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fantasyescapes17 · 6 months ago

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Spinsters do not Need Chaperones (Part 2, Seungcheol Route)

Chaperones are for beautiful young girls. A plain older woman like you, with neither fortune nor youth to recommend her, is hardly in danger of losing her virtue. You've long resigned yourself to always being the supporting role in someone else’s romance.

But could it be that love and marriage have not disappeared entirely beyond your reach? This spinster may capture the heart of an eligible bachelor yet, if only she makes the right choices…

Genre: Seungcheol x female! reader, regency!AU (Sort of Bridgerton-esque but we keep it PG)

Word Count: 4.5k+

Series Masterlist here

You discovered, much to your dismay, that none of your wants or desires could withstand Lady Beaumont’s wild force of personality and will.

It is unnecessary to repeat the exact conversations that took place in the Beaumont manor that afternoon. It is only relevant to note that by the next morning, your belongings had been packed and you found yourself in a carriage with Lady Beaumont and Julia, headed directly for Portsmouth.

“We must see if we cannot find you a husband in Portsmouth as well,” your aunt commented as the carriage rattled farther and farther away from London. “Surely the place has some naval officers milling about. Once Julia’s engagement is secured, there may be someone the Chois can introduce you to- perhaps some widower that will have you.”

You bit your lip to prevent yourself from responding rudely. It was never worth the effort of an argument with your aunt. You simply nodded.

“You're not sulking because I would not permit you to stay in London, are you?” Lady Beaumont snapped irritably.

You sighed and shook your head. “I am not sulking, aunt.”

“You would do well to put the Kims behind you. It was kind of them to allow you to debut and attend the social season with their daughter, but you are a Beaumont, not a Kim. You don't have a dowry worth mentioning, and the advantages of age and beauty are long past you. You need to be practical and think about who will support you for the rest of your life.”

“Believe me, aunt, I think of little else.”

Your aunt turned away with a huff. Julia had been quiet for most of the ride and seemed to be deep in thoughts of her own. You gave your young cousin a reassuring smile and she smiled back at you, but said nothing.

The journey was long enough that dusk had begun to fall by the time the carriage arrived at the streets of Portsmouth. The Choi estate loomed ahead in the distance, and you peeked curiously out of the carriage window at the large manor. It wasn’t quite as magnificent as the Beaumont estate, but it was certainly a fitting home for a noble family. The sea was very close by. Surely the view of the vast blue waters from the upper stories of the manor would be marvelous.

“It’s not as grand as London but this town really is quite beautiful,” you said to Julia as you both descended the carriage. “Perhaps we shall have a nice time in Portsmouth.”

Julia bit her lip. “I hope so, cousin.”

The servants arrived to carry your luggage inside and a few moments later you were greeted by the arrival of Mr. Choi Seungcheol and his mother, Mrs. Choi.

“How delightful to see you again, Lady Beaumont, girls,” Mrs. Choi greeted you all warmly. You were surprised when the older woman embraced you and Julia. “I do hope you had a safe journey. Please come in, out of the cold! Summer is past and the evenings are quite chilly these days.”

“Yes-yes, our journey was quite pleasant, thank you,” Lady Beaumont replied quickly as she wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “Portsmouth seems very lovely.”

“We hope that you will like it.”

Seungcheol stood a few steps behind his mother. He nodded at you politely when you made eye contact with him, but there was not much of a smile on his face. You returned a polite nod. For Julia’s sake, you sincerely hoped that Mr. Choi was a good man. It was hard to tell what he was thinking behind those dark, charismatic eyes and that unsmiling face.

“This is my housekeeper, Mrs. Williams- she has prepared rooms for you all upstairs and I hope you will find them comfortable,” Mrs. Choi explained. “Mrs. Williams, will you please show our guests to their rooms?”

You followed the housekeeper upstairs, admiring the large and tastefully decorated manor. Lady Beaumont had been provided with her own room, while you and Julia had been given a slightly larger room to share. As soon as Mrs. Williams deposited your belongings and left, you went to the large french window in your room and threw it open.

“We have a lovely view of the garden,” you observed. “But it appears this side of the manor does not face the sea.”

“A very good thing too,” Lady Beaumont muttered. She still had her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders and looked quite pale. “I cannot imagine how cold the sea winds would be at night. Close that window immediately, there is a terrible draught.”

You sighed and shut the window. “Shall we dress for dinner?”

You all dressed and went downstairs for dinner with the Choi family. Seungcheol sat at the head of the large table, and his dark eyes were watchful as Lady Beaumont and Mrs. Choi had an animated conversation about the china, and the difficulties of finding a good cook. You noticed that Seungcheol kept looking between you and Julia repeatedly. Once the first course was completed, he finally addressed your cousin directly.

“How do you like to spend your free time, Miss Julia?” Seungcheol asked your young cousin. His tone was gentle enough but his dark eyes were unsmiling and Julia still looked somewhat afraid of him.

“I-I like music,” Julia whispered.

“I must apologise, Miss Julia, I could not quite hear your response,” Seungcheol admitted.

“I like music,” your cousin repeated a little more loudly. “T-the pianoforte.”

Seungcheol nodded. “Of course. Yes, of course, I had the pleasure of listening to you play back in London. Allow me to compliment you once again on your skills. You played wonderfully.”

Julia blushed and stared at her plate. “Thank you.”

Their conversation was painfully awkward and almost difficult for you to watch. You did not want to interfere but Julia was being incredibly shy and you could see that even Seungcheol was not quite sure how to engage her in conversation. It was your duty as a chaperone to fill in this awkwardness. You cleared your throat and turned to him with a smile.

“Mr. Choi- perhaps you can recommend things for us to do, or places to see while we are in Portsmouth?” you asked lightly.

Mr. Choi seemed almost relieved at your interruption and he turned in his seat to face you. “Of course, Miss Beaumont. I would be delighted to take you all down to the beach tomorrow morning. Portsmouth has many wonderful beaches. I am pleased to say it is one of the few advantages we have over London and the rest of the general countryside.”

You turned to Julia. “Julia! Doesn't the beach sound lovely?”

Julia nodded quickly. “Yes-yes, it does.”

You turned back to Seungcheol. “And the harbour; shall we be able to visit the harbour as well?”

Seungcheol blinked at you in surprise. “Well, certainly, if you like… although the harbour is full of ships and goods and commercial offices. I did not think it would be of particular interest to young ladies.”

Your eyes widened eagerly. “We should love to visit the harbour. Julia and I have just finished reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas. We have oceans and submarines and sea monsters on our mind, don’t we, Julia? We would love to see the naval ports and even your ships, Mr. Choi, if it is not too much trouble to you.”

Seungcheol nodded. “No trouble at all. I shall be delighted to show them to you.”

Mr. Vernon, who had been almost entirely silent until then (you had a strange suspicion that he was hiding a book underneath the table and was reading instead of paying attention to the conversation) looked up and smiled at you. “My brother spends too much time at the harbour already, Miss Beaumont. I am afraid the trouble lies more in bringing him back home.”

Seungcheol looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow- he did not smile but there was a surprising light-heartedness to his tone. “Then perhaps you had better join us, Vernon, so that you may undertake this incredibly difficult task of bringing me back home and not leave it to the ladies.”

“I wish I could, brother, but my exams are coming soon and I must devote myself to studying,” Vernon replied apologetically.

“Is that why you have hidden a book under the table?” you asked him with a playful smile.

Vernon’s ears turned red. “There is no book-”

Seungcheol sighed, although he did not look too angry. “Vernon, surely you can put your studies away for some time while we have guests?”

“Sorry,” Vernon mumbled as he turned his attention back to his dinner. You smiled- and were surprised when Seungcheol caught your eye and gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile of his own. The smile brought a sudden light to Seungcheol’s already handsome face and you were surprised by how charming he looked. But before you could react, Seungcheol had turned to Julia and asked her a question about whether she enjoyed French literature.

The dinner ended pleasantly and Mrs. Choi entreated Julia to play a little music for them in the drawing room before the family retired to bed. You sat down on the comfortable sofa to listen to her performance and were surprised when Seungcheol sat beside you.

“Miss Beaumont,” Seungcheol said to you in a quiet tone that could not be picked up by his mother or your aunt seated near the fireplace. “I must thank you for your thoughtfulness during the conversation at dinner. I hope that Miss Julia’s quietness is simply her nature, and not caused by any behaviour on my part…”

Your eyes widened. “Oh! No, you must forgive Julia’s quietness. She is only a little shy since she has not spent much time in society or among gentlemen. I assure you, she will open up soon and has a very lovely personality.”

Seungcheol nodded and cleared his throat. “I am… glad to hear it. I suffer from a similar handicap. I have lived in Portsmouth too long and failed to cultivate the art of polite conversation that I would have developed if I had spent more time among young ladies in London society.”

You smiled at him warmly. “There is nothing lacking in your conversation, Mr. Choi. You must only forgive Julia for being too young and inexperienced.”

“Youth is hardly a fault,” he replied thoughtfully. “And inexperience- well, that can surely be remedied with time and effort.”

“I agree.”

“Then I shall only thank you,” he replied gently, “and wish you a good night, Miss Beaumont.”

“Good night, Mr. Choi.”

—-------------------------------------------------------

Lady Beaumont declared that she had developed the chills and that nothing should distress her more than being exposed to the harsh autumn weather on a cold morning. She had therefore resolved to stay indoors all day. You were at liberty to depart for the Portsmouth harbour after breakfast, entirely unburdened by your aunt’s company.

“I hope Lady Beaumont is not unwell,” Seungcheol enquired politely as he helped you and Julia board the carriage. “She does seem rather troubled by the cold.”

You chuckled. “You may rest assured that my aunt is in perfect health, Mr. Choi. Her chills have everything to do with her hatred of long walks, and nothing to do with the weather or her health.”

Seungcheol smiled. “I am relieved to hear it.”

The harbour was a short distance away. You were pleasantly surprised by how dazzlingly beautiful the blue sea was, even among the hustle and bustle of the busy harbour. Mr. Choi had been telling the truth. The harbour was a place of business, not exactly a tourist destination, but you still found yourself excited by the sight of the enormous ships anchored in the distance.

“It smells of fish,” Julia mumbled to you.

Seungcheol had overheard her. He merely nodded as he helped Julia down from the carriage. “Yes, I’m afraid it is rather early and the fishermen will be loading the boats with their catches to transport to nearby towns. Here; please use my handkerchief to cover your nose if it is too unpleasant.”

Julia blushed but accepted his handkerchief gratefully.

“Are any of these ships yours, Mr. Choi?” you asked, interested.

Mr. Choi nodded. “Some of the ships undergoing repairs are at the docks, and I will be glad to show them to you. I am afraid that my best ones are all away at sea, bringing goods back from the colonies.”

“What sort of goods?” you wondered.

Mr. Choi smiled. His eyes lit up and you could tell that he enjoyed talking about his ships and business. There was a tinge of pride in his voice as he explained it to you. “Everything the merchants in the colonies hire us to transport. Cotton, tea, silks, even precious metals and antiques. Well, almost everything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Almost everything? May I ask why you qualify it so”

Seungcheol coughed and lowered his gaze slightly. “I’m afraid the merchants sometimes wish to transport people instead of goods, and naturally I do not offer my ships for that sort of trade.”

Your eyes widened in understanding. The slave trade. Julia noticed the expression on your face and looked between you and Seungcheol, confused.

“I do not understand. Why should you refuse to transport people?” Julia asked innocently.

“Because people are not goods, Julia,” you replied quietly. “Let us leave it at that for now.”

“On a more pleasant note,” Seungcheol said brightly, “the Royal Navy also uses this harbour for their ships and there are many senior naval officers here. I see Commodore James approaching us now, if you will allow me to introduce you to him.”

“Of course, we shall be delighted.”

A small group of naval officers in uniform approached you from the harbour. Julia’s grip on your arm tightened, and you saw that she had her eyes on the officers and was deeply blushing. You smiled to yourself- you remembered the days when you had fawned over gentlemen in uniform.

“Mr. Choi!” the senior naval officer at the front of the group greeted. He was an older man with slightly greying hair and a bright smile. “How wonderful to see you here- and in the company of two beautiful young women, no less!”

Seungcheol nodded politely. “Commodore James, allow me to introduce you to Miss Beaumont and her cousin, Miss Julia Beaumont. They are my mother’s guests and are staying with us at Portsmouth for the fall.”

You were surprised when Commodore James reached out to kiss first your hand, and then Julia’s. He then introduced you to the rest of the men standing behind him. You tried to concentrate and remember their names and ranks, as Commodore James rattled them off, but you were sure you would forget them soon.

“I hope you have an excellent stay in Portsmouth,” Commodore James said, addressing you and Julia. “May I ask if you ladies are fond of dancing?”

You nodded. “Indeed, we are.”

“Then we shall hope to see you at the assembly rooms one of these evenings, and you must each reserve some of your dances for me and my officers,” Commodore James insisted.

“We would be glad to,” you replied politely.

“Excellent. I am afraid you must excuse us for today- we have an appointment to make. Good day, Miss Beaumont and Miss Julia.”

You and Julia curtsied politely to the officers as they walked away. You could tell that Julia’s attention was almost entirely diverted and she kept glancing back at the retreating officers. You couldn't blame her, really. Some of them were rather handsome. But it wouldn't do for Mr. Choi to notice her distractions, so you hurried to engage him in another conversation.

“Perhaps we might see your offices, Mr. Choi?” you asked quickly.

Seungcheol blinked. “Oh-yes, of course. This way.”

You kept a grip on Julia’s hand and followed Mr. Choi as he led you towards his offices. Mr. Choi ran his shipping business from a large building further down from the harbour and you were unsurprised to find the office full of clerks and accountants, writing letters and poring over ledgers. Some of the clerks bowed their heads towards you politely, clearly surprised to see ladies at the office.

