#I think the arms are a bit too long in comparison to the rest of the body.. but overall I love the bounciness and expression of this doodle

[i-really-like-phrogs]

*Cough cough* Lady doodle *cough cough cough*

[itsgrimeytime]

i know i got him || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn! reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter

Summary: Ever since you showed up, you've had an effect on Rick. At least, that's what everyone said. Initially, you hadn't recognized it. But after one too many coincidences, it's starting to become a little impossible to ignore.

TWs: flirting, simp behavior, cursing, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: Was listening to this song nonstop (so good btw) and my brain went... hmm. Rick is terribly down bad in this. Like eager to do things for you, following you around like a puppy dog, the works. Also this gif????? girl... Enjoy :)))) ]]

You had never really thought about how you affected him. Or how they thought you did, anyway.

"You're being ridiculous," you stated -plainly.

Maggie was trying desperately to convince you that you had one Rick Grimes wrapped around your finger. Rick Grimes? Wrapped around your finger? No way.

"Do you remember yesterday? When he went on a run to find you a pair of shoes?"

"That was not why he went out on a run," you laughed a little, mindlessly bouncing Judith against your side, "-we need more as a community than just-"

"Then, why-" she interjected, "-did he only come back with shoes?"

"He didn't," you countered, "-He had some cans of food, I remember."

"Two," she relented, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, "-he went out on a run for two cans of food?"

"Sometimes you can't find much-"

"Oh my god," Maggie rolled her eyes, "-you are unbelievable. Let me just show ya-"

You pursed your lips, as she walked ahead of you -beelining to Rick. She had quite the pep in her step, pregnant and all, "Show me?"

Before you could call out to her, she was at Rick's side. He seemed to be talking to Deanna, actually, and if he was talking to Deanna, it was probably important. He smiled at her, in a Rick sort of way, until she started motioning to you. You had no idea what she was saying, but his eyes flicked to you instinctively.

Now, you'd never thought about if he smiled differently at you, but it was kind of hard to ignore right now.

Eyes dipping over you and Judith, the bright grin on his face was very different than the one for Maggie previously. And it wasn't even like that one wasn't genuine, you could tell it was, this one was just different.

It was crinkly eyes and shining white teeth. It surprised you that it didn't even seem unfamiliar to you; how long had he been smiling at you like this? And you had just normalized it?

You guessed you didn't have a direct comparison but still-

You smiled back (maybe just as bright, you weren't sure) and gently waved.

Watching him laugh a little and shake his head (like he couldn't believe you were waving at him?), your eyes darted to the ever-so-slight pinks of his ears.

Before you could think about it, Maggie said something to grab his attention (eyes stuck to you before snapping to her), and they were both on the way to your side. Something worried in Rick's eyes, you felt some guilt coil into your stomach; what had Maggie said?

You couldn't ask about it before he was already at your side, hands itching to fuss over you -you could tell. He seemed to let them win.

"Maggie said ya got a headache?"

Right, it was a sort of offhand remark to Maggie. And it was hurting, the sun even stung your eyes a bit. But he left that conversation (obviously very important) because you had a headache?

The gears in your head were turning, and Maggie seemed to watch them -eyes stuck to your face. You couldn't believe it yet, there had to be a reason.

"Rick," you started, "-it's fine. It's minor, had it since I woke up this morning, I can-"

His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes gleamed with concern, hands coming to rest on your arm, "Ya had it since 'is mornin'?"

Shit.

"Yeah," you answered, still trying to fight your case, "-but really, Rick, it's nothing. I can manage-"

"Ya should go rest," he interrupted, taking Judith from your arms, "-least til' it gets a lil' better. 'S hurtin' your eyes, I can tell."

How did he know that?

"Rick, seriously-"

"I'll take ya home," he hummed, carefully, "-and I'll come back in an hour to check on ya-"

"Rick," you tried again.

"-Get some medicine from the doc', and bring it to ya myself," he finished, something in him decided.

You pursed your lips, trying a different angle, "Shouldn't you be getting back to Deanna?"

"She can wait," he responded, simply.

"Well," you frowned, "-it has to be important, I don't want to-"

"'S not as important as you."

The words faltered in your throat, and Maggie looked at you in a way that you could hardly grasp. Mouthing 'I told ya so', you thought on it. Maybe he was just concerned, I mean one thing-

And then, his hand came to rest on your lower back, guiding you home, and your brain promptly turned off.

Ever since that conversation, you'd been trying to reason. Keeping watch on your interactions with Rick (he did always smile at you like that, fyi), you were trying to rationalize it. Give it a reason. Other than what Maggie, and others, said, but it started stacking up.

It was a dreaded day, laundry day. And out of the cycle, it was your turn.

Sometimes, the people of Alexandria would just air dry their clothes for conservation reasons, really. And every time, there was someone assigned the duty. A little like how the meals were made, and someone had to help Carol -not that she'd ask for it. She was a little stubborn like that.

That being said, no one, and you mean no one, liked to do laundry. Specifically, because you had to get up early (to make sure you got all the sun power you could), and it took hours. Especially on your own.

You basically crawled out of bed at 4, maybe 5, in the morning. Still in your pajamas, you stalked through the streets of Alexandria -dragging your feet a little, you won't lie. Making your way over to the air drying area, you pulled out all the baskets and placed them along the ground -organized. It was probably the only time you ever really were these days.

Putting your hands on your hips, you let out a big, long sigh.

"Well," you tried to smile, still so asleep that your voice was cracking, "-the sooner I start, the sooner the hell ends."

Before you could even grab a single piece of clothing, a voice interrupted you -low in drawl like maybe he had just woken up.

"Ya need some help?"

Your eyes shot to him and something in your chest fluttered, stirring in your stomach. Rick was still in his pajamas (plaid pants low, and a plain t-shirt), eyes still heavy with sleep like maybe he'd just woken up too, and his hair probably the messiest you'd ever seen. There was a curl hanging in front of his head, you got the urge to fix it.

And maybe it was because you were half awake, but you did. The smile he got on his face after made warmth shoot to your toes -all dopey and sleepy. You kind of just wanted to gather him up in your arms, and maybe fall asleep on his chest (woodsy smell and body warmth). Luckily, that urge didn't come to fruition.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What the hell are you doing up this early?"

Not only was it odd that he was up this early, but like you said no one likes laundry duty. So why was he offering to help at all? If he had duties this early, shouldn't he be going and doing them? Why-

"'Eard it was your turn," he spoke, low and gravelly (you had no idea how to handle that), "- an' wanted to help ya."

You pressed your lips together, mind chiming 'wrapped around your finger'.

No one likes laundry duty.

"Thank you, Rick, but-" you started, "-I can tell you're still tired and I know for a fact you have a lot to do later today, so-"

"Nothin' to do," he hummed, wiping at his eye. Cute.

That had to be a lie.

"Asked Deanna for a break," he clarified, looking at you a certain type of way, "-Needed one anyway, thought I'd help ya."

"You're," you sputtered, a little in disbelief, "-You're taking a break day to help me with laundry? It is so much work-"

"Won't feel like work if I'm wit' ya."

Good god. Was he always this sweet? You couldn't have been that oblivious. Seriously.

"Guess I could use some company," you muttered, a little flattered but you tried to hide it. Rick just smiled at you in a way that made your breath hitch in your chest, you wavered on your feet.

"But, seriously," you added, "-if you need to take a break, on your break day, let me know, I'll-"

"'S long as you're workin'," he smiled, big and bright, "-I'm workin'."

"Is that," you laughed a little, "-Is that your way of making me take a break?"

He smiled differently then, mischievous, "Maybe."

You bit your lip and decidedly turned to the baskets, "Let's get to work then, Grimes, the faster we start, the faster we're done."

He joined your side, close enough to touch, it made your head spin a little. Before speaking, low like maybe a mutter, and maybe even nervous-

"Ya mind if I stick by ya for the day? 'Ve got nothin' else to do, figured I'd just be wit' ya. If 'at's alright?"

Good god.

You swallowed, blinking, but not quite turning to him, "Of course, you... Yeah, of course. I mean, I might have more chores-"

"I don't mind," he hummed, gentle, already hanging up something -not looking at you, "-'s long as it's wit' ya."

You blinked, damp shirt in your hands, just staring at him. Watching as he carefully clipped up the clothes, big hands ever-so-gentle like he didn't just drop probably the sweetest thing you'd ever heard. Genuinely too.

Shit, maybe they're onto something.

You decided to ask around.

"Honest question, Carol," you hummed, thumbing through a few of the ingredients. It was your day to help her, it's probably one of your favorite chores. You really enjoyed her presence, she was a close friend. Long story short, you trusted her judgment.

She hummed, gently grabbing one of the ingredients.

"This may sound so stupid, just know that I'm acknowledging that," you clarified, now looking at her, "-but do you think Rick is into me?"

Carol paused a moment, trying to decide how to react maybe, and you could already see her reaction. She was just a little too polite to say it instantly.

"Shit," you muttered, "-really?"

She pursed her lips, looking at you with a little pity almost, "'Fraid so. It's..."

She fell silent for a second, you just watched -patiently.

"-Everyone knows," she continued, hesitantly (like maybe she didn't want to embarrass you), "-Rick... I think he's been into you since the prison."

"The prison?" you nearly exclaimed, stalling in place. No way, "-what did he-"

"Remember the week 'at you were sick?"

Right, you'd been a little delirious from something. Maybe a little more than a cold? Nothing super serious, you remember Hershel telling you that but you had to rest. He was pretty sturdy on that. Turned out you couldn't have been doing anything, it made you feverish and nearly sleeping all the time-

"Ya ever wondered who took care of you?" she questioned, directly.

"No," you laughed, "-it was Hershel, he was the medic-"

"You sure?" Carol countered, eyes peeking at you -leveling a stare, "-He was feeding you, gettin' ya water? Stayed by your bedside?"

You faltered, something in you twisting, "Carol."

You'd remembered something like Rick feeding you, bites extended forward, and maybe the low timber of his voice. You'd just thought it was you being delirious; you had a thing for him, so you just-

"Carol," you repeated.

"He was there every day," she clarified, turning to the other side of the kitchen, "-as far as I know, he only left to do farmin' and see Carl or Judith. If you seemed to get worse, he got Hershel. But... otherwise..."

"Carol."

"None of us said anythin'," she added, busying her hands, "-because he didn't. 'At was his thing, it wasn't our place."

"For all this time?" you scurried to her side -hanging on to every word she said.

"Well," she sighed, turning to you fully now, "-we kinda figured he'd say something by now."

"God," you groaned, throwing your head into your hands, "-I have to be the dumbest person on the planet."

"To be fair," Carol soothed, "-ya didn't know."

You couldn't look Rick in the eyes for the rest of the day, or maybe you stared at him a lot more. It was all so confusing.

You decided then and there, that you'd try the most trustworthy person. The one who wouldn't lie to you, a little because he respected you too much. It did help that he was most definitely Rick's best friend.

"Hey, Daryl?"

You'd arranged a run with a few newcomers, and frankly made Daryl come because you wanted to have this conversation.

He didn't speak, just sort of grunted. It tracked.

"You're probably the most honest person I know," you cleared your throat, "-and I am pretty desperate at this point for just... honesty."

He turned to you fully then, something like concern in his eyes. The guy was truly a softie at his very core, you probably treasured your friendship the most out of everyone but it was a close call.

"Everythin' alright?"

You pursed your lips, "Yeah, yeah, don't worry. It's a... probably stupid thing actually."

He kept walking forward through the aisles of the store you were in, stashing away some essentials. You were doing the same, well, you were trying to.

"Stupid thin'?" he asked, not looking at you.

"Yes, it's dumb as hell, frankly," you laughed a little, "-but I just... I guess I want to know the extent of it."

Daryl turned to you, eyebrows furrowed together, "What the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Rick," you answered, and he seemed to take a second at the name, "-Is he really into me? Like everyone seems to believe?"

He didn't answer at first, just simply turned back to the canned foods, "Carol tell ya 'bout the prison? When ya were sick?"

"Yes," you swallowed.

"Ya should know the answer to 'at then," he spoke -gruff and straightforward.

"Well," you tried to argue, "-it's hard to understand it. I just... I don't know."

Daryl said nothing, walking forward through the aisle. You followed him, keeping your eye out for more that he hadn't grabbed. And for a moment, you thought he wasn't going to say anything else.

Suddenly, he spoke up, "He can't focus when you're on runs. Deanna 'ates it."

You opened your mouth to ask just how he knew that, but he interrupted you.

"She complains," he clarified, before asking, "-Ya ever wonder why ya barely get put on runs? When everyone else is goin' in a cycle?"

"I..." you paused, mulling it over. When was the last time you were organically on a run? You'd arranged this one-

"Deanna don't put ya on 'em," Daryl explained, turning to you with some canned food in his hand, "-'cause she kno's Rick'll be useless. He'd be waitin' at the damn gate if he could."

You tried to speak, but he continued.

"He always asks someone ya were out wit' to keep an eye on ya. And 'en, when ya come back, asks 'at same person if ya got hurt at all. Scratches, cuts, if ya tripped probably-"

You didn't say a word.

"-I kno' 'cause I've been 'em," he clarified, and you were wordless.

You took a deep breath in, good god.

"So yea'," he answered finally, "-he's into ya."

And then, he moved forward and didn't say another word. He didn't really have to though.

You'd even watched this time, keeping an eye on Daryl and where he went after coming back from the run. And sure enough, Rick waltzed up to him like it was the most normal thing in the world. You imagined you knew the conversation.

Yeah okay, your mind chimed, he has a thing for me.

The thing was, he might've been hesitant but you sure as hell weren't going to be. You might warm him up a little bit though, maybe just for a little fun.

He was wearing a new shirt. Kind of weird for you to notice, but it was the apocalypse, everyone wore the same thing so often that it melded with them in your mind. You could still vividly picture what Rick looked like at the prison and sure, maybe that was for more reason than just that, but still.

You went a little on autopilot. Call it confirming what you already knew, basically. Or, at least, that's what you'd tell yourself.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed the collar of his (new) flannel was askew -just a little. Bingo.

You waltzed up to him and Deanna with no particular air of anything. Just normal, you wanted to see it for yourself really (the laundry thing was very telling, but you wanted to see the little things). Rick stuttered to a stop, words halting in his throat when you showed up, and your heart flipped in your chest. Stay focused.

"Hey, sorry," you apologized, genuinely (well, kind of), "-I just gotta-"

Carefully, you straightened out his collar.

You felt his eyes on you the whole time (just staring), it made your heartbeat pick up a little bit but, luckily, he couldn't quite see that.

"-There," you cheered, just a tiny one, and you saw a dopey sort of smile spread across his lips (it made you feel warm down to your toes).

You pat his chest once, feeling his body heat thrum against your hand -eyes connecting to his, "Like the new shirt, by the way."

He looked at you in a way that somehow seemed familiar but you'd never really noticed. You'd been noticing a lot more recently, to be fair.

With one last apology (eyes dashing to Deanna, who in retrospect looked a little annoyed), you politely made your exit.

Finding anywhere to go, you spotted Maggie -who was already looking at you.

Shit.

She approached you before you could go anywhere else, and you readied yourself for the onslaught.

"What was that?" she asked, carefully.

You resumed your step, maybe with a little too much pep, "His collar was messed up. I fixed it."

"No, no," she followed your lead, perfectly in time, "-you... you're doin' somethin', what are you doin'?"

"I'm not," you answered -plainly.

Maggie, frankly, didn't believe you (obviously).

You weren't sure what you were waiting for, maybe for him to realize? You knew you could've just told him yourself, and you really were going to... but every time you tried to walk up to him, your throat just clogged up. He would look at you that way (all dopey and sweet and affectionate) and you just-

God, you were useless.

It was late, way too late for you to be up (you should clarify), but you just couldn't sleep. You weren't entirely sure what it was, but at the same time, you knew exactly what it was.

Every day that you didn't tell him was another day wasted. It was the apocalypse. Every day was numbered, and you could be gone at any moment and there was no time to waste. But, you tried and tried and tried. It just wouldn't come out. You weren't sure why.

You groaned, pulling your pillow over your face for a moment. You had things to do tomorrow, couldn't you just have this crisis later-

And then, there was a knock.

Pausing, you waited a moment just to see if it was even real.

Knock.

It was a strong one too, maybe a little desperate, and fear shot through your spine. Before you could think too hard, you scrambled out of your bed -the chill of the night seeping into your skin. Your mind was in one lane, survival. Someone was probably hurt, something was happening-

With shaky hands, you pulled open your door, words on the edge of your tongue-

"Rick?"

He was standing at your door, hair mussed and in his pajamas (still the low-hanging plaid pants, you noted). You let yourself look at him a moment, taking in the domestic view of Rick you'd only seen once before. Seeing him like this almost made you forget your worry, but it still struck a cord in your chest.

You frantically searched over him (looking for wounds or blood), "Shit, are you alright? Did you g-"

"I'm okay, I'm okay-" he moved his hands to your shoulders, and your mouth snapped shut, "-Everythin's fine, darlin', relax."

"God," you let out a breath, centering yourself, "-you scared the shit out of me."

Rick smiled at you a certain type of way then, sleepy and still with that little glint, and let out a low sort of chuckle. Hair all mussed and eyes half closed, it might've been the cutest thing you'd ever seen.

"Sorry," he smiled at you, something twinkling in his eye, "-didn't mean to scare ya."

You waved it off, before falling a little more serious, "If there's nothing wrong, why are you here, Rick?"

He seemed to take a pause. Eyes flickering all over you, a bit in reverence. It made you either what to throw up or faint, you weren't totally sure which one.

"Are you-" you spoke, carefully, "-Are you emotionally okay? Do you need me to-"

"I need ya."

You faltered, barely digesting, "Need me to what? Whatever-"

"No," he clarified, something in his eyes, "-I just need ya."

"What?" you asked -half awake, and unsure if he was saying what you thought he was.

"Y/N," he started, eyeing your now connected hands, "-I want... Shit, I need ya wit' me."

"Rick," you spoke, softly, "-what are you talking about?"

"I'm tired of not bein' wit' ya-" he spoke, like it took everything in his body to say it -a little like he was pleading with you.

It felt like your breath was knocked out of your lungs, and your heart was coughing up your throat. You felt totally and completely numb, all you could do was look at him.

He continued, eyes turning to match yours and grabbing your hands, "-I'm tired of missin' ya like a limb when you're standin' two feet away, I'm tired of always wishin' ya were closer, I'm tired of not tellin' ya 'at I think you are everythin' to me, I'm... I'm tired of it."

"Rick," your eyes were getting foggy.

"Darlin', I-" he let out a long breath, "-I can't do it anymore. I feel like I can't breathe without ya near me-"

"Rick."

"-Ya gotta understand 'at I-" he looked down (a little like the words were stuck in his throat), "-I... I can't function without ya. 'S like you're a piece of me 'at's just constantly missin' and it don't 'ave to be."

"Rick," you tried again.

"Y/N, I've-" he stuttered a second just looking at you, "-I've never felt 'is way 'bout anybody. An' I don't... I'm not even sure what to do 'bout it- I can't even think straight when you're gone, it... it stops everythin'-"

"Rick," you repeated, but there wasn't a lot of will behind it.

"Because 'ow am I supposed to be me without ya?"

You swallowed, heavily, eyes flickering all over him -maybe a little in reverence too. It felt like this was all a dream, and maybe this was exactly what you wanted him to say. Only one thought was rattling through your head, and you couldn't shake it, you're not sure you wanted to-

You spoke, breathless and maybe a little teary, "Rick, I love you."

Rick smiled at you so brightly that your knees felt a little weak, and your heart stuttered in your chest. God-

"You-" you laughed a little then, hands coming up to brush along his face (touching what you had longed to for so long)"-you're unbelievable. I couldn't even wrap my head around the thought that you could be into me-"

He just watched you, something shiny in his eyes (you couldn't tell if it was feelings or tears).

"-God you should've seen me. I asked like everyone in Alexandria," he laughed a little, and you gleamed, "-And... And I found out about so much that you've done for me. And you took a day off to do laundry with me-"

He laughed again, "Guess 'at made it pretty obvious, huh?"

"That, and-" you smiled at him, pushing some of his curls back out of his face, "-caring for me in the prison-"

He pursed his lips at that, maybe expecting you to never know. It didn't seem like he could stop looking at you though.

"-and you know what, not being able to focus when I'm gone on runs is pretty incriminating-"

He leveled the same look, and you could see his ears go pink. Cute.

"-or maybe," you continued, looking at him in a way that you hoped he understood (you were desperate for him to), "-when you dropped an obviously important conversation because I had a headache."

He just smiled at you, all dopey and affectionate. It made warmth bloom through your chest. Love, love, love-

"If it ain't obvious," he started, just staring, "-I love ya too. More than what I kno' what to do wit'."

You grinned at him, teasing, "Really? 'Couldn't tell."

He rolled his eyes at you, but was smiling so bright you couldn't take it seriously, "Ya gonna be like 'is now?"

"Oh, yeah," you answered, "-now I know just what you've done for me, and for how long. You're toast."

"Ya act like 'at's all I 'ave done," he countered, maybe smirking a little.

"It's not?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"No," he laughed, "-I was desperate for ya. For a long time. I did a lot to just be by your side, not countin' what I did for ya."

"Well," you smiled, moving your hands to curl into his hair, "-you'll just have to tell me sometime."

"Maybe," he hummed at the motion, and grinned at you, "-but the list is only bound to get longer. Might take forever."

"You know what, Grimes," you laughed, but you were genuinely, "-I think I can do forever."

"Me too," he grinned even brighter, eyes dashing along your face, "-as long as it's with ya."

Yeah, you thought to yourself (and maybe kissed the life out of him), I can definitely do forever.

[moonstruckme]

i’d love to see a doctor!remus with a reader that has chronic pain, if you’re interested in writing that <3

Thanks for requesting! I read online that migraines are considered chronic pain, so I hope that's accurate

cw: migraine, period cramps

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 726 words

The bed dips as Remus replaces the cold compress over your eyes, and you feel like you’re sandwiched between two temperatures, heating pad on your belly and ice pack on your head. 

“Can I have more painkillers, please?” you mumble. 

Remus’ voice is usually quiet, but now he speaks softer than soft. “You can have more in an hour.” 

