderer. The latter made him feel sick to his stomach. He figured you were going through a lot, but it’s been years since your parents death, you should be feeling somewhat better, right? No, he knew that wasn’t true. The pain of losing someone you love never goes away, he knew that better than anyone, and he didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding their death, or the fallout between you and your brother. Another thing he had intimate knowledge of. Either way, when he looked in your eyes, he saw a sad, broken girl. He’s been that sad, broken person before, and he wanted to help you through it.

Maybe his empathy wasn’t such a bad thing afterall. Maybe he could offer you something, anything, even just companionship, to help get through the holidays. So, he waited at your kitchen island, rewarming your mug of hot chocolate every five or so minutes, until you finally felt ready to come out of the bathroom. 

As you slowly towel dried your hair, you stared at your reddened eyes in the bathroom mirror. You knew Seungcheol was probably waiting in the kitchen for you, with long cold drinks, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of this handsome stranger with your tears. You splashed some cool water on your face and applied some moisturizer from you travel kit to attempt to even out the redness of your face.

After you were satisfied with the puffiness, you threw on your pajama shorts and t-shirt you had brought with you from your room, and left your hair wrapped up in a towel. Who were you trying to impress, really? You barely knew Seungcheol, despite the fact that you felt safe around him. He could be some psycho for all you knew. What you did know is at the end of these two weeks you would go your separate ways and probably not speak again until next Christmas, if you even made it to next Christmas. The thought didn’t make you shudder like it used to, and while it should’ve been concerning, it wasn’t. Not anymore. 

Taking one last look in the mirror, you hesitantly made your way out of the bathroom and down the hallway, where you could hear the clinking of glasses coming from the kitchen. Curious, you sped up a little, until you reached the open floor plan kitchen of your cabin, shooting Seungcheol a questioning look.

“Oh! Sorry - I just saw that you have some dishes in the sink, I just wanted to help. Sorry.” He looked sheepish, and you thought it was rather cute how much he apologized for things. 

“Thanks, but you really don’t have to,” you offered shyly, feeling slightly embarrassed he saw your mess, and sat at one of the barstools in front of the kitchen island, “Did you find the drinks ok?” 

“Oh yeah - they cooled down a bit, so I warmed it up in the microwave.”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness, taking the warm mug from him. Seungcheol knew that you had been crying, could see the puffiness in your eyes, but seeing you smile, even slightly, made his boba colored eyes light up. He watched as you rose from your seat, mug in hand, and made your way around the kitchen island. For a second, he thought you were going to approach him, but you walked right past him towards the fridge. You reached your short arms up and grabbed at a bottle sitting on top of the refrigerator, pulling it down and setting it on the counter. He watched on curiously as you opened the, almost empty, bottle of rum and poured some into your mug. You turned around, raising an eyebrow at his questioning look, “want some?” 

“Oh, uh, no thank you. It’s really late”, he advised hesitantly, sneaking a glance at the microwave clock. He didn’t want to upset you, didn’t want to overstep bounds as you were an adult after all, but he was also questioning your current state of mind. He figured staying sober would probably be the smart thing to do.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, if any of this makes you feel uncomfortable, you can leave. I’m trying my best to keep my head above water right now, both figuratively and literally.” You don’t know why you just said that to your neighbor, but you did and there was no taking it back. Realizing the weight of your words, you swallow loudly and paused. You removed your gaze from Seungcheol’s, slowly walking towards your living room to have a seat on the plush couch, ignoring the look he was giving your back. You never got around to redecorating the place after your parents death. It was almost like taking a step back into the past when you came up here. 

Seungcheol’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, following behind you, almost forgetting his drink but grabbing it at the last second. “YN, do you want to talk about it? I know we just met, but I want you to know, I’m here for you. Or, I can be. Whatever you need. Someone to listen, make you hot chocolate, whatever you need.” He gave you a sad smile and sat across from you on the loveseat, setting his mug down on the coffee table. 

You took another sip of your spiked hot chocolate, reveling in the burn at the back of your throat, before following Seungcheol’s lead and setting it on the coffee table. “Why are you so nice to me? You barely know me,” you questioned him, pinning him with a serious look. 

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping right now, but I know what it’s like to be depressed,” he looked up from his feet, resting his hands on his knees as he spoke, “I lost my mother when I was 15. I’m not saying by any means that I know what you’re going through, but when I lost my mom I felt like I had no one to talk to. I don’t know you, at least, not really. But if you give me the chance, I would like to try? We are neighbors after all.” His momentary burst of confidence falters as he plays with his fingers and looks down at the carpet. 

Your gaze softened at the absolute sincerity in his tone. Was this real life? You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you didn’t pass out drunk on the deck and dreamt up some hot stranger to ease your muddled mind. You let out a breathy laugh, absent of any humor. You thought for a second, did you really want to unload this baggage on Seungcheol? No, really. It’s better to keep things vague, that way there is no one to hurt when you’re gone. “Seungcheol,” you started, causing his head to snap up to meet your gaze, teeth worrying his bottom lip, “You seem like a really nice guy,” Seungcheol winced, he could sense a ‘but’ coming, preparing himself for rejection. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, being the shy guy in a small town he never really had the chance to talk to many people. “But I can’t promise you that I’ll even be around in a week. I don’t want to get attached to someone, it’ll just be harder in the end.”

That was not what Seungcheol was expecting. His heart dropped down to the floor. He felt his stomach flip. Did you really just imply what he thinks you did? It didn’t matter if he barely knew you, you needed to know that someone cared for you. But he knew he needed to tread lightly here. He slowly got up from his spot on the loveseat and made his way over to you, crouching down so he could meet your downcast eyes. His hands were clasped together, but the moment you lifted your gaze to meet his, he unclasped both hands and held them out to you, wanting you to make the first move, conscious you might still feel uncomfortable with him. Hesitantly, you reached out one hand, which he grasped in both of his much larger ones. His warmth instantly soothing your cold bones.

“YN,” he whispered, barely audible, but you heard him, “I don’t know what your life is like back, wherever you’re from, but you’re here right now. I’m here for you, and I would really, really, like to get to know you better. If you can’t promise me a week, can you at least promise me tomorrow?” He didn’t want to scare you away, dreading what might happen if he does. He saw unshed tears glistening in your doe eyes before continuing, “I’ll come over, every day, and we can spend Christmas together. You don’t have to be alone this year YN.”

The thought of not having to spend Christmas alone was enticing. The last time you spent Christmas with someone and was coherent enough to remember it, was four years ago, when you and Shua came up here. The last time you were up here before that dreaded Christmas Eve three years ago. You wanted, really wanted, to take Seungcheol up on his offer. But you felt like you owed it to him to explain why you were like this. Why you weren’t able to get close to anyone, why you felt like this was a bad idea. You thought, if you tell him what happened, about your demons in your closet, maybe it would scare him away and save him any future pain. With that in mind, you spoke, ““That fucking lake. It’s caused me so much pain, and now it’s like a sick metaphor of my life,” it was barely a whisper that left your lips. Seungcheol could tell whatever you were about to say was heavy. He waited patiently, holding your sad gaze, silently letting you know he was listening. “They died in that lake. It was raining, my dad didn’t see the deer in front of them on the bridge leading into town. They had come up here for a weekend getaway without me and my brother, which they rarely ever fucking did. We found out two days later when they didn’t show up for work.” 

Seungcheol instantly remembered exactly what you were talking about. How could he not have put two and two together? About six years ago, he was commuting back and forth from the cabin to Daegu for work. He was on his way up here for the weekend when the roads were blocked off at the bridge, he saw the overturned car in the embankment of the lake. Everyone in this small town talked about the couple who drowned in the lake for years after the accident. He even heard about how their child had tried to drown themselves in the same lake a few years ago…. Oh. Oh God.

“YN.”

“It’s ok Seungcheol. I don’t want sympathies, I don’t want anymore ‘I’m sorry”’s. You offered to listen, so I’m getting it all out.” You looked down, becoming hyper focused on your hand clasped in Seungcheol’s. “After they died, me and Joshua would come up here for Christmas, attempting to feel more like a family. It never did, we would just fight when we were up here, nonsensical arguments that drove a wedge between us. We kept trying though, until three years ago.” You heaved a heavy sigh. He remembers that, too. He would always see you and that guy, Joshua, arguing on the deck, or you crying out by the tree swing near the lake. You stopped, unsure if you should continue. You chanced a glance at Seungcheol, his dark eyes watching you with - it wasn’t pity - compassion? His gaze made you want to continue, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. “I tried to drown myself three Christmas’ ago. In that damn lake.” You voice was low, rough as you spoke through your teeth.

Seungcheol sucked in a breath, and he hoped beyond hope you didn’t notice. He wasn’t even sure why he was shocked, he connected the dots a few moments ago. He knew it was you. “YN. I - I,” he faltered. 

Not quite meeting his gaze yet, you muttered, “It’s fine Seungcheol. Now that lake is like this stupid fucking metaphor for my life. I ebb and flow, just like the waters in that lake throughout the year. I have my ups and downs. Then, every Christmas, the lake freezes over. It’s always hard for me to get through this time of year, especially without Shua.” You felt a single tear roll down your already puffy cheeks. You sniffled slightly, rubbing your nose on the sleeve of your shirt with your free arm.

Seungcheol stood up from his crouching position slowly, his grip on your hand still tight, your head shot up to look at him, suddenly afraid he was about to bolt. But he hesitantly took a seat next to you, holding your hand in his lap.  He could tell you were trying to scare him away, make him realise you were too broken to be fixed. He was determined to keep you talking, get all your baggage laid out on the table so he could assure you none of it mattered to him. “YN, what happened with Joshua?” He whispered, close to your face. He didn’t want to risk you building that wall back up, even if he didn’t exactly want to hear the answer.

“He found me in the lake. Freezing, nearly dead.” Tears were rolling down your face now as you sniffled, and you felt Seungcheol’s soft fingers rubbing soothing circles on your wrist. You looked up, gaze focused on the wall behind Seungcheol. “Brought me to the hospital, checked me in, and left. I didn’t hear from him for a few months after that. When I finally did he texted me and told me that he didn’t think he could handle my ‘destructive behavior’, and offered to pay for my treatment”, you murmured that last part, voice faltering as you sucked in a shaky breath. “I haven’t seen him since that night.” At this, you finally looked into Seungcheol’s eyes, your own crinkled in pain, tears freely falling down your face, and Seungcheol’s heart broke. No. It shattered into a million tiny pieces. He barely knew you, but he wanted to do everything in his power to make you feel loved, wanted to show you that someone cared about you. You weren’t going to scare him away with your demons, no matter how hard you tried. He had his own, he knew what it was like to want to chase everyone away with them. 

Seungcheol scooted a little closer to you on the couch, releasing your hand in the process, and gathered your shrunken form into his arms and hugged you close. A beat passed before you hugged back, uncertain if you should. But his warmth had you melting into him, your chest heaving with pitiful sobs. The hug was a little awkward, with you both sitting on the couch, so Seungcheol brought his leg up and slotted it behind you, between you and the couch back, moving even closer to you. Seungcheol’s ambiguous nature long gone as he rubbed a large hand up and down your back, pushing his face into your hair, shushing you. You sat there, in his embrace, for what felt like hours, but was realistically probably only 5 minutes. When your sobs started to slow down, Seungcheol pulled back slightly, arms still wrapped firmly around you, looking you in the eye, “YN-” he started, but you cut him off before he could finish. 

With a small sniffle and watery eyes, you whispered, “I’m broken Seungcheol. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t want to be here. I only cause others pain.”

He seemed confused by your statement at first. His dark eyes searching your own for a second before he whispered, “I see you here, year after year. I can tell YN, I can see it. You’re broken by what happened, but you are not a broken person. You’re so beautiful honey, and from what I’ve seen of you tonight, you’re kind and worthy. Worthy of love, worthy of life, and worthy of happiness.” Your eyes started to well up with tears again and Seungcheol gave you a sad smile, thumb reaching up and caressing your cheek to wipe them away. “I didn’t come up to your deck tonight because I thought you locked yourself out of your house.” He admitted with a slightly sheepish look. “I came over because I’ve seen the torment in your eyes, and I’ve been there before. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this alone. I wanted to be here for you, regardless of how well I know you. Maybe I can get to know you in the process, b-but I want you to be ok, YN.” He softly whispered the last part softly, dark eyes starting to well with his own unshed tears.

“You barely know me Seungcheol. Your words are sweet, but I’m not worthy. I’ve been drowning myself in liquor, killing myself with these cigarettes, and pushing everyone in my life away for the last seven years. I’m a shit human.” You look down, hand reaching up to gently grasp Seungcheol’s wrist, slowly pulling his hand from your face. The hurt in his eyes was hard to miss. 

“I barely know you, but yet I want to know more. Doesn’t that say something? You think you’re not worthy, but I’m right here, telling you I think you’re interesting, lovable, and funny, if you give me the chance. I want to get to know you.” He pulled his hand, ever so gently, away from your grasp, placing it on your shoulder to pull you against his chest again. “You matter YN.”

You let out another quiet sob into Seungcheol’s flannel shirt, inhaling his soft citrus-y scent that has been a calming presence to you all night. “Promise me tomorrow, YN. Promise me you’ll stay tomorrow, talk to me, get to know me a little more,” he mumbled into your hair, “all I’m asking for is tomorrow.”

You thought to yourself for a moment. You could do that. You could promise one more day. Even if you had to suffer through it, at least Seungcheol would be there with you. Inhaling a shaky breath, you gasped out an, “ok.”

Seungcheol smiled to himself, a sad, small smile. He was happy you were going to give yourself a chance, even if it was under the guise of giving him a chance. He was determined to make you see life was worth living.

You woke up with a splitting headache. Was it from the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed yesterday, or from all the crying you did? You didn’t know. All you knew was the sunlight streaming in from your bedroom window was going to be the death of you if you had to endure it any longer. You let out a weak groan as you rolled over, pulling the soft duvet cover over your head. You didn’t want to get out of bed, but you knew you needed to get some water, or your headache was only going to get worse.

Throwing the covers off yourself, you slowly sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You grabbed your phone from your bedside table, noting that it was December 22. Meaning you were right in your assumption last night. Three more days until Christmas. As you looked at your phone, you noticed your arms were covered by a thick, wool like fabric. This wasn’t your pajama shirt, what were you wearing? You stood up and walked over to the floor length mirror on the back of your bedroom door, still littered with stickers from that time you and your friend Jeongyeon visited the cabin when you were 14. 

As you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the events of last night came rushing back to you. Seungcheol. You were wearing his coat that he so kindly brought over to you last night while you were out on your deck. Seungcheol sat with you while you cried into his shirt for an hour after you had spilled your life story to him, letting all your monsters out to play. You could see the remnants of your sobbing on your face, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. After you calmed down a bit, Seungcheol wrapped you in his jacket and carried you to your bed, shaky and cold. He laid you down gently, pulling the covers over your sleepy form and whispered, “Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’re going to get to know each other better. You promised.” before he left. Too tired to speak, you rolled over and fell asleep. 

Your face heated with embarrassment. A man you hardly knew took care of you last night, carried you to your bed. This wasn’t like you. He hugged you last night! You haven’t had any human contact in nearly three years. The last person you hugged was your therapist at the rehab facility, and even that was awkward and a little forced. You hadn’t even hugged your own biological brother in over four years. At the thought of Seungcheol hugging you, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, remembering how you melted into his warm chest last night. You didn’t realize just how touch starved you’d become in the last few years, but the evidence was right there. Shaking off your humiliation, you shrugged off Seungcheol’s jacket and rummaged through your suitcase for some clothes. Surely, you’d feel better after a shower and some breakfast. Right?

After rinsing the previous night from your skin, you dressed in some sweats and a t-shirt, not really bothering to do your hair. You didn’t plan on leaving the cabin today, at most you would sit out on the deck again. Heading back into your room, you hear a soft knock coming from your living room. At first you thought you were hearing things, until another knock, slightly louder, sounded through the cabin. 

As you made your way down the hallway and into the living room, you saw a smiling Seungcheol through the sliding glass door standing on your back deck. His arms were full, with… Bags? You rushed forward past the couches and unlocked and slid the door open.

“Good morning - er, I guess afternoon now?” Seungcheol stuttered a little awkwardly, albeit friendly. He stumbled through your back door and made his way over to the kitchen island. You watched wordlessly as he set down a couple of bags and a blanket on the marble countertop. You tilted your head at him as he turned around to face you. “I, um, I thought we could spend the day together if - if that’s ok with you?” he lilted his words at the end. 