“Well, here we are,” Seungcheol said. “I am afraid the office is a rather uninteresting place.”

“It is fascinating,” you replied honestly. “I am quite curious to know what exactly happens here in this office, Mr. Choi.”

“Correspondence, mostly,” Seungcheol replied with a smile. Despite declaring himself that the office was uninteresting, he clearly did not really think so. “Taking orders, recording consignments, planning routes and schedules, hiring seamen, drafting bills of lading, insurance policies and invoices…”

Julia frowned. “It sounds dreadfully complex just to bring some cargo over on a ship,” she remarked.

Seungcheol nodded. “I'm afraid it can be.”

“It must be a lot for you to manage,” you said.

“Not at all. I enjoy it very much,” Seungcheol replied honestly. “I built this business myself. I do occasionally wish I had help- I asked Vernon to join me in running the business, but he has his own passions to follow and wants to become a barrister. I cannot blame him. The shipping business is not for everyone.”

“It is very admirable,” you told him honestly.

“Thank you, Miss Beaumont.”

Julia glanced around the office, clearly bored. “Might we go to the beach now?”

“Of course… allow me to call for the carriage.”

—-----------------------------------------------

The Portsmouth beach was incredibly beautiful. You felt a sort of resounding peace among the crashing waves and the vast blueness of the ocean and sky. You closed your eyes as a gentle spray of water from the crashing waves fell across your face.

“I see that the beach is to your liking,” Seungcheol commented.

You opened your eyes and reallzed that his dark gaze was fixed on you. You flushed involuntarily- there was something very charismatic about the soft smiles that Seungcheol bestowed rarely and briefly. He was indeed a handsome man and you were, after all, just a woman.

“Yes, I like it very much,” you replied. “The ocean is beautiful. I saw it from the carriage as soon as we arrived yesterday. I had been hoping that we would have a view of it from your manor.”

Seungcheol's eyebrows furrowed. “Do you not have a view of it from your room?”

“Oh- no, our rooms face your lovely garden instead,” you replied lightly. You turned back to look for Julia, who had fallen behind and stopped to fiddle with her shoes. “Julia! Are you all right?” you called out. The crashing waves almost drowned out your voice.

“I am all right, there is just some sand in my shoes!” Julia yelled back.

“Do you need help?”

“No- only wait for me a few moments while I turn them inside out!” Julia called.

You nodded and turned back towards Seungcheol, who was still looking at you. His hands were clasped behind his back and his broad shoulders seemed a little tense. His dark eyes faltered for a moment and then he spoke.

“Miss Beaumont,” he said softly.

You looked up at him. “Yes?”

“I know that our acquaintance is too short for me to speak to you so openly. But my experience of you has been that you are a very thoughtful and mature woman who is capable of understanding the complex nature of life and relationships.”

You stared up at him in surprise, trying not to feel too embarrassed. “Oh- well- I cannot say that this is a compliment I have ever received before, Mr. Choi, but I thank you for it all the same.”

“If I speak to you with a level of honesty that is unusual for our short acquaintance, I hope you will not resent me for it.”

“I should never resent someone for being honest,” you assured him.

“Then I will take this opportunity to speak plainly about the elephant in the room, and most certainly the reason that you and your family find yourselves in Portsmouth. The entailment of the Beaumont estate due to the lack of male heirs in your family.”

You stared at him. You were embarrassed, but gratified that Seungcheol had taken the first step to actually broach the subject that was on everyone’s mind. It was painful to think about the possibility of months of continued tip-toeing around the subject out of a sense of propriety.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I beg you not to let the entailment trouble you, Mr. Choi. We understand, the law being what it is-”

“But it does trouble me, exceedingly so,” Seungcheol replied firmly. There was a sudden fire in his eyes. “Miss Beaumont, I am a very proud man. Perhaps you have heard of this through rumours but my late father was a gambler. He gambled away my family’s estate until there was almost nothing left by the time he died and I turned of age. I have spent the better part of a decade building my shipping business and restoring my family’s finances and reputation in society.”

You looked up at Seungcheol with wide eyes and nodded. “Indeed, I have heard as much about you, Mr. Choi. You are known for being a self-made man and I have seen here today what you have built. You are well within your rights to be proud of your success.”

Seungcheol took a deep breath. “Thank you. But I want your family to understand that it gave me no pleasure to learn of the entailment. It is not in my nature to rejoice at a handout, especially not when it is being stolen from the family it rightfully belongs to.”

You sighed. “There isn't really any question of rightfulness, here, the law is what it is-”

“Yes,” Seungcheol replied. “If it was within my power to refuse the estate, or to transfer it back to you and your cousin, then I would do so in a heartbeat. But it is not in my power to do so. The terms of the entailment will not permit me to transfer the Beaumont estate to anyone other than my own male heirs.”

“We understand, Mr. Choi,” you assured him quietly.

Seungcheol inhaled sharply. “I have discussed this with my mother, and we have agreed that the only conscionable manner to deal with the Beaumont estate is to offer a union of our families, to ensure that any son I pass the estate to will be of Beaumont lineage.”

You took a deep breath and looked up at him. Seungcheol’s dark eyes were worried; you could see the honesty behind them. This was not a performance or empty words. Seungcheol was genuinely conflicted and distressed by the knowledge that he would be inheriting your family’s fortune and estate. He clearly considered it his duty to do whatever was in his power to ensure it stayed in your family.

“Then I must return the favour and be equally open with you as well, Mr. Choi,” you said honestly. “A union of the families is exactly what my aunt is hoping for. We have come to Portsmouth in the expectation that you will be persuaded to marry Julia, and that the Beaumont estate can remain within our family.”

Seungcheol was silent for a long moment. He looked at you, and then back at Julia. Your young cousin was still balancing carefully on one foot as she struggled to empty beach sand out of her shoes.

“Of course,” Seungcheol said finally. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and left it slightly ruffled. “But Julia is… young.”

“She is of marriageable age,” you replied.

“No doubt,” Seungcheol replied quickly. “Since Lord Beaumont is still in good health, I assume there is no need to act with any haste. I would like to spend more time with Julia and your family. But I hope it will bring Lady Beaumont some relief to learn that I have every intention of uniting our families when the time is right. I trust you will convey this to her in the appropriate manner?”

You bowed your head. “Of course, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you.”

You opened your mouth to respond but Julia had already come running over to you; her hair was a little dishevelled and she looked annoyed.

“There is no end of sand in my shoes,” she mumbled. “May we return to the manor?”

“Yes, indeed, let us return.”

—------------------------------------------------

You went to your aunt’s bedroom after dinner, to tell her about the events of the day. It would bring her some relief to know for certain that Seungcheol intended to marry Julia, and you did not want to deny her that peace of mind.

“I am not sure what I think of him saying all this to you,” your aunt admitted with a frown, “but I suppose he was sensible enough to know not to say it to Julia.”

“She is too young, and still dreams of love,” you muttered to your aunt. “She would not have enjoyed speaking of her own marriage in such… economical terms.”

Lady Beaumont sighed. “All the same, it is indeed a relief to know that Mr. Choi intends to do the right thing. Our time here is not wasted after all. We shall rest easy after your uncle passes.”

You nodded. “We are lucky, aunt. Mr. Choi is… well, he seems to be a very good man. I find his behaviour quite admirable.”

“Well it's not much use to you,” your aunt snapped. “You must still try to find yourself a husband, although we cannot hope for anyone too rich. Mrs. Choi talks highly of a certain widower called Commodore James. Perhaps you should visit the assembly rooms and try to dance with this man.”

You winced. “Aunt, he must be twenty years my senior.’

“If you wanted a young man then you should have found one while you were young,” Lady Beaumont said dismissively. “Don't come to me now in your late twenties and complain to me about the age of your suitors. It will be a relief if we can find one at all. Now good night.”

“Good night, aunt,” you muttered.

You walked back to the room you shared with Julia, only to find that there were a few maids carrying your luggage out of the room. You stopped in your tracks and called out to one of them.

“Are those my dresses? Where are you taking those?” you asked.

The maid placed your trunk down and bowed. “Apologies, Miss Beaumont, Mr. Choi asked us to have you moved to a different room on the other end of the corridor. He said to put you in one with a better view of the ocean.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh-yes, thank you. That would be lovely,” you muttered.

“I will show you your new room, please follow me.”

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#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #s.coups x reader #regency!au

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et-2112 · 2 years ago

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HI KOREY!!! i request Wally fluff where he's just processing the feelings of having a silly little crush!! just because it's cute :D

OF COURSE MY FRIEND ‼️‼️

❤️🧡💛💙

❤️ Wally didn’t know what to do when the fluttery feelings of a developing crush started overtaking his thought process in every way it could. While he’s painting, he smiles as he always does, but this time it’s because he keeps adding small red hearts around the subject of his art. The piece could be about anything; an apple, a lovely landscape, a portrait, or anything else he’s decided to draw that day, but he simply can’t get his mind off of you and needs to add little touches of his love into the painting to let it out somehow.

🧡 He’ll lay anywhere inside Home for hours, usually facedown, kicking his feet and wondering if he can visualize anything else but you. Apples, he thinks, but then he just sees himself gifting a basket of them to his beloved crush. He kicks his feet faster and covers his face, so unused to the feelings he’s getting.

💛 Whenever he’s speaking with you, his usually monotonous, smoothly slow words come out laced with stammers and halts in speech, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering sillily around and making it difficult for him to form coherent thoughts around you. You’re always so endlessly kind and patient with him, which only makes his helpless crush grow with every time it happens.

💙 While walking outside with Julie, he’s sharing a pleasant conversation with her. His smile is bright, his hands are emoting, and he’s laughing is silly staccato laugh with her as he walks down the street. The moment he sees your house approaching on the horizon, however, he can’t bring himself to do anything but fiddle with his hands in front of him, looking with his face angled down at the ground but still smiling as widely as ever. Julia asks him what’s wrong, but he tells her that nothing is wrong at all — it’s just that he gets so dreadfully nervous whenever he’s near you. She’s confused at first with his use of the word “dreadful”, as you are a very cheery neighbor just as he is, but she quickly realizes what’s going on when she sees his cute blushing face. She informs him with a delighted exclamation that he has a crush, and spends the next thirty minutes gleefully explaining the concept to him. He listens attentively as they talk, resting together on a colorful bench for the last ten minutes. Now that he knows what’s happening to him, he just helplessly falls deeper into love.

❤️ He loves to maintain eye contact with everyone that he loves, but can never seem to hold a gaze with yours for longer than five seconds. You find this unusual for him, but adorable nonetheless, when he looks away flushed in the face with a bashful smile.

🧡 He talks about you fondly to Home when he’s lounging about inside, always answered by wooden knocks and creaks that make him laugh and blush more, understanding Home’s communicative noises as playful teasing about his crush on you.

💛 He wants to tell you about what’s going on in his head, but every time he comes close to doing so, he trips up on his words and he has to collect his thoughts elsewhere to try and prepare to do it again. He considers asking Julie to help tell you for him, but decides against it because it’s his crush and he’s going to make you aware of it. Once he finally manages to inform you with the cutest little smile, he’s quite surprised to hear that you’ve known for a long time. A lot of cheerful explaining and flustered Wally later, it’s revealed that Wally was not subtle about his crush at all. He’s slightly embarrassed, but mostly happy, so excited to be on the same page as you after simmering in his silly crush for weeks.

💙 He still doesn’t quite understand his feelings completely, sometimes even the smallest things make him blush and smile wider when you do them, things which have never made him react in such a way before. He tells himself that It’s significant because it’s his beloved that’s doing them instead of one of his many friends, so it’s special. Sometimes something that happens makes him so happy that he stims or hugs you tightly, making the cutest squeals and happy noises of a silly little puppet man in love.

❤️🧡💛💙

-> Request Post <-

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally welcome home #welcome home wally #welcome home x reader #x reader #wally darling x reader #wally x reader #no y/n #no use of y/n #HES SO SILLY BILLY #such a cutie #waaaaaa #oh look at me! /q #SILLY BOY #fics by et

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daydreamtofiction · 25 days ago

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The Feature XXI // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | First Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) While on assignment at another glamorous event, Quinn takes the opportunity to have some fun. Though it doesn't quite go the way she'd hoped.

Chapter Word Count: 8K

Chapter Warnings: Morally-grey reader, strong language, adult and sexual themes, tones of jealousy and possessiveness, fake event, op-ed excerpts contain graphic imagery. Quinn back at it again with her nightmarish antics. Readers must be 18+

Join the Tag List Here*

Julia would bounce her knee when she sat at her desk; one leg crossed over the other, the heel of her Louboutin slingback clinking against the table leg with an irritating rhythm. You were sitting across from her as she read your final draft, your gaze focused on the blood red sole of her shoe, the remnants of the discount sticker she hadn’t fully peeled off.

She placed the papers on the desk and cleared her throat. You looked up at her, only then realising you’d been making a face; eyes narrowed, lip curled disdainfully. It wasn’t intentional, your face just settled that way sometimes. So you softened your edges, rounding your eyes and relaxing your jaw as you waited for her to speak.

“Quinn…” she sighed.

Your thorns quickly returned; lids turning heavy with indignation as you rolled your shoulders and pressed your back into the chair.

“You know what I’m going to say,” she continued with a patronising smile. “It’s well written, there’s no denying that, but it’s not going in the mag.”

“Why not?” you asked bluntly.

She picked up the papers and licked her thumb, using it to flick to the second page where she began to read aloud. “I just wanted those men to stop looking at me. I wanted to erase myself, piece by piece, I imagined my face sloughing away, then my arms, my breasts, until there was nothing left but a pool of flesh and marrow where I’d once stood. But then, I thought, would they even care? Or would they still find pleasure in my remains; dig their hands into the slurry and let it slip between their fingers. And that scared me more than disappearing altogether...”