A self-pitying ache starts up in the back of your throat. Which is great, because what you really need right now is more aches. “Can you pass me my coffee then?”

There’s a second of hesitation, and you can hear the denial forming in it. “It’s too late for caffeine,” he murmurs. “You need to sleep soon or it’ll only be worse tomorrow, lovely girl. I’m sorry.” 

He sounds it, but a petulant whine works its way out of you anyway. A hot tear leaks from the corner of your eye, dribbling into your hair. You know crying will only make things worse, but you’re feeling so wretchedly sorry for yourself that you almost don’t care. Worse isn’t something you can conceptualize.

“It hurts all over,” you whimper.

Remus makes a sound just as miserable, and then his hand is at your hairline, stroking tentatively. “I know,” he whispers. “I know, I’m so sorry. Do you need the heating pad turned up?” 

You murmur that you don’t. Your cramps aren’t great, but they pale in comparison to the throbbing agony of your head. And even if it helped your cramps, you don’t think you could handle the sensation of more temperatures right now. 

“Okay.” Remus pets your hair gently, callouses scraping against the skin of your forehead. “All right, darling, let’s try this.” 

He takes your hand in his, and you can feel the edge of his short nail as he presses into your palm, rubbing tiny, concentrated circles into your skin. For a minute you can’t muster the will to ask what he’s doing, but then the pain ebbs slightly, and you find your voice. 

“What’s this?” 

“Pressure point. Is it helping?” 

“I think so.” Not a ton, but it’s something. You force yourself to relax the muscles around your eyes, and that helps a bit too. “Thank you,” you breathe. 

Remus makes a soft sound, catching another tear as it skids down your face. His thumb still drills into that place on your palm. It hurts a tiny bit, but not near enough for you to ask him to stop. “It kills me to see you like this,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.” 

“Yeah, couldn’t you get me some morphine or something?” 

The little laugh that follows is odd-sounding, like he’s stifled it with a hand. “Actually, it might be worth losing my license for that. If you really want me to, just say the word.” 

“I’ll let you know.” 

There’s a few seconds where you can only hear each other breathing. It’s always a little bit weird, knowing he can see you when you can’t see him. You wonder, distantly, shamefully, if you look pretty. There’s no sense in asking Remus. You know what he’ll say. 

“Can I touch you?’ he asks quietly. 

“You’ve been touching me, Lupin.” 

Another half-smothered chuckle. Remus’ hand rests delicately on the top of your head, his thumb stroking an upward path along your forehead. You hum in approval. 

“If you go to sleep now,” he says softly, thumb lifting from your hand, “your headache might be gone when you wake up.” 

You take a deep breath, gauging your own tiredness. You think you can do it. 

“And so long as you sleep for more than an hour, I promise to get out of bed to get you more painkillers.” 

“You’d better,” you mutter, and you can feel his smile against your skin when he leans down to kiss your cheek. “Hug me?” 

You intend for it to sound light, almost like a joke, but the question comes out laden with all the neediness you’d hoped to hide. Remus doesn’t begrudge you, one arm needling under the small of your back while the other wraps across your ribcage. He scoots closer until your arm is pressed to his front. 

“This okay?” 

“Better than okay. Thanks, Rem.” 

His lips brush delicately across your cheekbone, the soft bit of skin just next to your eye. “Don’t mention it.”

[velvetcloxds]

LINGER | E.M.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: nothing really, just an idea I thought might be cute, induced by working from 8 to 8 for weeks now- mutual pining

summary: you've got a little crush on the new guy your dad hired to work with you in the office at his motel, how lucky are you that he's got a little crush on you too

part two: fleeting

You’d been staring at the booking list for far too long, and the room numbers were all starting to look the same which made your job so much harder- every time you allocated a guest to a seemingly open room, you’d find there to already be someone there, it was a grand mess and your Dad was so caught up in freaking out about the multiple double bookings that you and Eddie had been tasked with fixing it all on your own.

“I swear,” he sighed, clipboard in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other. “We’ve put out so many fires this week, they might as well give us fire suits as our uniforms,” he sat down next to you, shoulder against your own, just a little too close in comparison to how he sits next to the rest of the staff members. He smelt of cigarettes, cherry cola and too much deodorant spray, he was sure the smell of smoke would bother you, you weren’t all that sure why it didn’t. “No,” he mumbled, a little bump against your arm as he emptied his hands to be able to cover the list of rooms with his fingers. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

“What look?” you scoffed, and had you been any less exhausted you would’ve absolutely melted when you turned to see him smiling at you, you’d found he had a way of smiling even without noticing, whatever the two of you were doing or saying, he’d be halfway through ranting and the simplest reply from you would have him grinning from ear to ear, in his own little world.

“That one that says the world is ending,” he shook his head, and reached over your arm to hang the keys on the keys board, allowing himself a chance to linger when he had to get even closer to you, pleased when you were looking right into his eyes. “I hate that look; it gives me a headache when I can’t make it go away.”

“You have a headache?” you didn’t notice how your voice dipped, he did, it made him smile again, eyes trying to take in every little reaction on your face, just like he always does, he always finds something else to make him fall a little harder. He nodded, shrugged, and looked down to your list to see if he could help move someone around. “Is that why you’ve been so snappy with me all day?” you teased, being the one to bump his shoulder this time.

“I’ve not been snappy.”

“Please, you’ve been speaking to me with perfect punctuation every time we have to check another room,” you had something for his headache, you had to drink some for your own a few minutes ago, so you didn’t even think about handing him two pills, ever delighted when your fingers touched as he took them, and it didn’t bother you half as much as it should’ve when he motioned to steal a sip from your bottle. “You’re tired, Eddie, you need to take a break, go to your room for a bit, everyone else has,” you yawned, it made your nose scrunch up a little and made Eddie’s heart do a little backflip, how you’d managed to make something so mundane seem so cute he didn't understand. “I’ll be fine, promise.”

“You’re tired too,” he noted and he wasn’t sure if he was crossing a boundary but he reached out to squeeze your hand lightly, dropped it back to the table to make a note of a room he’d found empty, blushed horribly when you looked away to try and fail to hide a tired little smile, he had no idea how giddy it made you feel. “I’d rather be tired with you than have you try and fix this mess. Besides, I only work for your dad, you have to go home with him.”

 Eddie wasn’t one to pretend he didn’t notice the passive-aggressive comments aimed at you when you were doing your best, or the unprofessional remarks when you made a mistake, or how despite your best efforts to calm the chaos it only made it possible for you to get rid of more chaos the next day. He didn’t treat your dad any differently than he would if he didn’t have a major crush on you, but he also couldn’t care much for the man, he considered how a critical man, in general, decided to be even more so with someone who’d yet to give him reason to doubt her.

“You’re right,” you sighed and when you folded your legs and leaned back in the wheeled office chair you appreciated the sight of him, he’d been running about all day, the mess of curls that was usually in the way when he was working was now tucked into a skew knot on his head, the cutest thing, you thought, the perfect view to bring some color into the lifeless office you were in. “Pity me, won’t you, and help me write out those new tags for the lost keys.”

“Only if you don’t insist on sorting them by color this time, it takes so much longer, and you know the guest won’t even notice,” you were sweetening the deal, smiling up at him as you opened your rainbow lunchbox to show off the cinnamon bun that you’d saved at lunch for the two of you to share.

“Yeah, but I notice, and it looks pretty,” he wouldn’t dream of fighting you on that, not really, but he’d fight off sleep for weeks more if it meant he’d get some extra time with you, you were sweeter when you were tired, he wasn’t sure how that was possible, but you didn’t try as hard to hide your crush on him, and he didn’t have to try so hard to hide his.

“Hmm, well you are the expert on pretty,” he noted, and he was ever smooth with it as he made sure to take a little extra time to take his half of the bun from your hands, always one to linger, to make you swoon so easily.

“I see that headache is gone,” he’d tell you it’s because you weren’t frowning anymore, point out that as soon as you smiled at him he completely forgot he had a headache to begin with, instead he just shrugged, used a stray napkin to wipe the icing from your cheek and took it all in as you hummed, happy despite the mess the two of you had to solve. Your father hired him to help you with the things you couldn’t keep up with, as your mood shifted and your knee brushed against his thigh, he considered that he was very good at his job.

[dejabooooo]

Ok I’m doing it. Idk if anyone will read this but here’s a compilation of all the stancest crumbs from bill’s book along with a stancest endgame theory:

I say theory because I can’t think of a better word atm. I know this is obviously not the intention of the text. I am merely taking the information we were given and twisting it to fit my sick agenda. It’s what bill would have wanted (Well maybe not quite like this but lol fuck him anyway).

So! Obviously billford was the star of the show here, but as I learned a little bit more about the codes I didn’t just learn what they say. I learned that all the stancest ship fuel is contained within them, and even tho it’s not much in comparison, what we did get is pretty profound!

There was a brand new code alphabet introduced in this book that we’ve never seen before. This cute little bros code that Stan and Ford invented when they were kids. Besides this image, this code is used only three times in the entire book.

The first (and insanely subtle) instance is on this page where ford concludes that Stan is the only person he can turn to after bill drives him to his breaking point:

It’s very small and hard to make out. On the window amid the equations.

It says: “miss you”

Pertaining the contents of this page, my first thought was that this is probably meant to be interpreted as a message directed at Fiddleford. But that wouldn’t really make sense given how it’s presented. This wasn’t written in after the fact. It couldn’t be directed at Fiddleford, they’re standing together arm in arm. It’s a code only Ford and Stan know, and this pic wasn’t taken long after they separated. This message must be about Stanley.

Ford uses the code on the next page, the last lost journal page where he’s talking about reaching out to Stan. It translates to: “have I been too harsh all along?”

This is so gut wrenching to me because he’s never written in this code literally anywhere else in the entire journal. And he says this vulnerable little line about Stanley in this code he probably hasn’t used in years but still remembers, in this code that only Stan would be able to understand besides himself.

The last usage is by Stan. Because the rest of the family is watching him write this, to the rest of them it just looks like he’s censoring his cussing for the kids’ sakes. But to ford, stan’s slyly writing him a little message that only he can see…

And what does it say?

“Love ya bro”

Ford’s arc in this book is realizing he should put his attention and concern in the ones that love him rather than fueling his obsessive hatred toward the one who hurt him. He comes to understand that he’ll be happier if he’s open about his past and rely on his family whose affection isn’t conditional like bill’s was. He moves past his shame, and comes out of the paranoid isolation that bill had encouraged him into.

And of course he receives this comfort from his whole family. But I think it’s very interesting how bill is framed as this toxic ex, Fiddleford is framed as the one he should have put his trust in during that pivotal time in 80s where ford ultimately blew his chance, and then there’s Stan.

Stan is hardly brought up at all but his presence lingers in more than few of Ford’s vulnerable journal entries. Stan is the one who put Bill in his place. Stan is the one who made Ford realize where his priorities should be. Stan is the one who’s accepted him all along and is the one remaining by his side in the end.

Bill even blames Stan for stealing ford from him like a jealous ex who can’t stand the fact that ford has moved on with someone else. (This is directed at the reader but it mirrors his frustration with the stans when they worked together to defeat him)

In conclusion: incest somehow ended up being the healthiest partnership option all along. Who knew?

BONUS CODE THAT CAN BE MISCONSTRUED IN A MORALLY REPREHENSIBLE WAY:

At the bottom of the first lost journal page where he’s talking about his loneliness and yearning for human connection, he mentions Stan in a code again. After embarrassing himself in front of the waitress he says: “Stanley could have made her laugh” 💔

[missmeinyourbones]

DRANK DRY THE RIVER LETHE

"These days I think I owe my life

To flowers that were left here by my mother,

Ain't that like them, gifting life to you again?

- First Time, Hozier

a/n: trying baby daddy touya, brief mentions of pregnancy, reader is exhausted and dealing w some parental impostor syndrome, reader and baby are referred to as touya's girls

Touya comes home to a crying baby, something that has slowly become the new norm for him.

The fall breeze is uncomfortably chilly now that the sun has long gone down, and he can hear the familiar shrieks and hiccups before he's able to unlock and open the apartment door.

You don't hear him enter over the whines of the baby you cradle and caress in your hold. Touya's met with the back of your head and the sound of your desperate coos as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, making his way over to his girls. His family.

"Hey," he makes it a point to speak before letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. You'd think he'd have mastered how jumpy you are after all this time, but you flinch all the same at the sound of his voice.

He lets the warmth of his touch press up against your skin in an attempt to comfort you, but the second he's able to catch your eye, he knows it'll require a lot more than that to soothe your worries.

From your gaze alone, he can sense your panic almost immediately.

"She won't stop crying," is the first thing you say to him.

It comes out rushed and nervous, like you've been waiting for him to return home for hours. You have been, he knows to be true even though you don't say it.

He winces a bit as he takes in your appearance. You look smaller than he's ever remembered, and perhaps there's a truth to that old saying about not noticing something as it happens right before you, until it's already too late.

Your eyes are dark with exhaustion, his t-shirt swallowing you whole is covered with what he knows to be stains of vomit and spit-up. Your body doesn't stop moving, heels don't stop bouncing softly back and forth as you attempt to soothe your daughter in any way possible.

He doesn't ask how long you've been at this.

The haste returns when you continue, "She's not hungry, I've changed her three times, her temperature is normal, and I hate that I even checked her temperature more than once because she fucking hates it and--"

A calloused palm finds your head, gently brushing the tousled hair behind your ear and trying to rub the tension from behind your neck.

"Hey, hey. Easy."

He tries to console you. His tone is a bit cautious, like he's trying to slowly approach a wild and contaminated animal, but it comforts you all the same.

His heart hurts as he watches you take a shaky inhale, holding it for a brief moment before exhaling it just as uneasily. You're drained.

If this was three months ago, he'd instantly grab your wrist--force you to lay on top of him in bed until you inevitably pass out and succumb to your own exhaustion.

But things are different now, and he's not just in charge of you anymore. He has two girls to take care of, one being a lot more helpless than the other who needs him just as badly right now.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," you weakly admit through the tears that sit heavy in the back of your throat.

Nothing, Touya wants to say. He doesn't even think you're capable of doing something that isn't right, but he's self-aware enough to bite his tongue and focus on the task at hand.

His eyes fall to where the bundle of baby still shrieks and sobs against your arms. He slowly reaches to rub a soft finger against her puffy cheek before sighing to himself.

"Don't babies cry for no reason sometimes?" he mumbles.

"She doesn't cry like this for you."

He knows it's the fatigue behind your bite, so he chooses to ignore the harsh comparison.

"Yeah, she does, baby," he calmly breathes. "You're just tired."

Wordlessly, he motions for you to hand your daughter to him, and the pass happens naturally for all three of you. She leaves your arms and enters his without so much of a struggle. And you can't shake the failure that weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch him gently bounce the baby on his hip, her cries almost immediately softening by being in his mere presence.

It takes all of thirty seconds before she's practically silent, resting on his chest and babbling herself into a calm drowsiness. His hand cradles the back of her head gently, mimicking how it did yours mere moments ago.

The scene before you is all you've ever wanted, and it's finally yours. And you absolutely hate that you feel a sob of exhaustion wrack through your chest, ruining a moment you never thought you'd have.

Touya watches you shrink before him, your eyes on the peaceful scene before you as you choke out a teary, "She hates me."

"Bullshit, c'mere."

He readjusts your baby so she's comfortably supported with one arm, using the other to snake around your shoulders and pull you in with them. You feel his hand flat against your sore back, rubbing gentle circles and pressing you into his warmth.

The three of you stand huddled together, all clinging onto one another in one way or the other. The baby in Touya's hold rests her sock-covered foot on the flat of your arm. You lean into Touya's chest, head right next to your daughter's as he whispers sweet reassurances. You don't need to ask to know they're meant for the both of you.

After a few minutes, Touya pulls away a bit, but only to use both hands to place the baby back in her crib. The transition is easy and she's out cold as she sinks into the tiny mattress pad and sprawls out.

The two of you lean on one another, hovering over the wood to watch her sleep. Her eyelids flicker with movement, her chubby fingers squeezing around nothing every now and then.

Eventually, Touya tiredly whispers into your hair, “I learned all this from you, y'know."

Sniffling with heavy eyes and a confused pout, you weakly turn your head up to look at him in confusion.

Assuming he's talking about parenthood, his words don't make any sense in your fatigued and spiraling mind.

You learned together. He was there in the hospital when the midwives walked you through swaddling and latching and burping. When you'd discovered that your daughter preferred to eat after napping because nursing before made her sick. Watching online tutorials on which bassinet is safest for newborns---Touya was there, for all of it. He didn't learn anything about this from you.

But when he looks down into your watery eyes, through the dark of the nursery and against the shallow breaths of your sleeping daughter, you realize he's not talking about that.

His voice is a mere whisper when he confesses, “Like, how to love her right.”

Sniffling and swollen, you open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Utterly speechless, you just stare at him a bit dumbly.

Touya fights off a smirk at your uncharacteristic silence, directing his attention back to the sleeping baby once more.

"Wouldn't know how to do this if it wasn't for you, letting me learn how to love you," he admits.

He reaches down into the crib to where she sleeps on her back, arms spread out and upward like she's stretching her tiny limbs. He takes the tips off his fingers and gently rubs her onesie-covered tummy.

“So, when she feels it from me," he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the annoyingly perfect baby before him, "it’s really just an extension of you.”

A moment of silence passes. In the heaviness of the moment, he almost thinks you didn't hear him. But he's proven wrong--something he's learned is often the case with you--when he turns his head to where you wait. Touya sees your eyes and cheeks glistening with newly shed tears, no longer the dried ones from your weariness and anxiety, gleaming up back at him.

He can't help but shake his head and laugh at the soft sight before him, withdrawing his hand from the baby's tummy and wrapping it around your shoulder.

He ushers your head into his chest, muttering a loving, “Alright crybaby, c'mon.”

He lets you sniffle and close your eyes against the cheap cotton of his shirt, letting his own eyes shut and resting his chin atop your head.

Slowly, but all the same, you feel that gentle sting of guilt eventually fade from your lungs with each gentle exhale. With heavy eyes and bad posture, you ground yourself through the senses around you. Touya's skin against yours, the sounds of gentle sighs and sniffles. The baby, the one that you had together, safe in her crib with the sole responsibility of innocently existing.

You don't want to ever forget this, or maybe you do. Half of you wishes you could forget it, just to receive the blessing of experiencing it for the first time all over again.

“Also use my quirk sometimes,” you think you hear muffled into the crown of your skull.

You open your puffy eyes to look up at him, confused.

"What?"

You watch Touya smugly shrug as he brushes the stray and sticky hairs from your clammy forehead. A sly blush creeps up his neck and jaw when he fights off a smile.

"Warm my hand up and put it on her stomach," he admits casually, caressing your soggy cheek, "shuts her right up."

You laugh, wet and pathetic and absolutely enamored by him, "That's cheating, you asshole."

You don't blame her, you think, considering the countless times you've requested the same thing from him. From period cramps to pregnancy pain to just wanting to feel him--maybe it's genetic, having your DNA and craving his warmth simultaneously.

You decide that Touya must be thinking the same thing, because he simply chuckles with you, rubbing your back as you feel the familiar heat of his fingers begin to tingle.

"Yeah, yeah," he kisses your head, "wonder where she learned that from."

[after-witch]

Gum Line [Yandere Mahito x Reader[

Title: Gum Line [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You need to get your teeth cleaned and Mahito wants to watch.

Word count: 1740

notes: yandere, mentions of death and violence, mentions of past injury on reader, reader is getting their teeth cleaned, Mahito

“You really don’t need to come,” you hissed lowly. “It’s fine. Really. It’s just a quick cleaning.”

Mahito puffed out his cheeks and peered through the glass door into the waiting room. “But I want to come. I’ve never been to a dentist. I want to see what they do to you.”

The receptionist was, at this point, staring at you and made a come-in gesture with her hands. You were standing out there too long for it to be normal. So you sighed and put your hand on the knob.

“Fine.” You bit out the words and regretted them as soon as they left your lips, but there was no taking it back. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was going to come in with or without your agreement.

“You can watch, just… just try to stay out of the way, okay? Please? I really need this cleaning.”

“Yay!” His cheer was too loud and too close, but he never cared about that, did he? Mahito wrapped his arm around yours and flung the door open with his other, only to pull you into the office with a giddy delight. To everyone else, it must have looked like you accidentally almost-tripped over the threshold after entering too quickly. 

“S-Sorry,” you said, breathless, smiling, to the receptionist. “I’m a bit clumsy today.”

She smiled back, all prim and professional. But you wondered what she must be thinking.  You were standing up far too straight, sweat on your forehead, and you’d just been standing there at the door muttering to yourself before you stumbled inside like a drunkard. 

“You know,” Mahito said, as you signed your name on the sign-in sheet, “you’ve gotten really good at making up lies on the spot!” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, and gritted your teeth instead. 

Why did Mahito make even the most everyday things in your life so complicated?

—

He pouted. Honest-to-goodness pouted. 

“You never open your mouth so nicely like that for me.” He rested his chin in his hand and furrowed his eyebrows. “I always gotta fight you for it." He pointed an accusatory finger at your chin. And you’re not even trying to bite her! No fair!” 

You choked a little on your spit. Couldn’t he just shut up–

“Are you doing all right?” She asked, pulling the tools out of your mouth for the moment. 

You closed your mouth and smiled tightly. “Mm-hmm. Sorry, I just have um, some dental anxiety, so…”

She wiped the scaler on your bib and moved the light up a little. Mahito followed the movement and began poking the bulbs.

“Do you think she’d mind if I broke this?” You almost said something, but he shrugged. “Ah, but the pieces would get into your mouth, and we’d be stuck here longer.”

The hygienist continued, not knowing that a curse which could end her life in a moment was hovering over her shoulder, pouting like a damn child.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. Just raise your hand if you need me to take a break, okay?”

“Thank you,” you said, and opened your mouth wide to encourage her to continue. She did, returning to examine your teeth with the little mirror, poke here and there, get a good idea of what she needed to tackle first.

Good. The faster she worked, the sooner you could get out of here. The sooner you got out of here, the less likely it was that Mahito would act up.

