#The one who messed with my hair and helped me through anxiety attacks. The one who would tell me anything because she trusted me

[astral-catastrophe]

I hate how this girl said I was her best friend.

Her best fucking friend in the whole fucking world.

Then the next I know. My simple question about her coming to a thing after class turned into an hours long argument over Snapchat because she was too much of a coward to say it in person. Or over text. A phone call. Snapchat. A place where her messages would be gone the second I saw them.

Then the way she switched between “you did nothing wrong” and. The “you did everything wrong”.

Then the. “Okay maybe I should have done a b and c.” But the phrasing and her perfectly posed self was a grab for me to immediately assure her she’s fine and did nothing wrong. I’ve seen her do it to others and explain it to me.

So I answered with a simple. “Yea. You should have.”

And so I stopped reaching out. It was always me who would reach out in the first place. So seeing that she won’t do the same and is clearly fine with her entire damned “friend group” angry with her over how she treated me? Everyone I showed her messages too said that no, I wasn’t crazy for seeing manipulation in her words. Because I was being actively manipulated through her sympathy pulls.

So. I was her best friend. But now that I told her how I felt about the crap she’s pulled, that’s five years down the drain.

Five years. Five whole years??

I meant so little to her that she would rather hang out with exclusively her boyfriend and not her actual friends, just because I’m me.

Just because I am who I am. Just because I decided I wouldn’t stand for any shit from anyone.

All because I asked if she was coming to something after school.

I hate the whole victim mentality stuff. Like. I can see. Did I say things I should not have? Oh probably, but did I say it in defense? Did I say it because I’ve been trying to live by my brutal honesty? Did I say it because I was tired of being treated like that? Did I say it because I’ve had too many awful friends?

Did I say all that because I hadn’t talked to someone who claimed to be my best friend in over a month because she wouldn’t make efforts to meet me halfway?

I spoke from a position of someone who wanted their friend back and only tried to defend themself.

Should I have told her that it’s upsetting that she never makes the effort to be around any of us anymore? I’m not sure.

But she shouldn’t have blown up on me for a simple question. She created a problem, singled herself out, then took out all her issues on me. We were best friends, as you claimed. So fucking explain why I haven’t properly seen or talked to you since the beginning of November, which was three ish weeks before this all went to hell. If we were best friends, you wouldn’t have abandoned me for a boy you’ve known for nine months now.

Nine months, verses five years. She wanted me as her maid of honor to her wedding with this guy. She wanted me to help wedding plan.

We’re still kids. I refuse to take part in that.

Especially since the last time I saw her it was in the hallway between classes. She excitedly came up to me, acting like nothing was wrong. My fight or flight kicked in and I booked it because the anxiety was so so high from an out of character moment.

But I hate myself for wondering if I want her back. I hate myself because no matter what I said the outcome would have been the same. Because no matter what I’ll do or could have done it’s always gonna be her boyfriend over me. I’m the second choice. The fallback.

Do I really want her back over the nights I’ve spent near hysterics. It’s almost five am and I’ve been up for hours anxiety ridden and thinking through so much.

Do I want her back after her manipulating me? Would I be able to look her in the eye without seeing the “I have an issue with you acting like I'm the bad person” and the “I know you do care. But I haven't heard a single fucking word until today” and the “And then you blowing up on me for not communicating. I stopped trying to communicate because when I do I barely get a response” ?

I communicated more to her than I did to anyone else. Anyone else. I dropped things I wanted to do to see her. I didn’t blow up. I only asked a simple question.

Am I horrible for asking a question, then defending myself when being accused of stuff that’s not true? Because oh man. I shouldn’t have said a word. Next time I’ll keep my silence because my words are too sharp and too true for people to handle.

[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat. 

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.” 

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable. 

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity. 

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day. 

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch.  When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless. 

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry  Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

[pablitogavii]

angst where the reader is just really going through it and crying and can’t stop and gavi comforts her and she ends up falling asleep please. been going through it lately and just wanna be held 🥺

Always & Forever

You were diagnosed with anxious depression when you were thirteen years old and everyone close to you was surprised to hear it since you were always a smiley go lucky girl.