You blinked at her, waiting for her to explain the problem. But the way she was looking at you made it seem like you should have already known.

“It’s quite graphic,” she said.

“It’s a metaphor.”

“Yes, obviously I understand that. But it’s not the most pleasant of visuals, is it? Really, the topic of the op ed on a whole, it’s- It’s dark, heavy-”

“It’s about gender, sex, inequality, how I’ve learned to navigate society as a woman, it’s not meant to be all bubblegum and rainbows. And it’s not like the magazine hasn’t shed light on these kinds of topics before.” You shrugged.

“Yes but not this… Brutally.”

You furrowed your brow.

She sighed, flicking to another page. “I thought sex was supposed to make me human, make me whole. But in the end, he was just a prop, an object. They all were. I could always tell they wanted me to love them, and they thought I might if they gave me everything. But nothing ever seemed worth taking.” She looked at me. “You can’t seriously think Draft would publish this?”

“It’s an op ed,” you said, your tone growing snippy. “It’s supposed to be personal, subjective, opinionated-”

“But there’s a fine line, Quinn, between sharing your views and experiences on important topics and oversharing to the point where it becomes disturbing and completely indigestible for readers.”

“Disturbing?” You breathed out a laugh. “So this, a woman’s real, lived experience of men and sexuality and emotional connection is ‘disturbing’, but the piece we let that dick head comedian write back in August where he said Hitler ‘wasn’t such a bad guy’ was okay?”

“It was a joke he made in poor taste and a retraction was published almost immediately.”

“Still made it to print though.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly. “Look, I’m not saying this isn’t a good piece of writing. Because it is. I know you’ve been working on it for months and it shows. It’s important and it’s relevant, I get that. But we have to give readers balance; some escapism, y’know. And that’s the job of our staff writers, to uplift the magazine with stories about celebrities and fashion and lifestyle and-” She sighed. “We have the hard hitting stuff covered. What we need from you is-”

“Fluff.” You inhaled sharply through your nose and crossed your arms over your chest. “I just thought after the Benedict Cumberbatch interview and how well it was received I might finally get to write something with more… substance.”

She let out a single, clipped laugh, shaking her head at you condescendingly. “Quinn, one feature on a big name celeb doesn’t fast track you to serious journalism. You wrote about his films, his love life, what he does in his spare time. It wasn’t exactly an exposé.”

You bit back a retort, crossing one leg over the other and glancing out at the office through the glass wall. “What did Ellen Ford say about it? The op ed.”

“I haven’t shown her. And I’m not going to.”

“Julia-”

“I’m not having this conversation anymore, Quinn. I was given this position permanently because I know what I’m doing. Ellen trusts my judgement and my judgement is that this piece is a no go. If you want to write something for the next issue then you can cover the London Arts and Culture Gala tonight. Kate was supposed to be going but she just called to say she’s sick.”

You groaned, pressing your fingers into your eyes. “Why do you keep sending me to fucking galas?”

She tutted sarcastically, pushing out her bottom lip. “Getting dressed up to have free food and drink while rubbing shoulders with celebrities all night, how evil of me.”

You glared at her.

“I hear Benedict Cumberbatch is on the guest list,” she said, a slight snarkiness in her tone. “Maybe you can cosy up to him, get yourself a follow up interview. Not exactly Pullitzer material but hey, it’s another step towards those doors you’re so desperate to open.”

You already knew Ben was going to be there. You wanted to tell her that you knew; that he’d told you about it as you lay together in bed last night - still not having sex, to your utter dismay - and that you’d scoffed when he asked if you were covering it for the magazine. You wanted to punch her for suggesting you cosy up to him, as though he was nothing more than a rung in the ladder of your career.

“The last editorial assistant that suggested I get ‘cosy’ for a story ended up escorted out of here by security,” you said with a cold, flat smile.

She held your gaze, her foot bouncing more quickly now. “I know you like to think the world’s against you, Quinn. But I actually think you’re a good journalist. Hence why I keep sending you to fucking galas…”

You paused a moment before finally giving in and standing up with a huff. “Can I get another dress?”

“I’m sure you have something at the back of your wardrobe you could wear.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over and snatching your papers off the desk before turning to leave her office.

The back of your wardrobe had provided you two options: the first was a short, bright chartreuse dress with a boned bodice and sparkly straps. It was awful. So awful that you grimaced when you pulled it out, wondering what kind of fugue state you’d been in when you bought it. But then you noticed the tag was still attached, realising you must have come to your senses and decided to never let it touch your body or see the light of day again.

The second option was plain, black, high neck and sleeveless. It hugged your figure like a second skin, skimming just above your ankles as you stood on your tiptoes in front of the mirror. You wondered why you’d never worn it before. Then you remembered you’d bought it for a funeral, only to get it home and realise your dead uncle’s family probably wouldn’t appreciate being able to see the outline of your arse at his wake.

You put your hair up and did your makeup, feeling pangs of excitement in your stomach at the thought of seeing Ben’s face when you arrived. You hadn’t told him you were coming, much preferring the idea of him spotting you from across a crowded room, having to hide his surprise and keep his cool, to pretend he barely remembered your name. You slipped into a pair of heels, stuffing your ticket and press pass into your bag alongside a notepad and pen, your fully charged phone and the perfume he always complimented.

When you arrived at the Claridge’s hotel, you stepped out of the cab to a mob of flashing cameras lining the carpeted entrance. There was something humbling about being unimportant, being able to weave through a sea of celebrities and influential figures like a ghost as paparazzi screamed for them to stop and pose for photos. It was comforting, almost, to be overlooked.

You made your way inside, the grand hall warmly lit with ornate chandeliers, large round tables covered in pristine tablecloths and floral centrepieces. The room buzzed with the sound of clinking glasses and reserved conversation, servers weaving between guests with trays of champagne and dainty canapés. You took a glass from a waiter with the most dazzling smile you’d ever seen, unable to resist a glance at his backside as he walked away.

The press table was at the other end of the hall. You took a large swig of champagne and began the long walk, meandering through tables and crowds of famous faces you never got used to seeing in person. Olivia Colman was at a table to your left, close enough for you to reach out and touch her - and you thought about it, just for a moment - but you resisted.

You hadn’t been watching where you were going, an elbow almost knocking the drink from your hand as you walked right into it. You looked up to see an actor you recognised but couldn’t remember the name of, his surprise softening to a friendly laugh as he placed his hands on your arms to steady you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sorry,” you said. “I was distracted by Olivia Colman.”

“Ah, we’ve all been there,” he replied.

He was tall, smartly dressed, with a crooked smile and reddish hair. He’d been in a TV show you watched. Or was it a movie? God, what the hell was his name?

You gave an awkward laugh. “Sorry again.”

He waved his hand, as if telling you not to worry. You smiled appreciatively and turned to walk away, but his voice suddenly made you halt.

“Benedict! How’ve you been, man?”

You glanced back over your shoulder to see him pulling another tall, suited man into a hug, the pair smacking each other hard on the back in that weird way only men ever seemed to do. The corner of your mouth curled, threatening a smirk when you saw the side of Ben’s face.

You tilted your head, waiting for him to notice you. And when he did, it was as delicious as you’d imagined it would be. It began with a flicker of recognition, followed by the slow widening of realisation, his expression changing so subtly that only someone who knew him as well as you did would notice.

He composed himself quickly, giving the man he’d been hugging a final, firm pat on the back before stepping away with a slight smile. You kept your face neutral as you stood in his eyeline, as if seeing him was no big deal, as if you hadn’t spent the majority of your evening fantasising about this very moment; the way his eyes travelled down your body, his jaw clenching as he lingered on your curves. You brought the glass to your lips, taking a slow sip of champagne, never looking away from him as he tried to engage in polite conversation.

It didn’t take long for him to excuse himself, squeezing the man’s shoulder as he stepped around him and made his way towards you, his long strides closing the distance far too quickly. You’d wanted to make the moment last, to savour it, make him sweat a little while longer.

“Quinn,” he said, his voice low and warm as he came to a stop in front of you.

“Benedict,” you replied coolly, giving a slight nod.

He glanced around before returning his gaze to you. “You said you weren’t coming.”

You smiled, giving a casual shrug. “Didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

He gave you a look, one that told you he wasn’t buying it. Then his eyes flitted down again, taking you in once more. “You…” He trailed off, his gaze returning to your face, and for a second you thought he might lose his composure. “You look… Nice.”

“Nice?” you repeated, feigning offence.

His mouth twitched, his voice darkening. “Very nice.”

You could feel his restraint, the effort it was taking for him not to touch you, to close the distance between you.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “I take it you’re here for the magazine?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, taking another sip of champagne. “Mhm. Julia, the editorial assistant, completely shat all over my piece, decided I was more useful rubbing shoulders than writing anything of actual substance.”

His brows came together for a moment with a sympathetic smile. “Well clearly she’s an idiot.”

“Tell her that.”

He leaned in slightly. “I’ll tell her, if you want.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes again. “Yeah, that’ll go down well; getting the guy I’m fucking- sorry, not fucking, to pull strings for me at work.”

He smirked, dropping his head and fixing the cuff of his blazer. “Just say the word.”

“Stop it,” you laughed, holding back the urge to push him playfully in the chest.

“Well I suppose there’s worse assignments you could’ve ended up with.”

“Yeah.” You looked around at the glitzy hall, the man he’d been talking to finding his seat at a table. “Oh my god, what’s his name by the way? It’s been driving me mad.”

He looked over to where you’d pointed before turning back and opening his mouth to speak. But before he could, a sudden presence appeared at his side.

“Benedict, good to see you again!”

You recognised Leo McGrath immediately. He was a documentary filmmaker, award winner, known philanthropist. Yet it was his recent appearance at the Oscars that had shot him to sudden, unexpected internet fame. You wondered what it must feel like, to be so unbelievably attractive that just standing there on a red carpet could send the whole world into a frenzy. To have millions of people suddenly know you, not because of your work, but because they fancied you.

It was true, he was undeniably stunning; green eyes framed by masses of dark lashes, full lips and thick wavy hair long enough to tuck behind his ears. When he smiled, his cheeks dimpled, his imperfect teeth giving him a charm that made it hard not to swoon, even just for a second.

“Ah, Leo,” said Ben as he shook his hand. “It’s good to see you too. How’ve you been?”

“Good, yeah, it’s been… intense.” He breathed out a laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“I can imagine.”

“Well I suppose you don’t need to imagine, you’ve been there too. What did they call you? The Internet’s Boyfriend?”

Ben rolled his eyes, nodding with a laugh.

Leo’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes lighting up as if he hadn’t noticed you until now. “Sorry, I’m so rude!” he said, reaching out to shake your hand.

“Oh, of course, sorry. Leo, this is Quinn Armitage. She’s a writer for Draft.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Quinn,” he said, looking you up and down, far less subtly than Ben had.

You shook his hand with a smile, catching a fleck of irritation on Ben’s face. “Likewise. And congratulations on your Oscar win.”

“Ah, thank you very much.” He took a step back, his eyes bouncing between the two of you. “So are you here together, or?”

“No,” Ben replied, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the speed of his response. “Quinn wrote a piece on me at the end of last year. We were just catching up.”

“Oh right.” He seemed pleased to learn you were there alone, his interest in you piquing, attention lingering on your face. “So you’re here for work then?”

You nodded, watching Ben’s jaw tighten from the corner of your eye, like he was grinding his teeth. You held back a grin; the sight of him ruffled was a rarity, and you couldn’t help but take some pleasure in it.

“Well you should join me at my table,” said Leo. “It’s near the front, a much better spot for you to get some good material.”

You glanced up at Ben, the slight flush in his cheeks, how hard he was having to work to stay calm. He was jealous. You liked it.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “That sounds good, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He gestured for you to follow him, and you did, meeting Ben’s gaze as you stepped aside and began to walk away. You couldn’t hold back the smirk as you watched his eyes darken, a silent warning etched on his stony, unamused face.

You followed Leo to his table, the weight of Ben’s eyes heavy on the back of your neck. You couldn’t help but feel excited, perhaps even satisfied; Leo’s sudden interest in you was undeniably flattering, and Ben’s barely contained jealousy made it all the more enjoyable.

He pulled out a chair for you and you thanked him as you sat down. The view was indeed better from here; the stage only feet away, every guest visible with the turn of your head. He took a seat beside you, getting comfortable as he chatted casually to the other people around the table.

Then he turned to you, snatching you out of a daze.

“So is this what you do for Draft then?” he asked. “Report on parties and events and stuff?”

“Well I’m a staff writer, so I pretty much just do what I’m told,” you said, your voice laced with cynicism.

He smiled. “I sense some… unrest.”

“You could say that.” You drank down the dregs of your champagne, twirling the stem of the flute between your fingers.

He leaned back in his chair, cocking his head as he looked at you with narrowed eyes, an amused smirk creating a deep dimple in his cheek. “Let me guess, you’re trying to work your way into serious journalism, but all they’re giving you is celebrity gossip and… listicles.”

You pressed your lips together, exhaling a laugh through your nose. “I wrote this piece - it’s my best work to date - put it forward for an op ed but they weren’t interested. Sent me here instead.”

“Y’know, this industry is… brutal. You fight to be heard, to have your work taken seriously, amplified, given the platform you know it deserves. Then you finally get recognised for that work after years and years of graft, and yet somehow it still ends up overshadowed by how fuckable women on the internet think you are.”

“You are quite fuckable though, to be fair,” you replied bluntly.

He dropped his head to disguise a laugh, before composing himself again, lifting his head to meet your gaze. He stretched his arm along the back of your chair to lean in closer, speaking quietly. “What I’m saying is that no one in this industry gets anything without going over heads and stepping on toes. It’s a fight. And even when you get to the top, you have to claw at it if you want to stay there. It’s like… the Hunger Games but for losers who watched the news too much as kids.”