Act up. Hah. As if his acts of violence were a toddler throwing a tantrum in the grocery store, chubby fists hitting the hard floor as he wailed because he was tired, bored, hungry, didn’t get the toy he wanted, did get the toy he wanted but now it wasn’t fun, the sky was blue and he wanted it green…

No, no, the comparison wasn’t entirely off, was it? Sure, he wasn’t throwing a fit because the store was out of strawberry milk (but he might, you thought, if he took a liking to it) but he might kill someone waiting in the congested line at the grocery store because he was tired of you running errands and wanted you back in your apartment.

And he might kill this hygienist, to have you fleeing home, away from the blood, the carnage, the screams. And because it would be amusing to him, even if you weren’t around. 

But the notion went beyond his tendency to pout, to be impulsive, to want what he wants when he wants it, didn’t it? He was always learning, always eager to learn. What he did know often felt instinctive and unfulfilled, and he was using you to stuff the gaps. Watching what you did and said.

Testing you, teasing you, seeing what he could take away from your ordinary personhood. Like someone who’d never lived among people finally making it to the big city, taking in the sights and sounds and world with eagerness. 

He was just so damn new. Sometimes you felt like he should be covered in a thin, slimy caul. Only you didn’t know if he would be better or worse if he lost it. 

Mahito waved one of his hands.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard. What are you thinking about?”

“Nuffing,” you said, with a mouthful of dental tools.

The hygienist pulled them out again.

“Sorry, you needed a break?”

Oops.

“Sorry,” you said. “I forgot to raise my hand. It’s okay now, I just got a little tense because my back tooth is a bit sore.”

“Oh, I’ll be more careful.” And the sharp tools went back inside your mouth.

Mahito was quiet for a while, which was both wonderful and terrifying. He was simply watching the hygienist work now. His eyes were intent on the repetitive movements of the scaler, the way she scraped your gum. You saw him look down at your hands–clenching the straps of your purse, as you always did at the dentist but especially so today–and back at your face.

He weaved around to the other side of the chair so that he could get in close to your face without risking knocking into the hygienist or the light fixture above your head.

“You’re bleeding a lot,” he said. “Is that normal? Is that why she keeps squirting water in your mouth? Why don't you just swallow it?” 

He ran a finger along your cheek, and you made a soft, high sound in your throat. The hygienist paused, but when you didn’t raise your hand or try to talk, she kept going. A small mercy.

“How much does it hurt? A lot? A little? Less or more than the time I broke your finger?” His pinky traced the beginning of a tear in the corner of your eye. You didn’t know if it was from the sharp pain in your gums or from the terror coursing through your veins. At his words, sure, but the very nature of this awful scenario was simply too much for you. 

In a moment, the woman who was simply doing her job to clean your teeth might be dead. The receptionist who probably gossiped with you to a coworker the second you were out of earshot might be dead. The people in the waiting room, the old man with an audiobook on tape and the little girl playing with the germ-ridden toys tucked in the corner–dead, dead, dead. Piles of pus and blood and bloated flesh.

You could be that, too. If he decided he wanted it. 

Mahito let his pinky slide delicately from your eye to your mouth. He touched the edge of your stretched lip, and when he brought it up to the light, you could see a smear of gum-blood.

A small tear finally made its way out of your eye. From the pain, that’s what the hygienist would tell herself. Maybe she would stop again, or maybe she’d be glad you were toughing it out, so she could move on to her next appointment quicker.

Mahito saw the tear and frowned. 

“Hey. Are you upset because I brought up the finger? You can’t be mad at me about that anymore, remember? It wasn’t on purpose–well, I didn’t mean to break it, anyway. And I fixed it, so...” He gazed down at your hands, clenched so hard around the strap of your purse that you had to reflexively relax them to keep them from aching. 

He looked so serious, so suddenly. It made your stomach do awful flips. 

“You’re the first person I’ve fixed, did you know that?”

You didn’t. 

“Normally I just play with humans. Take them apart. Turn them into something new. Experiment, experiment, experiment.” He sighed, almost dreamily. “It’s fun. Really! I’ve learned a lot. But with you–” 

He didn’t finish whatever thought he had. Instead, he sat down on the unused stool next to the dental chair, then, and took hold of your hands. It was nothing for him to pry your fingers away from your purse.

You hoped the hygienist wouldn’t look down–how strange would it look for your hands to be hovering in midair, like they were being held by nothing at all? 

If only he was nothing.

He squeezed your fingers.

“You don’t need to hold a bag, see?”

You raised your eyebrows.. You couldn’t ask the questions tumbling in your mind, and you’re not sure that you wanted to know the answers, anyway. 

Then the hygienist poked a particularly sensitive area behind your front teeth, and you flinched in the chair. You squeezed his hands tight. Reflexively, you told yourself. Reflexively.

Mahito glanced down at your intertwined hands. He looked serious again. Somber. Even soft, maybe? Or was that your imagination, pathetic, frightened as it was? You half-expected him to pat your hands and tell you that he was here, not to worry. Like your mom did when you were a kid and needed a root canal.

Then his gaze lifted suddenly and he grinned side enough to show you his gum line. He stuck his tongue out and poked one of his teeth, then spoke–you realized, with a bubble of sickness in your chest, that he’d given himself a second tongue. 

“I was thinking… if she has to pull out one of your teeth, do you get to keep it? Can I have it?” 

You groaned out a whimper, but the hygienist continued working.

Mahito didn’t let go of your hands.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Ghost x Reader

NSFW, 18+, Shameless Smut, No Plot, Porn w/out Plot, Sex in the dark, Explicit, Graphic Language, Teasing, Touch-Starved Touching, Embarassing, First Time Together, Fingering, Sloppy Kisses, Somewhat Rough Sex, slightly Intimate, Ghost is a bit of a dom, Reader's a bit snarky, Slightly Proof Read, I'll fix what I miss later :)

First time writing a smut one-shot with zero plot sooooo here's my trial run. I'm a recovering former Catholic schoolgirl, bear with me. Enjoy. （。ˇ ⊖ˇ）♡

Word Count: 2.4k

Also I take requests, or I would like to, or I might just poll who I should write next. ヾ(´▽｀;)ゝ My other one-shot Soap | Price

You step into a dark bedroom, reaching over to flip on the light switch. That's when you feel Ghost's cold, gloved hand stop you halfway. Your hand, which is small in comparison to his own, can't help but be encompassed by his sudden grasp.

The door shuts behind you both, you and Ghost now standing in a nearly pitch-black bedroom. Alone.

"The lights stay off," Ghost orders.

The gravelly-like sound of his voice is deep in this empty room, soothing through your ears and sending a chill down your spine. You can just make out the large silhouette of his body, towering over you like a great, big shadow. Ready to devour you and leave you used.

And you wanted him to use you. To fill you with all he has to give. You've lusted for his touch since you first laid eyes on him. You longed to feel his strong grasp around your throat, his teeth against your skin, his cock buried deep in you. You always wondered what a man who brandishes a skull mask of all things would desire of you.

Your own hand could only suffice for so many nights. It was time for the real thing.

And you knew Ghost had wanted it too. He had wanted you bad. Not being able to have you until now only fueled his growing insatiable craving for you. His skin practically simmers from the rising arousal.

"No lights at all?" You pout.

"What's the matter?" The teasing tone to his voice lowers, as does his hand, as you feel his fingers trail up your arm. It leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before he's let it rest at the side of your jaw, taking a soft hold of your face. "You afraid of the dark?"

You feel his deep, olive eyes look you up and down hungrily through the darkness. Exploring every inch of your body. He could picture all the curves to you, his hands hardly able to keep away from reaching out. Envisioning your body shaking by the end of this, the anticipation having his blood rushing just thinking about it.

His thumb lightly trails over your lip, the glove of his thumb gently grazing it, faintly tugging. He parts them for himself, your tongue just slightly brushing against him. It makes a whimper leave your lips, as you start to playfully nip at the fabric of his glove with your teeth, coaxing something dark inside him.

"It's just us now, love," Ghost whispers. "I want these walls crumblin' down once I'm through with you."

You lift both your hands and let them dance delicately over his, your own hands so small it takes the two of them to even hold the entire thing. You tug at the fabric, removing the glove from his skin and revealing his bare knuckles to you. If not for the dark which surrounded them.

Unable to truly see him for youself, you let your touch fill that yearning to look upon him. You let the glove fall to the floor, as your hands take his again, your warmth clashing with the iciness of his own touch.

"Why don't you make that happen then," you taunt him.

You take his index finger and bring it to your lips, letting your tongue slowly swirl around it, as your saliva coats him, your breath making his skin shiver. You gently bob your head forward and suck his finger, taking your time getting it wet for him. Only just faintly being able to make out his mask in the dark.

You hear Ghost let out a heavy breath, before he's got you pressed flush against the door. He uses his large thigh between your legs and his other arm to box you in, his body pressing roughly against you, keeping you pinned against the door.

You were at a point of no return now. If this was what you wanted, then Ghost was prepared to give it to you, as he saw fit.

Ghost brings his free hand down, roughly pulling down the short little skirt you'd had your ass hanging out of all night, until you've felt the fabric hit your ankles below you. The second they hit the floor, Ghost plucks his finger from your lips, deciding to swap for a new pair to play with instead.

His fingers dip beneath your lace panties, letting those fall to your feet next, the chill of his hand making you jolt lightly, as you gasp. That's when he feels how dripping wet you had been this whole time. You coat the man's fingers in a matter of seconds, which he can't help but chuckle at.

"Fuckin' hell," he teases you. "Say less."

"Fuck you," you tease.

Ghost responds by bringing two wet fingers to your clit, massaging smooth circles against it, and sending a jolt of knee-wobbling pleasure through you. He gets the rhythm down damn near instantly, working a magic you should have only known he possessed. You can't help but moan to his touch, your head pressing back against the door as your body chases his fingers.

"You were saying?" Ghost teases you again. Only this time, before you've time to say something else, you feel his fingers make their way towards the entrance of your cunt, ghosting the hole purposefully, letting his hands grow damp with you. It makes the air catch in your throat.

His fingers slowly curve in, the warmth of your walls gripping tightly in retaliation. He pumps them in and out, going just a little deeper, each time they sank back in.

Pretty soon you've felt him go knuckle deep, his palm smacking roughly against your clit at each thrust. Each time left you throbbing with arousal, making you shake. The visceral, wet noises that came from your cunt paled in comparison to the moans you released alongside them.

The sensation was almost so overwhelming that your mind couldn't think straight. Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, as your voice took a mind of its own, letting Ghost know vocally just how much you enjoyed having his fingers roughly play with you like that.

Ghost would never forget these sweet sounds you made for him. They'll live in his mind 'til the day he dies, he's sure. As he'll be forever chasing after them now. Hearing you had been a newfound high

He eventually takes his hands from you, your fluids leaving a web-like trail on its exit out. In that brief moment, having found some composure over yourself, you let your hands raise up, until they've stopped at the edge of Ghost's balaclava.

You pause before attempting to lift it up, letting your fingers rest there, signaling to him what you wanted.

"Can I?" you ask.

Ghost pauses.

One of his hands meets your wrist, though it doesn't attempt to pull you away. Holding you there, instead. Hesitantly even.

Right now, he appeared but a dark figure you could only just make out, hellbent on seeing you at your most vulnerable. Ghost wouldn't let you see him. Not completely. And you would respect that. You could be happy with just the touch of him instead. The taste of him in your mouth could be enough.

Tonight at least.

When you see he won't stop you, you slowly begin to lift up his mask. You feel the fabric glide up the sides of his neck as he holds his breath. You bring it to the bridge of his nose, letting your fingers graze against his cheeks, and tracing the stubble of his defined jawline. Simply trying to feel a picture of him in to your mind.

The whole time, Ghost stands there frozen. Letting you touch him, not having let someone do so in such an intimate matter in quite some time now. Too long of a time. He's forgotten how bare it makes him feel. And yet, he didn't want you to stop.

You mirror his actions from before, letting your thumb brush against his bottom lip. You feel it quiver, and it makes you smile.

"Don't get shy now," you purr.

You flip that switch in him, and like a predator that's just caught its prey, his mouth is on yours, pressing against you so hard that his body nearly smashes you against the door. It releases a gasp out of you, one that Ghost uses to let his tongue take a quick swipe against yours, stealing a taste.

You chase his as it retreats, your lips following him organically. As though your mouths were two puzzle pieces; perfectly fitted for one another.

His kisses quickly turn starved, his tongue exploring every available inch your mouth provided to him, dominating you in every way. Letting you know that from here on out, your mouth belonged to him and him alone. Your lips. Your tongue. Your taste. You.

You belonged to him now.

You nip at his lip suddenly, giggling at the little gasp he lets out afterward. In response, Ghost brings his hands to the hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head, leaving you now bare before him, just as a silhouette in the dark to him as he were to you.

He brings his teeth to the groove between your neck, searing them deep and bringing a light hiss out of you. At the same time, his hands meet your breast, his finger gently rubbing against your nipples, as his palms massaged you gingerly.

His hands feel you as though he planned to sculpt a new woman out of you, and his lips trail down your neck as though they could help him memorize the taste your skin left lingering at every peck.

Your fingers grip at the back of his neck, pulling him in, clawing into what little skin he left bare for you to feel beneath his lifted mask. The sting your nails leave makes him throb almost painfully so.

Ghost pries his lips from you, letting his hands slide roughly down past your ass, before taking hold of your thighs. With one quick movement, he hoists you up, allowing your legs to straddle his waist. He then presses himself against you, grinding hard into you.

The sudden flood of ecstasy it washes over him brings a low, shaky breath out of him. One he wasn't too used to making. He continues grinding against you, keeping your back pressed against the wall and both his large hands gripped firmly beneath your ass, his hands moving you almost like you were his own personal doll.

And you submit.

You submit completely to him, keeping your hands wrapped around his neck, as the grinding of his hardening cock through his uniform re-erupts that lustful flood he'd pulled out of you only minutes ago.

Using the wall to help keep you upright, Ghost brings one of his hands down to the buckle of his pants, undoing them and allowing him to lower his them. Just enough for him to take hold of himself and uncover from his briefs.

It seems he's had enough of the teasing and the foreplay.

"You know we have a bed," you joke.

"I like to work on my feet," Ghost quips back.

You feel the head of his member begin to play at your folds, lightly spreading them apart, and preparing for what felt like would be something slightly larger than what you were used to. It makes the core of your groin quake with anticipation.

Ghost continues to tease himself against you, his breath growing shakier by the second, as precum began to slick between you. His hand on your ass tightens, and he brings himself to the center of your core once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

"Think you can take it?"

You swallow and then nod.

"Give it to me already."

As quickly as the words leave your mouth, Ghost lets himself thrust deeply into you, your walls just barely being able to take in the entire length of him. It sends a sharp sensation up your body, bubbling out into one of the loudest moans you've ever felt yourself let out. You feel it travel all the way up to your throat, making your heart race as though you'd just run a triathlon.

Once he saw you could take him, Ghost pumped deeper into you, pushing further and further in at every thrust, gliding in and out with ease. Soon you've taken him completely, feeling him smack against your cunt hard.

His lips find yours again, not wanting to waste another second away from you, as his fingers dig deep into your skin, forcing you to take all of him, as you willingly let him do what he wants with your body. He clearly knew what it wanted best.

He purposefully pulls back out slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him leave your pussy, and stopping just before his head can exit. He then comes back in sharply, earning that chilling moan from you every time. He could go all night listening to it.

"That's right, lovey," Ghost pants against your lips. "That's fuckin' beautiful."

Ghost picks up his speed, each pump growing faster. Eventually, the pace had increased so much that you stopped noticing the blood you were drawing at the back of his neck from digging into it so roughly. Just as you didn't notice the forming bruises on your ass from how hard Ghost had been holding you.

All you could feel was him inside you, giving you everything he had to give, and hitting that sweet spot every single time.

"I'm so close!" you gasp out. You slide your hands back over to his face, cradling his cheeks in your palms, letting him know you were looking him in his eyes. Somehow you felt you could see his right now. "Cum with me."

Ghost takes your lips one final time, getting one last good taste of you, as he feels your walls tighten around him, your body vibrating, as you moan into his lips.

The orgasm shakes you so hard that your body moved almost involuntarily. The mixture of warmth and tight compression is enough to finally get it out of him as well, as Ghost cums alongside you, his cock throbbing against the heat of your cunt.

He lets out a breathy moan, his forehead resting against yours, as you both fight to catch your breaths.

As the moments settled, and your heart rates began to rest, you both continued to let faint images of each other dance in your minds, as un-pronounced as when you first walked in.

"Maybe we can have a nightlight on next time," you joke.

Ghost is quiet for a second, still attempting to reassess himself. He clears his throat before speaking again.

"I'm up for that."

♡( •ॢ◡-ॢ)✧˖° ♡

[aothotties]

Sneaky Link w/ Jean

Warnings: MDNI, sleepy sex, Jean is so cute lol, squirting, protected sex. This one is pretty tame in comparison to the other scenarios lmao.

Word Count: 938

______

It all started with Sasha, with her being the foodie of the group, she always had recommendations for restaurants to try. One night she got everyone to come out and try your restaurant and it suddenly became everyone’s favorite place, especially Jean’s. 

What he didn’t know is that part of the reason she brought everyone down was so that the two of you could meet. Why not? She figured, you’re both single, attractive, and can make good food. That’s a plus in her eyes. 

Low and behold, her plan worked and before you knew it, Jean was sitting at his favorite booth every evening, patiently waiting for you to close the store down. He would walk you home every night to make sure you got in safely, and to return the favor you would invite him in for tea…amongst other things.

In the beginning the night caps were completely innocent, you would invite him in for tea and a talk then he would go home. 

Then one night things took a complete turn, you grew tired of the longing stares, the friendly touches, you wanted more. In the middle of a conversation you threw yourself into his arms and kissed him. 

You instantly relaxed when he slid his tongue against yours and the rest of that night was history.

You two decided to keep your escapades to yourself and because that’s all it is, a nice meal and some dessert. And Jean will be damned if you’re not the best dessert he’s ever had. 

“You guys have a good night!” You wave to your last few customers before locking the doors. You walk over to Jean and release a tired sigh as you plop down into the booth next to him.

“Your exhaustion is a sign of hard work, remember that.” He gives you a smile and you chuckle in response.

“I know, I’m getting closer and closer to a beach vacation.” You tiredly celebrate and he gives you a pat on the back.

“Can’t wait to see you in a new bathing suit by the way.” He kisses the side of your head and you snort at his words.

“Clean that table up for me while I go and count the register, then we can head to the apartment.” You stand up and walk behind the counter. 

“Ay ay captain.” He fake salutes you and grabs the dishes off the table.

The walk to your apartment was a short one this time, Jean took it upon himself to carry you on his back the whole way there.

“‘M not that tired.” You mumble against his shoulder as your eyes close.

“You hugged a light post thinking it was me, hand me your key.” You place it in his hand and close your eyes once again.

He helps you to the floor and wraps an arm around you in support. He smiles down at your sleepy expression and strokes your cheek. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed then I’m gonna head home, me and the guys have a road trip this weekend.” You nod your head and cover up a yawn. 

“You go on ahead then, I can get in the shower by myself.” You tell him as you walk to the bathroom, your shirt comes off first and then your pants follow soon after.

Jean can’t help but to follow you down the hallway with his eyes, his bottom lip finding its way between his teeth.

“I can at least get you tucked into bed though.” He mumbles as he takes his jacket off and walks into the bedroom.  

Which is exactly how you both ended up under the covers. Your leg resting in Jean’s hand while his cock bullies your cunt at a slow pace. You sigh against his lips as you two continue making out with one another. 

He has you hold your leg up so he can reach forward and rub your aching clit with his fingers. He hisses at the way your pussy tightens around his shaft in response to his touch.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this, such a slut even when you’re tired. You’re never too tired for me, right?” He asks, sucking a small bruise on the side of your jaw.

Your eyes close and you grab the sheets tightly as you begin to bounce back against him.

“Y-yes just for you!” You bite your pillow as you slide all the way down on him as you come.

He chuckles at your reaction and rubs your clit side to side rapidly all while moving his hips faster against yours.

“Fuck Jean! ‘S t-too much daddy.” You grab his long hair and grit your teeth as your body begins to shake. 

He smiles at your reaction and continues his movements against your g-spot and your clit. 

“You can take it mama, I know you can. You got me so fucking close sweetheart.” He lets out a deep grunt once he reaches his climax, his fingers don’t stop rubbing your clit until he feels you squeeze around his dick and arch your back against him.

“Jean” You whimper quietly as he pulls out of you slowly and throws the condom to the side. 

He grabs a washcloth and cleans up your mess between your legs, he looks up at you to say something but smiles at the sound of your snoring. He plants a kiss on your forehead and lays next to you. Before he knows it, he’s drifted off right next to you and is awoken the next morning by some texts from the group chat about their trip.

Ari

[crisscross-sonicsauce]

Differences between the models from Sonic 2 and the Knuckles Show Masterpost!

I'm sure there are more but these are just what I've noticed so far...

(Also, this is kind of hard for Sonic and Tails because we don't see them much, but I'll do my best)

::Knuckles Show on top Sonic 2 on bottom

Okay, first...

Textures

For the most part, they're less furry.

Comparing these you can see that the fur around his muzzle is shorter or at least not as well defined. This is true for the rest of them as well. Everyone looks "smoothed out," especially around the face.

Another example...

You can see the fur around his ears is actually less fuzzy, and the triangle shape of the inside of his ears is more obvious. (Almost like he got a trim or something haha.) This is true for Sonic as well, especially the ear definition bit. Tails' cheek fluff is also more shapely and long, evoking his game design more. His forehead tufts now face slightly different directions instead of all pointing right.

This goes for Knuckles' chest pattern too...

The shape is SO much fuzzier in the movie.

His body fur is also less voluminous in the show (likely the cause of the aforementioned definition.) I think this goes for everyone else too (Except for Tails maybe, I can't really tell since we can't see his body that well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.)

Another one...

They got rid of his nosebridge pattern. The delineation between his muzzle and head color is much clearer. (You can also see the muzzle fur and ear change here.) I'm actually kinda sad about this one :( It was one of my favorite parts of his design. It could be due to the fur shortening and just for the show, but I'm not sure... :/

Exceptions

Tails' tails actually appear to be MORE fluffy.

and Sonic's chest fur is WAY fluffier

If I had to guess, I'd say most of these changes were made to cut down on rendering time. Switching out the movie's "denser" textures for these "lighter" ones cuts down on the budget without sacrificing the looks. Very smart, very smart. (Obviously, I don't know for sure that they did this, I'm just guessing based off of the differences.)