There are times tho when your anxiety just becomes so overwhelming you feel absolutely helpless. Today was one of those days unfortunately.

When you just started dating Gavi, you didn't want to bother him with it a little worried he would find it weird and stupid. When you had a panic attack while he was there did he realize that there were things he needed to know about.

"I need to know about this so I know how to help amor..I promise to love you even more when you tell me" he told you that night that you were really happy that you explained it all to him.

Pablo quickly became the only person who could properly handle you during your down days as well as your panic attacks. He knows exactly what you need and is not shy to give it to you in an instant.

Today however he wasn't home because of his match against Getafe which was away. You didn't tell him anything because you knew he would make a fuss for Aurora or his mom to come stay with you for a day.

"Amor? You asleep preciosa?" he walked into your shared bedroom quietly and although it wasn't too late he wanted to make sure you didn't go to bed early.

"No.." you said peeking through the blanket which made him smile and sit down to kiss your lips lovingly. The moment you could smell his familiar scent, and felt his lips on yours did tears spill down your cheeks.

You just couldn't control it and Pablo didn't need a lot to figure out what was going on grabbing your small body and holding you in his arms tightly.

"Shh princesita mia..it's alright..I'm here now" he praised kissing the top of your hair while you silently sobbed nodding your head and feeling a little guilty for being such a mess.

"U..um..I'm sorry..Pablo" you hiccuped in between words but he wouldn't hear any more shutting you up with a sweet kiss on your lips.

"We said no apologizing when it comes to this, right princesa?" he asked and you nodded smiling weakly at him although you still felt so bad.

"You want some head scratches and cuddles huh??" he asked already knowing an answer before taking off his shirt knowing you love physical contact in situations like this and you quickly laid your head on his warm chest.

"There we go..you're okay preciosa..everything is going to be alright now that we are together" Pablo spoke softly while playing with your hair and the melody of his voice was lulling you slowly into sleep.

"Did you eat your dinner bombon?" he said and you nodded your head looking up at him with big eyes. It always warmed your heart when he would check up on you like this. Pablo smiled and nodded approvingly.

"Bueno..then I can give you my present?" he said and you looked excited which made him happy. At least he was able to distract you enough to give him a small smile again.

"But Pablito..we said no more presents! You spoiled me so much over the summer!" you tell him really hating that some people could ever think you are with Pablo for his money. You loved this boy's heart more than anything in the world.

"So I take it you don't want these mini gummy bears then??" he said taking out your favorite bag and your eyes opened wide taking the bag quickly while he giggled.

"I love you Pablito.." you said and he nodded his head loving how such a small thing can make you this happy. He always searched for a heart like yours and he was so happy that he finally found it.

"I love you too mi amor" Pablo said kissing your lips.

"Can you open it for me please?" you ask and he giggled nodding his head and opening the bag for you letting you much on it for a few minutes until you were done giving it to him to put on the bedside table.

"How are you feeling now amor?" he asks moving back and kissing the top of your head while you only sighed shrugging your shoulder.

"I'm sorry..you brought me a present and I'm still sad" you say with a pout which Pablo kissed holding you tighter in his strong arms.

"What did I say about saying sorry for this amor??" he said and you nodded nuzzling your face into his neck and letting him move his hand up and down your back. Tears were falling down your cheeks since your head was a mess but Pablo didn't mind at all just letting you cry and be there with him for as long as you needed.

Soon enough you grew exhausted as you stopped crying holding onto Pablo for dear life while he reassured you that he is not letting you go no matter what happens.

"U..um..thank you" you whispered on the verge of falling asleep holding his hand that was on your cheek and leaning further into his touch.

"Always mi amor..always and forever" he said and you smiled once more starting to feel a little better and your eyes were closing slowly.

"You have such big hands P..Pablo..and the little freckles on your fingers are so unique and cute" you were talking half asleep and he found it adorable kissing the top of your head letting you play with his fingers to distract yourself.