You gave a slight smile, allowing a quick glance over your shoulder to Ben’s table where he sat fidgeting with his hands, watching you beneath a heavy brow. You looked down at Leo’s arm draped behind you, your smile quickly turning into a smirk.

You leaned in closer to Leo, mirroring the intensity of his gaze. “So you’re saying the only way I’m going to transition to serious journalism is if I… play dirty?”

“Exactly,” he replied in a low, husky voice.

“How do you suggest I do that?”

He thought for a moment, running his tongue across his top teeth. “When I first started making docs, I got turned down by every production company, every channel and network. No one would give me a penny, wouldn’t even agree to broadcast. So I said fuck it, went out there with my camera, whatever money I had in my account and I made them anyway. Then when these companies saw that people actually gave a shit about the things I was documenting, they came running to me.”

“So you’re saying I just go rogue?”

“Potentially.”

“Hm. There’s just one problem with that; there’s this thing called rent, and erm… needing to eat…” you said sarcastically.

He laughed. “I’m not saying you go and quit Draft and start a fucking blog or something. I’m saying… check out. Quietly quit, as they say. Attend the fancy events, write the fluffy articles, do whatever you need to do to keep your affiliation with the magazine and use it to your advantage.” He reached up and took your chin between his finger and thumb, turning your head towards the sea of tables behind you. “See all of these people? Actors, producers, investors. You have direct access to them all right now. You could charm and persuade and get numbers in your phone and your name on people’s radars. And all you have to do in exchange is write a silly little article about their clothes and how they spend their evening.”

You turned your head back to him slowly; his insight like an epiphany, turning the banality of your surroundings to an abundance of possibility. Ten minutes ago this man was a stranger, yet now here he was with his face inches from yours, giving you the best advice you’d ever heard.

“Let me interview you,” you said.

He leaned back, brow furrowed in curiosity.

“What? I’ve made a connection and I’m using it to my advantage.” You shrugged. “Isn’t that what you told me to do?”

The corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “Fair play. Though, an interview… with Draft…” He scrunched his nose with scepticism.

“I won’t write anything about your looks. Won’t ask a single question about anything other than your work.”

“It’s tempting,” he replied with a hum.

The lights of the hall dimmed as a single, bright spotlight illuminated the stage. A woman stepped up to the microphone holding a stack of cue cards and clearing her throat. Leo turned away from you to listen, and you felt your chest heave with a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. He was intense. Beguiling, even.

“Welcome everybody,” said the woman, her voice creating a screech of feedback through the speaker. She took a step away from the mic with an embarrassed laugh. “Thank you so much for coming…”

Your phone buzzed inside the clutch bag on your lap as the woman continued to speak. You dug it out and opened the message waiting on the screen.

I know what you’re doing.

You subtly turned your head, giving Ben a mischievous wink from across the dark hall.

What am I doing? you replied.

Flirting. Stop it. Now.

Your stomach fluttered as you pictured the tension in his fingers as he typed each word, the firmness of his jaw as he grit his teeth.

Flirting???

Quinn. I’m serious.

Not my fault he fancies me. I’m actually quite enjoying the attention.

As if on cue, Leo turned his attention back to you, leaning in to speak directly into your ear. “What’s so interesting on your phone?” His breath was warm against your skin, his hushed tone filled with playful curiosity.

You looked over at Ben again, smiling as you put the phone face down on the table, turning your attention back to Leo. “Nothing.”

“Good. I’d hate to think I was losing your attention so soon.”

The woman on stage continued her speech, her words fading to a muffled hum as you lost yourself in the game you couldn’t resist playing.

“You haven’t lost my attention,” you said, keeping your voice low. “I still want that interview.”

He chuckled. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” He leaned in again, his lips almost brushing your ear. “But I don’t think a formal interview is what you really want from me…”

Your heart began to race, his proximity sending shivers down your spine. You could sense the shift in his demeanour, the hunger in his eyes. If this had been a year earlier, you were sure you’d have ended up in Leo’s bed by the end of the night. But instead, you found yourself more thrilled by the idea of Ben watching you; the power you wielded to make his blood boil from across a crowded room.

“What else could I possibly want?” you murmured, tilting your head slightly towards Leo, your lips nearly grazing his cheek.

He let out a low, throaty laugh, his hand sliding from the back of your chair to your thigh. You wondered how far you could take things before your actions became indefensible, before the flirting verged beyond a game and evolved into something less playful.

“I have a feeling there’s a lot of things you want.” His touch was soft yet bold, his fingers tracing swirls that tickled, even through the material of your dress. “Some I might be able to… help you with.”

You bit your lip, unable to hold back a smirk, before leaning in close. “And here I was, thinking you invited me to sit at your table because you wanted to do a good deed for a struggling journalist.” You pressed your lips to his ear. “Turns out you just wanted to fuck me.”

He turned his head to look at you, his face so close you could feel his breath. “Can I not want both?”

“You can,” you replied simply. “Doesn’t mean you’re going to get it though.”

The room erupted with applause, quelling the tension between you as you turned your attention to the stage. A young woman made her way to the microphone with a guitar in hand. She smiled shyly as she waited for the clapping to fade, before pressing her fingers to the strings and beginning to play.

Your palms were beginning to itch; every speech and performance receiving a lengthier round of applause than the last. You had no choice but to join in with it, no matter how boring or mediocre you thought it was, putting down your little notebook and pen with a quiet groan to bring your hands together in feigned appreciation.

You’d been nursing your second glass of champagne for most of the evening, knowing it was your last and taking small sips to savour it. Julia warned you not to get drunk, and you’d taken offence to the insinuation that you couldn’t be trusted to stay professional. But when you realised Leo’s arm was still draped along the back of your chair, you thought perhaps she’d had a point.

The last wave of applause rippled across the room as the host made her way offstage; the spotlight dimming, chandeliers regaining their warm glow as the atmosphere began to relax, the hum of conversation drifting through the air like a sigh of relief. You skimmed over the pages in your book, trying to decipher the chaotic notes you’d scrawled in the dark when Leo turned to look at you.

“Get everything you need?” he asked, nodding to your notebook.

“Eh, I’ll probably have to employ some creative writing here and there,” you replied as you looked up at him.

He smirked. “You weren’t paying attention to any of it, were you.”

“More than I would have if I were back there at the press table.”

“Well it’s a good job I had a spare seat.”

“Mm.” You allowed your gaze to flit from his eyes to his lips and back again, just enough to keep him interested. “I better do a few rounds, get some quotes from people before they start to leave.”

Mingling had never been your thing, the idea of approaching strangers or interrupting conversations creating a pit of dread in your stomach that made your skin clammy and your mouth dry. Usually you came with someone else; dragged Nick along or found yourself on assignment with another writer who would do most of the talking. This time, you had no choice. .

You moved around the hall, weaving through a maze of tables as you searched for targets. And with each interaction, it became easier. You took quotes from a table of theatre directors, had surreal conversations with celebrities, and when you finally plucked up the courage to speak to Olivia Colman, the only thing you managed to write down was ‘aaahhhh’.

You took a moment to breathe, scanning the room to see Ben still at his table, deep in conversation with another actor you vaguely recognised. You watched him for a moment, noticing how his usually easy smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, how he kept brushing the tips of his fingers over his bottom lip. To anyone else, he seemed happy, comfortable. But to you, it was clear he wasn’t nearly as composed as he appeared.

You made your way over, navigating the scattered chairs and waiters topping up champagne until you were close enough to hear their voices.

“...and everyone I’ve spoken to about it has said I should do it,” the other man was saying. “But it’s just such a big commitment.”

Ben nodded, his eyes flickering in your direction for just a moment. “It is a lot. But you’ve just got to weigh up the pros and cons…”

He trailed off as you finally made it to their table, turning his attention to you as though he hadn’t known you were coming.

“Sorry for interrupting,” you said as you cleared your throat and held up your notebook. “My name’s Quinn, I’m a writer for Draft Magazine. I was hoping I could steal you for a second to ask a few questions?”

His eyes stayed on you for a moment before returning to the actor beside him. “Sorry.”

“Ah no worries, duty calls.”

“But if you want my honest opinion, I think you should go for it.”

The man smiled appreciatively as he rose to his feet, raising his glass in a mock salute before walking away.

You quickly sat in his place; the seat was still warm, turned towards Ben at an awkward angle. You shifted it further to face him, leaning back with the notebook in your lap.

“Hi,” you finally said, holding back a smile.

“Hi,” he replied, his face calm, tone unreadable.

“So, the question I have for you is…” you flicked to another page. “Do you have any thoughts on how we as a society, and as individuals, can foster the arts in ways that don’t involve funding or monetary-”

“What the fuck was that?” he interrupted quietly, gesturing subtly towards Leo’s table across the hall.

“What was what?” you replied casually, defiantly.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he mirrored your posture, leaning back in his chair and lowering his chin slightly, his eyes darkening beneath the shadow of his brow. “His hands were all over you…”

“So?”

“So you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Your stomach fluttered with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. You cocked your head, widening your eyes to feign innocence. “What was I doing?”

“Trying to piss me off.”

You pushed out your bottom lip. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous-?” He exhaled a laugh through his nose. But there was no amusement in it. Then he lowered his voice. “I was jealous when I saw him eyeing you up. I was jealous when he invited you to sit at his table. But now? I’m not jealous, I’m furious.”

You regarded him for a moment, taking undeniable pleasure in his silent rage. But when you finally opened your mouth to speak, a hand on your shoulder made you still.

You looked up to see Leo standing at your side, glancing down at both of you with a charming smile.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said. “Quinn, my team and I are heading to an afterparty at the Edition. I wondered if you wanted to join me?”

“Oh, I…” you looked at Ben, then back up to Leo. “Thanks, but I can’t. I’m still working.”

“Your boss doesn’t have to know…”

You breathed out a laugh. “No really, I think I’m going to be good for once and actually do my job.”

“Or you could come with me to the afterparty and start being good tomorrow…”

“She said no,” Ben interjected firmly.

It caught you off guard, raising the hairs on your arms and sending a shiver down your spine. It was his unexpected harshness paired with a friendly smile, the restraint it was clearly taking him to keep his cool.

Leo seemed taken aback too, turning to him with raised brows and parted lips, like he wanted to speak but had no idea what to say. He eventually gave up with an understanding nod, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card.

“Give me a call some time,” he said as he handed it to you. “If you want, of course.”

You took it with a smile, waiting for him to walk away before turning your attention back to Ben.

“That was rude of you,” you said.

“Sorry… Rude of me?”

You rolled your eyes and slid the card between the pages of your notebook.

“Are you really keeping that?” Ben asked.

“He’s a documentary maker, I’m a journalist. It might come in handy.”

He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he continued to glare at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, you weren’t joking when you said you were furious…”

“No. I wasn’t. I told you the mind games and manipulation wouldn’t fly with me. I told you that.”

“You are taking this way too seriously.”

He leaned forward suddenly, his movement sharp, teeth clenched. “Too-” But he stopped himself, pressing his lips together and looking around the bustling hall as he slowly reclined again. “We’re leaving.”

You furrowed your brow as you watched him stand up. “Did you not hear what I just said? I’m working, I can’t leave yet.”

“I said we’re going.”

You hadn’t seen him like this since the first night you met. You’d almost forgotten he was capable of it; the hard angles and stern tone, the dominance of his demand sending a flutter through your core. The thrill of it was undeniable, but his anger was palpable, making you stutter as you tried to speak.

“Ben, I’m- I’m not-”

“Now.”

You yielded with a sigh, shoving everything into your bag and tucking it under your arm as you rose to your feet. Your heart was pounding as you began to follow him, almost tripping over the leg of your chair as you went. He didn’t speak as he made his way to the exit of the hall, his fist opening and closing at his side in a steady rhythm, face brightening with a polite smile whenever someone greeted him as he passed.

He gripped your wrist as you neared the exit, leading you out into the large, echoing foyer. The indelicacy of his touch surprised you, flooding you with a fleeting rush of panic, like a child preparing to be scolded once their parents got them home.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor, your quick, uneven footsteps struggling to keep up with his long strides as he walked you towards a quiet, hidden corner.

“Don’t you need to tell people you’re leaving?” you asked. “Like your publicist or whoever you came with?”

“I came alone,” he replied, stopping once you were out of sight.

“Really? Why?”

“Because I drove here.” He glanced over his shoulder, assessing the paparazzi as they waited outside. “You’re going to go and wait for me by the car. I’ll follow in a couple of minutes.”

You did as you were told, emerging into the mild spring night and slipping through the chaos with ease. When you got to Ben’s car, you waited with your arms folded over your chest, watching from a distance as an explosion of camera flashes illuminated the darkness like fireworks.

You pressed your lips into a straight lined smile when he finally reached you, hurrying around to the driver’s side without a word. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, glancing around to make sure he hadn’t been followed. You raised onto your tiptoes to look at him over the top of the car, breathing out a laugh when he almost scowled back.

“Are you seriously still annoyed with me?” you asked.

“Of course I am,” he replied. “I can barely look at you right now.”

He slipped into the car and pulled the door closed. You paused for a moment before deciding to climb into the back seat instead.

He looked at you in the rearview mirror, brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You said you didn’t want to look at me,” you replied brattishly. “You don’t have to if I’m back here.”

He rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath. “Get in the front.”

You thought about defying his demand, but you quickly gave in; choosing to clamber arduously over the centre console instead of getting out, purely to annoy him that little bit more. You settled into the front passenger seat, turning to look at him as you dragged the seatbelt across your chest.

He drove in silence at first, the journey ebbing and flowing between heavy traffic and dark, deserted streets. You’d been waiting for him to speak, but with each silent wait at a red light, you found yourself growing impatient. He turned his head towards you, and you glanced back at him hopefully, only to realise he was looking past you, checking the road was clear before driving across it.

You huffed. “Fine, you win, I apologise for flirting with the sexy man, alright? Can you stop acting like I slapped your mum now?”