Structure Changes

Here are some things I noticed about how the bones of the models have changed (meaning not due to textures) (It's mostly Sonic lol.)

From the images above you can see that Sonic's shoulders are broader and his arms are thicker. His upper chest area is now more prominent, giving him a body shape closer to a "V" than the rounder "0" Sonic from Movie 2. It's really obvious in the second picture.

His quills also don't start on his upper forehead anymore, now beginning further back. His quills also appear to be thinner. They blend in with his fur more than before. (See below.)

He also emotes differently. His face rig must have changed with his model, because when he furrows his brow the way pictured above his face wrinkles like 3x more than before, haha (I hope that doesn't stick around, it's kind of weird to look at lol.) Actually, now that I think about it, it might just look that way because the show's less voluminous fur is not hiding it as much.

Yeah, that's definitely why haha. You can actually see the indents of the same crease placements in the movie model.

Also, is Tails taller?!?!? He sure looks taller here! But it could be a case of forced perspective since we can't see their whole bodies.

Knuckles' eyes are very different. I don't think the other's eyes are different, but we see them for like two seconds from afar so...¯\_(._.)_/¯

Also, I might just be imagining this, but it looks like everyone has more "neck" than before. Weird sentence, I know. You can kinda see what I mean here...If this is the case, it was likely done so posing is easier for the animators.

And generally, everyone is at least twice as vibrant, especially Sonic! Just look at the comparisons. My boys are G.L.O.W.I.N.G! Beautiful!

I think that's all I've got. If I can think of any more I'll make a part 2. If you noticed something that I didn't, leave a comment and I'll add it. Or add a reblog of your own if you want^^

(This took way too long (¬_¬"") )

[milkywaydrabbles]

Heyyy I'm enamoured by your writing style and loved your recent posts <3

So I wanted to ask for the kinktober 16/17 with Gojo? Maybe with a curse reader he spared? 🫡

A/N: Does this make sense not really but I actually LOVED it. So I hope you like it too. Gojo is a loverboy through and through I refuse to believe otherwise. ANYWAYS here it is mwuah

Size difference/Orgasm denial x Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru was the strongest.

He didn’t need help, he was at the top of the chain.

And yet, here he was crumbling just by looking at you. You, who threw yourself in front of what he then found out was your brother ( another death painting, one who had already tried to kill him) silently pleading to leave him alone, let him live. You, who he spared from the atrocities he could commit to curses with the sheer pressure of his infinity alone, you’d all seen what he did to Hanami. 

You, who he found himself thinking of when trapped in the prison realm, how small and frail you really did look in comparison to the rest of them, and yet the fury your eyes held left him shaken. How can someone--how can a curse make him break like this? He could have crushed you under his thumb, and he didn’t. He’s getting soft, weak, he thinks. 

And when he’s out of the prison realm? The first one he seeks out is you. Before anyone else even knows he’s out and well, he finds you. Separated from your brother, Choso, who is now fighting for their very cause he tried to destroy.  He finds you, before anyone else. You stand before Gojo, a bit shaken up, ready to plead your case, to beg him to listen, to have him understand that you and your brother were just misguided, and that you understood now, and that you would fight with him. 

But instead, he simply walked to you, looming over your small and dainty frame, wiping some muck off your face and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You were so small, he thought, yet with a fire in your eyes he could never shake. You started to speak, apologizing for what you’d done, apologizing on behalf of Choso, hands shaking out of fear and something else, clutching onto his shirt. He cupped your hand in his face, so delicate, like you would crumble in his arms if he moved too fast; if he held on too tight. “I forgive you.” He whispered, pressing his lips to yours, leaning down even when you’re on your toes to meet his kiss. So small. So frail. He needed to protect you, a curse. It was sick, he thought, how the one who plagued his mind is the one he vowed to destroy. 

“Gojo,” you started, gasping in between kisses. “We need to get back, w-we need to--help them, the o-others--” You were overwhelmed with him, with Gojo Satoru, but not in the way he overwhelmed everyone else. He was still so delicate with you, yet taking over all of your senses.  It took you this long to realize he turned off his infinity, for you--to kiss you, to hold you, to pull you closer into his much larger body. You tried again. “Gojo--”

“Baby,” Your heart was in your throat at the term of endearment. “We will. Promise.” He spoke in between kisses, trailing from your mouth to your cheeks, down your jaw to your throat. “Just let me have this, please. Can’t stop thinking about you.” Your head was spinning, dizzy at the thought of the Gojo Satoru thought of you, even in his capture, that he found you first. Gojo hoisted you up on his hips, your breathing hitched as you wrapped your legs around him. “You’re so small,” He started, carrying you with ease to an untouched and unbroken bench. “You could get so hurt, so tiny.” He mumbled against your skin, leaving fire in the wake where his fingertips grabbed at you. “I can fight,” you argued, knowing he’s seen you and your cursed energy already. Knowing that you can kill, seeing it firsthand. “Mm, I know baby,” heart squeezing in your chest again. “But I need to protect you, look at you,” Suddenly your world is flipped, Gojo looming over you broad shoulders and strong biceps flexing. The blue irises practically glowed while he devoured you with his eyes. “So small underneath me, can’t defend yourself from me--how can you fight without me?” 

You didn’t know what he was saying, and Gojo wasn’t sure he knew either. But you plagued his mind for however long he was in that prison, and you were feeling incredibly small under his gaze. “Go--” “Satoru. Please.” You gulped, looking anywhere but his face. “Sa--Satoru...” You didn’t know why you said his name, you didn’t know what you wanted to say. But being underneath him felt right, somehow, like he spared you and your brother because he knew he’d want you, because he knew you’d want him. Gojo lowered himself, hands playing at the hem of your pants, nuzzling your throat. “What do you need, angel? Anything, I’ll give you anything.” Gojo Satoru, the strong, begging you. Your head was swimming.

“Satoru, I need you to protect me..When we fight, please..” You hiccupped, feeling entirely too overwhelmed with everything. “Please protect me.”

Gojo snapped, capturing your lips in a heated kiss again, urging you to at the bare minimum take your shoes off so he can properly yank the clothes from your legs. They were barely off, but enough for one leg of your pants and underwear to be removed, lifting your leg as he mouthed at your throat again. “I’ll protect you, I promise.” He growled into your skin, free hand pushing your shirt up to expose skin that he immediately latched on you, trailing kissing and bites down your stomach until he got to your thighs, hitched leg above his shoulder as he left your inner thighs covered in kisses and love bites of his affection. He palmed at your cunt, hand covering you fully, fingers measuring up on your stomach. “Look at this, baby, look how deep I’ll be.” He mumbled, letting you look for just a moment before pushing two of his fingers slowly into your wet heat. You gasped, heading reeling. You’d never felt something like this before, something so foreign and yet so fucking pleasurable it had you moaning in an instant. Gojo pumped his fingers in and out, seeing you gush and squirm underneath him, strong arm steadying you. 

“Fuck, have to protect my tiny baby.” He babbled, your small hand wrapping itself onto his forearm, not even close to wrapping your fingers around his arm. His pace was unbearably slow, teasing and taunting with each thrust. “S-Saatoruu, please, keep going.” You huffed, bucking your hips into his fingers until his other hand pushed your hips down onto the bench. He shook his head, curling his fingers in you enough to have you whimpering again, not enough to throw you over the edge. “This isn’t how I want you, this isn’t how I want to make you cum.” He spoke with such conviction it raised your hairs on the back of your neck. Like he was promising you the world later.  “Just wanna feel you on me.” He whispered, removing his fingers and sucking them, moaning at the taste you left behind. Gojo pushed down his pants enough to release his cock, leaning over to smother you in kisses again. He mouthed at your neck, at your throat, feeling you swallow hard with anticipation. “Don’t be scared, pretty.” He whispered against your skin, sizing up his cock against your tummy. He was so much bigger than you, he was sure it would feel like he was in your throat when he fucked you. 

With a slow push in, your pussy parted and swallowed him, feeling tight and hot around him. You gasped, clawing at his shoulders as he pushed in inch by inch, feeling neverending. “Satoruu” you whined, seeing and feeling nothing but him. Gojo leaned back, pushing his hips up into your guts, seeing the bulge on your tummy of where his cock hit. “Y’see that, baby? See how deep I am? Big cock filling you up.” His pupils dilated, focused on the way the bulge shrunk and expanded with each thrust. Your hands grasped at him again, distracting him enough to look up at you, your eyes teary with pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. “Satoru, need more,  please.” You begged, and he shook his head again. “Not now, baby, just wanna feel you remember?” He reminded, and you were losing your mind. “Don’t whine, angel, I’ll give it to you real good after I win, ‘kay?” He quickened his pace, just a little, edging himself just as much as he was you. But he knew he could hold out longer than you could. He had to. “Pussy s’tight, baby...splitting you open” He murmured, looking at the juncture when your hips met, seeing how your pussy lips wrapped around his huge cock and took him in. Without thinking, his hand trailed up your body, palming at your chest--he was enamored with the way his hand could easy cover you. It continued its way up, wrapping his fingers around your throat. You gasped, feeling his grip tighten, taking a hold on the edges of your neck. Your eyes rolled, your own hands covering his and gripping at his wrist. You couldn’t push him away if you tried--even if you really wanted to. 

How could he let you go on your own when you were so small?

“Could break you in half,” he whispered, tightening his fingers a bit more, before relaxing and just leaving his hand there as a necklace. “Anyone could, can’t let you outta my sight.” You were so close, and any time he felt you tighten too much he’d slow down, fucking you slow to keep the pressure and the band never snapping. Tears flowed freely from your eyes, and Gojo leaned down to kiss at the salty drops as they fell. “So mean.” You complained. “Sorry, baby, feels so good.” He pulled out fully, and you cried--leaving you so empty after filling you up so full in your belly. “We gotta go, angel--promise I’ll give it to you just how you want it. Remember? After I win.”

[writeplace-wrongtime]

The Bet

*cracks knuckles* fine, I'll do it myself.

Okay but seriously, I've only binge watched the first 6 seasons of criminal minds, so I'm probably a bit off with character personalities.

This turned into mostly the team finding out, so if anyone wants a part 2 with more scenes pre-reveal I'd love to write it!

masterlist coming soon

Word Count: 3k

CW// brief mention of kidnapping case, use of y/n (i'm sorry), not beta'd

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘When was the last time you saw Hotch leave before the rest of us?’

The most recent case had been a relatively short one, allowing the team to get back to Quantico reasonably early. A young man caught kidnapping local women, caught easily when he appeared on CCTV taking his latest victim. Three women, three days. All had minor injuries, but all were alive. It had been the ideal end to the case and no loss of life meant the paperwork was minimal.

Emily’s voice caught the attention of Derek, who followed her gaze to the elevator, where the Unit Chief stood waiting. He raised his eyebrows, trying to think back on the last few months of late nights, week-long cases and multiple middle of the night calls.

‘Not since before his divorce,’ Spencer piped up helpfully from behind his desk, packing away the days half-finished reports and case notes before he too looked up. ‘Hey, has anyone seen y/l/n? They mentioned going for food on the jet, and I know this really nice Indian restaurant not far from here, I was going to suggest we all go.’

Now that Emily thought about it, she hadn’t seen you after you’d gone to Hotch’s office to drop off your report. Barely five minutes later, Hotch had made a beeline for the elevator, leaving unusually early compared to normal, and then you too had disappeared.

‘Holy shit.’ The dots were connecting in her head. ‘They’re totally hooking up!’

This gathered the full attention of everyone in the room.

‘Who’s hooking up?’ Penelope had her bag in hand as she peeked in the door, drawn to the gossip like a moth to a flame.

‘Y/l/n and Hotch!’

‘Oh my god!’ Penelope was quick to rush over to the group now huddled around Emily’s desk.

‘No way,’ Derek was shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. They’d been working as a team for years, there’s no way you and Hotch were in a secret relationship, and no one had noticed. ‘Come on, you really think they could have hidden something like that from us?’

Spencer shrugged, joining the conversation fully. ‘Hotch hid the fact that Emily was alive from all of us for months, so a secret relationship wouldn’t be that hard for him.’ Emily grimaced at the comparison, searching for any hint of bitterness in his tone, though found none. He had been hurt that they hadn’t trusted him to know the secret, but that hurt had faded over the couple years since Emily had returned. He offered her an apologetic smile, as if only realising what he’d said.

‘Want to make this more interesting?’ Quick to bring the conversation back to inane office gossip, Emily reached into her bag to pull out her purse. ‘100 dollars they’re doing it.’

‘Oh, you’re on. 100 they’re not.’ Derek placed two fifties on top of Emily’s two. Another two went down, and they both looked up to see Spencer sheepishly tucking his wallet back into his pocket.

‘I think they’ve been dating for a couple weeks now, I assumed everyone else had noticed.’

Quickly, Penelope had joined, and much to everyone’s surprise, so did Rossi. Penelope thought they’d just started dating, and Rossi thought it had been at least six months. JJ scooped up the cash, promising to be a neutral party to assure the winner got the whole lot. Plus, when this inevitably went wrong, she did not want to be involved in the fallout.

‘Okay, but how do we get them to admit-‘

‘Or not admit,’ Derek cut in.

‘Or not admit, what’s going on?’ Emily mused. Everyone’s eyes instantly went to Penelope.

‘Oh no, no, no-‘

Penelope’s office felt quite cramped with some many people in it, the space only meant to house one technical analyst, not one technical analyst and five nosey special agents. Five nosey agents who were all huddled around Penelope to peer at the screen over her shoulders.

‘Oh it does not feel right tracking their phones like this,’ Penelope’s fingers danced across the keys as she brought up both locations, ‘My powers should only be used for good, not- not snooping on our friends personal lives!’ Still, she let the trace run its course, displaying the address for the others to see.

‘That’s Hotch’s apartment.’ Spencer recognised the address immediately. Two little dots blinked on the screen, Hotch’s address hovering above them.

‘So they’re together, that doesn’t mean they’re hooking up.’ Derek knew his argument was weak, but hell he had 100 dollars riding on it.

‘Oh come on, they sneak out and go to Hotch’s apartment and you think they’re what, making cookies?’

‘Kids, stop fighting,’ Dave put a hand on both Derek and Emily’s shoulders. ‘Why don’t you just phone y/l/n, invite them for food, see what happens.’

‘You think they’d lie to us?’ Spencer asked, as Penelope pulled out her phone and dialled your number.

‘They’ve been lying to us about this for weeks, if you’re bet is right anyway,’ Emily nudged him with her elbow. He nudged her back.

‘Technically it’s an omission not a lie, since none of us directly asked if they’re-‘

‘Shhh its ringing!’ The room fell to silence as Penelope put her phone to her ear.

~

Even though it had been a short case, you had been looking forward to getting back. And by how quickly Aaron had offered up his apartment for a movie night, he had been too. It was important to keep a clear line between boss and boyfriend while in the field, and it was only professional to stay in separate rooms during cases, so it felt good to have Aaron back in boyfriend mode, with comforting touches and quality time away from the office, away from the titles and roles that accompanied your positions at the BAU.

You had finished your report in record time. It was pure luck that everyone was too caught up in their own work to notice you slipping away. After dropping your report on Aaron’s desk, you had made a quick exit, waiting by Aaron’s car until he joined you in the car park. It had become routine to leave short gaps between your arrivals and exits, allowing the illusion that you had travelled separately, from different apartments, in different cars. It was a short ride back to his apartment.

You had only just settled back against Aaron’s side, a bowl of popcorn perched between your thighs when your phone buzzed.

‘Hey beautiful, where’d you run off to?’ Penelope’s sweet voice rang out from the other end of the line, ‘We’re going for food, you coming with?’

You glanced sideways at Aaron, who kept his eyes on the TV, though you knew he was listening in by the way his arm tensed around you. You gently squeezed the arm closest to you, relaxing further into his hold so he knew you weren’t planning on leaving.

‘Sorry Pen, not tonight, I’m, uh, not feeling great after today’s case…’ You trailed off, hoping she’d accept the excuse and you’d be home free. You should’ve known it wouldn’t be as simple as that. There was pause, and you could’ve sworn you could hear hushed conversation. Must’ve been the rest of the team packing up to leave. You felt almost guilty that they were still at the office, when you’d left as soon as your own report was done.

‘Oh honey!’ Her voice was laced with sympathy, ‘That’s it, we’ll bring the food to you! Nothing like good food and company to cheer up the soul!’ Your head fell back against Aaron’s chest with more force than necessary. Curse her and her kindness.

‘No, no it’s okay, really-‘ You tried to prevent your voice from giving away your panic, ‘No need to go out of your way! Tell the guys I said enjoy!’

‘Its not out of our way at all! See you in twenty, gorgeous.’ The line went dead before you had a chance to respond. You could feel the vibrations of Aaron’s quiet laugh behind you, tilting your head back to look up at him.

‘You think this funny?’ Your words were pointed, but the smile on your lips gave away your hidden amusement. In lieu of an answer, he leaned down to pepper kisses along your shoulder, the side of your neck, anywhere he could reach. You savoured the warmth of his lips against your skin, a soft moan escaping your parted lips as the kisses became more heated. Tilting your head back to give him easier access, you let out a disappointed whine when he instead detached from you, gently pushing you up until you were sitting straight.

‘They’re going to be at your apartment soon,’ He reminded you, giving your arm a squeeze before moving to stand. Your cheeks were flushed red, taking a few steadying breaths as he took the popcorn from your lap, placing it on the coffee table, before holding his hands out to you. Shooting him a mock glare, you resigned yourself to getting off the comfortable couch and getting your shoes on. As much as you loved your co-workers, so much that they were practically family, you really did not want to spend the evening with them, not when you could be curled up on the couch with Aaron, pretending the outside world didn’t exist.

‘Shit,’ You nearly tripped over your untied laces in your hurry to turn, ‘My car’s still at the office, Aaron I don’t have time to get back there, get my car AND-‘ Your words were halted by the soft press of his lips on yours. Clearly, you weren’t the only one wishing you could stay. Melting against him, your hands found purchase on the solid expanse of his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft material of his t-shirt. He pulled back, just far enough so he could press his forehead against yours.

‘I’ll drive,’ His voice was quiet in the minimal space between you, ‘Tell them your car broke down and I offered you a lift home.’ You just hummed your agreement, too caught up in his closeness to really be paying full attention. Overwhelming warmth encompassed you as you breathed in the faint smell of his cologne, trying to catalogue the feeling in your mind as your panic disappeared with the gentlest of touches.

‘Or,’ You offered mildly, blinking up at him through your lashes, ‘We could just turn our phones off, lock the door, and deal with all of this tomorrow?’ Soft open-mouthed kisses were pressed to the column of his throat in between your words, hands climbing to wrap around the back of his neck. Your fingertips teased the baby hairs at the base of his skull. You knew he wouldn’t take you up on the offer, even when his hands gripped at your waist, pulling you flush against him as he once again claimed your lips with his.

 It had been a tough decision, keeping the relationship from your team, but you had both ultimately decided that it was for the best, at least while things were still new. Then, six weeks had turned into six months, and six months into nearly a year. It was becoming harder and harder to keep a secret, and you nearly wanted the team to catch on. You’d met Jessica, and had a proper introduction to Jack, even going so far as to have gone to a few of his soccer practices at Jack’s insistence. You had been slowly moving your stuff into his room, small things like toiletries, pyjamas and a few spare work outfits. You spent more time at Aaron’s apartment than your own. You loved it. What you didn’t love, was having to hide it all from your friends.

‘We really should go,’ Aaron murmured against your lips, ‘At least you’ll get free food out of this.’

You laughed softly at that, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling back, cheeks dusted pink. ‘I’d rather have you.’ A rare boyish grin was your only response, before he turned to grab his keys and you quickly tied your laces. You were soon on the familiar road home.

 ~

They didn’t wait around to see if you were rushing from Hotch’s apartment, instead piling into the back of Derek’s car haphazardly. All but JJ, who had familial responsibilities, and Rossi who just wanted to go home, managed to fit into one SUV.  If Rossi had been with them to take some of the blame, Derek might’ve even thrown on the sirens and lights. Instead, he skipped through a few orange lights, and just barely stuck to the speed limits. When they arrived at the Indian restaurant, Spencer was sent to pick up the order, being deemed least likely to do something stupid like flash his badge for quicker service. Emily followed him inside to help carry it all back to the car. Even without the badge, they managed to make it in and out in under ten minutes. Luck was on their side, getting them to your apartment just 25 minutes after Penelope had hung up on you.

When they came to a stop outside your apartment complex, your car wasn’t parked in its normal spot, and they had a moment of celebration before Spencer realised the light was on inside. A light that meant you had beat them.

They all had to hide their disappointment when you greeted them at the door, not showing any sign of having rushed from one apartment to the other. Being one of the closer apartments to the office, yours was often used as a base for nights out, girl’s nights, and team movie-nights. It was the team’s apartment more than it had ever been just yours. Moving seamlessly through your kitchen grabbing plates, cutlery and glasses, Emily and Penelope set to organising the food, while Spencer and Derek moved your coffee table to the centre of the room so everyone could sit around it. It warmed you to know they felt at home here.

‘I’ll have to get someone to look at it tomorrow,’ You sounded morose enough that Emily almost believed your “car trouble” story. She just hummed her commiserations before stealing some chicken from your Jalfrezi. As much as she’d hoped to catch you and Hotch in your lie – or omission as Spencer would remind her – she enjoyed spending time with you, and this had been the perfect excuse for a team night.

‘Hotch didn’t stick around after dropping you off?’ Emily asked casually, scooping up a mouthful of curry with the edge of a poppadom. If you noticed the groups sudden interest in your conversation you didn’t show it. You shook your head, pushing the thought of his hands on your waist and his lips on your skin, out of your mind.

‘He was just being nice, he probably has better things to be doing after a case than hanging out here.’

Derek had to hide his laugh with a cough. You frowned at him, but before you could question it, Emily dragged you back into a conversation about Sergio and how he stole her bagel the other day. She glared at Derek when you weren’t looking. Conversation flowed easily after that, and it wasn’t long before everyone was on their second helping of food and the booze cupboard had been ransacked.