"Thank you mi amor..why don't you get some sleep for me huh?" he said and you nodded finally letting your eyes close and your body completely rest.

"Sleep well mi preciosa..I'm going to be right her..always and forever" he whispered letting himself relax too and get some well deserved rest.

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 37

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome to my bi-weekly fic rec list! This is everything I read in the last two weeks. It's... a lot. I did March Fic Madness and also just was generally in a reading mood so there's like 40 fics here. They're in alphabetical order by boy.

All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.

Constellations in his eyes

Dave York one shot by @janaispunk

Your fiancé stands you up on your birthday. Dave doesn’t.

infidelity, shitty boyfriend, angst, fluff, kissing, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n

What Love Means

Dave York one shot by @ravensmadreads

Dave has a panic attack and you help him through it

So David is probably ooc (but this version of him is my comfort character sorry), description of a panic attack, mentions of canon violence, and like the barest hint at smut.

The Mess of Us

Dave York one shot by @ravensmadreads

I gave david york my heart and then proceeded to bash it with a sledgehammer - forgive me :p this is the same universe as What Love Means

vague smut, lots of angst (i mean i tried), almost entirely canon compliant, vague-ish attempt at smut, mild cursing, insane use of italics.

The One

Dieter one shot by @schnarfer

If one thing had been different, would everything be different today?

Bit of emotional torment, drink and drugs references, Dieter POV, happy ending? Always Fleabag coded.

Purple Haze

Dieter one shot by @schnarfer

that boy put a spell on you

1960’s London Dieter Bravo AU, heavy on the British slang, explicit alcohol and drug references, reader is a model but no physical descriptions, outfit descriptions, swearing, sort of enemies to lovers if you squint, smut; protected PIV, light bondage, reader is in control and Dieter is a subby puddle, pet names (angel, doll, darling), light dirty talk, playful slaps. Just a note we’re always very Fleabag coded here.

House Arrest

Dieter one shot by @rulexofxnines

Dieter stays over at your place out of desperation. Things get out of hand so you take control of the situation.

forced proximity, only one bed, a goat

The Howler Monkey

Dieter one shot by @covetyou

You got him here, he was safely tucked away upstairs and everything was going, mostly, according to plan. So, who the fuck is screaming?

no smut but some nudity, implied drug use/addiction, little bit silly, mildly angsty, performance anxiety, screaming, Dieter Bravo's soft cock. basically mild hurt/comfort/fluff with my usual bit of silliness.

Vampire!Dieter

Dieter one shot by @chronically-ghosted

Interview with a vampire, gatsby style

flirting, a bit of blood, maybe dubcon due to The Thrall but i think it's safe to say we all want It from vampire!dieter, unbeta-ed because i needed to write something or someone was going to die

Brick House

Dieter one shot by @nerdieforpedro

Dieter buys a house for you and the baby

mention of past drug use, fertility issues, mention of sperm donation and clinics, false pretenses, Dieter might be a bit obsessed or a lot

Stay sexy and don't get murdered

Dieter one shot by @chronically-ghosted

Trapped behind a secret wall to hide from a murderer, the close proximity forces you and Dieter to confront feelings you rather bury underneath your case to prove your favorite neighbor didn’t commit suicide.

brief moments of tv-appropiate terror, arguing, mentions of suicide, mentions of death/murder, but more importantly: smut (like half of this is smut), oral (f!receiving), dieter’s bare ass nearly catching on fire, too many feelings for something that started as a crack fic idea

Fare Well

Dieter one shot by @nerdieforpedro

Dieter has been working so hard. He still has an issue that might be because of his mind. What can he do about it? Do anything else.

unhealthy coping, sexual dysfunction, sex work, teasing, pet names, sexual activity (actual and implied I think? I should know. 🙃)

A poor plan to confess

Dieter one shot by @nerdieforpedro

Dieter is doing his best to stay sober. You have a large part in his plans. They aren’t well thought out.