“You really don’t get why I’m pissed off, do you.”

“He was just giving me career advice-”

“Career advice? What career advice requires him to touch you like that? To whisper in your ear, run his hand up your thigh?”

You couldn’t resist; the old Quinn taking over with a shrug and a surly glare. “I was just having a bit of fun-”

A deep growl rumbled in his throat, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. “Nothing about that was fun.”

“Maybe not for you…”

“Quinn. I swear to god.”

You threw your head back and let out a groan. “It was flirting, Ben. He clearly fancied me and I took the opportunity to tease you, wind you up-”

“Oh yeah, and I’m sure you got no pleasure out of it whatsoever,” he quipped cynically.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” you said sarcastically. “Y’know, it’s almost like I haven’t gone the past four months without sex because the man I’m seeing refuses to touch me anywhere below the fucking neck. I mean, Jesus, I’ve been masturbating so much I could give a teenage boy a run for his money; forgive me for indulging in a bit of physical affection for one night.”

“So you did like him then...”

“No, Ben-” You stopped yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose and letting out an exasperated breath. But when you composed yourself again, your brows came together in sudden realisation. “Actually, what if I did?”

He took his eyes off the road for a second, glancing at you in confusion.

“What right would you have to tell me I couldn’t flirt with him? Couldn’t let him touch me?” You sat up straighter, turning your body towards him. “What if I wanted him to do that? What if I enjoyed sitting with him and decided I wanted to go to that afterparty? What authority would you have to tell me I couldn’t?”

He rolled his eyes.

“What if I went with him? Danced, drank, let him take me home, undress me, kiss me…”

Your words were getting to him; crawling under his skin, making him roll his shoulders like he was trying to shrug the image away.

“I mean, you said it yourself to whatshisface back at the gala; I’m just Quinn, the journalist you met once back in November. Why would you care who else I fuck?”

He turned the wheel sharply, pulling the car into a layby with a sudden stop. It was dark, void of streetlights, thick trees lining both sides of the road. You jerked forward as he broke, the seatbelt pressing firmly against your chest.

“Jesus Christ, Ben.”

He shut off the engine and turned in his seat to face you. “You know full well that neither of us want people to know about this. You don’t get to use it against me to justify flirting with someone else.”

“I flirted with him to annoy you. Clearly it worked… A bit too well.”

“But why? Why would you think I’d find that amusing?” His voice was raised, his hands moving in time with his words.

“I didn’t. I thought I’d find it amusing.”

He growled, letting out a hot angry breath through his nose. “You are the most infuriating fucking person.”

“Then why have you stuck around for this long?”

“Why have you? If taking it slow and doing things right has been such a fucking chore for you then why are you still bothering?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he didn’t give you the chance, unclipping his seatbelt to lean in closer.

“I’ll tell you why. It’s because you know I’m the only man who’s ever been able to handle you. Who sees you for who you really are and likes it.”

Your heart began to race, your back pressing against the passenger door. He was right, and you hated it.

“Because even though I haven’t touched you in four months, you still aren’t bored of me.” His voice was dangerously soft now, his eyes fixed on yours. “Because even as another man threw himself at you tonight, you still found yourself looking for me.”

“So if that’s what you think, why do you care that I let him touch me?” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Because I don’t like watching someone else touch what’s mine.”

You swallowed hard, your defiance faltering as his words sank in. He was so close now, one arm outstretched along the back of your seat, the other holding back the urge to reach out and touch you.

Your eyes flitted from his face to his crotch then back again. “You want to fuck me right now, don’t you…”

His gaze flickered with something dark, primal. He exhaled slowly, the angles of his face sharp with anger, partly with you, but mostly with himself.

A rush of excitement flooded through you as he reached out to cup your face, pulling you into a sudden, intense kiss. You could feel his possessiveness; the way his lips moved with a firm pressure, tongue sweeping impatiently into your mouth.

You fumbled for your seatbelt, unfastening it quickly and letting it snap back against the door, your hands immediately snaking around the back of his neck, pulling yourself into him. His hand dropped to your side, his touch rough, almost painful as he pressed and squeezed his fingertips into your waist. You felt him pulling you closer, his body radiating a heat that almost made it hard to breathe. His hand travelled lower, pushing up the material of your dress and allowing his fingers to graze the bare skin of your thighs. He ran his palm over the place Leo had touched, as though he was cleansing you of it, wiping it away and replacing it with his own.

You’d been starved for so long that even his hand on your thigh made you tremble, a soft moan escaping your parted lips as he kissed you. The sound stirred something in him, and in moments you found yourself straddling his lap in the driver’s seat.

He was hard. You could feel it straining beneath his trousers, pressing against your centre as you tangled your fingers in his hair, your breaths hot and heavy, anger and lust fogging the windows like steam. You rolled your hips, the steering wheel letting out a short, loud beep as your backside knocked against it. But neither of you paid it any attention, giving in to the fevered, passionate release you’d been denying yourselves for so long.

His hands settled on your hips, gripping you firmly as he pushed himself against you, the friction drawing a satisfied groan from his throat. You’d missed those sounds, the way it felt to have him desperate to fill you. But you knew he was losing himself, intoxicated by his own frustration. You were in a car, parked on the side of a quiet, winding road. This wasn’t how he wanted it to be, and you weren’t sure it was how you wanted it to be either.

You broke away, letting your head fall back as he began traipsing hot, hungry kisses down your neck. “Ben,” you whispered breathlessly. “If we go any further I won’t be able to stop.”

You felt him pause, his lips still, breath tickling your skin.

“This isn’t how you wanted it to be,” you said softly, masking your disappointment. “We need to stop.”

He lowered his forehead to rest on your collarbone, letting out a quiet sigh. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, thick with lust.

He pulled away from you, his hand lingering on your waist for a second longer before finally letting go. He sat back, his head tilting against the headrest as he closed his eyes, trying to compose himself.

You slid off his lap, climbing back into the passenger seat and fixing your dress. You looked over at him, watching him in silence, fearful of what awaited you when he finally opened his eyes. You’d spent four months wanting nothing more than to see him break, to give in to you, and if it were anyone else, you would have taken full advantage of this lapse in judgement. But you couldn’t.

The silence was awkward, moonlight casting a soft glow through the steamy windows, your slowing breaths providing the only sound. When he finally looked at you, there was a clarity in his expression; his jaw softening, eyes rounding.

“Thank you,” he said.

There was something about the way he said it, like your restraint had renewed his faith in you, shifted something inside him.

You nodded slightly, reaching behind you for your seatbelt.

He nodded back, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment longer before finally starting the car again. The engine rumbled and he leaned forward to wipe the windshield, using his sleeve to clear it.

The tension remained as he drove, but it was different now. He was no longer angry, and you no longer cared to push his buttons. After a while, you gathered he was taking you to his house, and it filled you with a sense of relief you couldn’t quite explain.

The road was empty, quiet, yet still the traffic light turned red. He slowed to a stop, resting his hand on the gearstick as he waited for it to change.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “About Leo. I really was just teasing you. I never would have-”

He reached out and took your hand in his without a word, giving it a gentle squeeze. You relaxed back into your seat, looking down at your intertwined fingers as they rested in your lap.

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mariacallous · 9 days ago

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On Oct. 29, 1920, the temperature in Detroit reached a high of 60 degrees, and the Detroit Free Press reported that “Northwestern High’s football eleven” was preparing to face Eastern High School the next day for a much anticipated Saturday matchup at the Joyce athletic field.

Julia Esaw had not yet arrived in Detroit to enjoy the game and the pleasant weather, but the longtime member of People’s Community Church was born on that day — more than 100 years ago.

And this past Tuesday, on Oct. 29, the same Julia Esaw celebrated her 104th birthday in Detroit.

“If you could see my face now, you would see a great big smile,” Esaw announced by phone at 3:27 p.m. on her birthday, a day that was fittingly even warmer in Detroit than the day she was born.

Asking the exuberant centenarian to take a second call by FaceTime so that her beautiful smile could be seen was not an option. That’s because Esaw was in a rush to quickly take in the sun and 76-degree warmth that radiated at that moment near her Detroit home, not far from her beloved People’s Community Church — 8601 Woodward Ave. — before she was to be whisked away to a secret location for a family birthday celebration.

A 104th birthday is a rare occurrence. But Esaw says that from a very early time in her life she came to expect good experiences in Detroit.

“Detroit has had a lot to offer and I have no complaints,” said the 1939 Cass Tech graduate, who came to Detroit with her family when she was 2 years old from Columbia, Mississippi.

During the afternoon of Monday, Oct. 28, with vivid recollection, Esaw reeled off some of the early Detroit streets she lived on, including High Street, Division, Brewster, Hedge, Trowbridge and Taylor. However, it was a discussion about a destination that Esaw visited recently that brought out an excited tone a little more than eight hours before her birthday. That destination is 2978 West Grand Blvd., home to the Detroit Department of Elections, where Esaw dropped off her absentee ballot with a vote cast in the 2024 presidential election for Democratic Vice President Kamala Harris. And Esaw left no doubt that even with all of the history she has seen during her long lifetime, the opportunity to cast her vote for Harris — the first Black woman to head a major party’s presidential ticket — holds a special place in her heart.

“I’m happy and it makes me feel great!” declared Esaw, who was born just 72 days after the ratification of the 19th Amendment which legally guaranteed women the right to vote.

Then Esaw went on to explain that her happiness this election season is tied to progress she has witnessed during her lifetime.

“After high school, I wanted to study to be a dietitian. But as a young Black woman, there was no place here that I could go to get the training and my mother didn’t want me to go away,” lamented Esaw, who says she still owes a huge debt of gratitude to two “tough” teachers in Cass Tech’s home economics curriculum that prepared her well for life. “Blacks didn’t have the same kind of power we have today. But if we all get together now, we can put her (Harris) on the top seat.”

Although Esaw was unable to pursue a career in health care, her journey as a beautician actually began in close physical proximity to a prominent Detroit health institution.

“I started as a beautician at the Streamline Beauty Shop on Forest and it was right across from Women’s Hospital (now Hutzel Women’s Hospital),” said Esaw, who was married to the late Tuskegee Airman Burkes Esaw Sr. “Because we were so close to the hospital, I had more white trade (clientele) than Black. It was the same thing for many years when I was running my own shop.”

In the roles Esaw carried out as a beautician, block club president, wife and mother of four children who were taught at home to value education and healthy eating, she says race was not a barrier to success. But Esaw’s recollection of a revered Detroit landmark — the old downtown J. L. Hudson Department Store — may be a bit different from what is recorded in many history books. Esaw explained that there was a time when the shopping experience for Black customers at J.L. Hudson, which grew to be the tallest department store in the world during its heyday, was mostly relegated to the basement level due to a Northern version of Jim Crow.

Esaw’s earliest memories of Hudson’s were shared without a hint of bitterness in her voice and with a tiny chuckle thrown in because, as Esaw went on to explain, she has never accepted a “basement” view of life due to her faith. And because of her faith, Esaw says the fact that a Black woman (Harris also is of Southeast Asian descent on her mother's side) has a very legitimate chance to become the nation’s first woman president is not really a big surprise to her.

“I was always taught that we (Black people) were God’s children too,” said Esaw, who noted that she starts each morning with a bowl of assorted raw fruit that she prepares for herself. “God made us and we’re somebody, too. And we can do anything that anyone else can, including being president.”

And in an equally succinct manner, Esaw laid out what she would expect from Harris as president.

“I want to see her reach out and touch everybody, because we’re all God’s children,” Esaw stated. “And then I would like to see us all work together as a team.”

Next to Esaw as she spoke from home on consecutive afternoons beginning Oct. 28 was her only daughter and constant companion, 72-year-old Berneta Esaw, a retired Detroit Public Schools math teacher. Berneta Esaw was with her mother when she dropped off her election ballot, and she also was by her mom’s side on Oct. 12 at the Detroit Golf Club when Berneta Esaw’s 1969 Cass Tech graduating class held its 55th reunion, which Julia Esaw used as an opportunity to celebrate the 85th anniversary of her own graduation from Cass.

Berneta Esaw says she is holding out hope that there are other living people that will come forward who graduated from Cass Tech in or around 1939 to allow her mother to enjoy a reunion experience to the fullest. But in the meantime, Berneta Esaw is more than happy to share lessons for living a long, fulfilling life — which she has received with love directly from her mother.

“Mother doesn’t look anywhere close to 90 — most people start at 70 when she asks them how old they think she is. But she has worked hard to look like that,” said Berneta Esaw, who has grown accustomed and accepting to people that want to hug and touch her mom when they become aware of Julia Esaw’s age. “Living with mother, you knew you were going to get your fruit in the morning, and salad with lunch and dinner, because mother knows that when you eat fresh, raw fruits and vegetables the body works better.

“Mother is a blessing, and I feel blessed that I was born to two parents who were extremely knowledgeable and intelligent, and they gladly passed down their knowledge to my siblings and me, and others in our community.”

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lilakartoffelbrei · 1 year ago

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Some mother-daughter-playtesting

#old pleasant valley #sims 2 gameplay #ts2 #OPV:Sommer1 #OPV:Build #Jolande Junggesell #Julia von Spinnweb #Malcom Landgraab #Bernd Fröhlich #Fred Blank #Junggesell 2 #ts1tots2

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daryldixonfanfiction · 5 months ago

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What you fight for! Pt.11 - Pure intentions (*18+)

Masterlist

Summary: Discovering she's unexpectedly pregnant, Julia struggles with breaking the news to Daryl...

Warnings: *18+, SMUT!, age gap, mutual pining, morning cuddles, fluff, comfort-sex, unprotected p in v, fingering, aftercare, scary situation, creepy men, protective!Daryl, unexpected pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, aversion to blood, mention of abortion, fear of abandonment, anxiety, panic attack, dissociation, angst.

wc. 5k

Flinching awake, Julia found herself in Daryl's arms.