You remember the promise you made to Seungcheol last night as you stared at him, mouth agape. One more day. You promised him today. You were slightly surprised that Seungcheol made good on it, half expecting him to bolt last night and never speak to you again after everything you unloaded on him, yet here he was, bright eyed and bushy tailed at…. Two in the afternoon, damn you really did knock out.

“What’s in the bags?” You questioned as you moved towards the kitchen, blinking dumbly at Seungcheol and pointing at the reusable grocery bags he brought with him. 

“Well… I noticed last night that you didn’t have much food in your fridge, mostly just liquor and soda,” your cheeks heated as he called you on your bad habits, “so I brought over some groceries. I thought we could make lunch and since it’s a little too cold outside, we could set up a picnic in your living room.” he offered, gesturing to the blanket sitting on your countertop. “If that’s ok with you, of course.” He sounded a little abashed, having not gotten your number last night, he wasn’t able to see if you were ok with all of this beforehand. He was taking a leap of faith here, hoping that you would take him up on his offer. It was the only thing he could think of that didn’t involve going outside in the snow.

You smiled shyly at him, “That actually sounds really nice, Seungcheol, thank you.” Not having a drop of alcohol in your system was making your normal, shy self emerge from the mask of indifference you usually wear, shrouded behind a layer of soju. 

Seungcheol offered you a bright smile, showing off his perfect teeth. His smile was warm, inviting, much like his scent. You were slowly realizing that you quite enjoyed his company. Maybe a little more than you should have.

You and Seungcheol had spent the afternoon cooking and chatting in your kitchen, making a kimchi stew from a recipe Seungcheol had in one of his grandmother’s old cookbooks. You discovered that he was a natural in the kitchen, moving through the recipes with ease. He told you stories about how he used to come out here to visit his grandma and she would always cook with him in the very cabin he lived in now. He told you about how he inherited it from her 8 years ago when she passed away, and how he quit his office job in Daegu to move out here and become a freelance writer for an online journal. You admired his bravery, being able to leave his life behind and take a risk moving out here. Part of you wished you were able to take that jump, you truly loved this cabin, and most of the memories that came with it. But alas, you were tied to your stupid corporate job in your stupid coastal city. It’s part of the reason you were always so jealous of Joshua, being able to make that move without you.

Now, you and Seungcheol were sitting on his soft blanket, in front of your fireplace, eating the stew the two of you made together. “So where are you from, YN?” Seungcheol asked as he finished off his bowl, setting it down on the hardwood floor. 

“Busan,” you stated simply. “I still live there. I usually only make the trip out here for Christmas now. Though I used to come up during the summers, too, but haven’t in a while.”

“And what do you do, in Busan?” he asked, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows, full focus on you.

“I work at an animal shelter. Nothing fancy. I actually work in the office, but I get to hang out with the cats and dogs, too. I tend to prefer the company of animals, rather than humans,” you offered somewhat abashedly. You were telling the truth. You had always wanted to become a veterinarian, ever since you could talk, really. But you just didn’t have the time, or the money to go to school, so you found the next best option.

“I definitely get that,” Seungcheol agreed, “I have a cat at home. It gets lonely up here sometimes, and he helps keep me sane.” He smiled thinking about the furball he adopted a couple years ago, probably resting peacefully in his favorite sunbathing spot in his living room.

Your eyes lit up at the mention of a cat and Seungcheol filed that away for later. “Really? What’s his name?”

Seungcheol was more than happy to indulge in your sudden curiosity, happy he found something you’re actually interested in. “Bear. He’s a Maine coon. I found him at the local shelter in town a couple years back. He’s the sweetest thing.”

Your conversation continued throughout the afternoon much the same. You told Seungcheol about your dreams to become a vet that would probably never come to fruition, and in turn he told you about his previous job in Daegu as a marketing analyst. You shared with each other your big (and small) dreams and aspirations, discussed TV shows you both liked, and talked about different recipes you enjoy. You discovered that Seungcheol used to be a horrible cook, but ever since moving to the cabin and having to cook for himself, he turned out to be a decent home chef.

You were actually enjoying spending time with Seungcheol, something you really didn’t expect to happen when you were on the drive up here a few days ago. You haven’t really had a friend to talk to for a long time, your only close friend Jeongyeon having moved to the United States six years ago, you never really made the effort to make any new ones. Seungcheol was nice, you thought to yourself as he talked more about his cat, you wouldn’t mind being friends with him. 

By dinner time you were both starting to get hungry again, so you suggested ordering take out while you both cleaned up the mess in the kitchen from earlier.  You called the chicken place you knew of in town, while Seungcheol started loading the dishwasher. “Hey YN?” you heard from the kitchen.

“Yes?” You half shouted back, walking down the hallway towards Seungcheol. 

“Where are your dish- oh nevermind, found them!” He shouted back as you walked into the kitchen. He stood up straight after shutting the dishwasher, sighing and wiping his hands down the front of his jeans. “Dishes are done, food is ordered. What do you say we watch some Christmas movies?” You smiled at the look on Seungcheol’s face, he seemed so excited to be doing something as domestic as cleaning and relaxing, it made your heart soften just a bit.

For the rest of the night, you and Seungcheol sat in front of the TV, watching sappy Lifetime movies, eating chicken and drinking beer. It was probably the most fun you’ve had in quite a few years, and you were really thankful for his company. At the end of the night, you and Seungcheol exchanged phone numbers with a promise that you would give Seungcheol one more day, at least, to get to know you better. You agreed, and Seungcheol left with one final bright smile and wave of his hand. 

You sighed, rubbing your hand down the front of your face. Having Seungcheol here was a great distraction, but now that he’s gone and you can hear the faint sound of Christmas music playing on the credits of some crappy movie, reality was starting to sink in. After these two weeks were over, you’d return to Busan, Seungcheol-less, and have to resume your normal life again. A life you weren’t satisfied with. A life you knew you didn’t want to continue living. Being here made you feel like that life didn’t exist anymore, like you were almost, happy? But you knew that it would all be over soon and everything would hurt again. You didn’t want to let yourself get wrapped up in Seungcheol because only bad things could come of it, but he was making it really, really hard. You could see yourself falling for Seungcheol, allowing him to make you happy, being with him, domestic and blissful, in another life. But not this one, not the current life the universe had dealt you. You had way too much baggage, you would never be the happy go-lucky girl you were in your teens again. You would always live with this depression, with these demons. Despite years of therapy and a stint in rehab, there was nothing that was going to fix you.

As you changed into your pajamas, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes were sunken in, your skin was pale, and your hair had seen better days. You knew you hadn’t been taking great care of yourself, but you didn’t think it had gotten this bad. What did Seungcheol see in you anyways? Your life was a wreck and you looked like it, too. You sighed to yourself, running a brush through your hair. You promised Seungcheol one more day, so you were going to make it through tomorrow, at least.

December 23rd. Two more days until Christmas. 

You woke up feeling a little lighter this morning after having spent yesterday with Seungcheol, but you also had a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve never really been one to believe in superstitions, but for some reason, you had a strong feeling something bad was going to happen soon. You tried to shake off the feeling. You had woken up early this morning, just before sunrise and decided to take a steaming hot shower.

After your shower, you got dressed in comfy clothes and decided to sit out on the deck and smoke for a bit. It was still early in the morning, the sun still on the horizon. It really was beautiful out here. You had the perfect view of the lake from your deck. It faced towards the east, giving you a gorgeous view of the sunrise just above the frozen lake. The colors of the sky were so pretty this time of day, oranges mixing with pretty pinks, you nearly felt like you were on set for a romance drama. 

There was a low fog rolling onto the embankment from the lake. It almost looked like dry ice, white billows of smoke swirling in the slight morning breeze. Admiring the landscape, you took a cigarette out of your pack, and slid your lighter out of your pocket. The sun was just barely starting to pass over the mountains in the east. You shivered a little as you lit up your cigarette, taking a deep inhale of smoke. You instantly felt at ease, the weird feeling from earlier dissipating with the sharp exhale of smoke. 

Seungcheol hadn’t gone to sleep yet, and was typing on his laptop, Bear in his lap, on his sofa. He spent a majority of the day over at your cabin yesterday and spent all night trying to get caught up with work. As a freelance writer, he made his own hours, but he wanted to make sure he was going to meet his next deadline, coming up in a few weeks. 

He gently closed his laptop and stretched his arms up into the air, cracking a few joints in the process. The noise startled Bear and he shot up out of Seungcheol’s lap, across the kitchen floor. “Sorry, buddy,” Seungcheol mumbled, sleep thick in his voice. He watched as Bear slid across the linoleum and jumped up onto the window sill above the sink. Seungcheol looked out of the window curiously, eyes catching on a figure. He stood up from his spot on the sofa slowly, making his way towards the window, mindful of Bear this time.

From his kitchen window, Seungcheol had a perfect view of you standing on your deck smoking a cigarette. He watched as you took a deep inhale every couple of minutes and exhaled white swirls of smoke through your nose. The sun was just beginning to rise and the light was catching beautifully on the planes of your face. Seungcheol took a moment to admire you, since he hasn’t really had the chance before. You were always intently watching him, waiting for his next move, almost like you were afraid he would leave, never quite giving in to his friendship.

The light shone over your features beautifully, highlighting your sharp cheekbones and sunken in eyes. Seungcheol noticed you looked a little thin, he wasn’t sure if that had to do with heredity or your mental state, but he tried not to dwell on it. Long eyelashes flutter over your cheeks everytime you close your eyes, basking in the sunlight. Your fingers, long and slender, held the cigarette so delicately. You seemed so fragile, so ethereal, he wonders why the world had to be so cruel to you. What did you do to deserve the foul things that have happened to you? Nothing, you didn’t do anything, he reminded himself. You were just delt a bad hand at life. 

He watched as your long hair fluttered around your face in the breeze. It looks like you just washed it, he thought, you must be cold in the crisp morning air. With one last exhale of smoke, you put your cigarette out on the railing of your deck. Seungcheol smirked to himself when he saw the small pout form on your lips. How could someone be so beautiful, yet so broken? Seungcheol wasn’t sure why he felt this strong urge to protect you, to prevent any further harm from coming to you, but he knew that he would do everything in his power to make sure you felt cared for. He was drawn to you, in a way he has never been drawn to another person. It both scared and excited him and sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach and ribcage. He took one last glance at you through the window and decided it would be best if he got some rest before trekking back over to your cabin later. 

As Seungcheol fell asleep, all thoughts were on his pretty neighbor and the haunting look in your eyes as you stared out at the lake.

The rest of your morning went by relatively smoothly, having made breakfast after coming inside from your morning smoke. You cooked yourself some eggs and toast and then decided to check some emails on your laptop you brought with you. You saw a couple of emails from your boss, asking about adoption paperwork that he couldn’t find on your desk. You emailed him back quickly with the forms you had stored in your files, before powering off your computer, done with work for now. You moved the laptop from the top of your thighs to the nightstand next to your bed and leaned back against the headboard. You folded your arms behind your head and glanced around the room, taking in your childhood surroundings. 

The walls of your bedroom were still a pastel pink color with sponged on white clouds reaching up to the ceiling. You had a vivid memory of helping your mom paint the clouds when you were 8 years old. She would laugh at you everytime you would pout because the cloud didn’t come out exactly how you wanted it to. You smiled at the memory of your sweet mother’s laugh.

Across from your full size bed, was a white dresser with claw feet that still contained some old summer clothes from when you would visit during your breaks from high school, probably a few sizes too small now. Along the side of the dresser and the white full length mirror on the back of your door, were stickers from your favorite boy groups when you were a teenager. You and Jeongyeon had collected them throughout the school year and would stick them on when you arrived for the summer. You smiled at the memories this room brought back. This was the reason you kept returning here every year, you tell yourself. To remember the times when you were happy and loved life. 

You let out a deep sigh and sunk back onto your mattress further, eyes feeling droopy. When your head hit the soft pillow, you stared up at the ceiling, still white because your mom said painting the ceiling pink would have made the room feel claustrophobic. There were still little pieces of sticky tape stuck to it from when you had plastered glow in the dark stars and planets all over the ceiling, long since gone now, though the remnants remained. You were always fascinated by space. You remember when you begged your mom to get those planets for the cabin after putting them up in your childhood bedroom back home in Busan.

You never updated anything in the house, really, bought new furniture, or moved anything around. It would feel wrong, you thought. It wouldn’t feel like home anymore if you made changes. 

You hadn’t even entered the master bedroom, where your parents slept, since they passed. You know that Joshua has, having gone through some of their belongings in the years since their death, but you never could bring yourself to do it. Shua had also gone through his childhood things in his room, just across the hall from you, taking what he cared for back to Seoul with him. You wondered what was left in there, too tired to actually get up and check. As you reminisced on your cabin, your childhood, sleep began to take over, and eventually you fell asleep to the slow hum of the heater for a much needed nap.

-

You sat up straight in bed, clutching your shirt, breathing heavy. What was that noise? Ding ding. You let out a breath of relief. It’s just the doorbell. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, briefly glancing at the clock on your side table. 4:03 pm. Damn. How long did you sleep?

As you got up to answer the door you caught your reflection in the mirror, straightening your bed head out a little. As you made your way to the front of the house, you heard soft knocking on the door. “Coming, coming!” you yelled out to whoever was on the other side. When you arrived at the front door, you looked out the glass pane next the door, finding Seungcheol standing there on your front porch. He was holding a - duffle bag? You squint your eyes in confusion, but open the door anyways. 

“Hi, YN!” Seungcheol starts, before taking in your appearance. You were wearing what looked to be pajama shorts and an oversized white t-shirt. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” He looked a little sheepish, despite the late hour, running his hair through his blonde locks.

“A-ah, yeah, but it’s ok! I really shouldn’t have slept this long anyway,” you trailed off, opening the door a little wider and motioning for Seungcheol to come in. “What’s that?” You asked, pointing at the black bag clutched in his hand.

“Oh, well…” he starts, coming all the way through the entryway and toeing his shoes off next to yours, he assumed. “Since the forecast says it’s supposed to snow, I brought some board games and some movies,” he seemed a little unsure, wary that you were going to tell him you didn’t want to hang out, or something. You smiled at him to ease his worries.

“I love board games,” you began, walking off towards your kitchen, Seungcheol trailing behind you. “I haven’t really played any in years though,” you falter, “I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

Seungcheol gave you the gentlest smile you think you’ve ever seen from a man, making you melt a little more. What was this guy doing to you?

“Don’t worry, I’m not the competitive type anyways.” He gave you a little wink, making you think that was an absolute lie. Seungcheol’s eyes shot up to yours, a bright smile spreading across his handsome face. The tinkling sound of your laugh made his insides heat up. He absolutely adored the sound. 

The two of you ended up ordering take out again, Seungcheol insisting on paying this time, and sat on your couches with games and snacks spread out on the coffee table. You guys had already played a couple rounds of Scrabble, and one round of Scattergories and now you were leaning back enjoying the pizza Seungcheol had ordered. Just like Seungcheol had predicted, it started snowing around 6 o’clock and has been for the last hour or so. 

“You’re telling me you lived your whole life never having a pet?!” You laughed, hand covering your mouth still full of pizza.

“Nope. My parents never let me have a pet growing up and when I was old enough to move out I was just too busy to take care of one. A few years ago when I was feeling lonely, I decided to give it a go.”

You couldn’t imagine a life without pets. Growing up your family always had dogs or cats around, one time even adopting a pet hamster. You haven’t had pets in a few years, but you’re around them all the time due to work. 

“I love Bear, though. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it now.” He smiled fondly, talking about his beloved cat. “What about you, any pets back home?”

“Ah, no. I don’t have the time anymore. But it’s ok because I spend most of my time with them at work.” As much as you hated the people you worked with, you absolutely adored the animals. You didn’t think you could ever work in a profession that didn’t allow you to work with animals, it just wouldn’t make sense to you. 

Seungcheol smiled at you, damn that smile was making you seriously weak. “I’d love to introduce you to Bear while you’re here, if you’d like.” 

You grinned brightly at the man seated across from you, “I would love that.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? It’ll be Christmas Eve, I can cook something for us, and you can hangout with Bear. I’m sure he’d love the company, I’m usually pretty boring.” He laughed. 

“I -” you hesitated. Why were you hesitating? You really liked Seungcheol. You liked him so much that you even forgot about your promise to him about ‘one more day’. You were enjoying the time you spent with him so much that thoughts about your parents, Joshua, and your demons were at the back of your mind when you were with him. You mean, you’ve literally only smoked two cigarettes today, that has to be some sort of record for you. So why were you hesitating? 