Dieter being a bit rude, porn use, mention of masturbation, teasing, improper toy use?, very bad communication, some mentions of sexual activities and acts, Nerdie is unsure of what she wrote

Conversation Pit

Dieter one shot @thosewickedlovelies

You’re viewing a mansion with Dieter, and it has a conversation pit. Does he have the discipline to keep his hands to himself?

friends with benefits, SMUT: Dieter’s favorite dom appears 👀 could it be someone we know?; mmf threesome, piv sex, semipublic sex but don’t worry, edging (m receiving), references to sex work

Lush

Din one shot by @the-scandalorian

Mando makes regular visits to the healing baths.

touch-starved Din; reader is blindfolded; smut

Immortal By Design

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Din Djarin picks up a mysterious job at the Bounty Hunter’s Guild from a high paying client that specifically requested him. Once he tracks down the bounty, he discovers two things— you tracking the bounty for different reasons entirely and a lot more than he bargained for.

reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), no Grogu in this universe, possession, cursed object, dark!Din, monsterfucking (I think), Din has heightened capabilities, dub con/noncon, restraints, reader gets captured, oral sex (M and F receiving), rough oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mir’sheb = smart ass, character death, no use of y/n

Enchanted to Meet You

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

You’re a senator for the New Republic and tonight you’re forced to attend the New Republic Gala. Senator Xiono won’t leave you alone but that in turn leads you to meet Mando, a security guard at the event. And that leaves you wonderstruck.

Reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, reader has consumed alcohol, creepy guy at the gala, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, pet names (cyar’ika, mesh’la), no use of y/n

I don't mind bleeding

Din one shot by @quicksilvermad

You and the Mandalorian have a mutually beneficial relationship—he pays your rent and you feed him when he needs fresh blood.

vampire!Din, blood, PIV sex, biting, sex work, second person POV, AFAB Reader, one instance of "good girl", aftercare

Bound

Din one shot by @frannyzooey

It’s your thighs he’s bound this time — not your hands for a change.

smut, bondage, AU

Hello to the Green

Ezra one shot by @the-blind-assassin-12

Down a ship, a crew, and a working air filter, and suffering from a rapidly worsening infection, Ezra makes one last ditch effort to get home. And he hopes it’s enough.

language, angst, injury and illness, death

Paint With Me

Frankie one shot by @bitchesuntitled

You have a crush on the dad of your daughter’s best friend.

Sexual innuendos and cursing

Right on Cue

Frankie one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

The quiet bartender lends you a hand after you've closed up for the night.

reader is able-bodied but otherwise undescribed. Oral sex f receiving, protected PIV, that's pretty much it. this is just PWP

Door Number Three

Javi G drabble by @morallyinept

Javi shows you what he keeps behind that mirrored door

Character talk alludes to sexy things.

Dámelo

Javi P one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

You want more. Javi wants to give it to you. You just have to give him something first.

mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, aftercare. reader is able-bodied but otherwise undescribed.

Dress Up Joel

Joel series @covetyou

when a mysterious stranger breaks into your house, and keeps breaking into your house, he gives you the fright, and the ride, of your life. Welcome to your seasonal encounters with one Mr. Joel Miller.

sex toys, dress up, festive/seasonal shenanigans, no use of Y/N, see individual fics for additional warnings

He Knows

Joel/Tommy one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Joel knows you have a little thing for his younger brother so decides to indulge you for your birthday.

gonna state this very clearly: joel gets cucked by tommy and watches, everyone is consenting and it's discussed beforehand, piv, dirty talk, possessive!joel, daddy kink, size kink, established relationship between joel and reader, jealousy, some brotherly rivalry, facial, mild degradation kink, creampie

Does Your Mother Know

Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

Joel finds a pretty young thing on the beach to spend some time with on his vacation.

reader is able-bodied, reader wears a bikini & a dress, no outbreak AU, ambiguous beach location, both reader and Joel consume alcohol, age gap (20 years), oral sex (F and M receiving), semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is on birth control, pet names (sweetheart, baby), no use of y/n

Tear You Apart

Joel one shot by @mermaidgirl30

Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you in the forest?