‘Hey babygirl, you seeing what I’m seeing?’ Derek had just sat back down with his second full plate when he spotted it; the start of your downfall. He nudged Penelope, nodding his head toward you. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before rising nearly to her hairline. A sharp “oh my god” left her lips, before she covered her mouth. Just beneath the edge of your oversized t-shirt, a small red mark was blooming on your skin. It looked suspiciously like a hickey. A very, very new one at that. Penelope’s little outburst was quickly noted by Emily, who paused mid-conversation to notice what they had. Her shit-eating grin matched Derek’s perfectly.   

‘What?’ You frowned at her, quickly glancing at Spencer opposite you. He shrugged, offering no help.

‘Maybe Hotch stuck around for a little while after all?’ There was a teasing lilt to her tone as she reached out to tug your collar a little lower. You could feel heat rising up your neck into your cheeks, a beautiful shade of crimson. Covering the offending mark with your hand, you tried to come up with an excuse. Nothing came. Opening your mouth and then closing it a few times, you tried to look anywhere but at your friends. You were caught and you knew it. They knew it too.

‘Is there any point in me saying I burnt myself?’ You tried for a smile, but it turned out more like a grimace.

‘Nope.’ Emily said, popping the “p”.

‘Aaron and I, we, uh…’ You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your blush darkening, as Penelope mouthed “Aaron!” at Emily, who practically giggled. You were going to have to restock your alcohol cupboard before they came round again. You took a breath, glancing around the room. All eyes were on you.

 ‘We’re dating.’

There was an immediate outburst of “oh my god!”s and “I knew it!”s. You had expected to feel awful when your secret was finally out in the open, but all you could feel was relief. Well, and a tinge of embarrassment. Warmth bubbled in your chest, looking around the room at your team, your family, knowing you didn’t have to hide it from them anymore.

‘What ya thinking about over there?’ Emily nudged your arm, a small tendril of guilt creeping through her. You’d obviously wanted to spend your evening with Hotch, and instead they’d dragged you away in a hurry, all just to invade your privacy. A small grin broke through your façade.

‘I’m thinking, seeing as it’s not a secret anymore, I can leave you losers and go back to spending the night with my boyfriend.’ A chorus of cheers followed your words, and someone (you suspected Emily) shouted “Go get some, girl!”.

Spencer wrinkled his nose at that. ‘Gross, remember that’s Hotch we’re taking about, he’s pretty much our work dad.’ His words caused a laugh to bubble in your chest, and you leaned over Emily to plant a big kiss on his cheek.

‘Guess that makes me your new work-mom!’ He made a big show of wiping your kiss from his cheek, but the small smile that followed gave away his charade.

‘What are you waiting for beautiful? Your man is waiting for you!’ Your wide grin echoed Penelope’s as she ushered you up and out of the living room. Your overnight gear was already at Aaron’s, so all you needed was your shoes and phone. You felt almost giddy as you threw the spare key to Spencer.

‘Don’t stay up too late kiddos!’

‘Hey, hold on a second,’ You glanced at Derek, who had started stacking plates to take to the kitchen, ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Oh… Y’know, only about 11… months.’ You shot them an abashed smile, before darting for the door as all hell broke loose.

‘You didn’t win the bet either!’ Emily and Derek’s argument floated out the door with you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Of course they had bet on it. You didn’t have it in you to care, instead shutting the door with a sound click. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you dialled Aaron’s number.

‘Hey handsome,’ You couldn’t help the smile that carried through in your words, ‘You want to finish that movie?’

[temis-de-leon]

Solomon x gn!reader in trad goth attire

Characters: Solomon, reader

Masterlist

Anon request: Hey again! ☆ can i request Solomon reacting to !gn reader dressing in traditional goth wardrobe for the first time?

Prompt can be changed to you liking and whether it's in the form of a fic, headcanons or shitpost is up to you ♡☆

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A/N: I based MC's clothes and makeup on 80's trad goth fashion. MC is a lil' black sheep and Solomon (and me) are simping for them. This is set at the start of season 2 in the OG game. Hope you enjoy it!

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Solomon didn’t really think about the way you looked. He’d seen Asmo make infinite assumptions about your appearance and he had to admit he put some input from time to time, but he didn’t really mind. He was content talking to and seeing your adorable miniature bovine body, black wool and all.

And it was that, the wool, what they should’ve taken into consideration when wondering about the real version of you.

There he stood, mere feet away from you, gawking as you talked on the phone; one of the brothers, perhaps? Your figure seemed impossibly tall, clashing against the crowd on your black attire: long leather coat almost touching the floor, a concoction of lace and velvet on your upper body and fishnets making your legs even lengthier.

He couldn’t stop staring; not even when the people around him looked at him in reprimand, surely taking him as a creep.

Then you blocked the phone and his plans of reinserting himself into your life as his usual mysterious self were forgotten. Rushing towards you, still transfixed by what he was seeing, Solomon called your name.

“Over here, MC!”

“Solomon?!”

He relished in your dumbfounded expression, giving himself the freedom to study you from up-close. Your face was as white as a sheet of paper and your eyes were framed by a complicated design of thick black lines. The hair on your head vaguely reminded him of the wool you had as a sheep, wild with no sense of direction, and he couldn’t help but smile at the comparison.

“You’re staring an awful lot and saying little to nothing”

Solomon chuckled, not embarrassed at all, and you smiled. The colour of your lips matched the makeup surrounding your gaze.

“I’m merely admiring you, MC. I never expected you to have this fashion style”

“And? Does my fashion style live to your expectations?”

He checked your lips again and didn’t bother to hide his interest when you bit your bottom one. Its contrast against the white of your teeth and the rest of your face didn’t let him stop staring.

Obsessing.

“I’d say it does more than that”

There was silence for a few seconds, other humans around you going through their lives without knowing what was happening between you two. Did you even know?

You finally laughed and lightly punched his arm, breaking the trance and leaving a certain tension behind. Solomon smiled in return and chose to leave the topic, at least for the time being.

“What are you doing here? It’s been so long!”

He sighed in a dramatic flair.

“Well, you know me… I’ve been occupied”

“And you show up now because…?”

You raised your eyebrows, making him laugh. He couldn’t distract you even if he tried, probably because he himself was distracted.

Your lips were so black.

“I was thinking…”

“You think too much”

“I was thinking. How do you feel about a brief visit to the Devildom?”

He enjoyed your immediate interest, back straightening as you got close to him in delight.

“What do you mean?”

“Surely you miss the brothers, right? And of course they miss you too, so, wouldn’t a quick trip be worth our while?

The mistrust in your eyes was quickly overpowered by your eagerness, the crosses in your earrings and your necklaces calling for his attention when they clanged like a wind chime.

“Perhaps you want to take those off”

“Oh, yeah”

Fingernails were black too, but your jewellery was entirely made of silver and stones, big and small, carefully placed in all your digits, your wrists and everything that allowed to wear something.

It became hypnotizing and he couldn’t avoid blushing in embarrassment when you finally snapped your fingers in his face while laughing in amusement.

Solomon couldn’t help but redirect his vision to your lips one last time.

How would he look with black lipstick?

Care to stick with him a little longer, MC?

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[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 7 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), descriptions of self-harming, accusations of cheating, child death, death of major and minor characters, OC's are used throughout the story for plot and depth, reader is in denial and paranoid, toxic family dynamics, perversive thoughts, reader is bipolar (not saying that in a quirky way, like literally bipolar), religious comparisons, light mention of demons, stalkers, possibly more to add.

Inaccurate canon-timeline and setting (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents). They also live in America (because I wasn't aware they lived in Europe prior to this series).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 15,100+ words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, current chapter, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

        The sound of holy hymns filled the tall church, the painting of a man looming over (Y/N) as she avoided the male’s eyes. Religious paintings just always looked creepy, their eyes just always followed you. What was even more creepier is making prolonged eye contact with the same boy for two minutes now. 

        Bright brown eyes stared at her own for 120 seconds now, 115 seconds too long for a normal gander to be. Perhaps he was just looking at the people behind her? Or maybe she has something on her face? Dear God, please don’t let it be that he can hear just how awful she sounds when singing. It was like her voice was a sin to this holy choir. 

        (Y/N) finally broke eye contact with the male, deciding to look back at the painting of the sacred male. Even he wasn’t as creepy as that boy’s staring was, whatever his name was. 

        The church reeked of burning incense and an old lady’s strong floral perfume. It almost hurt having her mother and some strange next to her singing—practically screaming—into her ears while she did her best to memorize the lyrics. It was hard to remember what came after “I’ve been set free” when all she could think about was being set free to the food trucks outside calling her name for lunch. 

        Finally, the song ended as she sung the finally sentence.

        “You are forever mine.”

        What a creepy thing to say to anyone, to any god or not.

        (Y/N) stretched her limbs, earning herself a swat to her arm as her mother whispered for her to fix her dress before it rides up on her. She smoothed down her dress skirt, reaching behind and fluffing the white bow sewn to the dark blue dress.

        She was excited to go eat some food, then get out of these damn flats that kept pinching her toes. She watched as people filed out of the church, making her eyes meeting bright brown ones as they stared at her through the crowd.

        Has he even looked away once during this whole session? 

        .

        .

        “Hey, maybe he likes you?” Lola suggested, lounging on the library couch, taking up most of the space as her arm draped over the arm rest, her legs lying on (Y/N)’s thighs.

        “God, I hope not…” (Y/N) groaned, tilting her head back to hit the couch cushion just to be a bit more dramatic. “I don’t even know his name. That’s grounds for instant rejection.”

        “Well, is he cute?” Lola questioned, curious as she watched (Y/N) copy notes from her computer onto her notebook. 

        “I mean… I dunno? I think?” (Y/N) shrugged. “Gosh, Lo. You know I don’t ever notice that. Looks aren’t everything, you know?” 

        “Well, my future husband is definitely gonna have brown hair, brown eyes to match and a dashing, symmetrical face." Lola smirked.

        “Please, you’re asking too much. Your face isn’t even symmetrical.” Annabelle scoffed, sitting on the harsh library carpets. 

        “Shut up! I’m gonna get laser surgery for this mole when I have enough money!” Lola whined, hitting Annabelle upside the head.

        “I meant your nose, dummy!” Annabelle hissed, cradling her head where she’s been hit. "But that too!" 

        “Jerk!” Lola exclaimed, going to hit Annabelle once more, but Annabelle was quick enough to catch her wrist. “Stop touching me, Anna!”

        “Then you stop hitting me!” Annabelle retorted as their hands wrestled with one another.

        “Hey, hey! Stop! You’re messing up my notes!” (Y/N) hissed, hitting her shoulder against Lola’s.

        “Stop, that’s not fair. You’re double-teaming!” Lola whined.

        The school bell rung, prompting the three to halt their fight. (Y/N) packed up her notebook and computer with a sigh.

        “Damn it… I didn’t get to finish my notes.” (Y/N) complained, throwing her backpack strap over her shoulder.

        “I don’t know how you do it, girl. Being a nurse sounds like it’s such a drag, having to kiss up to everyone’s ass.” Lola sighed, looking at her hands to make sure her nail polish didn’t get ruined during their tussle. “Ah, damn it, Annabelle! You chipped my nail!”

        “Which one?” Annabelle questioned, looking over at Lola’s yellow nails. 

        “This one.” Lola smirked, holding up her middle finger.

        “You little—“  

        (Y/N) yelped, her body hitting the wall as her legs gave out from the unexpected force, knocking her to the ground. Two hands grabbed the collar of her blazer, pulling her right back up to her feet as they cornered her against the wall.

        “Was it you?” a male spoke, his fists shaking with anger as his green eyes met (Y/N)’s.

        “Hey! Hands off her, Ben!” Annabelle spat out, her hand touching the male’s shoulder.

        “Bud out, I’m talking with the freak!” Ben hissed, shrugging her hand off his shoulder. “Was it you?” he repeated, his eyes glaring back at (Y/N).

        “I can’t confirm anything if you don’t tell me, moron.” (Y/N) retorted, annoyed as she tried to pry his hands off her. 

        An uncomfortable feeling grew inside her stomach at the close proximity they shared, the tension downright suffocating as she resisted the urge to puke. 

        Dear stomach, don’t let me vomit on him… I’ll never go to school again. (Y/N) prayed to her stomach. 

        “Did you steal my wallet?” he finally spoke. “I had a three hundred dollars in cash and two gift cards, did you steal them?!”

        “Lay off, dude. She was with us this morning!” Lola spoke. 

        “Yeah, I didn’t steal anything.” (Y/N) huffed, finally prying his hands off her blazer’s collar.

        “I swear to God, if it was you I’ll kill you.” Ben spat, his finger jabbing into her sternum. “You’re a freak, just like your father.” He spoke, before storming off down the school hallways.

        “What an asshole.” Lola scoffed. 

        “People like that shouldn’t be let loose into the public.” Annabelle growled, before looking at (Y/N). “You okay?”

        “I’m just fine and dandy. Everything’s intact.” (Y/N) muttered, dusting off her blazer and skirt. “It’s not like he stabbed me or anything, so I’m fine.”

        “Jeez, girl. You really need to be more… phased? Like, get pissed off at him! Punch him! Kick him in the balls!” Lola encouraged.

        “Why would I waste my time on such pointless things…?” (Y/N) sighed, subconsciously picking at her nails. “I mean, Ben’s been doing this crap since middle school.” 

        “He doesn’t have any right to treat you like that!” Annabelle huffed. “If you won’t kick him in the balls, I will.” 

        “Can we not talk about Ben’s balls?” (Y/N) whined, a bit embarrassed at this stupid topic. “Just forget it, guys. I mean, this is senior year. We’re going to be graduating in three months, then I’ll never see him again so the problem will be solved.” 

        “The Almighty Lord blessed you with something I don’t have; patience.” Lola sighed, fanning her face exaggeratedly to show how heated she was about the matter.

        “The offer is still on the table if you want me to—“ 

        “No.” (Y/N) interrupted Annabelle, who just sent a pouting glare her way.

        Annabelle was a short, black haired girl with brown eyes and a serious passion for weightlifting. She even won an award for the best high school female-weightlifter in the state, being able to carry Annabelle was (Y/N)’s best friend since pre-school. They met in the sand box, where a boy stomped out (Y/N)’s sandcastle, so Annabelle dumped sand in his hair. That sand was in his hair for at least a couple days—it looked like lice to where the caregivers had to inspect and comb through everyone’s hair to make sure there wasn’t a lice that would soon infect other kids.

        They met Lola during their first year of middle school. Lola came into the year late as a new girl. She had bleached blonde hair with pink highlights in them (her natural hair color is unknown since she’s been dying it since she was six, not even in her photo gallery does she have a picture of her natural hair). 

        Lola hit it off with Annabelle instantly, the two meeting in after school’s photography club—which is the cover name. In actuality, it’s mostly just a place for friends to hang out after school and lie to their parents about doing important school stuff; however, the club does take pictures of pep assemblies and football games for the yearbook (albeit half of the photos are crappy and extremely unflattering). 

        The two girls are always begging (Y/N) to join the club, (Y/N)’s always rejected because she’s studying for college and to keep her college scholarship for a extremely well-liked nursing academy. After graduating that academy as a nurse, she can continue studying and work up the ranks to become a pediatrician! 

        So she has no time to be fooling off inside a club. She didn’t have that time as she did back in middle school. Well, she was practically a shell of a person.

        (Y/N) got hit with a large wave of depression. She’s not quite sure why it just suddenly came up on her. Maybe it was because of the abuse she suffered as a child, maybe it was because of the bullying she would receive at school because of who her father was, or maybe it was because she didn’t have a good personality or looks. Whatever it was, it weighed her down for months, making it hard to get out of bed, hard to shower, hard to eat, hard to brush her teeth. Everything ached with pain. She didn’t know what hurt more; her brain or her heart?           Annabelle and Lola were there for her though. They would encourage her to eat a little, to step outside for a bit, to shop for new clothes that would make her feel comfortable. Even after multiple suicide attempts, they never blamed her for how she felt, and they never gave up on her. Maybe the only reason she quit dying was because of them.

        “Hey, the bell is gonna ring in a minute.” Lola pointed out, holding her phone as she stared at the time, her 2008’s preppy Hello Kitty aesthetic wallpaper staring at her. 

        “Damn.” Annabelle sighed, disappointed as she rubbed her neck. “Well, see you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

        The two girls still had club after school, so they’ll be seeing each other. After lunch, (Y/N) doesn’t have any classes with them, so lunch is her last chance to see her friends before leaving school. 

        “Stay shining, star girl!” Lola spoke, sending (Y/N) her own starry smile as she referenced (Y/N)'s star hairlip, her lips coated in a light transparency of pink strawberry lipgloss. 

        “I’m gonna hit the bathroom real quick. If I’m late to class or not be damned.” (Y/N) smiled, waving them off as she parted ways with them. 

        (Y/N) glided down the hallway, before reaching the bathroom, pushing open the door and immediately making a dash to the toilet without even bothering to close the stall door. She dropped to her knees, balancing herself by placing her hands on the walls (so she wouldn’t touch the dirty toilet) and puked.

        She had been holding that in ever since Ben slammed her up against that wall and shouted at her. The scene was absolutely terrifying to her, being trapped so close to an aggressive male like that did not feel good in the slightest.  

        How the hell do romance protagonists go through that? (Y/N) questioned herself, before another wave of nausea hit her as she thought about earlier, prompting her to lean over and puke once more. 

        Her father taught her many things in life; to raise a chicken and slaughter a chicken, to ride a horse and clean horseshoes, to tell the difference between ripe and unripe fruits, and to never trust a boy.

        “Boys are disgusting creatures.” He would say.

        “You should never trust a boy.” He would say.

        “Boys only care about their satisfaction and pleasure. Everything about you is irrelevant.” He would say.

        But men and boys are different. What makes a boy a boy is that they’re stupid, immature, and selfish. A man is someone who sacrifices themself for their family, and treats his wife and daughter with respect and kindness.

        How can you tell the difference between a man and a boy if it’s not puberty that separates them? How do you know until before it’s too late? 

        Truth is, her father has always been distrustful of men in general—though he’s never explained why. She has a feeling it’s because of his upbringing. Maybe he grew up in a bad neighborhood, or maybe he had an abusive father; whatever it was, he didn’t want (Y/N) knowing about it.

        But even though he hates boys with a passion that rivals the Greek Goddess of Passion Aphrodite, sometimes he doesn’t always act like a man.

        There’s been moments where he’s screamed, punched holes inside the walls, been gone for nights after a time, on a very rare chance break stuff. Sometimes he remembers the episodes, sometimes he doesn’t. When he does remember them, he cries and apologizes, hugging (Y/N)’s mother Rose and her. He cries about how sorry he was, and how he doesn’t mean to overreact, and how he begs them not to leave because of his problem. 

        Rose will never leave; she likes the familiarity of her home town and the memories of the farm. (Y/N) knows she’ll never leave the farm. 

        The farm is extremely important to the town. It provides lots of the local strawberries for bakeries and jams. It provides the church parties to have their famous loaded mashed potatoes and potato bread. It provides Rose’s pockets with money in cold hard cash. The farm is so damn rich that it even regularly transported goods to three different states nearby. 

        Rose is sitting on a hill of riches supported by her family’s farm of 120 acres all the way on the edge of the small, close-knit town. The farm was passed down in Rose’s family for three generations now. The farm is so important that every inheritor must only have one child, that way the children can’t fight over the farm when the parent dies. 

        (Y/N) is expected to have a single child too, her mother has drilled that into her head enough. Rose always babbles on about how (Y/N) will inherit the farm when she dies. Her daughter must not be a whore and spread her legs for any boy; he must be a farmer, he must be her husband, and they must only have one child. 

        Rose is extremely serious about the farm, despite it being farmhands who tend to the farm. Rose doesn’t help out, she decided to become a nurse for some more money. 

        People think “Oh, Rose is so good, but her husband Frank is just a monster” but in actuality Rose is more of a monster than (Y/N) is.

        (Y/N) spent the early years of her life locked in her damn room because of that witch. (Y/N) was forced to starve for hours to even days at a time while Frank laid unaware of what was going on to his daughter. Frank was consistently discriminated against, and constantly on his feet burning and cutting his fingers off in the auto shop, working grueling hours from open to closed because of mandatory overtime (which was actually just to drive the poor bastard out of down, or at least make him suffer for his condition “the Devil himself” gave him). 

        Frank had no idea the abuse and neglect (Y/N) received. (Y/N) wasn’t even aware it was abuse because she grew up like that ever since she was potty-trained. 

        (Y/N)’s early years revolved around watching TV, sleeping, and crying. Well, at least she had water she would drink out of the bathroom sink. 

        Rose spent the time working while (Y/N) was locked up, but it wasn’t uncommon for her to shove (Y/N) in that dreadful dark room just for  her to neglect her duties as a parent. Anything to get out of cooking, cleaning, or spending bonding time with her daughter. 

        Another wave of nausea hit (Y/N) as she vomited once more. Her throat burned from her stomach acid and stomach enzymes. Her lungs hurt trying to breathe whilst her heart slammed against her rib cage. Her ears were ringing and her eyes had tears in them. 

        A flash and a camera shutter got her attention, causing her to spin her head around to look at the source, only for another shutter to echo in the bathroom walls as she was blinded by a bright light.

        “Looks like the freak is self-purging.” A girl laughed. “This has to at least go viral on some platform. Not that you’re much to look at though.” 

        (Y/N) groaned, her throat aching from the vibration as she closed her eyes, cursing herself for not shutting the stall door. 

        “Y-you got it wrong…” (Y/N) muttered, meeting the girl’s blue eyes. 

        Kate’s had it out for (Y/N) for who knows how long. Kate’s been more of a bully than Ben has, and for longer too. Kate’s dad works with (Y/N)’s father Frank, and they don’t get on good terms (either because of her father’s disorder or because of Frank being given Kate’s dad’s hours for “mandatory overtime” only Frank has to do). Maybe because Kate’s dad hates (Y/N)’s father, Kate hates (Y/N)?

        (Y/N)’s eyes glanced over at the girls who were with Kate. Jen and Shell; though their real names were Jenny and Shelly. They were sisters, but honestly they’re pretty irrelevant in (Y/N)’s eyes. She just couldn’t bother to care enough about them since they didn’t speak much. Their current goal in life is to piggyback off of Kate, but maybe in the future they’ll mature and go their own separate paths—that at least make’s (Y/N) a little happy for change.