You knew why, you didn’t want Seungcheol to get too attached. It’s been at the forefront of your mind since you met the guy. Who were you kidding, you didn’t want to get too attached. You’d be leaving soon and it would only hurt you more in the long run. Seungcheol was staring at you, a hopeful look in his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Seungcheol.”

The crestfallen look on Seungcheol’s face made you want to immediately take back your words, but he beat you to it. “Can I ask you why you think that?” He was much bolder than when you met a couple of days ago, you noted. 

You wrung your hands together in your lap, having finished your slice of pizza a few minutes ago, the greasy remnants only slightly bothersome. “I just don’t want to make this harder than it’s already going to be,” you trailed off quietly, eyes fixated on a loose thread on the rug beneath the coffee table, “I have to go back home in a week, and like I told you a couple of days ago, I’m not sure if I even want to live that life anymore.” You whispered the last part, biting on the inside of your cheek. 

Seungcheol’s eyes softened. He realized it wasn’t about him, but about you and how you didn’t want to hurt him, once again. He knew you were too kind for your own good, but he really needed you to realize that. “YN. It’s just dinner. And who says we can’t still be friends when you do go back home?” he added extra emphasis to the word do, making sure to not use an ‘if’ in that sentence. He’s going to make sure you make it back home in one piece if it’s the last thing he does. 

You knew what Seungcheol was trying to do, and you really did appreciate it. You also really enjoyed his company, so you thought, why not, fuck it. “Ok.” you whispered out softly, finally meeting Seungcheol’s eyes. 

“Ok? Does that mean you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Yes. I’ll have dinner with you. On one condition,” you acquiesced, a soft smirk on your face.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his blonde fringe. “Anything,” he breathed out, a little too quickly for his liking.

“I get to cuddle with your cat all night. I really miss the animals.” A melancholic look took over your features as you remember the shelter animals.

Seungcheol tried, and failed, to hide a huge grin. “Deal.”

-

Last night, after you agreed to have dinner with Seungcheol, you played a few more board games, kicking his ass in Monopoly a couple of times, before you said your goodbyes. Seungcheol left the board games at your house, reasoning that he would definitely be back over to avenge himself in Monopoly. You giggled at him as you waved goodbye with the promise of dinner the next night.

It was now 1 o’clock in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, and you were starting to panic. Christmas Eve was a hard day for you to get through normally, considering the memories you have of this day. Not only that, but you still couldn’t shake that odd feeling that you had when you woke up yesterday. However, today is even more panic-inducing because you are about to have dinner with your cute neighbor, who you may or may not have a slight (read: huge) crush on. Something you realized late last night as you lay awake in your bed.

You spent a majority of your morning sulking around your cabin, taking more than a few smoke breaks on the deck, and cleaning the kitchen and living room up in your anxiety driven state. Even though you were eating at your neighbor’s house tonight, your own was looking spotless with all your stress cleaning. Now, with nothing left to tidy up, you decide to start getting ready for dinner. 

After taking a long, hot shower, you dried and styled your hair, put just enough makeup on to cover your dark bags and sallow skin, and ventured to your room to rummage through your suitcase in order to find something appropriate to wear. You didn’t bring much with you on this trip besides sweatpants and pajamas. It’s not like you would’ve gone anywhere other than the corner store for more cigarettes had you not met Seungcheol. 

You eventually decide on a dark pair of jeans that you luckily decided to throw in your suitcase last minute, and an old band t-shirt. You honestly didn’t have much else, and you were hoping Seungcheol understood (he did) you didn’t really plan on seeing anyone these couple of weeks. 

A little after four in the afternoon, your anxiety started to build up even more. You were anxiously awaiting Seungcheol’s text to head over to his place, and decided that it was a great time for a smoke. You grabbed Seungcheol’s coat that was draped over your vanity chair, your pack of cigarettes, and your lighter, and headed out towards the deck. You had been so wrapped up in making yourself look presentable, that you had mostly forgotten what day it was, and the dread you usually felt about it. It was nice in a way, but now, sitting out here on your deck, staring out at that damned lake, you couldn’t help but remember why it was you started smoking these stupid cigarettes in the first place. 

“YN?” you heard someone call, distant, yet still close? You were confused, you couldn’t open your eyes. Why couldn’t you open your eyes? “YN, can you hear me?” Joshua? Joshua! You thought to yourself. Why couldn’t he hear you!?

For a moment, your eyes fluttered open. You saw Joshua, hovering above you. But there was someone else next to him. They were wearing a uniform. A cop? No. They were wearing latex gloves and holding what looked like an IV bag.  “YN!” You heard Joshua yell again, he sounded scared. You desperately wanted to answer him, but your voice wouldn’t come through. You blinked a few times, before everything faded to black again. That was the last memory you had of your brother. 

Your cell phone dinged in your pocket, startling you back into the present. You looked at the cigarette in your hand, nearly burned to the butt and you haven’t taken a single drag. Quickly, you brought it up to your lips and inhaled before pulling your phone out of Seungcheol’s coat. 

From Seungcheol [4:33 pm]: dinner will be ready in 20, want to head over?

You glanced over to Seungcheol’s house, briefly looking through the only window that didn’t have the curtains drawn. You didn’t see any movement. Had he seen you out here smoking again? You looked back at your phone, taking another drag from the cigarette, before typing out your reply. 

From You [4:35 pm]: ya, be right over

You pocketed your phone and put your cigarette out, tossing the butt into the trash can on your way back inside. You locked the sliding glass door before heading to your room to spray some perfume. You didn’t want to go over to Seungcheol’s smelling like smoke, knowing he probably didn’t like the smell regardless of what he said. Before you left, you grabbed your keys, double checked the doors were locked, and walked the short distance between the two houses. 

Before you knocked, you took in the state of Seungcheol’s home. It was quaint, smaller than your parent’s cabin, but only slightly, painted white with forest green window sills and roof tiles. You noticed there were planter boxes under his front windows, but no plants to be found in the frigid winter. Hung on his front door was a cute Christmas wreath, plain with pretty burgundy poinsettias on it. You smiled to yourself, happy to see some form of Christmas decorations, not having put any of your own out. You’ve really forgotten how much you used to love Christmas. You loved the decorations, the food, the movies, but you’ve really forgotten what it was like to feel that holiday cheer. Having Seungcheol in your life, even for these few days, has really helped you see what you’ve been missing out on.

Before you could even lift your hand to knock on the dark green door, it was opening to reveal a giddy looking Seungcheol. You took a moment to drink him in, in all his glory. He was wearing some dark jeans, much like you, and a tucked in plain black t-shirt, his muscular biceps on display. You idly wondered if he didn’t dress up on purpose to spare you the embarrassment of not having nice clothes, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it came. His blonde hair, usually a disheveled mess, was combed out and surprisingly shiny, despite what looked like excessive bleaching to reach his desired tone. The moment he saw that you were wearing his coat, a huge bright grin took over his face, causing his doe-like eyes to scrunch in happiness. The look on his face made butterflies erupt in your stomach, as you mirrored his grin.

“Hi,” he said shyly, still smiling.

“Hi yourself,” you breathed, “thank you for having me over.”

He waved away your thanks, moving aside and gesturing for you to come in. “Don’t mention it, really. The pleasure is all mine.” You don’t know the weight those words hold, but he means it, you can tell. 

As you walked through the entryway of his home, you pulled off your shoes, setting them on the neatly organized shoe rack next to his front door. Moving through to his living room, you noticed how well organized his entire house was. There was a pristine looking cover over his sofa which also housed a couple of blankets and throw pillows. On his coffee table were a few books and what looked like photo albums. As you took in your surroundings, Seungcheol watched you curiously, one eyebrow cocked. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting him to be so… clean? Organized? Your guy friends growing up were never this neat.

“I like to keep things organized, sometimes it can be a bad habit of mine,” he trailed off, reading your mind, looking around his neat space, “dinner is almost done. Do you want something to drink?”

“Yes, please.” You sighed in relief. You were pacified at the thought of having a glass of something to help lessen your nerves. You only knew Seungcheol for the past three days, but for some reason, this almost felt like a first date, despite him never labeling it as such. God, when was the last time you went on a date? It had to have been at least 5 years ago. The thought alone made your anxiety flare up tenfold. It’s not a date. It’s just neighbors having dinner on Christmas Eve because they’re both lonely. Right? 

“I have both white and red wine, soda and different types of tea…” you were still standing awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you looking almost like you were afraid to move further into his house. Seungcheol walked up to you, gently taking your hand in his, causing your eyes to snap up, meeting his own. “Hey, it’s ok,” he smiled gently at you, “come on, I’ll get us some drinks.” 

He led you into his kitchen which had his dining room attached, a small four person wooden table sitting near a bay window. It was cozy, you thought, somewhere you would like to retire to. Now, that wasn’t a thought you’d had in a long time. You never pondered about growing old anymore, surprise you even made it this far into your life. The thought made you pause for a moment, licking your lips and shaking your head slightly.

Seungcheol let go of your hand to reach into a cabinet by his sink. “Wine ok?” he asked, sensing the tension in your body. 

“Y-yes. Red, please.” You weren’t sure why you were being so shy and awkward, you’ve spent the last couple of days getting to know Seungcheol, pretty well you might add. You’ve talked about all kinds of topics, including incredibly deep ones. You think it’s partly to do with what day it is, as Christmas Eve always puts you a little more on edge, and a little more flighty. Seungcheol quietly pours two glasses of red wine, passing one to you politely. You murmur a thank you before taking a sip.

Seungcheol watches you as you sip your wine, looking around his kitchen curiously. He could sense your anxiety, it was rolling off of you in waves. He didn’t want this to be awkward, he wanted to make sure you had a good night, and wanted to take your mind off of things for a while. He figured Christmas Eve was difficult for you, and if your nerves were anything to go by, he was correct in his assumption. “Want to meet Bear?” he asked, hopeful it would help shift your mood a little. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the cat, and were quickly nodding your head. Seungcheol walked away down the hallway, returning moments later with a fluffy dark brown cat in his arms. “He’s a little shy, but if you give him some time, he’ll warm up to you,” Seungcheol smiled at you, his cheeks puffing up cutely, leading you over to his couch, sitting down with Bear in his lap. Slowly, you sat down too, not wanting to scare the creature, and sat your wine glass on a wooden coaster on the coffee table. 

Immediately upon sitting, Bear hopped off Seungcheol’s lap and right into yours. You let out a small, shocked gasp as the cat started kneading into your thighs, making himself comfortable. Seungcheol’s eyes widened as they met you. “H-he never does that. It usually takes him a while to warm up to people. In fact, the first time my friend Mingyu came over, he nearly lost an eye to him.” He chuckled lowly at the memory. 

“Animals usually like me,” you said softly, bringing your hand up to run through Bear’s fur. It was long, and extremely fluffy, “I think they know how much I adore them.” Seungcheol watched on as you smiled down at his now purring cat in your lap. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to adopt another cat with you, or maybe even a dog, before lightly shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts and rising from the couch. 

“I’m gonna check on dinner, it should be done soon. You’ll probably be… occupied, until then.” Seungcheol gave you a soft smile, which you returned, before walking off into the kitchen. You leaned back into the soft fabric of the couch, absentmindedly running your hand over Bear. 

You could hear the clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen as you loved on Bear. Whatever Seungcheol was cooking smelled absolutely delicious and was making your mouth water. You had only eaten breakfast today, and were on the verge of starving at this point. On top of that, you haven’t had a Christmas meal in ages. You were actually starting to get excited about having dinner with Seungcheol, and you had this purring love bug in your lap, and your glass of wine, to thank. Maybe accepting his invite hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.

“It’s ready!” Seungcheol called from the kitchen, scaring the sleeping cat, causing him to jump up and run off towards the kitchen. “Oh you scaredy cat,” Seungcheol grumbled as Bear slid past him on the floor. You chuckled as you got up from the couch and headed towards the dining table. Upon seeing what Seungcheol had laid out on the table, your eyes widened and you let out a breathy gasp. 

“You made all of this?!” You questioned incredulously. 

“U-uh, yeah? I told you, I used to cook with my grandma. We always made Christmas dinners together,” he ran his hand through his, now messy, locks, “I still try and cook as much as I can, I actually enjoy it. My friend Mingyu has given me lot’s of pointers, too.” He looked away, blush rising to his cheeks.

You looked at all the different assortments of food Seungcheol had prepared. There was a large skillet that contained beef bulgogi, and smaller dishes that housed kimchi, steamed eggs, japchae, and steamed rice. There were also two bowls of some kind of stew that made your mouth water, “It looks amazing, Seungcheol!” You exclaimed, a genuine smile on your face. 

“Well let’s not stare at it all night. Let’s eat!”

You and Seungcheol ate your meal, laughing at each other’s odd Christmas stories from your childhoods. You learned more about his life in Daegu and you told him stories of Jeongyeon and the trouble the two of you got up to in middle school. 

You both had another glass of wine with dinner, feeling looser as the night went on. Bear sat close to his owner, tail flicking idly, waiting for scraps of food to be accidentally flung from chopsticks during conversation. According to Seungcheol, the cat loved eggs, a trait he found both odd and endearing. You were so enthralled in conversation with Seungcheol, you barely registered that the food was nearly gone, two glasses of wine downed, and it was nearing midnight already. Sparing a glance at the oven clock, you realized just how late it was getting.  “Do you mind…” you started, before hesitating, unsure if you wanted to ask. 

“What is it, YN?” Seungcheol encouraged you. He was so kind, always observant, sensing when you needed a little push.

“Would you mind if I went out back to smoke?” You looked away, rubbing your hand up and down your arm, embarrassed that you were about to bring your conversation to and end just because you needed to smoke. Nasty habit, you knew you should quit, but it was hard.

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I didn’t realize it was getting so late,” he started, looking at the clock, getting up from his seat and grabbing dishes, “want me to join you? I can deal with this mess later.”

You grabbed your own plate, following him to the sink and setting it down gently. You hesitated for only a moment before you whispered, “Yeah, I think I’d like that.” You smile at Seungcheol, happy for the company for once.

Seungcheol didn’t have a deck like you, but he had a nice yard with a cute picket fence lining one side. Right off his dining room was a sliding glass door that led to a small concrete patio that was furnished with a couple patio chairs and a fire pit. His land went straight back, down to the lake, just like yours. The only thing separating your properties was a line of shrubs and trees. Seungcheol was busying himself with the fire pit as you sat in one of the chairs. You opened your pack of cigarettes, noticing you only had one left, mentally noting you’d have to run down to the store to grab more tomorrow morning. 

As you lit your cigarette, Seungcheol was lighting a small fire with the wood he kept by the backdoor. You idly wondered if he chopped it himself. With how muscular he was it wouldn’t surprise you. It was a small fire he lit, but it was enough to keep you warm in the freezing weather. Instead of sitting down in the chair across from you, like you expected him to, Seungcheol stood in front of you and held his hand out. For a moment, you were confused, until you realized he wanted you to take his outstretched hand. You complied, placing your free hand in his, turning your head to blow out your previous inhale of smoke. 

Seungcheol gave you a gentle tug, indicating he wanted you to stand up. As you stood, Seungcheol maneuvered himself behind you, so you were standing directly in front of the fire, as he shakily wrapped his arms around your middle. The feeling of his large hands on your waist was doing things to you in your alcohol hazed state. 

“Is this ok?” he asked quietly, lips close to your ear and he set his chin on your shoulder. You nodded slightly, feeling almost dizzy from whatever this feeling was that Seungcheol was causing. You could feel his warm breath on your neck as you took another drag from your cigarette. 

“Does the smoke not bother you?” you asked, a little forced, holding the smoke in your lungs. 

“I just want to be close to you,” he whispers, pausing for a moment, “YN, I like you.” 

You giggled at his comment, releasing the smoke from your chest. “I like you too, Seungcheol.”

“No, YN, I mean I really, really like you.” He was emboldened by the alcohol in his system, not wanting to hold back any longer.

To say you were surprised by his sudden confession would be an understatement. You took a sharp inhale of breath, nearly choking on the cold air, and not because of your cigarette, before Seungcheol began again, “I’m sorry if it’s sudden, or if it’s not what you want to hear right now, but I really need you to know that I enjoy spending time with you, and would love the opportunity to get to know you better, if you’ll allow me.” You tossed the butt of your cigarette into the fire pit, blowing out the final bit of smoke, and hesitantly turned around in Seungcheol’s arms. 

Your arms snaked around his shoulder, criss-crossing behind his neck. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the things that go on in my head.” The wine was making you bold too, making you want to tell Seungcheol exactly how you felt. “I’m afraid if you get to know me, you wont like what you find.” Your voice was low, but being so close to you, he had no problem hearing your words.