Dark themes, Little red riding hood references, dark! Joel, Joel is a menace, oral, fingering, choking, unprotected P in V, cream pie, filthy smut, degrading actions, not really violent but lots of dark themes, manipulation, rough sex, dirty talk, Joel calls reader little lamb, possessive Joel, feral! Joel, post outbreak! Joel, controlling Joel, dom! Joel, submissive reader, Joel x fem! reader, Joel is in his late 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s

inhale, exhale

Joel one shot by @sp00kymulderr

This world is not made for intimacy and both of you know it.

Fingering, mentions of sex, smoking (both reader and Joel), canon typical violence mentions, needy!Joel, fear of intimacy. Barely edited as usual.

One Day at a Time

Joel series by @sixhours

Joel becomes a dad. Again

soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Joel is a sap, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff

mine

Joel one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

You encounter a frightening beast in the forest after getting separated from your group. Instead of killing you, he spares your life - the first of many surprises from this mysterious creature.

it's Joel Miller as a humanoid monster beast creature with a massive cock idk what you want me to say, creative liberties with anatomy and bodily fluids, they're soulmates because I wrote this so of course they are, monster!Joel can talk a little but it wouldn't kill him to watch a few episodes of Reading Rainbow or do some alphabet flash cards tbh, one curious use of an aquifer as a metaphor

Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To

Joel one shot by @freelancearsonist

Joel finds a familiar face while out on a smuggling run.

Rated PG for pure angst, one single kiss, and references to Joel's self-inflicted gun wound/self harm

Ahórcame, Papí

Joel/Frankie/Ezra one shot by @marisferasiop

After he gives a recovering addict a job (and subsequently falls head over heels for him), Joel and Frankie have a sweet, fulfilling relationship as Daddy and little exploring their kinks. Then, they meet Ezra at a leather club, another damaged vet with his own issues and kinks. They take him home, and he never really leaves.

Daddy Kink, Daddy/littles, pup kink, Breathplay (hands on throats), Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Control "Training", Light BDSM, Aftercare, Soft Dom Joel, vers Ezra, Bottom Frankie Morales, Oral Sex, Cockwarming, AnalSex, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Breeding Kink, Heat/rut kink, PTSD mention (vets), gags, fingering, choking, cum eating, prostate milking, fucking machine mention, the elusive "sissygasm"

On the Verge of a Usual Mistake

Lucien/Dieter two shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

You've been avoiding your exes Dieter Bravo and Lucien Flores all night at this event, but you're forced to come to terms with how things ended in both relationships when they seek to right their wrongs.

this is truly just porn with minimal plot (I'm so proud of myself lol), Dieter and Lucien are messy exes, threesome activities, Twister but with genitalia, Daddy and Papi kinks

In shades of gray and candlelight

Marcus P one shot by @freelancearsonist

Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily

headshots

Marcus P series by @secretelephanttattoo

You're a photographer and you get a job working for the FBI, taking corporate headshots. On your first day, you run into a handsome Special Agent. The series follows their relationship.

Fluff. Smut. PIV. Romance. Flirting. So much kissing. Non-stop nuzzling. Tiny bit of angst. Marcus in his plaid shirts. Marcus on a motorbike. Skiing. A cameo. Sex talker Marcus.

The Infinity Cube

Marcus P/Various series by @littlemisspascal

When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

language, fluff, angst

12:32 PM

Marcus M one shot by @dancingtotuyo

Marcus likes to think he's moved on with life.

Grief, loss of a spouse (Wife), fluff

Given a name

Oberyn/Ellaria one shot by @missredherring

"This would be your greatest indulgence?" He asks, the edges of his beautiful mouth curling into a pleased grin. / How like a man to inflate his importance. It’s a pity that he isn’t wrong. / This will be my greatest selfishness.

Angst. Mentions of canon character deaths. Allusions to Greek mythology cos I'm a nerd. Reader chooses a name for herself.