His breath blows against the nap of her neck, like the tide, a steady rhythm. He was holding her tightly against him, and she didn't miss his one hand cupping her breast underneath her shirt. It was adorable. Daryl Dixon, completely out seeking comfort in his sleep like a baby. It was unusual to be the first one awake, but she was glad she was, cherishing the innocent moment of his softness.

Careful to not wake him, she turned so she was facing him. And it was a sight to see. His face was laxed with sleep, the harsh lines were not as prominent making him look much younger. And she felt curious, not knowing his age, remembering she had told him hers. It had not thrown him off so he could not be that much older, right? Honestly she didn't think age matters that much and neither did she care if he was. At most she thought him to be a decade older and she didn't see anything wrong with that.

Julia smiled, before pressing her lips to his cheek in a silent thank you. A thank you for him still being here and not regretting her. His confession echoed in her mind just as clearly as he had said it,

“I never regretted you and that's the truth. You hear'n me.”

and she felt so happy, her heart pounding freely in her chest, feeling that part of her that had been hurting melting away with the sunrise glowing on there faces.

Julia didn't know if it was love or what, but how she feels in his presence must be something close to that. And it had been there, slowly growing inside her heart sins that morning. And she had recognized those feelings for him, something significantly deeper, more profound than one would feel for a friend. Staring up at his sleeping face she knew she wanted more than a friendship, that what she truly wanted was what she had longed for…

Love.

Daryl pulled her closer, still in his sleep wanting her flush against him. His face was so close, their foreheads almost touched, and she washed him there closely, tracing the pads of her fingertips along his strong features. And, oh…how she adored him, finding him innocent in his state of sleep. Brushing his bed head out of his face she couldn't help but to feel the attractiveness there, he was a very handsome man. But no. He was far more. She found him beautiful in a way she didn't know a man could be.

She washed him snuggled into her chest, clearly searching for comfort in his sleep, and she wondered what he was dreaming about, if it was a good or a bad dream, but he looked peaceful, so she assumed it must be a pleasant one. Caressing his stubbled cheek she wanted the moment to never end, that they could stay like this forever. But as it got lighter nature called and she thought she could hold it just a bit longer, but it got to the point it felt painful. Carefully unwrapping his heavy arms from her waist she doesn't get far before he pulls her back.

“Were you going?” his deep voice questions.

"Bathroom.”

Daryl sighs with closed eyes, clearly against the idea of letting go, “Can’ it wait, let's sleep some more.”

“I got to go, Daryl.”

With a heavy sigh he opened his eyes, and she washed him back, smiling sweetly up at him.

“What?” Daryl questions.

“Nothing,” Julia smiled.

“What?”

“You slept like a baby, it was adorebulle.”

“Shut up,” embarrassment evident on his face, making Julia stifle a laugh.

Julia grabs her pack to tack with and it’s when she gets up to stand it feels like her body isn't keeping up. With her hands on her knees, slightly bowed over waiting for her vision to return and the lightheadedness to go away, Daryl moves closer,

“You good?”

“Uh, yeah. Think I just got up too fast,” Julia reassured, feeling herself coming back.

A warm hand grabbed her chin, tilting it upwards, “You're pale,” Daryl stated.

And Julia could feel she was but this was nothing new, she had been anemic her whole life so she didn't make a big deal out of it and her answer seemed to ease his worry as he released her chin, beginning to busy himself.

Julia didn't waste any time, heading straight for the bathroom. All the aisles were looted but a small area was left untouched. Female products were almost stocked to the brim with brands upon brands of pads, tampons and hair products. And she didn't think much of it until her eyes landed on the middle shelf. There was almost an audible click in her brain. She felt her mind racing and her body shaking as she stood there before the brands of pregnancy tests.

There was this intense feeling of realization washing over her. That even though she had always been irregular her entire life never had it been this late. No she can’t be - shouldn't she be throwing up if she was, she didn't know. And she certainly didn't understand why there were so many different tests, why couldn't there be just one? It was all too overwhelming and she was starting to jump to conclusions. But she couldn't stand the thought of not knowing in case she was. And she probably wasn't, right?

It almost felt like she couldn't think anymore and in her panic state and her need to pee she snagged a Clearblue week indicator test and a First Response test and locked herself in the bathroom near the back of the store.

Julia sat herself on the toilet with her pants down with the two brands of tests in each hand. She wasn't familiar with brands or which one was best. Did it matter they had expired by a year - she hoped not. Her being an anxious person she felt indecisive in which to pick so she decided to try all of the tests, which all together was six tests. Finishing up she pleased them all face down, letting them develop on top of the toilet lid.

The wait was tormenting and it read she had to wait for 3 minutes. She couldn't stay still for that long, she had to do something in her wait so she did her morning routine, changing undergarments, brushing teeth and fixing her hair. The feeling of doing something normal in a situation like this made her calm somewhat even though she was still shaking.

Taking a deep breath she looked herself in the mirror and she really was pale like Daryl had pointed out, but now it was more likely because she was scared more than anything. With a shaky hand she went for it, flipping the First Response tests over, and to her shock there was an unmistakable strong red line on all three of them, and she just stared as if the lines would disappear if she did so long enough. Then she looked at the Clearblue ones, and to her devastation it said,

Pregnant

Oh, god.

Reading the package over and over again she confirmed she was 6 weeks pregnant and she have had no idea, having completely ignored all the signs.

Julia almost collapsed backwards into the sink as her mind made sense of it. But it wasn't translating - it wasn't even computing as a fact. But the positive tests were there, clear as day, staring right back at her…And it was very real.

Julia covered her mouth, eyes watering as she stared back at herself in the mirror as the world-shattering news sunk in. It feels almost like being given the news that someone was dead...That feeling of reality slipping away like it didn't exist. Her chest expanded suddenly, inhaling a deep breath to keep her from blacking out right then and there - and she looked down at herself, her eyes resting on her stomach. She took her jacket off and in her shirt she backed up so she could see her abdomen in the mirror, turning sideways and smoothed down the fabric there. It was way too early but she was already beginning to show. She could see the little curve there, feeling like it was staring right back at her - and all this time she had mistaken it as bloating. But what about the period of pain she had been feeling and her tender breast? Was it supposed to hurt? Was it normal to feel like this - and she wished she had all the answers, but she didn't, of course she didn't.

It was alive in there. A small thing that was a part of herself and a part of the man she had slept with and woken up to - no… it was a part of Daryl.

Julia felt tears in her eyes. Stupid - stupid - stupid, how could she have been such an idiot? They hadn't - they hadn't been safe at all. Not even a little bit. And why hadn't they been safe? Well...none of it had been planned - it had just…happened. Both desperately seeking comfort in one another without the thought of consequence. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind in either of the moments they had spent together - because she had craved it so badly. But then again, had Daryl not thought about it, or had he just not cared?

Julia felt like she might fall over again - the thought of Daryl...of him knowing - of it actually happening…Oh, god. She felt sick to her stomach of just thinking about it. They had barely begun a journey of knowing each other, but there was a connection there between them that had begun to come to the surface that felt far deeper than just sleeping with one another.

Her hands moved underneath the fabric of her shirt to press down her stomach, and she shut her eyes, and it felt… different, it was definitely something growing inside of her.

Several tears fell just at the feeling and the notion there was a very real baby in there, and when she opened them again she had to sit down on the floor before she would fall over. She was completely devastated, having thought things would be okay and happy, but of course something would destroy…she didn't want it to end.

She didn't know if she could stand yet, it almost felt like she actually would throw up on the floor. And she wondered if that was a sign of morning sickness or because of the anxiety?

She got on her berings slowly, vision tilting just slightly as she held herself up with one hand against the wall. Knowing if she took any longer Daryl would come knocking. So she calmed herself as much as she could, drying her tears and putting on her jacket and pack back on, discarding the evidence in the trash bin before heading out.

Walking back to the same aisle, feeling like she deserves some sort of control over the situation. Because she just wanted to feel like she had a choice and she knew she had to make one before it was too late. She wasn't sure of what to take for an abortion, if any of the over the counter pills worked and she felt like a shameful person as she grabbed an emergency contraceptive. Standing there and just staring at the box in her hand she was still making that choice in her head - and she just didn't know what to do. Did it make her a bad person if she took it? Was it irresponsible? Immoral?

On the back of the package it read, DO NOT USE: If you're already pregnant (because it will not work).

And of course it wouldn't. It wasn't an abortion pill after all, it was to prevent pregnancy after conception. If she wanted an abortion she would have to find a pharmacy, and how was she gonna explain that to Daryl? How was she gonna explain she was already 6 weeks p-

Voices of men entered the store. Julia watched the group of men begin to go through the shelves, looking for food probably and they didn't seem to know they were there. And speaking of, where was Daryl?

Julia continued to hide, staying silent as she carefully begun to move backwards, away from the intruders that loudly chatted amongst themselves and she didn't really listen to anything they said until,

“Thought you said there would be a girl here?” One of the men complained.

“No, I said I saw a girl and a man heading this way.” the other man clarified.

“You claim her?”

“Boys remember the rules. There is no such thing as claiming, only free game,” another man said and all the men started laughing.

Her stomach sank, the feeling of horror had her frozen in place. These were bad people, very bad people and if they were to find her, she imagined very horrifying things would happen.

There was movement behind her and before she could make a sound, large hands clasped over her mouth. She fought against it, tried to scream for Daryl, but she was left defenseless against the strong body. The only sounds that could be heard were the men talking and moving around the store, and her panicked breaths against the hands silencing her. Then one hand moved away and she was being turned around, faced with the man she was silently screaming for… The father of her unborn child.

Daryl.

Thank God.

Julia stopped fighting against him, looking up at him with fearful eyes. The thought she was carrying his child in a world of the walking dead was terrifying for many reasons. She could tell he was scared too, though his fear stemmed from adrenaline and survival to get them out of there, because… he didn't know.

He motioned for her to stay silent with a finger against his lips, Julia nodded and his hand released. She could see him thinking of a plan, because how could they escape unnoticed, and there were many, 8 if she counted wright, all armed. But then she remembered the window in the bathroom, they were close enough to make it without being seen.

Julia pointed towards the bathroom behind the aisle of feminine products and drew a window in the air with her hands. Daryl seemed to understand what she was referring to and he nodded, leading the way to the bathroom.

With the door closed behind them, Daryl opened the small tinted window, then motioned for her to make it true. Glancing towards the trash bin before stepping on top of the toilet lid Julia hoists herself up and out. Daryl passed his bag and crossbow before following, careful to not to make a sound he closed the window shut, to not reveal their escape.

“Go, go, go,” Daryl ordered, and they rushed into the forest away from the band of men.

Hands in her pockets she could feel how the heavy weight of anxiety loomed.

The more she thought about it, which she had done all day, finding out she was pregnant felt like either choice she was left to mourn something, it already felt like she was. She didn't even know if she was ready to take care of another life even though she had always wanted to be a mother, be married and have a family of her own. But the world was far different then when she had those innocent dreams.

Daryl turned to face her, and his pause almost made her trip over her own feet. He was staring down at her, his gaze making her feel naked, like he could tell what was wrong. With that same expression when he had told her she looked pale he said,

“I don’t like that color on your face.”

And of course her face was still pale, probebully paler for him to comment about it, but she was feeling unwell for reasons she could not tell him yet.

“I’m fine, let's keep going,” she lied.

“We're setting camp here,” Daryl declared, not even bothering to call her out and began to skin the squirrels he'd been hunting along the way.

And of course Daryl didn't buy it, she was the worst of liers there was. Their close encounter this morning had scared her deeply and jumpy all around, which she also knew he had picked up on. He seemed to notice things most people didn't, but she was relieved he didn't push for the truth.

Concentrating on tending the fire as Daryl gutted the animals Julia could not watch on like she usually did. Feeling like the sight of blood or just the notion of it made her sick. It was ironic that it was first after finding out she was pregnant she began feeling symptoms.

Only when eating did the sickness stop. She had been starving all day, the feeling of having warm food in her stomach felt so, so good.

“Slow down girl, no one's gonna take it from ya,” Daryl said from across the fire.

“This is slow.” Julia said, food stuffed in her mouth and she didn't care for manners, she was starving.

Throwing the bones into the fire it didn't take long for that heavy feeling to return, and she just wished for it to leave her alone. Hugging her pack feeling terribly overwhelmed by the events of the day she hadn't noticed Daryl watching her. He moved from across the fire, kneeling on one knee in front of where she was sitting on the cold ground, and as if he was speaking to an injured animal he said,

“Julia. Hey, look at me.”

Slowly her teary eyes looked into his. His look was one of concern, and deeply so. She knew he couldn't fully understand the visual display of emotions nor the reason behind the fear she felt - he probably thought it was a response from their close encounter with the men in the store, which was parsley true. He reached out, wiping a tear away from her cheek and said,

“Let’s go to bed, okay?”

Julia nodded weekly “Okay.”

The fire was soon to burn out, the last ambers drifting off into the night. Huddling up against one another, having zipped their sleeping bags together Julia laid turned from him, letting tears fall along her nose down into the bedding. The smallest of sniffles escaped her. Daryl moved closer, pulling her into his arms, his body warm and comforting against her. Looking up at him as she stared into his blues, taking in his lovely features. He looked so soft in moments like these, she had almost forgotten what was underneath that rugged exterior and what he was capable of. His watercolor eyes looked almost like a creature that would never harm anyone, especially when he was looking at her, with all his kindness and worry.

“Way you cryin’?” He asked, gently drying the wetness away.

He was such a sweet man.. So, why was she so scared of telling him? She didn't know - she didn't know anything anymore. Her world had turned upside down, her bubble had finally burst, and she was just too overwhelmed to think straight and, and…

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she managed to tell true the tears that just kept on coming.