Seungcheol sighed, looking deep into your eyes that have long since lost their sparkle. “I can’t promise you much, YN. I’m a freelance writer who lives in the middle of nowhere. But what I can promise you, is that whatever I find in you, wont send me running. I know what I’ve already found in you - you’re a sweet, compassionate girl, who in just three days has me falling head over heels,” he breathed, inches away from your face, “I’ve never met anyone like you, YN.” Seungcheol brought his hand from your waist up to your face, the chill making you shudder slightly, ever so gently gracing the back of his fingers against your sharp cheekbone. 

You leaned into his touch, not remembering what it was like to be cared for in such a gentle manner. “Seungcheol, I-” you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. You wanted so badly to give in to his sweet words, to let him in and break down your walls for him. You were scared, terrified even, of what that meant. He would learn all about your dark past, your demons, the monsters that threatened to take you down even still. A silent tear trailed down your cheek because of your internal battle. 

Seungcheol was quick to swipe it away with his thumb. “You don’t have to say anything back, YN,” his voice barely a whisper, like if he spoke too loud you’d blow away in the cold breeze, “Just promise me one thing?” You made a sound of confirmation, “One more day.”

At that, you broke down in Seungcheol’s strong arms. Your face pushed into his firm chest, tears flowing freely. Sobs wracked your chest and Seungcheol held you, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You weren’t sure, but you think you feel Seungcheol’s chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made it seem like he was crying with you. You didn’t want to chance a look at him, worried it would break you further. You stood there for what felt like an eternity before you calmed enough to pull back from Seungcheol, hands unclasping from behind his back and coming around to fist in the front of his shirt. “Thank you, Seungcheol. Thank you.” You let out a couple more weak sobs, before hugging him as tightly as you could. You didn’t need to explain, Seungcheol understood.

You and Seungcheol stayed wrapped up in each other's arms for the better part of the night, having moved inside to the couch, before you were getting too tired to keep your eyes open. Seungcheol was laying against the back of the couch, you slotted in front of him with his arms around your chest, holding you tightly to him. You let out a small yawn, making Seungcheol smile to himself. “Tired, love?” The nickname made your insides heat, despite how tired you were feeling.

You let out another yawn, bringing your hand up to rub your eyes. “Yeah,” you sighed, “I should probably get going.” You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you should. You would feel a lot better in the morning if you slept in your own bed, not on this too small couch. 

“I’ll walk you home,” Seungcheol offered, standing up from the couch, pulling you with him. You moved to take off his coat before he stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” He smiled down at you, running his hand from your shoulder, down your arm, taking your hand in his. 

You smiled up at the slightly taller man, blushing profusely. You followed Seungcheol through his home, toeing on your shoes at the front door, hands still intertwined. As promised, Seungcheol walked you to your front porch, waiting until you had entered your house and locked the door before walking back to his own home. Once inside, you leaned your back against the door, head tilting until it hit the glass window pane in the middle of it. You sighed to yourself, feeling lighter than you have in years. You weren’t used to this feeling, and on Christmas Eve of all days. Well… You guessed it was probably Christmas now, with how long you spent laying on Seungcheol’s couch. With that thought in mind, you pulled your phone out from Seungcheol’s coat pocket to check the time. Before you could even register the time, you were stopping in your tracks as what greeted you on your phone screen. When was the last time you checked your phone? You’d been so wrapped up in Seungcheol you don’t recall looking at it all night.

On your lock screen, you saw a missed call. Several, actually. From Joshua. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Why was he calling you? You haven’t spoken to him in nearly three years. There was no reason for him to be calling you, unless there was some kind of emergency, right? Panicking, you walked further into the cabin, not bothering to take off the coat or your shoes. You sped walked right into your bedroom, eyes glued to your phone the entire time. Should you call him back? You weren’t sure if you wanted to speak to him right now, especially after the wonderful night you had with Seungcheol. But - what if he was calling to apologize, to make things right? Or what if something terrible happened to him? You had to find out.

As you unlocked your phone, you saw the notification for a new voicemail. Hesitantly, you opened your calls app, and clicked on the message from Joshua. You saw it was only about a minute long. Curiosity getting the best of you, you played the message instead of immediately calling him back:

“Y-YN? YN! W-what are you doing baby sister?” you could tell he was drunk from the way he was slurring his words, panic immediately rising in your chest. “Are you at mom and dad’s cabin? Yo-you always did love it there, didn’t you? Loved it so much you even tried ending your own life there!” A sharp laugh came from the phone, causing you to pull it away from your ear for a second. “You know YN, I wish you- you did. I wish I never pulled you out of th-that fucking lake. Then m-maybe I wouldn’t have to relive that God damn nigh-nightmare every fucking n-night YN,” you didn’t want to listen to this anymore, but your morbid curiosity made you keep the phone to your ear, you shut your eyes tight, hot tears welling up behind your eyelids, “G-go be with mom and dad, it’s what you want right?! I just-” the line cut off, ending the voicemail. You stumbled backwards, back hitting your bedroom door and mirror, making a loud clanging sound. You couldn’t see, lights still off, not having bothered with them when you burst in the room. Stunned, you still had the phone to your ear, other hand coming up to push at your eyes, willing the tears to stop forming. You slid down the back of your bedroom door, finally letting go of your phone, causing it to clatter down to the wood floor. Your breathing was ragged, eyes still glued shut in pain and panic. You were panicking. You haven’t had a panic attack in a couple of years, but you knew the signs. You hugged your knees to your chest and fell over on your side, sobbing into your forearms. 

Is that how Joshua, your own brother, really felt all these years? He wished he never saved your life? It shouldn’t be surprising to you, the last memory you have of him is in the back of an ambulance, grief written all over his face. That was the last time you saw him, until he texted you months later after countless missed calls, texts, and emails from you. He told you that you needed help, and that he needed to distance himself from you. Did your actions take such a huge toll on his life, that he wished you were no longer on this planet? In your muddled mind it made sense. He said he’s been reliving the nightmare, pulling you out of that lake must have haunted him. Of course he wanted it to end, why else would he have cut off all contact with you for this long?

You aren’t sure how long you laid on your bedroom floor, sobbing, but it must have been hours. By the time you finally pulled yourself up, you could see the beginnings of morning shining through your window. 

You needed to smoke, or drink, or do something to ease this pain. You remembered briefly that you were out of cigarettes, not willing to drive yourself to the store this early in the morning to buy more. Drinking seemed like it would only worsen your pain right now, so you pulled yourself over to your suitcase, tossing it open on your bed. After a few moments of rifling through your things, you found what you were looking for, before heading off into your bathroom.

It was Christmas day. Seungcheol hasn’t been this excited for Christmas since he was a teenager, and his mother was still around to make the holidays special. He hasn’t done much for Christmas since he moved out here. Every once in a while, Mingyu would invite him over for Christmas dinner with his wife a couple towns over, but she was pregnant this year and Seungcheol didn’t want to intrude. Mingyu told him he really didn’t mind, but he insisted it was fine, he could spend this year alone. Except, he wouldn’t be alone now.

Seungcheol was actually excited for Christmas today. Sure, he didn’t have a tree, or presents to give, but he had someone to spend it with. Someone special, which was saying a lot for a recluse like him. Wait until he told Mingyu about this, he would tease him to no end.

It was early, an ungodly hour according to Seungcheol on a normal day, but today was different. As he got out of bed, he startled Bear who shot across the floor, out his bedroom door. He smiled to himself and shook his head lightly. Such a scaredy cat, he thought to himself. Seungcheol planned on making some Christmas cookies, or maybe some rice cakes for today (Mingyu’s recipe, of course), before heading over to your house to spend the day with you. After his late night confession yesterday, Seungcheol was feeling bolder than ever when it came to you, and decided to shoot you a quick text to let you know he was thinking about you.

To YN [7:37 am]: good morning, love

To YN [7:37 am]: I hope it’s ok if I come over in a bit

To YN [7:38 am]: I want to let you sleep in a little longer, but I can’t wait to see you

He pocketed his phone, satisfied with his texts, for now. He assumed you were still sleeping since you were at his last night until well after midnight. 

As the morning went on, Seungcheol whipped up traditional rice cakes. By the time he was done, it was nearing nine in the morning, and he was starting to worry slightly that you haven't texted him back. He usually saw you out on your deck having a morning smoke by now, and he had definitely been sneaking glances out his kitchen window to try and catch a glimpse of you. He didn’t see you all morning, which was causing a slight panic to arise in his chest. 

By 9:15, Seungcheol couldn’t contain his panic anymore. Something was wrong. He could feel it. You should be awake by now. You always came out for a cigarette by now. Pulling on a coat, Seungcheol put on his slippers, rice cakes long forgotten, as he trudged over to your front door.

He knocked gently at first, not wanting to startle you if you indeed were just sleeping in. No response. This time, Seungcheol knocked on the door a little harder, making enough noise to wake you up without a doubt. He waited a couple of minutes before the feeling in his chest dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. This isn’t right. 

Seungcheol walked around the front of your house to peer into your bedroom window. He vaguely remembered the location of it from when he carried you in there the first night you met. He put his hands up to the glass and attached his face to his fingers, looking into your room. He didn’t see you, but what he did see worried him even more. Your bedroom door was wide open and your suitcase was open on your bed. He glanced at the driveway to confirm your car was indeed still there before he ran around to your back deck. Seungcheol was in full panic mode now, seconds away from breaking a window. He sincerely hoped he was overreacting, but after everything you’ve shared with him the past few days, he was suspecting the worse. When he got to your sliding glass door, he attempted to open it, and to his surprise it slid right open. He would have to give you a lecture about locking your doors after he made sure you were ok.

“YN?” he called out, slightly louder than he meant to, panic overtaking him, “YN? Love? Are you in here?” Seungcheol walked through your living room hesitantly, almost scared of what he might find. He didn’t see any sign of you, so he trudged down the hallway leading to your bedroom. “YN!?” His voice was starting to become panicked the longer he couldn’t find you. “YN please,” he sighed out, realizing wherever you were you probably weren’t hearing him. He peeked into your room one more time to make sure you really weren’t in there. He didn’t find you, but what he did find was your cellphone, laying on the floor with a cracked screen. Seungcheol tilted his head as he knelt down to pick the phone up. It lit up with the movement, showing him the missed texts from himself, and missed calls from… Joshua? Oh no. “No. No, no, no” Seungcheol whispered to himself. This couldn't be good. He pocketed your phone, making his way further down the hallway. He saw light coming from underneath one of the closed doors and immediately started banging on it. “YN!? YN are you in there? Please love, open the door!” Seungcheol tried turning the door handle, unsurprised when he found it locked. “YN I will break this door down!” He threatened, terrified beyond belief at what he would find when he did.

With one sharp inhale of air, Seungcheol grabbed onto the door handle and shoved his shoulder into the door. Once, twice, and on the third hit it popped open, breaking the doorframe in the process. Seungcheol ignored the stinging pain in his shoulder as soon as he saw your prone form on the bathroom floor, empty pill bottle in the sink. The air left Seungcheol’s lungs as he knelt down next to your head, gently cradling your head in his hands, setting it in his lap. “YN?! No, no! YN!” He was frantically trying to get his phone out of his pocket and unlocked. “YN, honey, please. Please wake up, please. YN you promised. You promised me YN!” his cries were frantic, tears streaming down his face, “You promised me! Please YN!” he begged you to wake up, to be alive, terrified he would never see your eyes light up or your beautiful smile again. Hot tears streamed onto his phone as he dialed for emergency services.

-

Seungcheol sat in the waiting area of the emergency room, speaking quietly into the phone, fingers playing with a frayed edge of his t-shirt. “I don’t know, Mingyu, they won't tell me anything.” He hadn’t stopped crying since he found you on your bathroom floor, now just letting silent tears roll down his cheeks as he waited for any news.

“You’re telling me, you met some girl four days ago, have been spending all your time with her, and you find her, half alive on her bathroom floor? What kind of mess are you getting yourself into Seungcheol? You’ve never been the type to take an interest in girls, much less ones you barely know!” Mingyu half-yelled through the phone. Seungcheol understood why Mingyu was worried, he really did, but he was just looking for some kind of anchor right now to keep him grounded.

“Gyu, please,” Seungcheol barely whimpered into the phone, lip trembling, “I l- I don’t want to lose her.” He wasn’t ready to say the words yet, not when he wasn’t sure if you were even going to make it. 

Mingyu heaved a heavy sigh, obviously frustrated with the situation. “I’m really sorry, hyung. I wish I could tell you she was going to be alright, she’s - what was her name again?”

“YN.” 

“Right, YN. From what you’ve told me, it seems like you got to her before it was too late, right? I’m sure everything will be fine. You said they’re pumping her stomach now, I’m sure it won't be much longer before you have more answers,” Mingyu sounded like he wanted to add on to that, but thought better of it, “Do you need me to come by? Eunha is at her parents house right now, I hung back to talk to you, I don’t mind-”

“Mingyu, no. It’s fucking Christmas. I’m sorry for taking you away-” he sniffled harder, “away from your family.” The dam is broken now, Seungcheol was unable to stop the tears from flowing, sobs wracking his small frame. 

Mingyu’s heart broke at the sound of his oldest friend’s tears. He didn’t mind leaving his wife for a few hours, he knew she was safe with her parents, probably about to start working on dinner for tonight. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, hyung. Hang in there.”

Seungcheol let out a shaky sigh, looking down at his now black phone screen. He felt like he was underwater, like his heart was beating in his ears. He could vaguely hear the chatter of the nurses and people in the waiting room, but his sole focus was on the pounding in his chest and the sinking feeling in his gut. All he could think about was you; what drove you to this? What could he have done differently last night to ensure your safety? Why was your brother calling you insistently throughout the morning? Most importantly, were you going to be ok? He didn’t want to think about that right now, couldn’t think about that right now, unless he wanted the hospital to have to admit him, too. 

Before Seungcheol could spiral any further, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his younger friend, dressed in gray sweats and a loose black pullover. Mingyu had a sad look in his eyes, not pity, but heartache at the pain his friend was feeling. Mingyu squatted down in front of Seungcheol, his tall stature making them eye level, hand still on his shoulder, “Hey man. Any news?” He asked, solemnly. 

Seungcheol shook his head slightly, trying to collect himself enough to utter a few words. “No. Nothing.” Seungcheol squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, just for a moment. His effort was all in vain, as Mingyu took hold of Seungcheol’s hand, pulling him up into the taller man’s chest, embracing him. Seungcheol’s smaller frame seemed tiny in this moment, shoulders shrunk in on themselves, as Mingyu hugged the broken man.

“Why don’t you tell me about her?” Mingyu whispered to Seungcheol, rubbing a hand up and down his back comfortingly. “We can grab some coffee and you can tell me all about her.” Mingyu wanted to get Seungcheol away from this waiting room full of curious eyes, and wanted him to relax a little. He knew he was going to want to see you as soon as you were in the clear, and he wanted to make sure he was in a good enough state to do so. He could feel Seungcheol nod against his chest, pulling away but still keeping one arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. 

Seungcheol and Mingyu sat at a quiet table in the corner of the hospital cafeteria, nursing two black coffees. Seungcheol was staring out of the window to his right, not really paying attention to what Mingyu was saying.

“Seungcheol, do you want to talk about it? How did you guys even meet?”

Seungcheol gave a small shrug, “She’s been visiting every year since I moved into my grandma’s house. I just now finally built up the courage to say hi. She seemed sad.” had a permanent frown in his brow. 

“So you wanted to say hello because she seemed sad?” Mingyu seemed unconvinced, still confused at his hyung’s actions, being so out of the ordinary for Seungcheol.

“Yes, Gyu, what more do you want from me?” Seungcheol shot the younger man a glare from where he sat across from him.

Mingyu leaned back slightly, holding his hands up in a pacifying manner. “Hey, hey, man. I just want to hear about her, want you to tell me about her. That’s all.” He said in a hushed tone.

Seungcheol looked down at his coffee, focusing on the small billows of steam rising from it. “I’m sorry - I just -” he looked up at Mingyu, unshed tears threatening to fall again, “She’s perfect, you know? She doesn’t deserve any of this pain. She’s lost her parents, her brother, basically everyone who cared about her. I just wanted to- to be someone she could lean on,” he blinked rapidly, trying to rid the tears before adding on, “I think I love her, Gyu.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, nodding his head. “I support you Seungcheol, you know that. I always will.” Seungcheol nodded at this. He knew it, would never forget it. Him and Mingyu had been through so much together, that’s why he was the first person Seungcheol called when he got to the hospital this morning. “What do you think happened that caused her to do this?”