        “I wasn’t throwing up food. You took this out of context…” (Y/N) muttered, wiping her mouth with toilet paper.

        “Right… looks like…” Kate took a few steps to the stall, standing behind (Y/N), making uncomfortable shivers crawl up her spine. “Looks like the cafeteria pizza. What? Are you saving it for dinner tonight?” Kate snarked before smiling. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were starving yourself. Everyone knows you tried to kill yourself—I think that's the best idea you've had in your miserable life."

        In a small town like this, gossip gets around quick. One of her doctors or nurses were probably a parent to one of the kids here, so they let something slip. It breaches hospital code in keeping patient's confidential, but in a small town like this, there's not much consequences. 

        A flame of annoyance flickered in (Y/N) eyes, a boiling pit in her stomach. She stood up, dusting the rocks and dirt off her knees. She looked at Kate with distain, her eyes flickering towards Kate’s phone.

        She could throw the stupid plastic flip-phone into the toilet and flush it down, but she decided against it. There were three girls against herself, so the odds of winning a fight are not in her favor at the moment. Besides, (Y/N)'s trapped inside the stall, so her escape options are limited in case she does start a fight. She could bulldoze her way between the three girls, but then again, that's three girls. She can't really crawl under the stall because someone can just grab her leg and pull her right back—so she's at a disadvantage to win a fight. 

        “We’re late for class.” (Y/N) sighed. “I recommend getting to class soon, otherwise Mr. Jones will throw a fit.

        Kate glared at (Y/N) as she walked past them, muttering the smart words of “stupid bitch…”

        (Y/N) made it out of the bathroom safely, and without a fight too.

        Let them post that photo. (Y/N) thought, her footsteps echoing throughout the hallway. It’s not gonna be the end of the world. I’ve had worse.

        I’ve had worse.

        I’ve had worse.

        I’ve had worse.

        That’s always been the same stupid excuse she’s used whenever someone bad happens to her in life. She just can’t accept that she’s allowed to be angry, or sad, or afraid of anything; it’s always “I’ve had worse.” 

        She could fall down a set of stairs and ruin her science project she’s spent a month on, 70 bucks down the drain, but “I’ve had worse. At least I’m not admitted in a hospital room again.” 

        She could break her arm falling off one of her horse’s, but “I’ve had worse, at least I’m not starving.” 

        When will it be worse? What’s gonna top the next thing? 

        Because eventually, there’s gonna be something worse. There’s always something worse for (Y/N).

        A notification pops up on her phone, prompting (Y/N) to check it. 

        “Online transfer: +$300” 

        “What the…?” she muttered, confused.

        A minute later, another notification popped up. 

        “Withdrawal: -$300”

        Ah, it must be one of her parents. Her parents has access to her banking accounts and information, so one of them must’ve accidentally sent money to the wrong account and quickly withdrew the payment.

        She goes back to her classroom, receiving a stink eye from the teacher, Mr. Jones. 

        Mr. Jones also wasn’t a fan of (Y/N), well, more so her father. During the summer enrollment, you got to check out your classes and meet your teachers. Frank was absolutely livid to see a male as (Y/N)’s teacher. He was knocking down chairs and cussing a storm that the principal had to be brought down and threatened to call the cops if Frank didn’t leave. 

        It’s a miracle (Y/N) didn’t get expelled with some shitty excuse or something because of that scandal. Maybe that’s because this high school was the only one in their small town, and (Y/N) was about to graduate soon, so there would’ve been no point in trying to destroy her education when she’s so close to leaving.

        “Well, look who decided to show up.” Mr. Jones spoke, placing his dry eraser marker down, halting the learning of the classroom. “Wanna tell the class what was so important that you just had to skip the first ten minutes of my class?”

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She missed the days where elementary teachers would get down on your level and whisper to you so you wouldn’t get embarrassed in front of the class. 

        Or maybe she just wants to be coddled like a child…

        “I’m sorry, sir. I had a period problem.” (Y/N) lied.

        She had no shame or embarrassment, not with lying, and not talking about her body functions either. She was a human with a uterus, so if the teacher had a problem with then, then the school will too (or, at least they should).

        “Oh.” Mr. Jones scoffed, not entirely convinced. “Nice save. But if it happens again next week, I’ll be onto you.” 

        Yeah, he wouldn’t dare go against the teaching board. Even if he did, the student body of females would protest; (Y/N) may not be the most popular, but when it comes to woman functions, girls got each other’s back.

        Or they should.

        “Go take your seat.” Mr. Jokes spoke.

        (Y/N) walked down the row of students, jumping over Ben’s foot as he tried to trip her. She made it to her desk safely in the back of the class.

        Mr. Jones assigned the seats, perhaps he assigned her in the back so he wouldn’t see her father and be reminded of her father. Or maybe he just doesn’t like her in general. 

        (Y/N) sat down in her seat, confused to see someone had taken the desk next to her. That desk was always empty due to how small the student body was. It was a small town after all, so there were always empty seats in classrooms. 

        She recognized those brown eyes—it was the boy from her church. 

        She was surprised. He was never in her class before until now. 

        She decided to look away before he caught her staring, but he was watching her to begin with, ever since she walked into the classroom. 

        “Hey, I’ve seen you around before.” The boy spoke, looking at her. “You’re (Y/N), right?”

        Damn it. She has to talk with a boy? Out of all the other females around? 

        “Um… yeah…” (Y/N) nodded awkwardly. “How do you know my name?”

        “We go to church together.” He smiled. “I’m Ren. Ren Itami.”

        “Japanese?” (Y/N) questioned. 

        “Yeah. My parents moved here from Japan when they had me.” The boy, Ren, nodded.

        “Cool…” (Y/N) muttered, figuring the conversation was done, before Ren spoke again.

        “I just transferred classes today. My other teacher wasn’t good at teaching in a way I could understand, so it was only hindering my education.” Ren explained.

        “I see…” (Y/N) hummed, not too interested in what else he had to say.

        So that’s why he’s in her class now. Still, she doesn’t want to talk with him. Just talking with this guy gives her the chills, but she just can’t understand why. 

        .

        .

        A month or two has passed, (Y/N)’s not too sure how long it’s been actually, days always seem to blend together now. She goes to school, does her chores on the farm, then studies for college. 

        She’s been busting her ass for a nursing school she’s been dreaming to go to; the best news is that in freshmen year, the school reached out to her after she scored top grades in her biology and health classes. They offered her a fully-paid scholarship, including dorm renting and free cafeteria food! 

        With a scholarship like that, you’re damn right she’s studying hard. 

        It was passing period, the hallways bustling with students as people made their way from class to class. Some kids stopped and stared at (Y/N), much to her annoyance.

        Her father had an episode in town again, muttering something about being followed by a man. He filed police reports, but they ignored him per usual as this was a case they’ve reported about before, only to be a waste of time as there’s no evidence to prove it. 

        Frank got angry at his reports being ignored, so he stared yelling inside the police department, which quickly remained in him spending overnight in jail until he’s calmed down and no longer a threat to himself or others. He didn’t get any charges filed against him due to his medical condition, so he got lucky. 

        Of course, if Frank is a nut show, then his daughter must be a nut show too. That’s the logic around this town.

        Well, at least Lola and Annabelle didn’t think like that. They were (Y/N)’s true friends.

        “I swear, nobody can mind their damn business anymore.” Annabelle gruffed, more annoyed about the situation than (Y/N) was.

        “It’s fine, Annabelle. Things just happen.” (Y/N) spoke.

        “Hey, it’s seriously not fine.” Lola scoffed. “You shouldn’t be treated like this. It’s not like you control what your dad does.” 

        “If anyone messes with you, I’ll punch them.” Annabelle smiled.

        “Don’t bother…” (Y/N) hummed. “We have like… one more month until graduation. There’s no point.” 

        But alias, problems always seem to occur for (Y/N). As she walked down the hallway, a shoulder bumped into her roughly, causing her to stagger before turning around.

        “Freak.” Ben sang, smirking as he walked by her. 

        “What’s his problem all the time?” Lola scoffed, glaring at the boy. 

        (Y/N) let out a sigh to calm her nerves, annoyed, before moving past it—but Ben wasn’t just ready to move on.

        “Hey. I’m talking to you, freak.” Ben scoffed, walking back towards her.

        “Leave me alone, asshole.” (Y/N) hissed.

        “Make me.” Ben challenged, pushing her. 

        “Hey, fuck off!” Lola exclaimed, to which Ben ignored her.

        “Stop. It.” (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth, and for once, pushing him back harder.

        “What the—“ Ben huffed, surprised, before he quickly pushed her with more force.

        “Ben, st—“ Annabelle was cut off, shocked as (Y/N) threw a punch to his face. 

        “Fuck you, Ben!” (Y/N) exclaimed, shoving him away from her by using her shoulder. 

        Her legs shook, adrenaline and fear pumping through her veins, her fists clenching and unclenching as she realized what she just did. She’s done it now. 

        Ben touched the side of his face, shocked as it swelled, before his fist balled up. A crowd formed around them, watching to see what will go down, holding their flip phones in their hands. 

        Before he could land a punch, some stepped out of the crowd and grabbed Ben’s arm, pinning him up against the wall. 

        “You shouldn’t hit a lady.” The third party spoke.

        “Ren?” (Y/N) questioned, surprised. 

        “Get off me!” Ben barked, squirming under Ren’s hold. 

        Ren had appeared so fast, it was like he was here the whole time. 

        “T-thanks.” (Y/N) spoke, taking a few shaky steps backwards, before forcing her away out of the crowd of students, making her way to the nearest trash can and throwing up. 

        “Ugh… damn it…” she muttered, knowing she was done for, for real this time as people recorded her. 

        Yep. Sounds about right for (Y/N), just her luck. 

        She scanned the crowd, unsure exactly what she was looking for. Her eyes met his bright brown ones, before she closed her own.

        I really hate being alive… she thought.

        .

        .         (Y/N) had got called into the principal’s office later that day along with Ben. Some other students were there to recall the events and explain their side of the story, including Ren. 

        It really didn’t matter who was at fault, both of them got suspended under the excuse: “We don’t condone any sort of violence during school premises.” 

        You can just say that you don’t want the backlash from the bully’s parents and their friends. (Y/N) thought to herself, but she kept that thought in the hatch.

        The walk back home hurt. The whole day she had trembling legs and shaky hands, it seemed every hour she was near a trash can throwing up. She was severely dehydrated, light headed, and really just wanted to go home and cry in the shower.

        It was a hot day, making the walk home worse. Because of how big her family’s farm was, she lived on the outskirts of town, making her walk longer. The town didn’t have any public transportation due to how small the town was, the buses would’ve clogged up all the morning rush hour traffic where adults try to get to work on time, so buses weren’t a thing in their town. 

        There was sweat dripping down her forehead, her back uncomfortably wet as her backpack dragged down her posture, and she wanted nothing more but to just give up. Give up walking, give up life—practically the same thing.

        She made it to her house and unlocked the gate, seeing a figure sitting in her family’s rocking chair on the porch. The figure noticed her, before it stood up, running towards her.

        (Y/N) removed her backpack straps and threw it on the ground, before running and meeting the figure, engulfing them in a hug.

        “Papa.” She whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes, the sun burning the top of her head.

        “Oh, (Y/N). I got a call from the school. What were you thinkin'? Fightin' against a boy? You know boys are stronger than girls!” Frank spoke, quickly letting go of her as he looked at her hands and face for any marks.

        “I’m fine, he didn’t hurt me.” (Y/N) spoke. “But he started it! He pushed me first so I pushed back!”

        “He touched you?” Frank gasped. “What a freak! Boys nowadays need to learn some manners and keep their hands to themselves.” 

        “I was so scared, Papa.” (Y/N) sniffled, wiping the tears and snot off her face.

        “Oh, I bet.” Frank sighed, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go inside. There’s a fresh pitcher of tea waitin’ for you.” 

        (Y/N) nodded, picking her backpack up off the ground and following him back inside the house. 

        Her mother sat in her loveseat, watching the news on the TV. She turned her attention at the door, before motioning for (Y/N) to come over and sit on the couch across from her.

        “Frank, those blueberries should be in season to now. Could you go harvest them?” Rose ordered, finding an excuse for Frank to leave. 

        “Sorry, sport.” Frank sighed, patting (Y/N)’s shoulder, before walking out the door. 

        “I got a call from your principal today…” Rose started, crossing her legs. “Do you wanna explain yourself?”

        “I’m sorry.” (Y/N) started. “I got in a fight with Ben in the hallway. He pushed me, so I pushed him back, so he pushed me harder and I just got upset and punched him…” 

        “Jeez, (Y/N)… What are you? A animal?” Rose scoffed. “You’re a lady. You don’t hit people. And you especially don’t under the eyes of the Lord. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

        “I was just defending myself! He’s picked on me before!” (Y/N) defended.

        “So? You go to the principal’s office and report it.” Rose retorted.

        “But Ma, they don’t listen to me. They don’t like our family.” (Y/N) spoke. “They think we’re cursed. Or were sinners in another life!”

        “That’s nonsense. Everyone loves us. Everyone loves our products. We’re devoted followers of our Lord. How could they not love us?” Rose snapped, not seeming to believe it.

        “It’s because we’re freaks, Ma!” (Y/N) exclaimed, hitting her hands on her lap. “We’re major freaks! They constantly talk bad about us! We’re always invited last for our community gatherings! Papa is always getting mandatory overtime but no payment, yet everyone else doesn’t have that overtime! We’re constantly being sneered at in public! The kids at my school harass me, but you don’t care because it doesn’t affect you!” 

        “(Y/N), you can go to your—“ 

        “Do you know what they say about you, Mama?” (Y/N) questioned, her fists shaking as she spoke. “They think you’re a selfish, narcissistic, and hypocritical woman. They think you sold your soul to the devil to inherit your parents’ wealth.”

        “Who?” Rose gasped, her jaw dropped.

        “Everyone.” (Y/N) hissed. “They think Papa’s a freak because they don’t understand him. They don’t know what he’s going through. They think I’m a freak because I’m your daughter!”

        “Well, you know what? I’ve had enough of you. You’ve been acting like a freak lately!” Rose spoke, standing up from her seat. “What’s with you? Is it that college? Is that college stressin’ you out with your studies? I told you that the city isn’t for you but you never listen to me! Is it your father’s stupid paranoid delusions? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Don’t listen to him!”

        “He knows more than you do!” (Y/N) shouted. “And that college is the only thing in my life that will keep me away from you!” 

        “Go to your room, now! Go straight to bed! Don’t even expect supper tonight!” Rose shouted back, her voice louder—it was always louder compared to hers.

        (Y/N) had no problem with that, it’s not like that wasn’t her first time being forced to skip a meal. Besides, there's nothing too great about pre-packaged meals. Rose rarely cooks, and Frank is either always working in the auto shop or on the farm. It's been that way since she was a kid, so school lunches were basically a miracle for her when she entered school. Breakfast and lunch five days a week? That's better than no meals every day of the week! Or at least one every other day.

        She quickly took her backpack with her and walked to her room, resisting the urge to slam the door shut. She shut her door (gently) and walked to the bathroom, turning on the shower faucet and stripping off her school uniform. She sat down on the shower floor, feeling more tears well up in her eyes.

        “This fucking sucks…” she gritted through her teeth.

        She sat there for some time, before finally getting up and washing up. She dried herself off, before picking out some pajamas and changing into them. 

        She walked back to her room and sat down on her bed for a while. She was tired after today’s events, all that crying and puking and yelling really got to her. She should at least drink some water, but right now she really couldn’t be bothered. 

        There was a knock on her door, before the door opened.

        “Hey, kid. You doin’ okay?” Frank questioned, popping his head into the room.

        “No… not really…” (Y/N) sighed. 

        “Do you wanna talk about it?” he questioned.

        (Y/N) took a moment to think, before nodding. “Yeah. I think so.” 

        Frank walked into the room, sitting down on the bed. He sat down on the edge, waiting patiently for (Y/N) to talk.

        “I-I just feel so out of place…” (Y/N) sighed. “I mean, I don’t even know what I do but they hate me, and I don’t know why. I mean, I know I’m not the most prettiest or—“ 

        “Hey, stop that.” Frank spoke up. “Don’t beat yourself up like that. You’re one of the prettiest girls out there, and that’s not just cause you’re my daughter.” Frank explained. “You’re a (L/N). We (L/N)’s may have shit luck, but you know what? We always get back up. And we know what’s true and what’s not.”

        “You don’t have to be pretty to be liked. You don’t have to be anything for people to like you. It’ll come naturally over time as you meet some great people.” Frank explained. “Problem isn’t you, it’s society. You shouldn’t have to change yourself to fit societal norms, and you shouldn’t have to beat yourself up over it either. We just live in a shitty town with shitty people; but that doesn’t define society as a whole. There’s still good out there.”

        “You know what they say: everythin' happens for a reason. Right now, you’re just waitin' for your moment to shine, and when you shine; you’ll be a damn star.” Frank smiled, patting her back.

        “Thank you, Papa.” (Y/N) smiled. 

        “Now, is there anything else making you upset?” Frank questioned.

        (Y/N) took a second to think about it. Everything he’s been saying was right; it’s not that she’s bad, it’s that the people in her town are so close-minded, judging people because they don’t match their beliefs or act a little different from others. 

        “Would you be upset if I left the farm?” (Y/N) questioned. “I’ve talked about it before, about getting a scholarship to this really good med school, but would it make you mad that I’d be leaving the farm behind? Leaving you and mama behind?” 

        “(Y/N), there should never be a time in your life where you have to choose between your happiness and someone else’s.” Frank spoke. “You should always choose yourself first.”

        “But wouldn’t that just be that selfish?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Are you kiddin'? You’re leavin' behind thousands, maybe even millions, of dollars this farm gained over the generations!” Frank laughed. “That’s pretty selfless if you ask me.”

        “Ah, you know what I mean, Papa.” (Y/N) chuckled, rolling her eyes playfully. 

        “Think of it this way. You’re goin' to wake up to yourself, you’re goin' to shower with yourself, you’re goin' to eat meals with yourself, you’re goin' to go to work with yourself, take spa days, go shoppin', run errands, and go back to sleep in the same bed—all with yourself. Everyone else in life comes and goes; coworkers, friends, lovers, even me.” Frank explained. “Put yourself first because it’s your life. There should never be a period in your time where you feel the need to sacrifice your happiness. If you’re not happy, you’re not livin'; you’re existin'. It’s plain and simple. It's only selfish if you're in a position to help someone in need, but you don't help them despite bein' stable to."

        “I… guess you’re right, yeah.” (Y/N) nodded, smiling.

        “But if you plan to have kids, then you’re gonna have to make sacrifices. You can’t just make some kids and expect that to be over, there’s a lot more than just that.” Frank chuckled. “But hey, that’s a whole other story for when you’re older. Don’t you dare be tryin' to get pregnant at your age.” 

        “I won’t, Papa. I promise.” (Y/N) giggled, shaking her head at her father’s antics.

        She surprisingly felt a lot better now. Life didn’t feel so bad anymore, who knew a little speech was all she needed to feel better. 

        But in realty, it was really just her father sacrificing his positive energy to give to her. He may not be the ideal father, and he may not remember everything he does or remain in control of himself sometimes, but she knew this was her father Frank—not the monster or the sinner her town thought he was. 

        “I heard your mom isn’t letting you eat dinner, I can sneak some in here?” Frank suggested.

        “Nah, I’m really not that hungry.” (Y/N) shook her head.

        I might just throw it up anyways… she thought.

        “Just making sure.” Frank chuckled. “Oh, hey. You wouldn’t happen to know where that hole in the face came from, would you?”

        “What hole?” (Y/N) inquired.

        “While I was harvestin' those blueberries your mom told me to fetch, I noticed a square hole in the fence, at the bottom of the fencin'. It looks like some wire pliers or somethin'.” Frank spoke. “I told your damn mom we should invest in some sturdier fencin', but she’s so persistent in wantin' that cheap fencin' that we can easily move out of the way in case we expand the farm more.” He sighed.

        “No, I wasn’t aware there was a hole in the fence.” (Y/N) spoke honestly, surprised.

        “Ah, must be someone tryna deal my damn chickens. Nobody is takin' Charlotte from me.” Frank huffed, crossing his arms.

        Charlotte was practically Frank’s pet hen. Charlotte was born in domestically at her farm, she was smaller than the other chicks and had a white fluffy spot on her back. Charlotte has some serious attitude for something that’s easy to fry up. 

        “I’ll just go to town and replace the fencin' tomorrow. I don’t want any damn coyotes or foxes trying to get ‘em.” Frank sighed, before standing up from the edge of the bed.

        “Thank you for talking with me, Papa. I needed it.” (Y/N) smiled. 

        “Hey, it’s the least I can do.” Frank smiled, before ruffling her hair, causing her to giggle. 

        “Night, sport. Just remember, I’m proud of you no matter what you do in life.” Frank smiled, opening her bedroom door.

        (Y/N) smiled at the reassurance. “I love you, Papa.” 

        “I love ya too, (Y/N).” He smiled. “Get some rest now.” He spoke, before closing the door behind him.

        (Y/N) crawled under her covers and smiled, glad to have talked about her feelings. She didn’t feel as alone as she did earlier.

        She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the cicadas outside, and the snapping twigs of a bunny or raccoon nearby her window. 

        .

        .

        (Y/N) woke up feeling a bit more happier and relaxed than usual. She at least woke up in a good mood, the effects of last night's talk still lingering with her as she stood up. She did a small stretch to get her blood pumping, before walking over to her drawers to find clothes for herself. She opened up her drawers to grab a pair of socks for today, before feeling something weird.

        What is that?

         She pulled out a paper folded in fours, but her heart dropped when she saw red splotches on the piece. She quickly folded open the paper, reading the contents. 

        "My love, how utterly divine you are. I've taken care of that nuisance for you, are you proud of me? I couldn't stand how he touches you, how he wishes to harm you, when a beauty like you should be absolutely adored. He won't be a problem for you anymore, nobody will ever be a problem to you. You're like an angel, and all I wish to do is protect you from the evil in this world. I want to serve you and be your faithful prophet, your only follower.          You saved me, let me save you now. See you soon, my love." 

        It was printed sugar paper with typed letters printed on it, and dried blood spots on the paper. That wasn't in her drawer last night, someone broke into her house.