She was un ugly crier, probably making him feel put off by her distraught state. But he was not put off, more so determined than anything to find the reason behind the tears, and she didn't feel ready to tell him yet.

“Why don’t you know?” he questioned further.

But the tears worked against her, not allowing her to speak.

“Yah scared?” he tried, continuing to wipe her face.

And maybe it was evident that she was, because faces said so much, gave so much away. Especially hers.

“You don’t gotta be scared no more, they're not gonna find us,” his deep voice was so very gentle.

But she could not shake the feeling, and it was as if all the terrifying experience with men tore into her like a sharp pain shooting through her chest. Shaky hands reached out, holding onto the fabrike off his chest like a lifeline, the fer poured out before she new it,

“No! They are gonna find us! And - and, they'll kill you and then they are gonna rape me!”

Only after her words came to life did she realize she admitted to a fear so deep within herself she shocked herself. She felt him stiffen to her words, his heart beating louder as he held her as if he was gonna lose her.

“No, no,” his deep voice rumbled from his chest. “Nothing like that’s gonna happen. No one's gonna hurt ya and nobodys’ gonna kill me.”

“You don't know that. Didn't you hear what they said? They said I was ‘free game and-”

Daryl moved on top of her, caging her in and his eyes looked intense making her worry she had upset him somehow. Tears spilled from the corner of her eyes down to her ears as she stared up at him. With a more serious tone he said almost darkly,

“No. Yah ain't.”

It felt like she couldn't breathe. It sounded like a confession. He didn't outright say it. But why else would he so straightforwardly denie the idea, as if the thought angered him.

Oh.

Did he already see her as is? That would explain the protectiveness, the anger and the gentleness in his touch. Her mouth trembled and the softness in his eyes returned. He searched her face before leaning down and enveloping her in a kiss. The kiss so soft she could feel the pure intentions behind it. It calmed her to the point her tears stopped falling.

Daryl pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, Julia closed her eyes as well. The feeling of his warm breath against her face was pleasant against the cold air as he said almost pleadingly,

"Please stop crying. Just tell me what to do.”

Julia couldn't help herself as her arms wrapped around his neck, and it felt like she could not word what she needed. He let her hold him close in response to her desperate need of comfort. She opened her mouth as if to tell him about the baby. But she just couldn't get the words to leave her. She was so scared. But she needed him now more than ever. His protection, his touch, his voice, him underneath her skin, but even that wouldn't be near enough.

She felt him lean into her ear, “Tell me,” he begged.

She unwrapped herself from the embrace, her hands resting on either side of his face. Gazing up at him she felt shy to say what she wanted. He was staring right back at her, as if reading her, making her feel like an open book underneath his gaze. But what she also felt was his desire hardening against her thigh. His eyes had darkened with lust, filled with that same desire they had shared last night.

He seemed to understand what she was asking for. That same pulse began to beat between her legs and she spread them apart, welcoming him. It seemed to have heightened his own desire as his lower body moved against hers and he did it so very carefully, gauging if she would stop him. But she wouldn't. This is what she wanted. All of him inside of her.

With her hands still on his face she kissed him. His tongue entered her mouth and before she knew it he had taken control, their tongues dancing and it felt like he always was in a desperate need for more. His hips rocked against her front and the feeling of his hard length had her walls squeezing around nothing. Wetness pooled like a poodle, staining her jeans and she wondered if he could feel it. His hand traveled down, cupping her mound she gasped into his mouth. She could feel him undo her jeans, assisting she lifted her bottom and with one swift motion they were pulled down and all the way off, tossing them out without breaking the kiss.

Daryl had her panting as he pulled away for the need of oxygen. She washed on as he pulled his jacket and shirt off, leaving himself in a sleeveless button down, reminding her how strong and broad he was. Just as fast his lips returned to hers and she melted into his mouth, his hand cupped her and she just wanted him inside already. It felt like he was teasing her and probably enjoying her desperate state, feeling the wetness over her undergarment. Painfully slow his hand went underneath the fabrike, thicke fingers going along her folds almost curiously at how wet she was. Just with his fingers down there it felt so good she had to pull away from the kiss and when he dipped his fingers inside of her, going for a spot she had no idea existed inside of her, had her within seconds away from climax.

She could feel him washing her, that intense feeling building and belding before it- His hand clasped over her mouth before the moan escaped her. Julia swore he had her seeing stars, feeling almost lightheaded as she came down. A kiss was pressed to her forehead and she gazed up at him only wanting more.

The unmistakable sound of him undoing his pants has her stomach flutter in anticipation, her legs spreading even wider as he moves closer to lube himself with the wetness. Just as he aliens himself, feeling his head pressed against her entrance he paused, whispering,

“You gotta be quiet, okay.”

Julia nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and before she could ready herself her promise went out the window. His hand clasped over her mouth once more, his other hand cradling her head. Entering her all the way she could feel how her walls adjust to the intrusion. It was a tight fit but she liked the feeling of him stretching her out.

Daryl pulled almost all the way out before he pushed himself inside, beginning a steady pace. Every rock of his hips had her making sounds into his hand, making him remind her to keep quiet. But how could she stay silent when he was making her feel so good.

Daryl buried his face into her shoulder, heavy breaths of pleasure leaving him. Her legs wrapped around him, sending him deeper. His breath became more laborde as she did so and she could feel him holding himself back, not allowing his own sounds of pleasure coming to life.

The hand covering her mouth was exchanged into sloppy kisses. The pace slowed for just a moment letting her breath for a moment before his hand returned and the pace of his hips as well. Pressure built in her stomach as he went faster, his breaths turning into grunts. But he kept them low and controlled. Daryl was locked in. Eyes closed, chasing after his climax. His hair had become dampened with sweat and in her pleasure she takes in his rugged, wetherd face, his masculine beauty exudes from him. Before she knew it she was on the edge of her second climax, her face turning hot, the intense feeling building up before it would explode like a supernova. The feeling was so intense she couldn't make a sound, legs shaking intensely as she went true it, feeling the wave all true her lower body, down to her feet. It was overwhelming in a pleasurable way, having her almost feeling drunk as she came down. Opening her eyes only to be met by his piercing blue ones as he continued to move inside of her. He seemed to like washing her as much as he liked to kiss her and it felt so good to be wanted.

She could see him fighting it, as if to prolong his chase. But she could see the shift behind his eyes, the primal instinct to finish burning inside of him. As if he couldn't take it anymore he thrusts his hips harder, the pace overstimulating, bringing tears to her eyes. Their flesh collided inside the sleeping bag and she worried the noises would alert nearby walkers.

With an animalistic grunt he pulled out, finishing on her thigh. Their panting breaths filled the night as he stopped himself from completely collapsing on top of her. He reached clumsily for something in his back pocket and cleaned his mess off her thigh, the aftercare sweet she couldn't help but smile.

Puting the rag away he pressed the softest kiss she had ever received from him, closing her eyes she melted into it, completely worked out and ready for bed. With an arm he pulled her into his chest, his chin resting on top of her head and this was where she felt the safest she had ever felt in her entire life. In the arms of the man she trusted her life with, that also was the man that had made her pregnant and had no idea because she had failed to tell him.

It was nice, the unintentional comfort he provided, holding her as if her world hadn't just turned upside down and their shared journey wouldn't come to an end. Because she knew when he found out everything would change and she had a feeling it would break her heart.

And that was when she decided to not tell him. That for the sake of the future, for her selfish desires for love she would simply not tell him. Under no circumstances was he to find out until they found the doctors and finished what she was set out to do. And Julia hoped he would not hate her for it, that he would find it within himself to understand.

With her ear against his beating heart and his steady breath she drifted away from the harsh reality she would be woken to. But for now she would be with the man she just began to know and love.

Pt.12 Masterlist

#apocalypse #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl x y/n #fanfics #twd fanfiction #romance #romantic #love story #love #twd daryl #pregnancy #pregnant #age g@p #whatyoufightfor!

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squeamishnerd · 11 months ago

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The Brights

Chapter 27: What's up With the Fungis, Part 3

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Six days ago

Julia: I'm so not ready for this debate. I wish I had just stayed in Bot Savants instead.

Janie: You were in Bot Savants? My cousin, Kristy, is in Bot Savants. She joined in the beginning of the autumn term.

Julia: Oh, neat.

Janie: Would you like to meet her? We're going out tonight, to Pepper's, with our roomies.

Julia: Sure! Sounds like fun.

Janie: Should I invite Becca and Angela too?

Julia: Um… I kinda want to avoid Becca for a while, so I'd prefer if you didn't.

Janie: Oh, okay.

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kiarastromboli · 9 months ago

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Teach me 5 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

Masterlist.

Warning: angst, mention of selfharm, arguing.

Summary: After a challenging party and a disagreement with her mother, Y/N finds herself alone, confronted by her darkest thoughts. She hits rock bottom, but something prevents her from taking irreversible actions.

Note: This part will address sensitive subjects such as depression and self-harm. If you're not comfortable with these topics, please do not read. I want to emphasize that my intention is not to romanticize distress or depression. If you're struggling and need help, there are people around you. My DMs are open for anyone who feels the need to talk. You are not alone. 🫶🏻

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

How could I be so stupid, even though my parents warned me about boys like Chris?

Liars, manipulators who can't control their desires and needs.

And I, like the naive and innocent little virgin I was, fell for it.

I fell for it, and I believed it for two years, believed it to the point of tearing my fucking heart out of my chest.

I can't believe I could be so damn foolish.

Is this what being blinded by love is like? Is this what it's supposed to mean?

Is that why they keep lecturing us teenagers that we don't know what real love is?

If he lied to me that night, then it means he lied to me every other night.

If he truly loved me as he claimed, he would never have dared to do such a thing to me.

How could he look me in the eyes and tell me all those bullshit while he was already dating another girl?

I thought he was honest and sincere; he had the same look as the first time he said 'I love you,' and now it all seemed like a fucking lie.

I knew that sleeping with him that night wasn't supposed to mean anything, and since we were supposed to remain friends, it's not the fact that he's with another girl that hurts me.

It's the fact that he lied to me, making me believe I was the only one in his heart.

I was warned about him; Julia told me to be careful, and even my father told me it was better if I went to the other end of the country to cut contact with him.

But I didn't want to believe all that because I was charmed by a few kisses and conversations that I thought were meaningful until now.

I wish it were just a lie, but that night, just before leaving Julia's party, I saw Tess and Chris kissing in the middle of the crowd, and I felt like I was going to die of heartbreak.

He was kissing her right here in front of everyone, which means he didn't even bother hiding it from me anymore.

Was it a way of getting back at me for what i did ?

Why did he make me believe he didn't hold a grudge against me? Why did he play with my fucking heart like that?

I was so ashamed that I didn't even bother explaining the situation to Julia; I went home and locked myself in my room.

Waking up this morning, I saw a ton of missed messages and calls from Julia. Shit, I didn't think to tell her I was leaving; she must have been worried...

In addition to feeling like shit because of Chris, I naturally had to wake up with a hangover.

I'm pathetic, this whole story is ridiculous.

"You came home very late last night; I thought you'd be back today," my mother said, arms crossed, upon seeing me enter the kitchen.

Great, now I'll have to face her, and judging by the expression on her face, I suspect our conversation won't be pleasant. That's just what was missing!

"I didn't feel very well last night; I preferred to come home," I told her, opening the kitchen cupboard to take a mug.

"Did you drink?" she asked, exhaling.

"Mom, I told you it was a party for my return, and-" I barely had time to finish justifying myself; she had already resumed speaking.

"I thought you had changed, that you had improved, but I see it's worse. How do you think your father will react to this, y/n?" she said, distressed.

I sighed before she could speak again. "Seriously, y/n, do you think it's an appropriate way for a young woman like you to behave? Have you thought about what people will think of us seeing you like this?"

"Damn, don't you ever get tired of bringing everything back to you?" I snapped, and she jumped at the sound of my raised voice.

"My whole fucking life, I played the role you wanted me to play, and I never complained!" I said, furious.

"You sent me to the other end of the country without even giving me a choice, forcing me to rebuild my life and leave the people I love!"

"Do you have any idea how challenging it is to be your daughter, Mom? Do you know what it's like to have this kind of education when you grow up around normal parents and teenagers?"

"Yes, I made some mistakes, and you never-" I paused, letting out a fake laugh. "Never failed to remind me!"

"But all the good things I've done, all the good grades, all the people I've helped, everything I've done to please you and help you, you've never commented on that," I said, disgusted.

"You never congratulated me; you never said you were proud of me. And no matter how much effort I put into it, I was never enough for you or Dad!"

"I hid behind this role of the perfect little girl. I hid all my pain and kept my head high, hoping that one day you would be proud. But the truth is, you'll never be because you don't love me. You love the girl I pretend to be, but you hate the girl I am!" I said before leaving the kitchen in tears to lock myself in my room again.

This day couldn't get any more horrible than it already was.

My mother tried knocking on my door, but I stayed there in my bed.

I didn't want to face her anymore; I didn't want to talk to her. It was already hard enough.

Why was my life so chaotic? Why don't I deserve happiness?

Why do things always have to get worse?

What did I do wrong to deserve this?

I didn't even know who I was and what I was supposed to be.

At that moment, I would have given anything to go back to the other end of the country, far from my parents.

But I knew that there, I would have given anything to come back to Boston, close to those I love.

I was lost and alone.

I had no one to share my pain with and no one to hug.

It turns out the only person I might have wanted to embrace was just a liar and an opportunist.

I wrapped myself in my blanket, closed the curtains, and turned off the lights.

I spent the day like that without moving a muscle.

Night came, bringing darkness with it.

Activity on the street outside my house diminished, giving way to silence.

My mother had given up and stopped knocking on my door.

My tears flowed and rested on my face until they turned cold.

I didn't know how long I had stayed like that, but I knew it was a long time.

I kept thinking about all the things I might have done wrong in my life.

I searched for the reason why everything was going so wrong.