Seungcheol bit his lip, remembering he had your phone tucked away in his pocket still. He slid it out, setting it on the tabletop between him and Mingyu. “I’m not sure… but I think it has something to do with her brother calling her.” As if he was summoned, Joshua’s name appeared on the small screen, phone vibrating so violently it moved a little across the table, the sound loud in the silence of the room. He’d been calling all morning, and from what Seungcheol could gather from your lock screen, all night, too. It wasn’t his place to go through your phone, or to answer the calls from your brother, especially if him calling had anything to do with your current condition.

“Are you going to answer him?” Mingyu hesitantly asked, looking from the phone, to Seungcheol, and back again as the vibrating faded out. 

Seungcheol shook his head quickly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his temple. He really needed to stop crying, he thought. “No. What if he’s the reason she’s here in the first place?”

“He’s her brother right? Her family?” Mingyu started, seeing Seungcheol nod in confirmation he continued, “don’t you think he should know his sister is in the hospital for attempted suicide?”

Seungcheol scoffed. He was bitter, but part of him knew Mingyu was right. He’s still her family, after all. Would it be the right thing to do, to tell him you’re here? Would he even want to see you? From what you’ve told Seungcheol about your brother, he doesn’t think so. “He left her the last time it happened, hasn’t spoken to her since,” Seungcheol mumbled, almost too quietly for Mingyu to hear, “I’m not sure he would even care.”

Mingyu pursed his lips. He doesn’t know you, nor is he going to pretend to know what it’s like to be in your shoes. Seungcheol knew you better than he did, so he was going to take Seungcheol’s word for it. “Want to head back up? See if there’s any news?” Seungcheol nodded, looking down at the floor. The both grabbed their to-go cups and headed towards the elevators. 

-

Pain. Seething hot pain in your throat, that’s all you mind was focusing on right now. Your vision was black, and no matter how hard you tried to make a sound, nothing would come out. It felt like a thousand hot knives were forcing themselves down your esophagus, blocking any air flow. You were suffocating, this must be what it feels like to die, right? Because the last thing you remember was laying down on the cool tile floor of your bathroom after you swallowed your entire bottle of antidepressants. The pain in your throat must be from the excessive amount of pills you downed, right? Nothing else could explain this excruciating pain. You were obviously being punished for taking fate into your own hands. That was the only reasonable explanation you could come up with in your current state of mind.

“She’s waking up!” 

Wait. Why can you hear people? If there were people around, were you alive? 

“Administer more Propofol, she needs to be unconscious for this.”

No. No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be gone. You wanted to be gone, but right now all you could think about now was making this pain stop. You silently prayed that whoever was helping you would make this pain go away as quickly as possible. 

-

Seungcheol was leaning on Mingyu’s firm shoulder, both sitting on ugly plastic green chairs in the hospital waiting room. A nurse had informed Seungcheol that you were out of the operating room, and were moved to a more private ward of the hospital to recover. He wasn’t allowed in yet, as they wanted to monitor you a little while longer to make sure you were out of the woods. They explained to him that the first few hours after an overdose were the most crucial if there was any hope of the brain recovering if there was any damage. 

Seungcheol was distraught, to say the least. Torn between calling Joshua and waiting. He knew you didn’t have your parents anymore, knew that you and your brother didn’t speak, despite the 100 plus missed calls on your phone that said otherwise. He wasn’t sure if you had any friends back home in Busan, but from what you’ve told him, he guessed you didn’t. He remembers you telling him about Jeongyeon and how she moved to the States, so he figured she was out of the question as well. He was worried that you wouldn’t remember what happened when you woke up, and you would be confused and scared, alone in the hospital. He thought about calling your brother, just so you’d have a familiar face to wake up to, but the devil on his shoulder wouldn’t let him make the call. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that if you did, in fact, remember what happened, the last person you’d want to see is Joshua. 

Mingyu was deathly silent, texting his wife and family updates about you and Seungcheol. Despite not knowing Seungcheol well, or you at all, Mingyu and his entire extended family took an interest in your well-being. Mingyu told them how you had no family, and they completely understood why he was missing Christmas dinner, being the kind and caring people Seungcheol knew them to be. Especially Eunha, he was honored to be able to call her a sister, just as he was to call Mingyu his chose brother. Seungcheol felt bad for keeping him, but Mingyu reassured him over and over again, this is where he wants to be right now. 

“Mr. Choi?” a mouse-like voice called from the circular desk at the center of the waiting area. 

Seungcheol shot ramrod straight in his seat, eyes searching for the voice. A short, dark-haired woman who looked to be around Seungcheol’s age, was making her way towards him. She had a sweet smile on her face, which only minutely lessened Seungcheol’s worries.

“Mr. Choi?” She asked again, hesitantly. She waited for Seungcheol’s grunt in confirmation before continuing, “I don’t have anyone listed as Miss Y/LN’s next of kin, so since you were the one who brought her here, would you like an update on her status?” He voice was kind and soft, respectful of the environment they were currently in.

Seungcheol cleared his throat lightly, “Ye-yes, of course. Yes.” He stuttered out, standing up and moving towards the kind nurse. He glanced over his shoulder at Mingyu, who gave him a small smile, encouraging him to go with the lady.

“I’ll be fine, do what you need to do,” Mingyu waved him off.

The young nurse nodded and turned around, walking back towards the desk. Seungcheol trailed after her like a lost puppy, waiting for answers. “Mr. Choi, we’re going to be keeping Miss Y/LN here at the hospital for a few days. She’s been put under suicide watch for 72 hours, as is protocol with cases like these,” Seungcheol nodded solemnly, understanding the severity of the situation, “I see you listed on her intake paperwork that this wasn’t her first attempt. Is that right?”

Seungcheol nodded his head. He didn’t like sharing your personal stories with this stranger, but he understood it was going to help them better care for you, which is all he wanted. “Yes. She had attempted… yeah. Three years ago.” 

The woman nodded her head, writing something on the clipboard she now held in her hands. “Thank you, Mr. Choi. We’re going to continue to monitor her, but her vitals are looking good, and there are no outward signs of brain damage right now. This could change however, as once she’s awake and alert, her doctor will want to do another brain scan.”

Seungcheol nodded, just glad you were alive and breathing. 

“She’s not awake yet, the sedatives are still wearing off, but they’ve removed intubation and she’s resting,” Seungcheol winced at this fact, “would you like to see her?”

Seungcheol’s eyes finally met the small nurses after staring daggers into the hospital linoleum. “I can see her?”

The woman gave a short nod and a gentle smile. “Of course. I can tell you care a lot about her. She’s very lucky to have you, sir.”

Seungcheol nodded, looking down again. He didn’t feel very lucky, and didn’t think you would either right about now. But he accepted the compliment anyway.

“Follow me.” 

Seungcheol followed the lady back through two industrial looking double doors, past sterile smelling hospital rooms and nurses and doctors moving rapidly up and down the corridors. Seungcheol always hated hospitals, they reminded him of when his mother and his grandmother passed away. He was so hyper focused on walking, he barely heard her when the nurse spoke again. “Before you go in, it’s best to take a moment to prepare yourself for what you’re going to see. It can be really hard to see a loved one in this state, so I’m here to answer any questions you may have,” she advised kindly as she came to a stop outside your room. Seungcheol’s stomach fluttered at the mention of you being his ‘loved one’ and he mentally scolded himself. This nurse had no idea about the strange dynamic that is your relationship, if you could even call it that. 

Seungcheol shook his head lightly, indicating he didn’t have any questions, at least, not for her. She gave one nod of her head, before clutching her clipboard to her chest. “My name is Mina, I’m the hospital’s care coordinator, please let me know if you need anything. I wish you the best, Mr. Choi.” She said as she walked away. 

Seungcheol took a deep breath through his mouth, exhaling slowly through his nose. He wasn’t prepared to see you in a hospital bed, but his excitement at seeing you alive was overtaking his senses right now. He slowly pushed the door to your room open, taking two hesitant steps through the threshold. His eyes immediately scanned the room, falling over your fragile, but breathing, body. As Seungcheol quietly shut the door behind him, tears automatically started falling down his cheeks, silent sobs wracking his chest. He swiftly closed the gap between him and your bed, lip trembling, and took your cold, limp hand in his. He didn’t even bother pulling one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs with him, he just knelt on the floors, kneecaps be damned. He wasn’t sure how he was going to react when he saw you, he knew he would feel relief at knowing you were alive, but he didn’t expect to be quite so overcome with emotion. He definitely didn’t expect to feel intense happiness at the fact that he could hold you again. You had no idea the effect you had on him, and in only four short days. 

You laid on the hospital bed, dressed in one of those white, scratchy hospital gowns. Your eyes were even more sunken in than Seungcheol remembers, skin sallow and taking on an almost sickly green color. Your hair was a mess, and Seungcheol inwardly cursed the nurses for not at least brushing through it for you. Your arm was bruised purple and green at the crease of your elbow where your IV now sat. Your bottom half was covered by a thick blue blanket that looked a little itchy. Seungcheol grabbed the top of the blanket with his free hand, moving it up farther on your body, tucking it lightly at your far side. Even in this state, you looked beautiful to him. Despite what has taken place over the last 12 or so hours, he was still enraptured by you and your beauty. 

Seungcheol brought your bony hand up to his face, placing a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your knuckles. He vaguely registered that it was your first ‘kiss’. He would need to make up for that later, once you were home and safe. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and his heart hurt. He didn’t have any more tears to cry, just silent sobs as he laid his forehead on your cold hand. 

Eventually Mingyu made his way up to your room, after being informed by Mina that Seungcheol was up there with you. He knocked softly on the door twice before opening it and entering. Seungcheol was still knelt on the floor by your bed. Mingyu sighed and knelt down next to him

“She’s gonna be ok hyung,” Mingyu started, placing his hand on Seungcheol’s back, “you should rest before she wakes up.”

Seungcheol nodded, allowing Mingyu to pull a chair over for him before sitting down in it, never letting go of your hand. Mingyu sat in a chair a little bit behind Seungcheol, making sure the older man knew he was there for support. They sat in silence like that for a while before Seungcheol started to feel drowsy, eyes falling shut and drifting into a fitful sleep, forehead pressed to your bed. 

-

You slowly blinked your eyes open, squinting from the bright lights above you. An intense smell of bleach hit your nose causing your throat to constrict and burn. The burn. It was still there, but dulled from last time you remember. You closed your eyes again, squeezing them shut in pain as you tried to swallow, causing a small, yet hoarse, whimper to emit from your throat. 

Immediately, Seungcheol’s head shot up at the sound of you. He started rubbing soothing circles onto the back of your hand, still clutched in his. “YN,” he whispered, standing from his seated position, moving even closer to your body.

You blinked your eyes a few times before looking up at Seungcheol. He could see the pain in your eyes with the way they were scrunched up cutely at the sides. You brought your hand to your throat subconsciously and Seungcheol knew what you meant. He grabbed the pitcher of water from your bedside table and poured you a cup, passing it to you. You silently thanked him with a nod of your head and started gulping down the water. Seungcheol sat back down and watched you carefully. He heard Mingyu stand from behind him, dimmed the lights, having watched how you were squinting your eyes, and quietly left the room to give you both some privacy. Seungcheol reminded himself to thank him profusely later for the man’s foresight, but right now his focus was on you.

You finished the cup of water and Seungcheol took it from your hand and set it back on the side table. “YN,” he whispered again, bringing his hand up to brush against your cheek, “you’re ok.” He smiled at you, genuinely smiled for the first time since last night. He was so beyond happy to see you, alive and well in front of him. 

You had a million thoughts running through your mind right now, and Seungcheol could tell by the panic stricken look flashing in your eyes. He soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your arm that was free of any tubes. “It’s ok, love,” he comforted, “I’m here to listen if you want to talk, or if you don’t I’ll sit here with you in silence. You don’t need to explain yourself. I’m just happy you’re ok.” He smiled at you, and even though you could feel the love radiating off of him, you felt sick to your stomach.

How could Seungcheol still want to be by your side after what you had done? How could he still want to comfort you when you were like this? You broke your promise to him. You had a lot of questions, but there was one at the forefront of your mind. “Did you find me?” Your voice was rough from the intubation tube, which you guessed was the reason for your throat burning before. You looked away from Seungcheol when you asked, not being brave enough to meet his eye, in fear of what you might find. 

He sighed lightly, almost inaudibly. “Yes.” You could tell without even looking at him that he was choking up, on the verge of tears. At the sound of his voice, you let your own hot tears roll down your cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away, eyes still not meeting his. A large hand immediately came up to wipe them away. “Hey, don’t cry, love,” he whispered, “I’m not mad, I’m not upset. These are happy tears, I promise.”

“I’m not happy,” you sniffled, “I’m sorry, Seungcheol, that you had to see me like that.” You brought your own hand up to your face to wipe at your nose. 

“YN, I don’t care about that. I swear to you, all that matters to me now is you. I want to keep you safe, want to help you fight this battle so you don’t have to do it alone. You have me, all of me.” His words were so sincere, so loving, you spared a glance at him, and the moment your eyes met, you knew he meant everything that he said. Even in your current state, he sent butterflies erupting throughout your stomach. You took in his face for a moment, red and puffy, tear stained cheeks, but his eyes were happy. You felt safe with him. You knew you’d have to talk about what all this means later, explain to him why you did what you did, but for now, you just wanted to be in his presence. 

-

Seungcheol sat with you for the next few hours, texting Mingyu to head home to his family, apologizing profusely for keeping him away on Christmas. You didn’t talk much, just offering sweet smiles when Seungcheol would check to make sure you were doing ok. Like the nurse told Seungcheol earlier, your doctor came in to take you for a brain scan and to run some other tests. Seungcheol waited patiently in your room while you were being tested. 

When you returned, the doctor checked your vitals again, before letting you both know that he would be back in the morning to run some more tests, and give you the results of the brain scan. You both thanked him quietly before he wished you a merry Christmas, and took his leave.

Alone again with Seungcheol, you felt his calm aura wash over you. “Thank you,” you whispered quietly into the dim room, “I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas,” you said with a slight frown.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Seungcheol assured, walking over to your bed and sitting next to you, “There is no place I’d rather be than by your side.”

Just as Seungcheol finished his sentence, a violent buzzing resounded through the room. Seungcheol’s eyes went wide as dinner plates as he realized your phone was still in his pocket. Hesitantly, he brought it out of the back of his jeans and showed you what was on the screen.

You flinched when you saw your cell phone. You knew you’d have to confront Joshua and Seungcheol about what happened sooner or later, but you were really hoping it would be the latter. You reached out for your phone, pushing the red decline button. Seungcheol looked at you with an unreadable expression as you let the phone fall to your side onto the bed.

You sighed, looking at Seungcheol, lips pursed. “Go ahead, you can ask me,” you offered, rubbing a hand down the front of your face.

Seungcheol looked sheepishly at you. Of course he wanted to know what happened, but he didn’t want to push you to tell him or to relive whatever it was that pushed you that far in the first place. His curiosity got the better of him as he chewed his lip raw. “What happened?” His voice was barely a whisper, the beeping of the equipment in the hospital room almost enough to mask it. 

“Joshua was calling me, I guess, while we were having dinner last night,” you wrung your hands together, trying to warm them up in the frigid temperature in your room, “I didn’t think to check my phone until after you walked me home.” Seungcheol reached over to stop your ministrations, cupping both your hands in his and blowing warm breath between them. You smiled slightly at his thoughtful actions before continuing, “He was drunk, I think. I don’t know if he even realized what he said, but - but he left me a voicemail,” your voice was getting quieter the further into your story you got, “he said he wished I had succeeded three years ago, that he wished he never saved me.” Your words shocked Seungcheol, hell they shocked you. You still couldn’t believe that Joshua said those things. The mere thought almost sending you into another panic attack.

Seungcheol was seething. He had his suspicions that this was your brother’s doing, but he didn’t expect those words to fall from your mouth. He gripped your hands just a little bit together as he brought the back of them to his lips, forcing his emotions down. Seungcheol bit down hard on his tongue to stop him from saying exactly what he wanted to say about your idiot brother, but he knew that you were still hurting, still recovering, and didn’t want to upset you or hurt you even further.

“YN - I’m sure he was just drunk,” he starts, before he realizes that the man who calls himself your brother has no excuse for what he said to you, “that does not, and I mean does not, give him an excuse to treat you like that, but you literally haven’t heard from him in what? Three years?” You nodded your head, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Seungcheol gently reached up and thumbed at your bottom lip, pulling it away from the assault of your teeth before continuing, “He’s called you over a hundred times since last night. I haven’t answered, he doesn’t know you’re here, as far as I know. If you don’t want to tell him, don’t want to talk to him, I will support you, but I also think it would be good for you to get closure from him. Even if that means cutting him out of your life.” 