        It felt like she stopped breathing, a ringing inside her ears as her head felt fuzzy. She dropped the bloodied paper, taking a few shaky steps, before running to the bathroom and throwing up in the toilet. 

        You would think she'd have nothing in her stomach to throw up, but you'd be wrong. Whenever she gets scared, a nauseating feeling takes over and she can't help but empty her stomach. 

        She coughed and wiped her mouth with toilet paper, taking another piece of toilet paper and wiping the snot and tears off her face. 

        Who the hell could've sent her that note? Who the hell broke into her house and planted that? 

        Another thought stuck her. Just how long have they been watching her? What else is planted in her house?

        That thought pushed her up off the ground, scurrying back to her bedroom. She tore her bedroom apart, searching every nook and cranny. She even went as far as to check every single clothing item she owned. She found a small microphone inside one of her ceiling light bulbs; no wonder the room looked brighter, her soft yellow lights were replaced with white LED's and she didn't even realize it! She even dismantled a part of her alarm clock, finding a small camera there. And she found another small camera in the eye of one of her old collector dolls that sat perched on her shelf. 

        After another trip to the bathroom to puke, she did a quick sweep around her bathroom, finding another microphone in her bathroom lightbulb and a camera inside the shower head; hence resulting in her throwing up again. She grabbed all the cameras and lightbulbs, placing them in a large ziplock bag for evidence, before placing the note in a separate ziplock bag.

        (Y/N) sat on her bed for a moment, trying to wrack her brain on why this was happening. Why her? What this a nightmare? Who the hell would choose (Y/N) to stalk? It must be a sick joke, right? Nobody would write her a love confession, that's never happened in her life! She's close to nobody except Annabelle and Lola, and they would never do this! Kate hates her, and Ben's most likely still pissed off at her for punching him. There's nobody else in her life who's been around her recently except...

        She grabbed her hair, tugging the ends to cope with the sick realization. It was Ren. That stupid, creepy brat with the stupid, creepy brown eyes that just bore right into her all the time. He's in her church, watching her every move like a hawk. He coincidentally transfers into her class a few months ago. He coincidentally steps in and saves her from Ben yesterday. It has to be him, there's nobody else!

        Her throat was sore and burning, her eyes were exhausted and tired from crying, and she felt like she was about to tip over and faint. She opened her bedroom door, stumbling out into the hallway. Her father sat on the couch watching a baking show, while her mother sat reading a book on her loveseat. (Y/N) dragged herself into the living room, placing the ziplock bags onto the center table for them to speak.

        "Papa. Mama. We need to call the police. Someone's watching me..."

        .

        .

        The police were called down to the farm, talking to a clueless mother and father as they tried to gather evidence. The only evidence that could be found was the ziplock bags (Y/N) provided them. There were no signs of breaking in, but (Y/N) knew that was because of their own faults. They lived in a small, religious town, so everyone knew each other. They would've never expected anyone to break into their house, so it was common for people to leave their doors unlocked in their town. During the police investigation, they found a body inside the pig enclosure, the pigs feasting on the body of Ben Rivers. (Y/N) was immediately placed in custody and taken down to the police station to be questioned.

        She refused to talk without a lawyer, but there weren't many lawyers inside of her small town, and her trial date was approaching rapidly. (Y/N) was being trialed for the possibility of first degree murder alongside tampering evidence, and (Y/N) was trying to file charges against Ren for stalking, trespassing, first degree murder, and frame up. 

        It took weeks for their small town court to final accept their case and get court hearings done. The word got around quick around town. If she felt isolated beforehand, well she certainly felt so now. As luck would have her, Ren was popular in school and in town. He actively attended and volunteered in church, he had stellar grades, and a perfect social image.

        That's the only damn thing he has against her, a good social image. It's so unfair. Why is she punished for what others do? She didn't choose to be Frank's daughter, she didn't choose to be next inheritor of Rose's family farm. 

        Please, as if that was a good excuse, a part of it is her fault too. She was the one that tried killing herself. She was the one that sang the quietest during the church's hymens. She was the one that never bothered to stand out and do extracurricular activities like Annabelle and Lola do. By isolating herself, she's practically doomed herself in this case. 

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to play with her thumbs as she sat in front of the judge. She wore a white blouse with a black blazer, wearing a pencil skirt and black tights with black flats. Rose said that it would show she's sophisticated and respected, but (Y/N) felt like she was wearing the outfit to her own funeral. 

        She practically avoided Ren's eyes the whole session, not wanting to see what stupid "innocent" face he'll have on that damn face of his to sway the whole court. He sat in one of the seats behind her, just feeling everyone's eyes (including his) on her sent shivers down her spine. She was currently being tried for first degree murder and tampering with the evidence, but (Y/N) knows that's not true. 

        Surely they'll believe her, there were literally cameras and microphones in her room! There's practically nobody else that'll do this to her!

        "With all the evidence and statements taken into consideration, we the court, find (Y/N) (L/N) guilty of first-degree murder." 

        Her heart practically dropped at that. How could this happen?

        "With all the evidence and statements taken into consideration, we the court, find (Y/N) (L/N) guilty of tampering and trying to rid the body of Ben Rivers." 

        She tried to open her mouth to speak, but it felt like no words were going to come out. If she kept her mouth open any longer, she might just cry instead.

        "(Y/N) (L/N) will serve 20 years, with no chance of parole." The judge decided. "Is there anything you wish to say, Ms. (L/N)?"

        "How could you turn your back against justice?" she questioned, her bottom lip trembling. "I'm innocent. He framedme! Tell me how those cameras got into my house! How those microphones appeared!"

        "According to receipts on a shopping site, you spent nearly $300 dollars purchasing two cameras and two lightbulb microphones, and had them shipped to a public park. It was purchased under your name and debit card."

        (Y/N)'s face paled, her hands shaking. No, she didn't do that. Ren must've stolen it. He must've framed her!

        "Around that same time, Ben Rivers, the man you killed, also happened to lose his wallet that was reported to have at least $300 in his words." The judge explained, reading a paper in their hands. "It was also during that time that you fought Mr. Rivers at your public high school, which provoked the murder. With this evidence, you not only premeditated the murder by buying the technology and trying to get rid of the body, but also tried framing the murder itself." 

        "B-but the note? Where did that come from?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "There was no forensic evidence on the letter except for your finger oils, and the dried blood of Ben Rivers. The note was typed so you could hide your handwriting." The judge explained.

        "No, no! It was typed! Anyone could've typed that! Ren could've typed that!" (Y/N) tried to fight. "Please, this was a targeted attack! Ben was murdered! Mine and my family's lives are in danger! This didn't just happen out of the blue, it was planned by someone that wasn't me! It was Ren, it has to be!" 

        "With the evidence of online receipts found under your name and debit card, the forensic evidence of your finger oils after you supposedly found the note in your clothing drawer, the finding of Ben Rivers body in your family farm, the previously shown hostility you've shown against Ben Rivers in the past; it is with undeniable evidence that you are guilty of murdering and hiding the body of Ben Rivers." The judge spoke. "With all this said, (Y/N) (L/N) will serve 20 years in prison, no parole. Along with this sentencing, I hereby give the verdict that Ren Itami is not guilty of first-degree murder, of trespassing, of stalking, and of tampering with evidence."

        "What?! No! That needs another trial! You can't do that!" (Y/N) exclaimed. 

        "Court dismissed!" the judge shouted, their voice echoing throughout the courtroom.

        (Y/N) sat limp, staring at the table she was seated at.

        It's all over. She thought, her vision blurring with tears as her ears rang.

        She could make out her father yelling in the background of the ringing, but she didn't have the energy to look. 

        My life is over. She thought as the judicial security forced her up out of her seat, taking her away from her family.

        She stood up, tripping over her feet as security forced her away. She was able to tilt her head to look at her parents, watching as Rose covered her face with her hands; either she was crying, or she was embarrassed. Frank was standing and animated, his hands moving all around as his mouth ran, but (Y/N) couldn't hear what he was saying.

        (Y/N) forced her eyes to look around the courtroom. Most people didn't even seem shocked or surprised that it was "supposedly" her who killed Ben Rivers. A few emotional people cried, others filing out of the courtroom. She saw Annabelle and Lola here with their families, the girls' expressions looking betrayed and in disbelief.

        She saw the family of Ben Rivers there. His little siblings sobbed, and his mother covered her mouth as she cried. The father was trying to comfort Ben's mother, but his eyes stared at her with nothing but hatred. 

        No, don't look at me that way. She thought. I didn't do it. I didn't!

        He just needs some guidance. They all just need some guidance to know it wasn't her. It wasn't her!

        She finally saw the man that put her in this position, her eyes meeting his bright brown ones. His black hair covered his eyes, but she knew damn well he was looking at her. His disgusting, blood-soaked hands were patting the shoulder of one of Ben's siblings.

        No! Don't let him touch them, Ms. Rivers. She thought. Don't let him kill your other children too, Mr. Rivers!

        She was led through door, before the security slammed the court door shut, leading her down a hallway where a police car awaited to take her to prison. 

        .

        .

        One week here, and she could barely get out of bed. She was taken to the town's small prison. There weren't toomany people here, so she was able to get her own cell. At least she wouldn't be sharing a cell with a freak. 

        Oh, who is she kidding? She'd be the freak they'd be cellmates with. 

        She stared at the food on the ground, not wanting anything to do with it. It's not even that it looked unappetizing, it's that she had absolutely no strength to eat. 

        Her life was over, everything she looked forward to in her future no longer existed. She was going to get out of this town, run away from the farm's responsibilities and inheritance, find a place that could accept her no matter who her family was, go to college, become a pediatric nurse and help other kids like her and more. Somewhere in that future, she could even get a chance at a happy relationship. 

        But that's over now. Nobody is going to love her now. Nobody is going to accept her now. When she gets out of jail, she'll be at least almost 40. How is somebody going to accept a convicted murderer, whether they did it or not? Who is really going to believe her? Jobs will turn her down, she'll be lucky to even score a job at a fast food joint.

        It's all over now, so she might as well just die. Starve herself away. Or, at the very least, she'll try to the best of her abilities. Sooner or later, the guards will take her to the medical-treatment room, and they'll force a tube down her nose or mouth and feed her some crappy nutritional supplement whether she wants it or not. After that, she'll go to her cell, and she'll stick her finger down her throat and force all of that disgusting crap out of her body, speeding up her dehydrating process and just finally die. The only reason she's been drinking water is because it hurts to breathe without a moist throat. At least after a while, the starvation slowly stops to hurt, but dehydration just feels worse in her opinion. 

        There was a bang on her cell's bars but (Y/N) couldn't bother to look over, staring at the ceiling as she rested on her bed. 

        "Hey, (L/N). You got a visitor!" the guard spoke, though she really couldn't care.

        She didn't bother responding to them, staying in the same spot as she refused to talk. 

        "If you don't get up, we'll just bring them here." The guard persisted, though (Y/N) remained uncaring.

        She heard the guard's footsteps fade away, at least ten minutes going by as she listened to other inmates talking and screaming, some banging on their cells angrily. 

        Can't you fools tell it's pointless? (Y/N) thought.

        She wondered how many others were here innocently. This whole damn situation, being in jail, nobody believing her; she was almost convinced that she was a sleeper agent. Or at least, she was guilty but couldn't remember. Why else would people not listen to her?

        Footsteps echoed down the hallways, before they stopped in front of her cell. She mentally rolled her eyes, not having the energy to do so in person. 

        "Hello, (Y/N)." A voice spoke, almost smugly as they stood at her cell. "Did you miss me?"

        (Y/N) immediately scrambled up from her spot, getting dizzy and falling on the ground for a few seconds, but she forced her way up off the ground and ran to the prison bars. 

        "Y-" she tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse.

        She quickly ran to her table and grabbed a water bottle, practically chugging the whole thing before wiping her mouth. She ran back to the cell's bars, staring at them.

        "Y-you son of a bitch!" she shouted, her voice raspy as she forced her hands through the bars and grabbed the collar of their shirt, slamming them up against the bars. "How dare you show your face to me? I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" 

        "My, how hostile. I'm just doing you a favor too!" he laughed.

        "What the fuck are you doing here, Ren? What are you doing here?!" she shouted. "Was it not enough? Was ruining my life not enough for you?!" 

        "Calm down, my love. I'm not looking to harm you, honestly this all was my mistake." Ren laughed. 

        My love? My love? As in, the nickname that bloodied confession letter said? 

        So it was Ren. (Y/N) thought, almost sickeningly gleeful despite all the damage he's caused to her.

        At least she knows she's not completely crazy. 

        "Fuck you and your mistakes." She hissed, her grip tightening on his collar. "I'll never forgive you for this."

        "So feisty." Ren smiled. "I'm actually bailing you out. Shouldn't you be glad?"

        "Bailing... me out?" she questioned, confused. "Why did you even get me in here in the first place?! Do you understand how damaged my reputation is now?!"

        "Oh, please. It's not like it was good to begin with." He chuckled, causing her to glare at him. "I didn't mean for you to be held accountable for murder. Really, it was an honest mistake. I was just trying to cover my tracks, I didn't mean for that pesky body to have you end up in jail. It's a shame a pest like him is still causing you problems even after he's dead."        

        "Why didn't you just admit to the murder? Why did you have to involve me into it?" she questioned. 

        "Well, if I was in jail, I wouldn't be able to see you anymore, silly!" he laughed, his hands reaching out and holding her wrists as she held his collar. "You have such soft, delicate hands. An angel like you shouldn't be trapped in a nasty cage such as this." 

        "It wouldn't be so soft and delicate when I bash your head into the wall!" she hissed, ignoring his angel comment as she ripped her hands away from him, a new wave of anger hitting her as he had the audacity to touch her after everything he's done. 

        "Well now, I had to make sure you learned your lesson. I was originally going to let you have a month here in prison—but ah, but I couldn't stay separated from you for that long." He sighed longingly. "I figured a week must be enough for you to learn your lesson! I'm glad I came sooner though, it looks like you've been starving yourself!"

        I would rather stay a month here and starve than after to see you. She thought, annoyed. 

        "You've learned your lesson, right?" he questioned.

        "Die sooner?" she spoke sarcastically. 

        "I do love your humor dear, but now is not the time." He smiled.

        "What? Not to cross you or some crap?" she scoffed, crossing her arms. 

        "Bingo! Aren't you so smart?" he cooed, his hands holding the cell bars as she backed up from him. 

        "Fuck off. I might as well just rot away here. My life is over now." She hissed, turning her head away from him. 

        "Oh, no. See, it doesn't work like that!" he smiled. "Whether you like it or not love, you're still being bailed out! So, you can either come with me, or live in the streets! Aren't I a better option?"

        I'd rather be the next Oscar the Grouch than go anywhere he's going. (Y/N) thought to herself. 

        "So? What will it be?" Ren questioned. 

        "I want to be bailed out." (Y/N) responded. "And I want food." 

        "Sure, that can be done." Ren smiled. "Just as long as you promise one thing?"

        "What is it?" she questioned, glaring at him suspiciously. 

        "Graduation is near. As soon as we graduate, I want you to come live with me and become my wife. We'll move out of state and have our own family! Unless you want to wait for kids, we can do that too." Ren smiled, as if the idea wasn't crazy.

        "Excuse me?" she questioned.

        "Yeah, kids are a bit too soon, huh?" Ren nodded, as if agreeing with an idea she didn't even say.

        "I said excuse me! Not even a first date or something?" she spoke, shocked. 

        Well, she shouldn't expect much class from the guy that put cameras and microphones inside her bathroom and bedroom. 

        "On the way home we'll grab that lunch I promised you. Consider it a lunch date." He smiled. 

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to roll her eyes, before eventually agreeing. "Okay..." she nodded. "If you bail me out and get me lunch, I'll be your wife..." she spoke, her legs shaky at just the thought of actually agreeing to this ridiculous request.

        It can't be that bad, right? It's better than 20 years in prison, right? 

        "Oh, good! I was worried I'd have to bail you out and kidnap you on the streets! That would be quite the hassle to try and hide you!" Ren laughed giddily. "I'll be right back! I'll go pay and have the guards unlock the cell for you! I even brought you an outfit!"

        "Great..." (Y/N) muttered, not even bothering to force a smile. 

        (Y/N) looked around her cell for anything she wanted to take, but there was nothing that wasn't hers. She watched as the prison guard opened the door for her, a hateful glare on his face. 

        Understandably so, he's under the impression that she's a murderer of a teenage boy, and now she's being paid out of jail. No wonder he would stare at her in disgust, even if the true killer was the one standing right next to him. 

        (Y/N) stepped out of the cell, being handed a bag from Ren. 

        "There's some private bathrooms here, we can find one for you to change in." Ren explained. 

        (Y/N) nodded, silent as she followed Ren. They found a bathroom for her to change into, much to (Y/N)'s relief as she doesn't want to change inside of a cramped car with her stalker. Ren opened the door for her, about to walk in with her before she stopped him.

        "Excuse me? No. I can change by myself." (Y/N) scoffed, stopping him with her arm. 

        "Hm? Why?" he questioned. "It's not like I haven't not seen any part of your body."

        "Don't remind me, creep." (Y/N) hissed, a shiver running up her spine as he reminded her of the cameras. "You stay out! I'll just change really quick!" 

        "Fine, whatever you want." Ren sighed, disheartened. 

        (Y/N) closed the door behind her, triple-checking to make sure it was locked. She opened the bag that Ren gave her, mentally groaning at the outfit he chose. 

        She put on the outfit reluctantly, before grabbing the brush he left in the bag for her. She brushed out her hair, looking at herself in the mirror. She wore a white mid-thigh length sundress that Ren gave her, with strawberry patterns printed on the cloth, and frilly off-shoulder sleeves. She put on white flats that he left in the bag for her, and she refused to wear the questionable lace panties and matching bra. The outfit was cute, but she didn't like knowing it was something her stalker got for her. She'll probably throw the dress away in the trash later. 

        She walked out of the bathroom, looking at Ren. 

        "Ah, look at you! You look adorable!" Ren cooed. "Spin for me."

        "No." (Y/N) stated firmly, a flash of annoyance crossing her face at his audacity. 

        "Maybe next time." He laughed, before leading her to an office area.

        He signed her out, and (Y/N) shortly received her personal items they held onto. She had the outfit she came to the prison with, along with her phone. She checked her phone's battery, seeing it was at 0%. The battery must've slowly been draining while she was held here. 

        "Ready to go, my love?" he questioned, holding his hand out for her.

        "Die." She snapped, walking past him. 

        How could he act like this? How could he act like he did nothing wrong after he broke into her house and placed cameras and microphones into her private living space? How could he have the audacity to make her take his fall, then bail her out and tell she must've learned her lesson.

        Of course she's learned. She's learned that she's going to get as far away from him as possible, no matter what. It doesn't matter when, one day, she'll escape him. Like hell she'll be his wife. 

        Ren laughed at her hostility, making a comment about "how cute she is when she's upset." He was acting as if he was dealing with a fussy toddler. 

        Ren guided her to his car, causing her to halt and rethink her decisions. She was going to be alone in an enclosed space with a man, a man who has done nothing but destroy her life. Ren looked at her expectantly, refusing to get in the car until she does first. 

        He's making sure he can quickly catch her if she tries to run from him.

        (Y/N) sighed, before hesitantly opening the car door and getting in, closing the door. She tested the door handle to see if it'd open, but it was child-locked, she realized. If she wanted out of the car, Ren would have to unlock the doors and walk around to open the door for her. 

        Damn it, he's smart. 

        (Y/N) frowned, watching as Ren hopped inside of the driver seat. He turned the car on and smiled at her, opening his mouth to speak, before she interrupted him.

        "Food." She spoke, buckling her seatbelt for safety (even if she would rather be in a car accident instead of hanging out with her stalker). 

        Before he could question where or what, she added on. 

        "Steak. Go to a steakhouse." She ordered, crossing her arms. 

        "You seem to know what you want." He chuckled, smiling.

        "I haven't eaten in a week. Now drive." She snapped. 

        "Whatever you want." Ren hummed, pulling out of the parking lot and driving. 

        She looked around Ren's car, not noticing anything out of the ordinary except for the man himself.

        "So, what do you see in me?" she questioned.

        "Excuse me?" he questioned.

        "ExCuSe Me." She mocked, let out a scoff of disbelief. "You heard me, jackass. You stalked me. You killed Ben. Why?" 

        "Let's save that for our wedding vows, yeah?" Ren smiled. "Don't worry. You won't have to wait long."

        (Y/N) looked over at him nervously, before letting out a defeated sigh, instead focusing her attention outside of the window to avoid his predatory gaze.

        .

        .

        Just like he promised, he returned her back home after paying for lunch. He requested for her to keep him bailing her out as a secret, to which she hesitantly agreed.

        (Y/N) returned to her family's farm, rushing inside and hugging her father and mother. She made up a stupid lie saying that her good behavior let her get released, though they probably knew that wasn't the truth; however, they certainly didn't care if it was the truth or not.

        Everything might've seemed resolved now, but that was far from the case. The news of (Y/N) being convicted and released made the news and headlines. It was (Y/N)'s first day of school and she sat in the bathrooms during lunch, hiding away from the rest of the world in the stall. 

        Annabelle and Lola are no longer her friends. "We can't be friends with a murderer, whether you say you did it or not, the evidence leads to you." they told her. There wasn't a Ben to try and push her in the hallways, or to try and trip her in biology class. Mr. Jones couldn't even come up with a dry comment to say to her.

        It seemed like everyone was busy taking pictures or recording her. There were pictures of her mugshot taped onto her locker, and newspapers with the highlighted words "murderer" taped on it too. There were posts on social media questioning why she was back and how they could let a murderer escape.

        She would rather be known as a freak than a murderer any day.

        And the worst part? People sympathized with Ren. They were whispering about how sorry they were that he had to see the girl who "tried" to accuse him of killing Ben and stalking (Y/N). 

        It hurt losing her best friends from middle school. It hurt losing her social image, even if it wasn't much. It hurt being an accused murderer.  It hurt hearing the rumors that her family's wealth and connections to the Devil is how she got out of prison. 

        It hurt being known, but not known at the same time. 

        She constantly looked at the posts the media had of her. She didn't know how to feel; angry, sad, disappointed, afraid? People are just making assumptions of what they heard and know, they don't know that Ren is the real murderer tormenting her. They don't know anything.