Was it because I wasn't grateful enough to have a roof over my head?

Was it because I had been a spoiled child?

Was it because I didn't make enough effort?

Was it because I wasn't a good enough friend? Or a good enough daughter?

Was it because I am a bad person?

Am I a bad person?

Is it legitimate for me to feel this bad?

Am I not exaggerating?

After all, there are worse things in life, right?

People are dying out there, losing their loved ones, and I'm crying because a boy lied to me?

I'm crying because I'm just an unloved child?

A child who only wants to be recognized and appreciated.

What did I do wrong, damn it?

The more my thoughts chained together, the harder it became to breathe.

I had a weight in my chest, and I could feel it deep inside me.

I had cried so much that my sinuses hurt, and my eyes were swollen.

It was hard, so hard. What was I supposed to do?

How was I going to be able to continue living with this weight on my chest?

Dark and obscure thoughts took over my mind.

Thoughts that I was ashamed of, thoughts so awful that I couldn't bring myself to recount them to you.

I wanted to do something bad; I got up and grabbed the blade from my pencil sharpener on my desk.

And before I could reach my bed again, I was interrupted by my window opening.

I turned around in shock, falling face to face with Chris. Damn it, why did he always have to do that?

The blade slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor at that moment.

"Shit," I whispered, quickly bending down to retrieve it.

"What's this?" Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at my closed hand.

"Chris, get out of my room right now," I told him sharply.

He scrutinized my face for a moment before speaking again. "Were you crying? Y/n, what's wrong? What are you hiding in your hand?" he asked, concerned.

"It's none of your fucking business. Just leave; I don't want you here!" I said, feeling anger rise again.

"Wow, I haven't done anything. Why are you talking to me like this? Seriously, I'm getting worried. What's going on?" he asked, confused, approaching me.

On reflex, I put the hand holding the blade behind my back when he reached my level, only making him more worried.

"Chris, I'm warning you; I'll call my parents if you don't leave my room now!" I panicked before he grabbed my arm.

"What are you hiding, Y/n? Open your hand!" he said, getting angrier and trying to open my hand.

"Chris, stop – let go of me, stop!" I said, succumbing and crying when he started overpowering me.

I tried to struggle, but he had much more strength than me. It didn't take him long to open my hand and find the blade.

His expression changed; he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at me.

"What were you doing when I came into your room?" he asked, well aware of what my answer would be.

Tears started flowing again, and this time, I was filled with shame. I couldn't even bring myself to speak, so I just stood there, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Y/n," he said in a fragile voice.

"Why?" he asked, his gaze sad.

"Chris, I want you to leave," I told him amid my sobs.

"No, not until you explain why," he said, shaking his head.

I lifted my head before taking a deep breath to try and stop my tears.

"And why don't you explain your little story with Tess then!" I told him, changing the subject.

"Wait, are you serious, y/n? Don't change the subject," he said, completely confused.

"Chris, what I was about to do is none of your business anymore, not since the moment you lied to my face, making me believe I was special to you," I said, pushing him away.

"But what are you talking about, y/n? I never lied to you," he said, shaking his head.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were with her!" I raised my voice.

"What?" he said, even more confused.

"Chris, I want you to leave; I don't want to deal with this shit right now," I said, turning my back to him.

"Y/n, I'm not fucking dating her. Where did you get that idea?" he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, trying to turn me around.

"Why do you keep lying, Chris? She came to ask me to keep my distance from you, emphasizing that you two are together!" I told him, turning around and brushing his hand off my shoulder.

"Do you really believe that nonsense?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I saw you kissing her," I said, clenching my jaw and trying to hold back my tears.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, taking a step back.

I sighed. "Damn it, Chris, you're such a jerk," I said, shaking my head.

"Y/n, it's not like that. It's really not what you think," he began to try and justify himself before I cut him off again.

"It's not what I think?" I said, raising my voice and eyebrows.

"Oh, so your tongue wasn't in her mouth?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Y/n, I know it can be misleading, but..." he began to try and explain before I cut him off again with a laugh.

"Misleading?! Chris, seriously?" I said, biting my lip.

"Please, let me explain, y/n," he said, grabbing my hands, but I didn't let him. I pulled back.

"I don't need you to explain, Chris; it's very fucking clear," I said, nodding my head.

"Y/n, please," he said desperately.

"Get out, Chris," I told him sharply.

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, not moving.

"For God's sake, just get the fuck out; I want you to leave!" I screamed, pushing him.

"I'm not going to leave you alone when you were about to hurt yourself, y/n. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I won't leave this room until I know you're safe," he said, standing his ground.

"Oh, now you're worried about me?!" I said, laughing.

"You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. I haven't done anything wrong, y/n," he said, looking me in the eyes.

"You'd rather believe some girl you don't even know over me. You won't even give me a chance to explain!" he said, waving his hands.

"Because I don't want to listen to another one of your lies, Chris. I'm too tired for that!" I told him, breaking into tears.

"But I'm not lying to you, y/n. Trust me!" he said, advancing towards me.

"I can't. I can't. I'm not strong enough for that. I don't want to take the risk of sinking even lower!" I confessed.

"Is it because of me that you were going to do that?" he said, pointing to the blade that now rested on my bedside table.

I looked at him, eyes soaked and throat tightened.

"Oh god," he whispered, running his hand over his face.

"I'm so sorry, y/n, if I made you believe I wasn't sincere, but all this is just a mistake. I'm not dating Tess," he said, taking my hands.

"I slept with her for a long time, okay, I won't lie to you. I was sleeping with her before we got together, and when you left, I turned to her right away," he began to explain, and I just listened.

"I was a jerk to her. I made her believe it could work between us to keep her under my control, even though I knew we would never be together," he said, and I could hear the disgust in his voice.

"When I got myself together, I stopped everything with her and tried to apologize, but she kept resenting me. She knew what you meant to me; that's why she didn't waste a second to come and tell you those lies," he said, and I sank down, sitting on my bed.

"Y/n, I'm not proud of what I did. She didn't deserve that, and it's not an excuse, but when you left, I was in such a bad place that I hurt anyone who came near me," he said, sitting next to me.

"I haven't lied to you once," he said, placing his hand on mine.

"I'm sorry, y/n, believe me, I really am. I didn't want you to end up like this. I should have told you that night, but I was too ashamed," he said, looking into my eyes.

"And why did you kiss her then?" I asked, wiping my tears.

"Because she threw herself at me; I was completely wasted. By the time I understood what was happening and detached her from my lips, there might have been enough time for you to see us. She probably waited until you were around to do it," he told me.

I looked at him without answering; I was hesitant. I didn't know if I should trust him or not.

"Y/n, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I swear it's true. You can ask anyone; I never dated her," he said, trying to be as convincing and reassuring as possible.

"Chris," I said, lowering my head, "I don't know if I'm supposed to believe you. I don't know if I should trust you or not."

"It's the truth, y/n, I swear. You can ask anyone. I would never do anything to hurt you," he said, squeezing my hand.

"I need time; I don't know what to think. I don't know if I should believe you or not,"

"I'll give you all the time you need," he said, nodding.

"You should rest; it's late, and you really look tired," he said, getting up.

"I'll take this with me," he said, picking up the blade from my bedside table before heading to my window.

"Chris!" I said before he left my room, and he turned around.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I don't want to be alone," I said, letting a tear fall, "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep, please?"

He took a deep breath, "Y-yeah, of course," he said, moving closer to me.

He grabbed the chair from my desk and placed it next to my bed before sitting down.

I slipped under the sheets of my bed, whispering to him, "Thank you, Chris."

"Don't thank me; it's the least I can do for you," he said with a weak smile.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds before I spoke again.

"It wasn't just because of you, you know?" I said in a weak voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"I had a fight with my mom," I told him, and he nodded, signaling me to continue.

"And for the first time, I told her what I really had on my mind," I continued, sitting up against my headboard.

"I said things to her that I had never had the courage to say before, and when I went back to my room, everything hit me," I said, unable to control my voice, which occasionally broke.

"I found myself alone with my thoughts, and I started to wonder why all this was happening to me," I continued, waving my hands.

"I got lost in my own head; grief took over, and I felt this horrible weight on my chest," I said, letting a tear fall and placing my hand on my chest.

"It hurt, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. My thoughts were screaming awful things at me, and I struggled to breathe; I felt suffocated," I said, shaking my head, and more tears began to stream down my cheeks.

"And for a brief moment, I thought that by inflicting physical pain on myself, it would get rid of all these bad thoughts," I said before biting my lip.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to distract my mind. I didn't want to hurt myself, but it felt like the only solution," I said, trying to wipe away my tears.

"And now, looking back, I realize how stupid and awful it was. I don't know what came over me; it was like it was stronger than me," I added, hitting my mattress with my arm.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to feel better," I said, shaking my head, and he took me into his arms.

I was so carried away by my emotions that I didn't even notice he was also crying.

"It's over now, y/n; I'm here, okay?" he said, holding me tightly.

"I'll chase away all those bad thoughts of your head for you if you want," he continued to say.

"It's going to be okay, I promise you," he said, gently stroking my head.

"I can't figure out what the hell is wrong with me," I told him, crying against his chest.

"I played a role for so long that I don't even know who I'm supposed to be," I said, clinging to his shirt.

"You're allowed to be lost; we all go through that. You'll eventually figure out who you really are; you just need to give yourself time," he reassured me.

"I know who you are, and I assure you that the person you are doesn't deserve to inflict so much pain on themselves," he continued to say.

"I just wanted to please them," I said, crying.

"Your parents?" he asked, and I nodded.

"If your parents don't love you for who you are, then they're really assholes. You deserve better than that," he said. I left his arms, wiping my tears.

"You're an amazing person, y/n, and it breaks my heart to hear you say that because you shouldn't have to beg for your parents' love, and it's just not fair," he said, caressing my cheek.

"In their place, I'd give you all the love in the world; in their place, I'd constantly tell you how proud I am of you because that's what you deserve," he said, looking into my eyes, and I couldn't help but cry.

"Thank you, Chris," I said, lowering my head.

"I'm sorry that life throws so much crap at you. If I could take away all the pain from your heart, believe me, I would," he said.

"But right now, what you need is to rest," he added.

"And I won't leave your room until you fall asleep, I promise. I'm here; you're not alone. I'm watching over you," he said, yawning.

"You're tired too," I said, smiling slightly.

"Yes, but I can wait," he said, returning a smile.

"You can sleep with me if you want," I told him.

"I don't know; won't your parents freak out?" he said, furrowing his brow.

"Not if you leave before they wake up tomorrow," I said, shrugging.

"Please, let me do this at least for you; you need to rest as much as I do," I added.

"Okay, um, do you want us to sleep in the same bed?" he asked timidly.

"You can sleep on the floor if you want, but it wouldn't be the first time you and I share a bed," I said, scratching my neck.

"Yeah, but the other times we shared a bed, y/n, it wasn't for sleeping," he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling.

"Do you think we wouldn't be able to share a bed without getting intimate?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"No, that's not what I meant. I—," he said, embarrassed, before I cut him off.

"It's okay; I'm joking. Stop being silly; come here," I said, lifting the blanket to signal him to lie down next to me, which he eventually did.

Silence filled the room, and it was a bit awkward. Chris kept tossing and turning, so I eventually spoke up, "Are you going to stop fidgeting around anytime soon?" I chuckled.

"Sorry, it's just really warm," he said, chuckling as well.

"Well, you can take off your sweater," I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not wearing anything underneath," he said, embarrassed.

"Oh," I responded, "um, it doesn't bother me; you can take it off if you're more comfortable that way," I said, trying to play it cool.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, and besides, it's nothing new. I've seen you like this before," I said, feeling awkward, and he couldn't help but laugh as he took off his sweater.

"Why are you laughing ?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing; I just find this situation funny," he said, stopping his laughter.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, giving him a punch on the shoulder, and we both burst into laughter.

"I never told you, but I really love your laugh, you know?" he said without thinking, making me blush.

"Ah yeah?" I responded, embarrassed, but this time not for the same reason.

"Yeah, I find it soothing," he said, smiling.

Another silence fell. We were face to face, looking at each other without touching, as if there was a vast space between us, almost like we were afraid to make contact.

"I love your eyes," I said without really knowing where I was going with it.

"Why?" he whispered.

"When I look into them, I feel like I'm the only person on Earth," I replied, letting my heart speak.

"It's because you are the only person who truly exists in my eyes," he replied shyly.

Another silence.

"I love your lips," he said.

"I love your nose," I replied.

"I love your hips," he continued, and I could feel the tension building.

"I love your arms," I responded, quickening my breath.

"I love your hands," he replied, placing his hand on mine.

"I love your back," I said, gradually moving closer to him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his lips just a few millimeters from mine.

"Chris," I responded, my eyes fixed on his lips.

"I love you entirely," he said in an almost inaudible voice before closing the distance between our lips.

I grabbed his collar, pulling him closer without parting our lips. Our kiss deepened, our breaths mingling, and the room's temperature became unbearable.

"Y/n, we can't," he said, separating our lips, my right hand still on his cheek.

"I know," I whispered.

He laid back next to me.

"I love you entirely too," I said, turning my head toward him, tears in my eyes.

Silence, again.

"Maybe in another universe, we got to have our story," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"I wish we were in another universe," I responded, gazing at the ceiling as well.

"Do you think in the one we are, we'll never get to have our story?" I asked him, and he turned his head to look at me.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "All I know is that in this universe, the girl I love leaves at the end of the vacation," he added.

"I wish things were different," I said.

"I know, me too," he replied.

"Can I fall asleep in your arms?" I asked, letting a tear fall.

He didn't respond, just opened his arms for me to snuggle against his chest, which I did.

"Good night, my angel," he whispered.

"Good night, my love," I replied.

I couldn't help but shed a few tears before closing my eyes and finally managing to find sleep.

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