You nodded slowly, taking in Seungcheol’s words. You knew he was right. You didn’t want to go through life wondering if Joshua really meant what he said, if he was sorry, if he still thinks about you. You decided to table the conversation for now. It’s not doing anyone any good stressing yourself out about it. First, you needed to have a serious conversation with Seungcheol about what exactly was happening between the two of you. You didn’t want there to be any questions when you went home from the hospital, wanted to feel secure in the choices you were about to make.

“Seungcheol?”

“Yes, darling.” Seungcheol said cooly, still holding onto your hands. He was doing that a lot today and you definitely weren’t complaining. 

“What is this?” You pulled one of your hands gently from Seungcheol’s grasp and gestured half-assedly between you both. 

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed momentarily before smoothing out and giving you a soft look and grabbing your escaped hand again. “YN - I - I don’t know what you’re expecting,” here it goes, you thought, he’s going to reject you. He’s going to say that this was all too much and he’s only here because he feels guilty. “I really didn’t want to do this here, while you’re lying in a hospital bed,” he scoffs lightly, shaking his head. Your heart drops. Is he really going to leave like this? You bite both your lips between your teeth, looking away to brace yourself for what he’s about to say. “YN, I think I’m in love with you.”

Your head shoots up so quickly you think you might have whiplash. Seungcheol giggles quietly at your reaction, bright smile on display for a moment. “W-what?” Is the dignified answer you sputter out. 

This time, Seungcheol is looking you directly in the eyes when he says, “I love you, YN. I know it’s only been a few days since we met, but I already can’t imagine my life without you in it. I don’t care what hurdles we have to get past, I don’t care about all your baggage that you seem to think will scare me away, and I definitely don’t care that you seem to think you aren’t worth it. I know you’re worth it, you’re worth all of it.” Before you could form a response, Seungcheol is standing up from his chair, wrapping both arms around your small frame and bending a little awkwardly to pull you up slightly to a sitting position. A beat passes before you realize he’s trying to hug you, and you quickly wrap your arms around his neck the best you can while  attached to all the wires and tubes. Seungcheol nuzzles into your hair, which you think is probably a horrid mess right now, and whispered close to your ear, “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? I thought I lost you forever, that’s the biggest absence I could’ve felt from you. It made me realize I never want to let you go again.” He pulls back slightly, placing the softest kiss to your cheek before placing his forehead against yours.

You looked up at him through your now wet lashes, and you don’t even have to think about your next words, “I love you too, Seungcheol. You make me feel safe. Something I haven’t felt in a really, really long time.” You choked out the last couple of words, tears making their way down your cheeks now. “I’m so sorry I put you through this, I’m so sorry I broke my promise.” You were sobbing again. 

“Shh,” he shushes you quietly against your hair, “It’s okay, love. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Whatever we need to work through, we will. Together.”

“Thank you Seungcheol, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, YN. I just want to see you continue living your life.”

You sniffled, pulling back from Seungcheol to give him a smile. “Merry Christmas, Seungcheol.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

You were stuck in the hospital for the mandatory three days after Christmas, something you were unfortunately familiar with. During that time they ran multiple tests to make sure you didn’t have any lasting damage and you met with two different therapists. Sadly, you knew and understood these procedures, as this wasn’t the first time you went through them. The second therapist you met with suggested putting you on a different antidepressant from the ones you had before, along with an anti-anxiety medication for at least the next few weeks to get you through the holidays. 

Seungcheol stayed with you almost the entire time (aside from going home to check on Bear and to shower), sleeping on two chairs pushed together, despite you inviting him up on your bed multiple times. He refused on the grounds of ‘I don’t want my first time in bed with you to be at the hospital’, to which you rolled your eyes at. He brought back Uno to play with you at the hospital and even picked up some chicken from the restaurant you like instead of the hospital food you complaied about every night. Seungcheol had really lightened your mood over the last few days, mixed with the new medications, you were almost feeling back to your ‘normal’ self, or at least as normal as you could be. 

You and Seungcheol had decided that it would be best if you took at least one more week off work to recover after the new year, and Seungcheol was quick to offer to stay with you at your cabin, or have you come stay with him at his, enticing you with Bear cuddles. Eventually you decided on alternating between the two houses to give you a little reprieve from the memories your cabin will inevitably bring back. Neither of you were dim, you both knew being at the hospital was like a vacation away from your demons. When you stepped foot back in that house, you would likely struggle, at least a little bit more than you are here. The second therapist you saw not so gently indicated to Seungcheol that you shouldn’t be left alone, to which he cooly agreed without making you feel too embarrassed. 

Being on bed rest for a few days, on top of having your stomach pumped, really did a number on your muscles. You were consistently sore, and were almost too weak to walk on your own. Seungcheol was quite the gentleman, massaging your calves when they hurt and walking you to the bathroom when you needed it. You felt lucky to be loved by him. You wanted to be able to show him just how much you could love him in return, and made a mental note to do just that once you recovered. 

On your second night in the hospital, a man by the name of Mingyu came by to check on you and Seungcheol. He introduced himself as Seungcheol’s best friend and you learned he was married with a baby due in just a few weeks. He was kind and handsome, just like Seungcheol. You also found out that he had stayed with Seungcheol at the hospital, on Christmas, while you were unconscious. You vehementaly apologized to the man, getting into a bowing battle while you were sitting on the edge of your bed, while he refused your apologies. You decided you really liked Mingyu and his dorky and aloof personality and were glad Seungcheol had such a great friend to be there for him. 

You were finally being released on December 28th into Seungcheol’s care, something he wasn’t going to take lightly. The hospital made him sign paperwork saying he would keep an eye on you, ensuring someone was always with you for the next two weeks. While it made you feel slightly like a teenager again, you couldn’t deny that you probably needed it, and were just thankful it was Seungcheol who would be the one watching over you and not your idiot brother. 

It was nearing seven in the evening, well past sunset, when Seungcheol rolled your wheelchair, another accommodation you tried to fight, out to his car. He helped you into the front seat, making sure you were comfortable before strapping you in with the seatbelt, closing the door, and jogging to the driver’s side. 

Seungcheol clapped his hands together and rubbed them furiously together for a moment. “It’s freezing! Let’s get you home, baby!” He flashed you a bright smile before starting the engine. 

You giggled at his antics and felt your cheeks heat at the pet name, covering your mouth with your hand. You were feeling pretty good on the drive home, Seungcheol looking over at you every couple of minutes to make sure you were alright and the heater was warm enough. You had lost a bit more weight in the hospital and your limbs were exceptionally cold. You were curled up in the passenger seat watching the trees zoom past the window. Sometime during the drive, Seungcheol reached over across the center console and placed his large hand over your knee, the warmth seeping through the leggings you were wearing. You glanced over at him, softly smiling at eachother, and placed your much smaller hand over his, intertwining your fingers together. 

The drive wasn’t long back to your cabin, maybe twenty minutes, but in those twenty minutes, you grew excited. Excited to spend time with Seungcheol tonight, to lay with each other in your bed, excited for the future for what felt like the first time since your parents passed. You pictured your parents for a moment, a fleeting thought, what would they think of Seungcheol? You wish they could’ve met him. You’re sure your mom would have loved his kind nature and his ability to cook. Your dad would have liked that he had good manners and was always a gentleman. You turned your head to look out the window, smiling sadly to yourself. You were sad they were gone, of course, but you were also happy in this moment and you didn’t want your memories to subtract from that. 

“Almost home, love.” Seungcheol said, squeezing your knee. You didn’t realize you had just about dozed off, head leaning on the window. You pulled your hand away from Seungcheol’s to rub at your eyes briefly. “Uh, YN?” You looked up at Seungcheol in confusion, his tone almost panicked. “Whose car is that?”

Your eyes immediately found the car in question, a sleek, black sports car, parked behind your crappy silver sedan in the cabin’s driveway. It only took you a moment to realize by the custom license plate ‘1230’ that it was your brother’s. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as Seungcheol turned into his own driveway. He could tell by your reaction, you didn’t want to see the owner of that car. 

“My brother.”

-

It took you a good thirty minutes of pacing Seungcheol’s kitchen and countless encouragements from the man himself to build up the courage to go over to your cabin. You had so many questions; why was Joshua here? How long had he been there? How did he get in? You know you had the locks changed in the last three years since the incident. What confused you the most though, is the fact that his calls completely stopped after Christmas day. You had assumed that he had given up trying to contact you and went on with his life, but apparently he had different plans. Had he been here the entire time? Why had the calls stopped? You had more questions than answers as you paced around.

“Are you ready baby?” Seungcheol asked you from the kitchen, standing up from pouring food into Bear’s bowl.

“I really don’t know, Seungcheol,” you twisted your wrist in your other hand, a nervous habit, “What if he’s here to yell at me again?” You stomach was doing flips thinking of all the things Joshua might have to say to you. Of all the things you had to say to him.

“YN, I really don’t think he blew your phone up for a day and then drove all the way out here to yell at you,” Seungcheol started softly, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “and besides, if he is here to yell at you, I’ll be right by your side the entire time. You know I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, right?” His voice and his deep brown eyes were so sincere that your brain couldn’t help but cave.

You nodded, letting out a deep sigh. Seungcheol smiled at you and pinched your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, brought your face up to meet his gently, and placed a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fell shut and you felt all the tension in your body flow out of you at once. This man really did have an immense effect on you, and you were thankful for that in this moment. “It’s now or never, I guess.”

You and Seungcheol walked hand in hand over to your cabin, standing at your front door, you hesitated before unlocking it. Seungcheol squeezed your hand as a silent gesture to let you know he was with you. You took a few cautious steps into the house, silently looking around the open living room. No sign of Shua yet.

As you stepped around the corner, you could hear faint rustling coming from one of the rooms. “Shua?” You called gently, probably not quite loud enough for anyone to hear. “Joshua?” You called a little louder. The rustling stopped. Now you heard quick footsteps, loud clumsy footsteps that you could never mistake having lived with them for a majority of your life, heading in your direction. You stood half in front of Seungcheol, your hand still intertwined with his behind your back waiting for your brother to appear. 

Joshua stumbled out of his old bedroom, looking not at all what you expected him to look like. He was wearing an old pair of black sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that you think once had your father’s college alumni printed on it. His light ash brown hair, that’s new, was disheveled and sticking out in every direction, looking like he had run his hand through it at least a thousand times. But what shocked you the most, was the pure panic in his eyes. As soon as his eyes met yours, the panic seemed to dissipate, though it didn’t completely disappear. He rushed over to you, placing both his large hands on the tops of your shoulders, startling you and causing you to bump into Seungcheol behind you.

“YN - Oh my god, YN,” Joshua started to sob, head dropping down onto your shoulder. You felt Seungcheol let go of your hand and placed both of his hands on your waist, holding you steady against his chest. “Thank God you’re ok! Where the hell have you been!?” Joshua was full on crying into your shoulder now, tears staining Seungcheol’s sweatshirt he had let you wear home from the hospital. You were still pretty weak on your legs from the bedrest, so you started to wobble a bit from the pressure Joshua was putting on you.

You started to bring your hand up to lightly push back from Joshua to maintain your balance, bracing yourself against Seungcheol. Joshua looked at you with confusion in his eyes, before he glanced up seemingly noticing the blonde man behind you for the first time.

“Who the hell are you?” Joshua demanded, though he didn’t sound very threatening with tears flowing down his face. 

“I-” Seungcheol started, but you cut him off, feeling suddenly defensive of the man behind you. You knew your brother’s anger, you were intimately familiar with it and Seungcheol deserved none of it. 

“My boyfriend,” you started, causing Seungcheol’s eyes to widen slightly. It’s not that he didn’t like the new title, he was just shocked, hearing it come from you. “Why are you here, Shua?”

“Boy- boyfriend? YN what is going on? Is that where you’ve been? Sleeping around with him?” You furrowed your brow, mouth dropping open. Was he drunk again? 

“Are you fucking drunk again, Joshua?!” You started to raise your voice, attempting to pull away from Seungcheol, but he wasn’t letting you move any further, worried for both you and your brother at this point. He’s never heard you raise your voice, and if he’s being honest, it’s rather intimidating.

“Yeah YN, I am! I drove 3 hours down to this God forsaken cabin last night to find my baby sister missing, nowhere to be found with the front door wide open and an empty bottle of pills in the bathroom. How the fuck do you think I was supposed to deal with this?!” He was near screaming at this point. Well, the door explains how Joshua got into the house. 

You raised your finger up and pointed it right at Joshua’s chest, “Oh, I don’t know Shua, maybe you could have actually gone out and looked for me instead of sitting on your ass and drinking yourself to death!” Seungcheol had a tight grip on your upper arms at this point, making sure you didn’t get physical. He was pretty sure your brother wouldn’t hurt you, he hoped, but he couldn’t say the same for you. 

Joshua scoffed at you, taking a small step forward so your finger pushed into his firm chest. “I thought you were dead YN! I was fucking terrified I was going to find you out in that God damned lake, frozen to death. I- I-” he stuttered out, fresh tears building up at his lashes and anger dissipating in a mere instant, “I was scared. I didn’t want to find you out there again.”

Though Joshua’s anger seemed to be gone, yours was only building. “Scared? You were scared!? Why!? Because if you found me out there, you knew it would have been your fault?” You spit the last words at your brother, jabbing your finger harder into his chest, you knew it was low, but he literally said it himself in his voicemail, what did you owe him in this moment?

You watched as Joshua let the tears fall down his cheeks, biting at his trembling lower lip. “I’m so - so sorry, YN,” he whimpered, actually whimpered. You don’t think you’ve ever heard your older brother whimper. “You have to under- understand that I didn’t mean what I said the other night. I listened to the voicemail a few hours after I left it and I- I was so worried when you weren’t answering your phone. I wanted to apologize, take it back, but I was scared it was too late. I even called the police the day after to ask if they- th-” he didn’t need to finish that sentence, you knew what he meant. If they found your body. You heard Seungcheol inhale a sharp breath behind you, obviously affected by what Joshua was trying to say. You nearly forgot he has been a witness to this whole scene, he’s been so patient and quiet. “They said they didn’t find… anyone. I tried to let it go, tried to let you ignore me, but I couldn’t. I had to come down here and see for myself.”

“Well, here I am. You can leave. Now,” you spat, turning around and walking towards your kitchen. “C’mon Seungcheol,” you mumbled, taking Seungcheol’s hand in yours. 

“YN - wait,” it wasn’t your brother’s voice that heard say those words, but Seungcheol’s. You stopped and turned around, staring at him like he grew two heads. He took a step closer to you, placing his hands atop your shoulders, “You need closure, YN,” he whispered softly down at you. Your eyes softened at his ability to stay so calm and level headed throughout this entire ordeal. You blinked up at him a few times before nodding your head. 

Seungcheol didn’t want to put you in a position you were uncomfortable with and he knew you didn’t want to look at your brother right now. Hell, he wanted to beat the shit out of Joshua himself, his anger only growing throughout your conversation with him, but he knew you needed this. He knew this would be the first step in your healing. 

You took a few steps past Seungcheol, stopping a few feet in front of your brother. Joshua, who had previously been staring a hole through the carpet, met your eyes with his glistening ones. Yes, he said horrible things to you. Yes, he has treated you as if you don’t exist for the past three years. But, he’s still your brother, right? He’s quite literally the only family you have left in this world. With both your parents gone, grandparents long dead, and no other siblings, Shua was really all you had. Even though he may not deserve your forgiveness, don’t you owe it to yourself to try and patch up your relationship? Even the thoughts sounded weak in your brain, after all he’s made you feel, but he really was all you had left. If you were going to move on from this, Seungcheol was right, you needed closure one way or another.

“Shua…” you trailed off, looking up at the ceiling attempting to stop the rush of tears stinging the backs of your eyes. You weren’t sure if you should tell him what happened over the last few days, since you last heard his voice. He was the reason you were in the hospital in the first place, but did you really want to make him feel the guilt for putting you there? You weren’t so sure. Your caring nature yelling at you internally to lie, to sugar coat things to spare your brother the pain. Before you could fight your internal battle, it was Joshua who spoke first. 

“Can we talk about this, a little more privately maybe?” He questioned, his sour tone catching Seungcheol’s attention. Seungcheol has tried to stay quiet through all of this, hoping to let you hash it out on your own. It wasn’t his place, after all. He didn’t know your brother, and he believed you could handle yourself. But he wasn’t about to leave you alone with Joshua, and he needed to make sure the other man knew that.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Seungcheol started, brow furrowed menacingly, folding his arms across his chest, “She is in my care, after all.” He really didn’t want to play that card, unsure of how you would feel about it, but he really, really, needed Joshua to know that he wasn’t going to budge. 