        People whispered in the hallways and classes about her. 

        "I heard that she tried framing Ren because he rejected her confession."

        "I heard she was the killer all along. I mean, who gets a love letter placed in their drawers and doesn't know about it? Sounds pretty suspicious."

        "She got bailed out because of her mommy's money. She can't even accept responsibility for her own crimes."

        "She sure looks like a killer, all quiet and creepy. I didn't even know who she was until now."

        Even if Ben's bullying stopped, Kate's didn't. She only got more physical. What used to be verbally assaults was replaced with milk spilt on her head and cigarette burns on her scarred arms. 

        When will it be enough? She questioned the universe. 

        Never. 

        But the worst part? God, the worst part must be that bastard's face. (Y/N) constantly checked her room everyday to make sure there were no cameras or light bulbs, so Ren gave up trying to install more. Even though he stopped his 24/7 supervision of her, he constantly visited her at night, keeping her up by knocking at her window until she opened it so that he could talk her ear off about how pretty she was, and how excited he was to be her husband, and how close graduation was coming until he'd take her away from here. 

        He kept writing his stupid confession letters to her, about how much of an "angel" she was, and how utterly divine her beauty was. He used sugar paper to write on, and he used a dark red ink pen to write with. It was like he was taunting her by choosing red, reminding her of the spilt blood that stained the first confession he gave her. It was like he was reminding her that nobody believes her, that in everyone else's eyes she killed Ben.

        She would grab the letters and burn them on her father's grill outside. It didn't matter trying to prove herself with the letters, nobody would believe her anyways. All she cared about was tearing the papers, stomping them on the ground and burning them into embers that flew in the air. Even burnt paper was more free than her. She wanted to destroy the evidence of Ren in her life. She wanted to destroy his love for her, but he just wouldn't give up. 

        Even her own mother believed she was a murderer. Rose told her one day while doing the dishes that she should be ashamed of herself, and that she should've at least tried blaming the murder on someone who was more less known and a weirdo. Rose couldn't dare think that Ren did such a thing, not when Ren was such a respectful boy who attended church and participated in volunteer work. At least her father believed her, but it felt like he always had to remind her what happened, to never go outside alone, to never leave the farm. She wasn't even sure if her father actually believed her, or if he was mixing his persecutory delusions when he experienced episodes into (Y/N)'s life. It drove her mad, she felt her already poor mental health deteriorating into something worse.  

        The church kicked out her entire family from ever stepping foot on the premises. Not only was she isolated from her hometown, friends, and society; but not even church would wash away the "sins" she committed. 

        Her grades were slipping. Her studies were failing. Her sanity was dropping. 

        Everything just looked like a weapon for her to use against herself or another. 

        Why should she eat food? Why should she drink water? Why should she take a shower? Why should she live? 

        One week before graduation. One week before Ren would whisk her away from this hell of a town, and give her a new hell as his wife. 

        She was admitted into the hospital for a stomach pump and to sew up her wrists after having another failed suicide attempt. It's been a couple years since she last tried to kill herself, but after all the events that happened, it only seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. She had tried overdosing on pills and cutting deep into her wrists so she could bleed out, but her father came home from work early. He made it a habit to always checked up on her after work, so when he saw her unconscious on the ground with blood on her arms and empty pill bottles around her body, he grabbed Rose and made her apply a towel and pressure to (Y/N)'s wrists while he sped through town to get her to the ER. She made it out alive, much to her dismay. 

        She sucked at living. She sucked at trying to find happiness. She sucked at trying to die. Wasn't there anything she was good at except being a punching bag? 

        The hospital made her take multiple tests during her time there. She had to answer a lot of paper tests asking about her health, and she had to take tests involving her nervous system. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, exactly what her father has and is why he's shunned from society. She was also diagnosed with manic depression as a follow-up for her bipolar disorder. 

        It clicked in her head then and there. She'll never be fine. She'll never escape these emotions. She'll always be a freak, and the daughter of a freak. She'll always be the daughter codependent on mommy's money. The realization made her sob, try to suffocate herself with her pillow. She was placed under suicide watch inside the hospital, and she was kept for three days, when the doctors finally decided to let her go. 

        As always, word got around in school, and more rumors spread. The constant whispers, the constant feeling of eyes watching her, they were all looking at her, they were all watching her just like Ren. It was too much. 

        Why was she being punished for simply just existing? Even when she tries to take her life, they still look down on her. 

        She had her scholarship to her dream med school denied after the newspaper headlines made way to them. They sent an email about how they couldn't accept a mentally ill scholar to care for others in need. All the other colleges she applied for wouldn't accept her either.

        Everything was taken from her now. She had absolutely nothing to look forward to now. How can you possibly live if you have nothing to live for? 

        Ren was knocking at her window again tonight. Tomorrow was graduation, tomorrow was going to be her final day free from him. 

        Go away. She pleaded. Please, just leave me alone.

        After one too many knocks on her window, she finally walked over to the window, ripping it open and jumping out the window, tackling him and pulling down to the ground. She got up on top of him and started punching his face.

        "Fuck you, Ren! Fuck you! You ruined my future! You ruined my life!" she cried, her fists hitting anything on his face, before it hurt too much to punch him anymore. 

        When her fists stop hitting him, he looked up at her with a sickeningly sweet smile.

        "My love, I'm so proud of you for communicating your feelings with me." He cooed, his hands moving up and holding her shaking hands. 

        "I want to die. I want to die." She cried, her figure shaking as tears dropped on his bloodied face. 

        "So that's where these scars came from..." Ren muttered, running his fingers along her stitches. "My love, why must you cut your wings? If you cut too deep, you'll lose your ability to fly!"

        "I don't wanna fly. I just want to die." She spoke through tears. 

        "I never wanted you to waste a drop of your blood. I only want mine to spill..." he spoke, his fingers going from her arms to her thighs, trying to soothe her, but the feeling only made her feel worse. 

        "Don't touch me! I'll kill you!" she shouted. 

        It’d be such an honor dying by your hands. To feel your skin on mine. Please, tell me how you’ll kill me? Will it be slow or long? Use me as you wish and dispose of me!” he laughed, taunting her as he fed into her fantasies, as if the idea was actually entertaining to him. 

        No. She doesn't want to kill him. She doesn't want to touch him if he'll just enjoy it and act like a masochistic freak. She just wants him to disappear from her life. 

        "Please, please just let me go. Please just let me die. I can't. I can't do this." (Y/N) begged. "Just let me go. Please."

        "I'm sorry, but you're mine, angel. I can't live without you." He frowned. "Finders keepers."

        (Y/N) cried, slapping his hands off her thighs. She stood up off his bleeding figure, climbing back into her bedroom window.

        "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, my love!" he smiled, blood leaking out of his mouth. 

        She ignored his words, shutting her window and locking it. She walked to her bathroom and washed her hands off in the sink, before crawling into her bed and crying herself to sleep. 

        .

        .

        It was graduation day, but she felt anything but excited. It's not like a high school diploma would fix everything in her life. 

        However, depending on how she plays this out, she just might be able to escape this.

        She received her diploma on stage, with little to nobody except her parents clapping (Ren was in line, but he wasn't going to clap for the girl who "tried to frame him for murder"). She quickly exited the stage, sneaking out of the ceremony and running out to the parking lot. She hopped into her car and drove away.

        For weeks she's planned this out. She sold her phone and laptop in case there was any tracking malware installed by Ren, buying a new phone and laptop. She gave her parents her phone number and told them not to give her number to absolutely anyone. She checked all over her car, inside and outside, looking at every nook and cranny inside the engine and outside for any airtags or tracking devices. She packed up all her clothes and important essentials, putting them in luggage and shoving it into her car. She closed all her old bank accounts and opened new ones now that she was 18, bank accounts her family or nobody else could access, transferring all her money into said accounts. She only had a few hundred bucks, and she refuses to stoop so low as to ask her parents for money (she does not want to be indebted to Rose). She said her goodbyes to her parents this morning, knowing she won't see them after the graduation. She even found Ren's car in the parking lot before the ceremony and slashed all his tires so he couldn't drive after her. 

        She didn't know where she was driving, but she was driving away from her hometown, from her family, and from Ren. She'll find a new home, and she'll learn to be happy there. She'll live inside of her car until then, and she'll search for a job until she can eventually save up money for a place.

        Weeks went by as she drove in and out states, looking for a place to settle. She slept on the side of the roads, and picked up cheap food from any gas station or fast food joint she could find. She would use free wi-fi from those fast food joints or public places, and she would take showers in the public showers of trucker gas stations (she would wear socks during her showers though, like hell she'll contract ringworm or any other fungi). 

        Living homeless was uncomfortable and downright scary, but she felt it was better than being Ren's wife. 

        A month into her escape, she received a sketchy email from a supposed learning institution. The supposedly email basically summed up to them being notified that you were looking for a med school, but because of your recent arrest charges, you can't get into any schools. The institution is offering to accept her into their school under any medical degree and skill due to the fact their school doesn't accept discrimination of any kind. 

        It was extremely sketchy, it even had a poster of a doctor recommending euthanasia for suicidal people (honestly she could use that). 

        But it was something? If she actually got a degree from these guys, then she could really get her life back on track! Get a job! Become a pediatric nurse! She could actually make something out of herself and be happy on her own!

        She responded back to the email, surprised to see the email reply not even ten minutes later. The email came with a short "thank you", followed by an address a few states away. (Y/N) gathered her items and walked out of the dining establishment, hopping into her car and putting on a GPS to follow the address.

        This was her future, wherever it will lead her, it must at least be better than Ren.

        .

        .

        (Y/N) woke up from her sleep, tired and disoriented. She felt a warm presence holding her, and looked up to see Andrew. Andrew's hand was placed on her head, his other arm wrapped tightly around her body, holding her close in a protective manner. 

        (Y/N) tried to carefully sneaking out of his hold, but it was to no use. She didn't want to wake him up, so she just resorted to lying there. She looked at her clock, noticing it was 8 A.M, far earlier than she'd like to be up by. 

        She looked over at Andrew and smiled. It's funny how she enjoys this practical stranger's company far more than she enjoyed Ren's, but I guess the difference between them is Ren was a stalker who didn't have any boundaries, and Andrew wasn't. 

        (Y/N) mentally gushed over his handsome face, resisting the urge to giggle as she saw drool on his lips. 

        What? She's allowed to mentally enjoy the peaceful sight. Who cares if he's a murderer staying with her rent free and she murdered his sister. She doesn't have many peaceful things in her life, shut up and let her enjoy this moment before her life goes to hell once more!

        She remembered that her parents had spent the night, and that (Y/N) had express-shipped a package today for Andrew. 

        (Y/N) groaned, closing her eyes for a second before reopening them. She placed her hand on Andrew's arm, shaking him until he woke up.

        "Uh... (Y/N)?" Andrew muttered, sleepily. "Something wrong...?"

        "Morning, sleeping beauty." (Y/N) teased. "Ready to start today? We have a bunch of shopping to do."

        "To spend a day with you? I'm honored." Andrew hummed sarcastically, before reaching his hand out and touching her cheek, gently pinching and tugging it. "Let's get today started, bedhead." He smirked, before ruffling her messy hair. 

Hello, my stars! I know Andrew didn't show up in this like, at all, but don't worry, chapter 8 will have tons of Andrew. I'll make it up to y'all by doing a cute little date with Andrew and (Y/N), where cute, wholesome things happen. Nothing bad.

Chapter 7 is done! Phew! This was probably the fastest I've ever written a chapter for you guys. I've just had a lot of free time this week and I felt really motivated to do this chapter, so I'm glad it's out! Chapter 8 has most of its outline work done, so now it's just the matter of getting to write it! The series is starting to wrap up, but I think it probably won't end until chapter 10-12 (no promises though).

I also know that Andrew wasn't (was barely) in this chapter. I wanted to do a chapter of (Y/N)'s backstory, but I didn't expect it to get so long... I just didn't want to half-ass it. It was better separating the chapters after all though!

Don't worry, chapter 8 will have tons of Andrew. I'll make it up to y'all by doing a cute little date with Andrew and (Y/N), where cute, wholesome things happen. Nothing bad. Thank you all for reading!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for requests!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, current chapter, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

It took Callum a minute to pinpoint what woke him. The ache in his chest, while acute, was no stronger than it had been when he’d slipped into sleep. The wind rustled the trees outside, but in a way that was gentle and static. A way that made the sharp, shuddering sounds coming from beside him all the more obvious in comparison.

“Rayla? Are you crying?”

He fully expected to push him away, to deny it. 

“Yeah,” she said instead. 

He sat up, and she did too, allowing him to wrap his arms around her from behind and hold her while the sobs wracked her body until her breathing evened and she leaned limply against him.

There was no point in asking why she was crying. But in Callum’s long experience with grief, he’d come to realize that waves were often brought on by different triggers, came to surface in different ways. It wasn’t always a bludgeon that knocked you flat with the overwhelming reality of absence. Too often, it was a million knives, each uniquely sharpened by a different memory or missed experience, all of them ready to cut you in a different way than the last. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly.

“My mom’s moonberry surprise. You can get it at any café in the Silvergrove, and Ethari always made it for my birthday, but no one made it quite like her.” A wet, mirthless laugh tore from her throat. “Isn’t that stupid? She and my dad are gone forever, and I’m thinking about food. I mean— I had years to get over all this after they were banished. I’ve been getting along without them all this time. I don’t know why it’s all hitting me all over again.”

Callum bit his lip, trying to call on the part of him that had been born from a poet, trying to call on the words that would make her feel not only understood but heard. 

“My first memory of my dad is also my last one,” he said softly.

Rayla stiffened in his arms, turning around to look at him.

“It’s actually my first memory ever. Mom told me Dad was holding me, and she was holding him, so we were all together in a knot. It’s really hazy, but I can feel… arms around me, this sense of warmth. This wet breathing— my dad, probably, or maybe my mom crying. And then… stillness.” Callum sighed. “My only memory of my dad was of him dying. I shouldn’t miss him, right? I’ve lived my whole life without him, practically, and I had Harrow to fill in the gaps he left. But there are… times when I want to be held, but no one does it quite right. Foods that my mom says I’ve loved all my life, things he made, that just don’t taste as good as they should. Conversations I have with him when I can’t sleep, even though I have no idea how he’d reply.”

He paused, waiting for Rayla to step on the bridge he’d built between them, to offer her own feelings on the difference between her birth parents and her adoptive ones, the ways grief had crept into her own life. Instead, her response came from an entirely different quarter. 

“Your very first memory,” she rasped, “is of being left.” She closed her eyes tightly. “I told myself I was being so noble, so sacrificing, and I left you. Just like our parents did to us.”

Callum cupped her face and gently brought it to his, pressing a quick, soft kiss against her lips. “No, you didn’t,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re right here.”

Feeling her brow wrinkle in confusion, he pulled back and took her hand, tugging her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

They slipped out of the Nexus’s guest bedroom and into the garden, wrapping their arms around each other as a defense against the chill in the wind. Rayla followed him silently down a stone stairwell, coming to a stop with him when they reached the metal bench at its base. 

“Do you remember this place?” Callum asked.

She nodded. “It’s where we really talked for the first time about what happened to the king.”

“That’s right.” Callum drew her down to sit on the bench, facing him, in the exact position they’d been in two years before. “That day… it was the worst day I’ve ever had, aside from when I found out about my mom. Even worse than the day I read your letter. Because being left by someone is awful, but there’s nothing worse than knowing for certain they’re never coming back. Of course you’re grieving your parents, Rayla. It’s a different kind of loss.

“I was so angry with you when you first came back, because as the years had gone by, I’d begun to believe you were the second kind of gone, and it was almost too much to bear. I thought, if I pushed you away, I wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of pain again. But the day I got the news about Harrow, when I felt like the emptiness inside me was going to eat me alive, do you know the only thing that made me feel better? It was your arms around me. It was knowing that no matter how much pain I was in, I would still have a champion to fall back on, someone brave and kind and devoted who would always be there to help me carry the weight if it got to be too much.” He leaned forwards and kissed her forehead. “And I was right.”

Rayla had started to cry again, and he gently wiped the tears away. “You were always intending to come back, and you did. I never should have pushed you away, and I’m so glad you never let me. I’m so glad you’re still here. And Rayla, I’m going to be here too. Dealing with this, knowing your parents are really gone for good, it’s not going to be easy. It’s always going to hurt. But I’m going to do everything I can to help you bear it, and I’m going to build a life with you around it. As long as we’re together, we’ll find a way through.”

“And we will be together.”

Rayla’s tears had dried, and her voice was fierce. She took his hand tightly in both of hers and pressed a firm kiss against it. 

“No more losses,” she vowed. 

“Been there, done that,” he agreed, and she actually managed a tiny smile.

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “I don’t know what comes next. But no matter what it is, I’m going to be right by your side. I promise.”

The corners of Callum’s lips turned up too. “It’s a deal.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and he held her tightly, catching her as she’d caught him, as he knew with a glowing certainty they would do for each other as long as they were able. And they stayed there, fortified against the cold, against the ache of lost souls and the terror of distant smoke, until the first rays of a sunrise blanketed them with their warmth.

[justsescape]

"Where are the pumps, anon?! It's been over five minutes and the milk is going to burst out any second!"

Asuka’s presence in the living room inspired – nay, forced – a bit of creative remodeling. The coffee table, the television, the game consoles, the decorative plants; just about everything was shunted into your bedroom until it resembled a packed storage unit. Ironically, her overdeveloped breasts could fill one up as well. Maybe two.

“Hmph, what a moron… always losing the most important things…”

While your hurried search through various kitchen cabinets continued, Asuka let her arms spread out across the back of the couch like she was lounging in the summer sun. Her boobs, evidently, were just as carefree. To say they resembled beanbag chairs was to describe their texture and heft, but it was to vastly undersell their sheer size. There was a reason you had to move everything out of that room: you could practically hide a car underneath just a single one of her massive, massive tits. In fact, if she were to stand up and lose her footing, she could fall into her own cleavage and get swallowed up entirely like she stumbled into quicksand.

“And don’t complain about not being able to find my nipples again,” Asuka scowled, pointing a finger in your direction. She was only visible from the shoulders up; the rest of her was obscured by her gigantic bust like she was underneath a down comforter. “Just pick up the ends of my chest with a shovel and they’re right there, rubbing up against the damn carpet. Which you should do something about, by the way. It’s so uncomfortable against my skin! Why haven’t you done something about it already?!”

Your eyebrow twitched. Need you remind her of why she was here in the first place? Sightings of her being lifted by crane, or with her garage-wide bust stuck in the sliding double-doors at the local grocery outlet – such incidents racked up bills like you were intending to compete with the national debt. Not to mention the attention it drew. “She’s so big she can’t walk without her wheelbarrows,” one would bystander would say to another. “Do you think she sleeps on them like they’re a mattress?” Any attempt at a public appearance was met with this kind of commentary. And she has had more than enough of the “hyper hourglass” comparisons since she started attending college. It was more like her body was a cyclone: dangerous for most, a force of nature that walloped against buckling support beams and swung like wrecking balls, but always attracting a few foolhardy stormchasers.

Perhaps she’d be nicer if she was reminded of the privilege of being housed in privacy. Finally returning with the pump's accessories, however, did not inspire this sort of kindness.

"It's about damn time," Asuka said, her venomous tongue whipping up often enough to start a cyclone of its own. "Don’t you care about the floor in your own apartment? One day you’re going to be too slow and I’m going to leak all over it!”

Circumnavigating her chest – which required you to slide against the wall like a stealthy video game character – you eventually found yourself at the opposite end of the room. Staring down at Asuka was like being on the opposite end of a long dining table in a fancy castle. Except, instead of such a table, only her quaking boobs spanned the gulf between the two of you.

"St-stop looking at me and get to work, dummkopf!" Asuka crossed her arms over herself as if such a maneuver could still hide her chest. "I can feel it starting down there! Hurry up and find my nipples!"

You dragged towels across the carpet like you were a beaver dragging piles of wood in front of a lake. A shovel wasn't needed; you just handled her breasts by hand, letting her gelatinous flesh bulge and squeeze between your fingers and droop over your forearms. Asuka's skin was peppered with reddened rashes and surfacing veins alike. Occasionally, you would graze against one of the more tender areas and hear her try to mute her own instinctive squeals.

But with how big she had become, the search didn't last long. Nipples had long since won the size competition against manhole covers. Her areolae spread across her pristine skin until they each spanned the width of your outstretched arms. And speaking of stretching, that’s exactly what you had to do to fasten the plastic cups on to her unruly tits. Her breasts didn’t jiggle so much as they rippled like cresting waves.

"Mmmmnnf... nngnnngggh..." Asuka's hands were clamped over her mouth. Eyes shut, shoulders tensed; surely beneath her titanic boobs, her legs were squirming wildly about. When you were burying your arms deep into her underbust in search of her nipples, you could feel how the movement of her legs moved her entire chest around like it was a slinky.

The pump was an electronic device that had forever found its place in the corner beside you. Besides the couch, it was the only furnishing that wasn't allowed to leave this room. The hoses that connected it with the two plastic cups on her boobs were as thick as those that came off the side of a fire engine.

All it took was a flick of a switch.

WHIIIIIIIIRRRRRRR...

The hoses sprang to life in an instant, thickening up as milk flowed through them like they were connected to a fire hydrant. Milk pummeled the insides of the plastic cups like water dousing a windshield in a car wash. The sounds were crushing, deafening – but none of them grabbed your attention quite as much as Asuka's own uncontrollable whimpering.

"Nnnnghh... mmNNNnnfgh... haaah... haaah...~"

To visit a historic landmark; to look up at a rare eclipse; to watch how Asuka's ferocious attitude turned on a dime as the milk started to flow. Her delicate fingers dropped from her mouth and gripped the leather upholstery of your couch like she was bracing for some sort of impact. Sweat dripped from the tips of her eyelashes. Even her legs kicked involuntarily underneath the weight of her boobs like she was being tested for reflexes. There was no question about it. Her boobs ruled her entire body.

"...o-okay... y-you did it... hhNNnnngh... just in time..." She may have been on the other side of the room across a horizon of cleavage, but Asuka's smile was unmistakable. It was so warm that it could bring the sun up during the dead of night. "...I guess as... MMMNF... a reward... y-you can p-put that cowbell collar around my neck..."