“What the hell do you mean she’s in ‘your care’?” Joshua narrowed his eyes, shooting a questioning glare your way.

You let out a heavy sigh, briefly turning your body to give Seungcheol an apologetic look. “I’ve been in the hospital, Shua. They only released me on the condition he stays with me, or vice versa.” Fuck it, maybe he deserved to feel guilty. 

“Wh-what do you mean you were in the hospital?” His previous distraught look coming back, “Why didn’t you call me? I’m your family I should be the one-”

You cut him off before he could finish that statement, “Taking care of me? Joshua, you left me at a hospital three years ago and haven’t so much as said ‘hello’ to me since then. What makes you think you have any right to even assume I would want you to care for me?” Joshua at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself for the first time tonight, gaze shifting down to the floor again.

“YN, I- I called that night, on Christmas Eve, to apologize,” he looked behind you at a glaring Seungcheol before looking back at your equally enraged face, “I know, I know! I definitely didn’t do that in the voicemail that I left, ok I know,” he put his hand up as if to pacify you, “I had been drinking and I was thinking about you - in fact I - I think about you all the time. I’ve just been a terrified asshole who was too afraid you’d reject my apology after so long. I had the courage that night and tried calling you a few times. When you didn’t answer I figured you hated me, and it set me off with how drunk I was. I- I’m s-so sorry YN, I never, ever meant to hurt you like this. I was so scared of losing you, I tried to distance myself from you, so if I did l-lose you, it wouldn’t hurt as bad as when we lost mom and dad.” Joshua was full on sobbing at this point.

Your eyes softened minutely at his words, the fire in your eyes fleeting, but still there. “You’re fucking right you’ve been an asshole Shua,” you scoffed, “did you ever think about what I needed? How I felt? You distancing yourself from me was like having my entire family ripped away from me. You were all I had left. You are all I have left.” Your last words were whispered, but your brother heard them loud and clear. 

Joshua's long legs only needed two steps in your direction before you were chest to chest with him, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders. To say you were shocked was an understatement. Regardless of how much you wanted to hate your brother right now, you couldn’t deny that it felt nice to be in his familiar arms again. He hasn’t hugged you in years, not since your parents death, and you’re feeling lightheaded from all the physical contact you’ve had in the last week. It took you a moment to respond to his hug, slowly wrapping your weak arms around his middle. He could feel the way your too small frame was beginning to shake, presuming you were weak from being in the hospital, though he could feel how thin you were. It took him a second to realize you were sobbing in his arms, too.

Joshua nuzzled his face into the side of your head, having to bend a little to account for the height difference, and croaked, “I’m sorry YN. I’m so, so sorry. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, please let me be here for you. Let me be your shoulder to cry on, be the one you confide in again.” He sniffled, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. “I’ll stay by your side, I won't leave you, I promise.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you blubbered out, soaking Joshua’s shirt with your tears. He ran a hand soothingly up and down your back as he let his own silent tears fall. 

“I’ve missed you too, baby sister.”

Seungcheol had been a silent observer, staying back, allowing you both to have the space you needed to sort this out. At this point, he wore a small smile, arms still crossed over one another. He decided it was time for him to leave you both alone for a moment to catch up and talk things through a little further. He quietly slipped out of the living room with a plan to make some hot tea for you, briefly meeting Joshua’s eyes which were silently thanking the older man. Seungcheol gave a quick nod and turned to walk away. 

-

You and your brother spent the next few hours talking about everything on your living room couches. He stayed close, but not too close, to give you your own space, which you appreciated. Seungcheol came back after a little while, hot tea in mugs in tow. He sat by your side, offering you silent support with a hand on your knee or shoulder. You were thankful for his presence. Even though you and Joshua had talked some things out, you still felt a little awkward with him here. It had been over three years since you’d seen him, to be fair.

You told Joshua about your job and how you haven’t left it yet, despite hating your boss for so long. You talked about your life in Busan and how you moved into a new apartment a couple years back. He told you about his firm in Seoul and how he’s been working on a new book. He was hopeful that one of his previous books was up for some kind of award. You expressed how proud you were of him, finally having the chance to tell him. He told you about how he and Yuna broke up last year, a mutual thing, to which you expressed your not quite sympathy. Most importantly, you talked about your brief stay at the rehab facility three years ago and your most recent stay in the hospital here. You both cried when you talked about your second attempt at your life. You hugged each other and Joshua apologized profusely to you, which you graciously accepted.

After you had spilled all your collective tears and put everything out on the table, Joshua turned his attention to the other man in the room, who up until this point, had been relatively quiet, only chiming in when asked a question. “Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol was taken by surprise at the sound of his name coming from Joshua’s mouth. Eyebrows raised, he looked at the ashy haired man sitting across from him, “Hmm?” 

“I wanted to thank you,” Joshua said apologetically, “I don’t know you, but you saved my sister. She also seems to trust you,” he gave you a quick smile, “so I guess I should, too. But really, man, thank you. I don’t know what I would do if I lost her, too.” His gaze fell to his hands that were clasped in his lap.

Seungcheol sat up a little straighter on the couch before answering, “You don’t have to thank me. I share the sentiment, I don’t know what I would do without her.” He smiled down at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, making you give him a small smile in return. “I really love her,” he said lovingly. He was talking to Joshua, but he was staring into your eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. Joshua noticed this, and couldn’t hide the smile that was spreading across his own face. That’s when he knew you were in good hands. He trusted Seungcheol.

The next hour passed by quickly, sharing more stories amongst the three of you. Eventually Joshua told you he had to get going, needing to be back in Seoul for a meeting tomorrow morning. He offered to cancel and stay the night, but you and Seungcheol both told him he should go, and not to worry about you. If Seungcheol wasn’t here, Joshua would have definitely canceled, but he felt good about leaving you with him after the talks you’d had these past few hours. 

You wrapped your arms around your brother's neck, reaching up on your tiptoes. Joshuas arms wrapped around your middle, lifting you up slightly as he whispered in your ear, “I love you baby sister, please don’t forget that. I never stopped loving you.”

“I love you too Shua, don’t be a stranger.” You smiled up at your older brother. 

“I won't, trust me,” he let out a short laugh, devoid of any humor before setting you back down on your feet. He turned to look at Seungcheol, before reaching out to shake his hand. Seungcheol walked the short distance to grab his hand, only to be pulled into Joshua’s frame for a hug. “Thank you again, Seungcheol. I wish I could stay longer to get to know you a little better, but it was really nice to meet you.”

“I’m sure there will be more opportunities for us to meet,” Seungcheol said, with an almost demanding tone. Joshua took the warning for what it was, leaving you a little oblivious next to them. “Drive safe.”

Joshua pulled away, giving you one final smile, before turning around to take his leave. You stood in the doorway, watching your brother start his car and pull out of the driveway. You knew you had plenty more unresolved issues and a lot more to discuss, but for now, your chest felt lighter at the aspect of having your brother back in your life. You were a little sad that he had to leave so quickly, when you felt like you just got him back, but were hopeful you would see him soon. 

Seungcheol could feel your mood shift slightly, moving to wrap his arms around you from behind in a comforting back hug. You closed and locked the front door before turning around in his grasp. “I’m sorry,” you murmured into his chest. You didn’t see it, but Seungcheol looked down at you in confusion.

“Why are you sorry, love?” He inquired, rubbing a hand up and down your spine.

“I’m sorry you had to sit here all night and listen to me cry,” you began, “I’m also sorry you had to meet my brother under these circumstances.”

“Don’t be sorry, YN. I’m so happy you were able to see Joshua again and talk about things. I know it can be hard to talk about these things, and I know it must be hard to let him back into your life so suddenly, but I know it will be helpful to you in the long run. I only want you to be happy, love.”

You look up at Seungcheol in complete awe. How was this man in love with you? A broken shell of a person, with her weights worth of baggage. What did you do to deserve him? The literal epitome of perfection. A walking green flag. 

“Don’t thank me,” Seungcheol lightly scolded, a smile on his face. “I can practically hear your thoughts right now.”

You scoffed, mock offended, putting your hands on his chest to playfully pull away. He wasn’t having it though, and pulled you back into him, rocking you both back and forth gently. “Oh no you don’t, you’re mine tonight,” you know he meant it in a playful way, but it did things to you that you didn’t want to admit to yourself right now, “I told you I wanted to lay with you properly and I’ve been waiting way too long to finally do that.”

“Let’s go to bed then,” you began, taking Seungcheol’s hand in your, walking down the hallway towards your bedroom. 

“Sounds like a great plan,” Seungcheol smiled, following after you obediently. 

-

After you and Seungcheol both got changed (Seungcheol having to run home to grab some things, and also grab a very unamused cat), you kneeled in the corner of your room playing with Bear, who lay in his cat bed that Seungcheol also brought over. 

Seungcheol was laying back on your pink sheets, arms crossed behind his head, watching you in amusement. “He really likes you, you know.”

You looked over your shoulder with a toothy smile on your face. Seungcheol very nearly melted into your mattress at the sight. “You think so?” Seungcheol nodded as you turned back around to face the fur ball in front of you. “Well, I really like him too,” you cooed at the cat in question as he arched his back into your pets. After you had your fill of cuddles, you slowly stood up from your crouching position, causing Bear to mewl.

Seungcheol let out a loud laugh from his spot on your bed. “Yeah, I would say he definitely likes you.”

You laughed along with Seungcheol while turning the lamp on your side table off. Seungcheol scooted over on the bed to make room for you, pulling the pink and white comforter back. You gladly took your spot on the bed, rolling on your side to face Seungcheol. To say you were nervous was a big understatement. “I’m gonna miss him when I go back to Busan,” you whispered sadly, only slightly teasing. 

“I’m glad my cat made such a big impact on you,” Seungcheol said dryly, deadpanning in your direction.

You giggled quietly and shushed him. “Of course I’m gonna miss you too, Seungcheol. I thought that was a given.”

“I mean, it’s still nice to hear,” he gently smiled down at you before draping one arm over your side, placing his warm hand on your lower back. He nudged your back a little, signaling you to move closer, to which you obliged. “You know, you don’t have to go back,” Seungcheol whispered, hopefully. 

“Cheollie, I have to,” Seungcheol smiled his brightest smile at the nickname making you stifle a laugh, “my job is there, I have an apartment there. I can’t just leave.”

“Is this cabin paid off?” Seungcheol asked abruptly, before you could continue making excuses.

“Yes…” you trailed off hesitantly. 

“Then you could break your lease in Busan, and move to the cabin. I know you love your job, but there is an animal shelter here. It’s where I got Bear from,” the cat meowed softly in the corner, making you smile again, “I could put in a good word for you.”

Seungcheol was so thoughtful. I definitely don’t deserve this man, you thought to yourself. Seungcheol chuckled and raised his hand to brush a strand of hair over your shoulder. “Did I just say that outloud?” You asked, mortified for Seungcheol’s answer.

He just nodded, still giggling. “YN, you deserve the world, and I will work every day to make sure you believe that.” 

Your cheeks were hot, but your heart was full at his words. This beautiful man in front of you wanted to give you the world, wanted to make sure you never wanted for more in your life. Who were you to turn down such an offer? What did you have to lose anyways? A shitty paycheck and an even shitter apartment. That’s what.

“Okay.” You state simply.

“Okay?” Seungcheol perked up, lifting his head a bit to stare at you. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight shining through your window that you could see the way his eyes lit up at your words. You smiled a bright smile at him, nodding your head aggressively. “Do you mean that?” Now he was sporting a smile to match your own.

“Yes, Seungcheol. I’ll do it. I want to do it. I’m ready.” You smiled, because you were. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken truer words. You were ready. Ready to put Busan behind you, ready to start a new life with Seungcheol, with Bear, and finally make a home out of this cabin that your parents left you. 

“I love you, YN,” Seungcheol said seriously, searching your eyes for any bit of hesitance, to which he found none, “I mean it, love.” He looked down to your pink lips, and back up at your eyes. 

Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling of butterflies suffocating your lungs was a good one for once. You nibbled on your bottom lip and exhaled shakily. Seungcheol grunted, a sound you realized you found incredibly sexy and wanted to commit to memory for a rainy day. He was staring at you intensely, silently asking for permission, which you granted with a quick nod of your head.

Seungcheol’s lips crashed onto yours with an intensity you’ve never felt before. The flutter in your chest only increased as his soft, plump lips moved against yours. All you could feel, taste, smell, was Seungcheol. You inhaled his citrus-y scent, letting it surround you and he brought his free hand up to your burning cheek while his other caressed your side gently. He tasted better than you could have ever imagined, a little minty, and you were immediately hooked. His kiss was like the nicotine you craved from your cigarettes, maybe he was your new addiction. Your lips moved together synchronously for a few minutes before both of your lungs burned for oxygen and you reluctantly pulled away. 

Seungcheol held your face in his hands like fragile China, reveling in this moment here with you, your face illuminated by the moon shining through your window. He saw galaxies in your lust filled eyes, the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

Quickly, he dipped his head back down to capture your lips with his again. This time he moved a bit more frantically, hand moving from your cheek to your neck and down your shoulder and arm. He kissed you like it was giving him life, exploring your body with his large hands. 

You kissed Seungcheol back just as fervently, lips parting to allow his soft tongue to explore your mouth. It was hot, more teeth than tongue, both of you far too excited at the prospect of finally getting to kiss one another after days of build up. 

Parting from your lips slightly, Seungcheol pulled back to speak, “Is this ok? I do-don’t want to take things too fast…” he trailed off, pecking your lips sweetly a few times while he waited for your answer. 

You shook your head slightly, kissing him back, “It’s not too fast, Cheol. I want you.”

That was all your boyfriend needed to hear before he was pushing you gently onto your back and rolling over to hover just slightly above you. Gently, ever so gently, he leaned down to kiss you passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and allowed his hands to explore under your sleep shirt. A soft moan escaped your lips when his warm hand grazed your breast, and Seungcheol took advantage of it to slip his tongue back into your mouth. 

Seungcheol gently caressed your breast in his hand, fingers flicking over your nipple every few seconds to make it peak. You soft breaths and noises emboldening him to dip down and nibble at your collarbones and throat. 

“Ch-Cheol,” you pant, getting lost in the sensation of his lips and hands all over you, “Please.”

“Please, what, love?” He murmured against your clavicle before pulling back and looking into your eyes again. “What is it, baby?” His voice was rough and it was turning you on even more. 

“Please touch me more, please,” You softly plead with him, arching your back into his touch when his hand trailed down your stomach, “please.”

Seungcheol smiled at you before pulling away a bit to pull your shirt up and over your head. As he tossed the fabric somewhere in your room he took a moment to admire your beautiful body in the moonlight shining through your window. “You’re so pretty, love.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but you heard him loud and clear, making you let out a soft whimper.

Your boyfriend chuckled at your reaction before dipping down to take one of your breasts into his warm mouth. Your hand flies up to his head, grasping the bleached strands as you arch into his touch. “Cheol!”

“Mm, let me hear you baby,” he grunts, pulling off you for a second before attacking your other breast with the same ministrations, his hand dipping lower to pull at your sleep shorts, making his intentions clear. You nod your head quickly, making him pull back again to look up at your blissed out face. “Is this ok?”

“Yes, yes, please, Cheol,” you all but moaned at this point, the thought of waiting any longer for the man above you to start touching you driving you insane. “Please, hurry, Cheollie.”

Seungcheol sat up on his knees, adjusting himself in his pajama pants, making you bite your lip to suppress a moan at just how big his bulge looked. He chuckled darkly at your reaction before grabbing onto your sleep shorts and removing them and your panties in one swift motion.

Once he tossed the shorts off to the side, he couldn’t help but admire your wet pussy on full display for him for the first time. You were completely bare beneath him and he was thanking every God he knew the name of in his head for allowing him this moment. You were absolutely breathtaking and he let you know just that. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, YN. I am so fucking lucky.”

Before you could respond, Seungcheol bent down and started kissing up your thighs until he reached the place you needed him most. Sighing in contentment, he placed a few sweet kisses to your mound before dipping his warm tongue between your folds. You both moan at the contact, you from the feeling of his wet tongue on your clit, and him from your taste. You tasted absolutely divine. He closed his eyes as he explored your folds with his tongue, lapping at your entrance before stiffening his tongue to play with your engorged clit. You were so turned on you couldn’t help the noises falling from your mouth. It was almost embarrassing how vocal you were being.

It’s been quite a while since you were in bed with anyone. In fact it’s been years. You had the wherewithal to let Seungcheol know that before you were completely lost in the pleasure of his mouth on your cunt.

“Cheol-Cheollie-” you panted out, tugging at his blonde locks to get him to look at you. “I- I haven’t been with anyone in… in a long time.” His eye soften a bit as he looks at you, intensely scanning your features for any kind of reluctance for what you two were doing. After finding none he places a few more kisses to your clit, making you moan softly, before hauling himself up and hovering over you. 

“We don’t have to go any farther tonight if you don’t want to. Just say the word. I’ll be happy to eat you out all night, make you cum on my face. Or we can stop here. You tell me what you’re comfortable with, love.” Seungcheol kisses your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on him before pulling away, awaiting your answer.

“I - I want this, I want you. I’m just… nervous I guess?” You laugh lightly, trying to mask your shyness.

Seungcheol doesn’t allow it, smiling down at you and pecking your forehead, then your nose. “I’ll make you feel good, I promise, baby. Don’t be nervous. I’m not expecting anything, just let me make you feel good, please?”

How could you deny this man anything when he was so perfect to you?

You nod your head briefly before leaning up and capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. It only lasts a moment before he’s breaking away and crawling back down your bed. 

“I’ll be gentle, ok?” Seungcheol says before diving back in and lapping at your wet folds. You moan at the feeling again, getting lost in the sensation of him basically making out with your pussy. Before you can lose youreself to the pleasure, Seungcheol brings a finger up to your entrance, tracing it lightly before dipping just the tip inside you, testing the waters. You moan out loudly at the sensation, hips bucking up slightly for more friction. He just chuckles against you before slipping his entire finger in, your warm walls clamping down on the intrusion. It’s been so long since you had something inside you, but the feeling was so intense, mixed with Seungcheol’s hot tongue on your clit, your orgasm washed over you suddenly before you could warn him.

Not that he needed the warning. He felt your body tense, so he kept his tongue right where it was, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. When you finally came down from it, he slipped his finger out, sticking it in his mouth as sucking your juices off it as he came back up to lay next to you.

As he did, Seungcheol trailed his hand back down your body, two fingers slipping inside you while you were still relaxed. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, his other hand coming up to rub soothing circles on your hip, “Shh, baby. Just let me make you feel good.” You moan at his words as he slowly, gently starts pumping his fingers inside of you. The motion feels so good, your previous orgasm making for and easy slide in and out. 

“Cheol!” You whine as his fingers curl and touch that spot inside you, making your toes curl.

“Mm, baby, that’s it. Just feel it, ok? Just relax.” His words were like a soothing balm, but you needed to anchor yourself, reaching out to grab hold of his shoulders. He takes it in stride, leaning slightly over you, his free hand still rubbing circles into your side as he stretches you out. 

“Cheol, Cheol, I’m gonna-” You pant out, not even able to finish your thought before your second orgasm is washing over you. Seungcheol just keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, his fingertips gently prodding your walls each time. He never falters in his movements, letting you come down from the high before you’re weakly pushing at his arm in sensitivity. “S-sensitive, Cheollie,” you mumble, making Seungcheol laugh quietly.

“I know, baby. You did so well for me.” He gently kisses your lips again, smiling against them. You look up at him when he pulls away with so much love in your eyes he nearly melts. “Feel good, love?” You nod, words escaping you from the pure ecstasy you feel in that moment. “Good.”

With one last kiss, Seungcheol makes a move to get up, but you stop him, tugging on his hand. He looks back at you with a furrowed brow, confusion written all over his face like he didn’t have a raging boner in his pants.

“I want you, Cheol. Please?” You ask him in a tiny voice. He looks at you for a moment, taking in your blissed out face, before starting to shake his head. The crestfallen look on your face has him stopping, though.

“I want you too, YN. I really, really do,” as if to prove a point he takes your hand and moves it to his crotch, letting you feel his hardness. “Trust me, baby. But you just got out of the hospital, are you sure you’re up for it?”

You think about it for a moment. Seungcheol is right, you did just get out of the hospital. You also have had a very emotional few days, weeks even. But you couldn’t deny how safe you felt in this moment with Seungcheol. Wasn’t sex just another way to feel closer to him? To solidify this bond that you two were building? Hell, you just agreed to quit your job and move here to be closer to him. You loved this man, more than you were willing to admit right now.

“Please. You’ll be gentle, right?” You whispered into the stillness of your childhood bedroom.

Seungcheol smiled sweetly at you with so much love in his eyes it made you want to cry. “Of course, YN,” he whispered back. “I’ll always be gentle with you, you mean the world to me.”

With that, Seungcheol leaned back down, shucking his shirt off in the process and pressing his warm chest to yours. No more words were shared as you lazily made out, both your guys’ hands exploring the others’ body. Slowly, you slipped Seungcheol’s pajama pants and boxer briefs off, letting them fall somewhere on the floor, and allowed your hands to explore even lower. 

Your hand found his length, slowly pumping him as he moaned into your mouth. He froze for a moment, forehead dropping to your collarbones as he sucked in a sharp breath, “I’m gonna cum quick if you do that.” You smiled, but slowed your ministrations, not wanting this to be over yet. He let out a shaky breath before looking down at you again, “Condoms?”

Your mind blanks for a second before shaking your head nervously. “I’m actually on birth control… and I haven’t been with anyone in over five years.” You said the last part quietly, almost embarrassed at your lack of experience. 

Seungcheol just smiled at you before kissing you slowly. When he pulled back he swallowed thickly before whispering, “I haven’t been with anyone in over three… please don’t worry, YN.”

Hearing him say that did actually soothe your worries a bit. It’s been a while since either of you had any practice in the bedroom, so maybe this didn’t have to be so scary. “Then…” you started, trailing off while looking into your boyfriend’s deep brown eyes, “we don’t need a condom.” Your whispered words made Seungcheol’s knees weak as he captured your lips with his again.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last inside you,” he admitted bashfully, “where should I…?”

“Inside me. Please, Cheol, I want it. Want to feel close to you.”

Seungcheol closed his eyes as he sucked in another breath. “Fuck,” he said shakily, “I need to be inside you like right now.”

You chuckle and nod your head quickly, “Please.”

Seungcheol complies and grabs his length, stroking himself a few times before gathering your wetness on his tip. You both groan at the contact, your hips bucking up slightly, chasing the feeling. Without anymore words, Seungcheol pushes his tip against your entrance, slowly, so slowly, pushing in until he’s fully seated inside you, cock throbbing at the feeling of your tight walls.

“You’re so tight, baby. Does it hurt?” The genuine concern in his voice makes your heart flutter. You moan at the feeling of him adjusting himself on the bed. 

“N-no, not really. Just.. a lot. You-you’re big.” You moan again as he chuckles softly, the motion pushing his cock against your walls. 

“I’m not gonna move yet. Just get used to the feeling, ok baby?” You nod, eyes closing as you do just that. You focus on the feeling of his cock filling you up, your walls squeezing him slightly, making him groan each time. As you start to get used to the feeling of being full again, he slowly brings his fingers down to toy with your clit, your wetness making the slip feel heavenly.

Seungcheol is slowly, every so slowly, moving his fingertip over your puffy clit, distracting you from the pain of his cock splitting you open. It feels so good, and almost completely makes you forget about the pain. 

“Do you think you can come on my cock?” He asks quietly, fingers still moving slowly over you, “It might make it easier. I know it’ll feel good, love.” His face is right next to your ear and his low, raspy voice is bringing you close to the edge.

“Yes, yes, Cheol, please” you’re begging at this point, loving the feeling of his cock and his fingers bringing you to climax for the third time tonight.

“Let go, sweet girl, cum on my cock.” He whispers directly into your ear and that’s all you need to completely let go. Seungcheol keeps rubbing his fingers lightly over your clit as your body arches and convulses, clamping down on his dick, whispering soothing words into your ear until you finally come down from your high. Seungcheol pulls his fingers away to moment your orgasm slows, kissing you sweetly. “There you go, baby.” He’s starting to sound affected, like he is having a hard time holding back, so you circle your hips a bit to give him some much needed friction, making you both moan in pleasure. “Mm, baby, don’t do that.. I don’t know how much longer I can stay still.”

“Please move Cheollie,” you whisper, rolling your hips again, “fuck me.”

Seungcheol lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding before slowing pulling back until just his tip is inside you, before rolling his hips back down and sinking his length into you again. There are tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks as he continues to fuck you in a steady rythym, hitting spots deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed. 

“Fuck, fuck baby, I’m gonna cum soon,” Seungcheol moans into your ear, lips sucking and kissing you neck and shoulder as he fucks you. “Gonna let me fill you up, baby?”

“Yes, yes, Cheol!” You can’t help the sounds that are coming out of your mouth at this point, lost in the pleasure Seungcheol is bringing you.

Seungcheol’s hips stutter for a moment, stilling against you as he cums harder than he thinks he ever has in his life. He’s essentially been edging himself since you two started this almost an hour ago, and finally getting to cum in your tight pussy has him releasing everything he’s go into you. He thrusts his hips once, twice, three more times before stilling and letting the last of his seed spurt inside you.

You’re both panting and sweating at this point, but neither of you care, sharing wet kisses as you both come down from the intense highs. Once you’re both settled a bit, Seungcheol slowly pulls back, softening cock slipping from your entrance. He watches his cum drip out of you for a moment before bringing two fingers up to push it back inside you, accidentally brushing your sensitive clit in the process and making you jolt. 

“Shh, sorry, sorry baby. It’s just so fucking hot seeing you like this,” He mumbles, fingering you gently, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. When he finds none, and instead sees you close your eyes in pleasure again, he keeps going, slowly, gently, pumping two fingers inside you, searching for that spot again. You’re moaning lowly, getting lost in the feeling of his hot cum inside you, “You like that, baby?” He practically growls, watching his creamy cum be forced out of you as he massages his fingertips on your g-spot. 

You can’t form a coherent sentences, just moaning and writhing on the bed. Seungcheol continues to abuse your walls until you cum for the fourth time tonight, mouth open in a silent scream as he watches you lose yourself to the pleasure. As you slowly come down, he pulls his finger from you finally, grabbing his discarded pants to wipe his hand on.

“You ok, love?” He asked quietly as you slowly come back to yourself. 

“Yes, yeah. I’m good.” You pant out, making Seungcheol smile to himself.

“Let me grab something to clean you up, ok?” You nod as he leaves the bedroom, only to come back a few moments later with a warm wash cloth. He slowly and gently cleans you up, making sure to avoid your swollen clit this time. When he’s done he places a gentle kiss to your folds, making you giggle. 

“YN,” he says quietly when he finally climbs back up the bed, pulling you into his strong arms.

You look up at him, humming in confirmation for him to continue. Your sleepy eyes starting to close as you stare at him.

“Thank you, YN,” Seungcheol whispered breathlessly, mere centimeters from your lips.

“For what?” You asked, just as breathless.

“For giving me one more day.”

a/n: if you made it to the end, thank you thank you thank you for reading my fic, it means so much to me. pls reblog, comment, and like if you enjoyed reading and let me know what you would like to see next. i enjoy writing, but seeing how much YOU enjoy it is an even better feeling!

copyright aliendes 2024

[brittle-doughie]

Imagine steadily sneaking out of Dark Cacao's Palace, a flourbag load of pure unadulterated determination keeping your legs sturdy. Painstakingly heading for Beast-Yeast yourself to personally confront Mystic Flour Cookie, finally face-to-face.

First, your dreams. These crestfallen memories; these should not be yours, but yet they use your crust, copied down to how it crackles and crumbles. They walk with your legs and use your voice, and not meekly. Your little colorful buttons and creme filling. Through the eternal eyes of another wearing your broken face, a heavy shade of grief insisting a strong quake through your hands and feet, reflected in a broken mirror of indestructible forks and magic. None of this has ever happened to you, all your friends were alive and running free at the center of Gingerbrave's Kingdom.

Yet the firm echo at the crack of your mind reclaims; it indeed, had.

Second, that encounter and furiously attempted Soul Jam corruption with Shadow Milk Cookie, the dark jester of silken half-truths and rusty riddles; who's immortal darkness swallowed your common sense, that shadow with countless steep blue moon slits never dulled once under the unmoving gaze of the Sun.

But now, this sudden interest-an unpardoned heart from the literal pristine white embodiment of weightless apathy and sincerity?

These situations were too specific, familiar, and suffocatingly personal for mere coincidence.

The Beasts regurd you with an infectious stench of deep nostalgia, their eyes flash an infernal fire of thought, the kind one feels upon shaking hands with an old friend. The one that crawls like a bug, wiggles like a maggot. Growing the sprout of an itch, at an open chip of dry frosting the back of your head. A push, a pull, an annoying yet strong temptation of confrontation; of an acceptance, remembrances. Like they've known you since the very first crumb fell off the Witches' baking pan.

You spent this baked life depending on the protection and care of your beloved friends, but if that interferes with the truth you seek, you will risk falling apart into flour for finally having the chance to confront one of these gods about who you used to be.

Shadow Milk was serious when he countered you into an edge of existential dread. He was a frantic for the dramatics. Even for the most serious of cataclysmic events, he danced around the subject of your connection, hoping to unveil the mystery into stellar applause. That was the plan it seemed at leaat until Pure Vanilla threw a stake into his encore.

Cut through the answers.

With a mountain of luck and enough certainty, perhaps Mystic Flour Cookie will spare you doubts.

After all, even a being like her will neigh overlook such an opportunity; the chance of finally re-welcoming you, where she and the rest of her comrades know you rightfully belong.

She actually feels compelled to thank the merger weak Cookie's influence upon your new body, their mortal stupidity and curious self-preservation was an endless plague all within its very self, almost enough for her to forgive them for slowly erasing the dear memory of your once-divine mark upon these waning lands and lesser soils.

Almost.

(Sorry I have thoughts and lots of then, I hope I ain't bothering you.)

Nah, it’s all good. This was a pretty interesting read!

From what my brain of mush can put together, Y/N was a former Primordial Cookie before being reincarnated into a regular Cookie at some point, you were having dreams of this past life at first to the lead up to the search for White Lily Cookie.

The Shadow Milk fight would be the first time you started questioning on who you really were, but Pure Vanilla/White Lily Cookie pushed him back before you could get answers.

Your reputation seemed to be revered amongst the Beasts, as such with Mystic Flour Cookie. As stated, she could almost forgive the transgressions of having your memory altered, making you forget how you left your mark in these lands. You needed to remember who your allegiances should really go to, to remember who your real comrades were.

You were getting answers from Mystic Flour, in one way or another.

[hypernova-writes]

Didjjdjfjfjdj I cannot contain it anymore- Can I request a fem spy x reader x fem sniper? I loveebehddhfj women saur much and I need those two so BAD 😭 Like my heart genuinely broke when I tried searching fem fortress x reader only to get NOTHINGGGG 💔💔💔 If you do this request, my life is entirely YOURS ☹️💖💖💖💖💖💖

~ 💌 anon

A/n: of course you may!! I did this as a sort of a rivalry type of them, like they try to see who could spoil you the most, I just love the whole Bloody Suit Pairing all together..

Anything You Can Do I can do better! [Fem!Spy/Fem!Sniper x reader]

-> Your girlfriends love trying to see who can spoil you more, But they both love you oh so much!

OH THE COMPETITION!!

“…’Roo..”

“Oh Darling!”

You blush as you’re standing between your two girlfriends.

Spy loved spoiling you with rich and lavish things you could never really afford on your own. A new dress you mentions, she’d bought it for you in your top three favorite colors.

She’ll pay for expensive jewelry for you (and Sniper too..), she’ll make sure the color matches your eyes, if you don’t like it, she’ll take it back and get one that matches you a lot more.. (and manages to be more expensive.

Sniper is more of a quality time type of gal, she’ll cook for you, paying attention to what you like the most, she’ll even use some of the recipes her parents taught her. She’ll have you taste testing, standing beside her.

Spy also likes to tag along in these little cooking session, she handles the baking, (i feel like she could bake a mean set of cookies..).

She’ll also tease Sniper with phrases like: “Darling, try not to kill our little wife with your cooking,” Knowing damn well Sniper can cook.

Sniper would ignore her, only rolling her eyes to place kisses on both of your cheeks before saying. “You’ve eaten it. You’re alive.”

The best cuddles in the world.

Sniper loves loves loves, having you sit in her lap, while Spy likes having you place your head in her lap.

When it comes to battles? Oh honey you are protected!

Someone gets a little too close to you and you don’t notice? Sniper has got em.

You get cornered? Don’t worry Spy is coming with a backstab to save her little wifey.

Honestly, they love you as much as they love each other, so yes, they will harm someone if anyone even dares to disrespect you. And they better hope to god that they aren’t around, or they will be dealt with.