Innocence need not tremble

Pero one shot by @brandyllyn

"I told you I don’t know how to fuck a maiden."

smut. PiV. starts rough. but gets better.

Cherry Wine

Whiskey one shot by @julesonrecord

Your marriage to your high school sweetheart has been hell for a long time, but when Jack discovers your awful secret, it all comes pouring out like a wine stain on the carpet. What do you find in the dregs?

MDNI; DDDNE; hurt people hurting people, domestic violence (verbal, physical, off stage neglect), there's a mention of human urine omg I'm truly horrified that survived the editing process, off stage drug use as a coping mechanism, alcoholism, infidelity, grief due to miscarriage/child loss, oblique suicidal ideations ("you should have killed me"); explicit smut; dirty talk; piv; fingering; possessive!Jack; emotional resolution?

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-four

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

emotions bubble to the surface, and you try to balance it all.

a/n: this was a lot of narrative back flipping LOL so many things I wanted to include but so many places I needed to use Liv to my advantage

word count: 6.1k

warnings: lots of emotions, lots of conversations, talk of having kids

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

Henry informs you that it’s movie night, a newfound Jackson tradition held in the mess hall since one of the scavenging groups found a projector in an old movie theatre. You’re hesitant to join the throngs of people, but he tugs you along despite your halfhearted protests.

The hall is filled to bursting with people, and Henry finds you a place with a decent view along the side of the seats that are placed up the middle, all taken by kids of varying ages. You spot Ellie among them, Maria on the other side of the seats, and the little twist of anxiety you’d been carrying since you left the house eases. 

Maria gives you a wave, but the look on her face confirms what you mentioned to Henry. She doesn’t like you, the reputation that precedes you tells her all she needs to know, probably despite whatever positives Tommy has tried to volley in your defence.

You just wave back. Henry disappears after a few minutes, you assume in search of Cal, and you can see Ellie scanning the crowd, jumping a little when her eyes land on you. You watch as she stands, keeping her back bent so she doesn’t block the view as she heads in your direction. The clothes she’s wearing are new, her hair looks a little damp, and she’s clutching a very fucking purple winter coat.

“Can I talk to you?”

“‘Course,” you reply, letting her tug you away from the crowds of people, toward an empty corner of the mess hall. “You got a shower?”

She nods. “Shower, new clothes, weird fuckin’ period cup thing, Maria cut my hair.” The words spill out and she chucks the coat onto a nearby table. “Why didn’t you ever tell me Joel had a daughter?”

You’re speechless. How did she…? You cut the thought short, unable to worry about the logistics.

You shove a hand through your hair. “I…it never came up,” you say, though it feels like a piss-poor excuse. “It wasn’t a secret, Ellie, I promise you. It just…Joel doesn’t talk about it.”

She sighs, shaking her head. “Joel doesn’t like talking about anything. And that guy you punched in the street? And the younger one that was yelling? Who are all these people, Liv? I’m fuckin’—” She cuts herself off, realizing that her volume is climbing. “I’m freaking out over here.”

Guilt tugs at your gut. Of course, she’s confused. You’ve been basically AWOL the moment you got through the gate, and Joel’s too busy taking a walk to give her any answers. “Nick — the guy I punched — he was FEDRA, back in Boston. When the outbreak hit, he was one of the first soldiers I met, and we helped each other out for a long time. Before Joel showed up again, him and I…” You trail off, lifting a brow.

“Gross. Understood. And the other guy?”

“Henry was just a kid when the outbreak happened. When they first quarantined everyone and put us all up in the mall, he was there with his parents and his sister, Emily. His father was Infected and turned while we were still in there and attacked their mother. After that, me and Deanna raised them as best we could, and Nick helped.”

“And Deanna was…?”

“She was a nurse,” you say, memories prickling at your chest. “We…teamed up, I guess, when the kids needed taking care of, so they wouldn’t end up with FEDRA.”

The look on her face breaks your heart. “Must be nice.” She sighs. “And she’s dead? That’s what that Nick guy said.”

“She is,” you say simply, “and so is Emily.” You swallow hard. “She’s the closest thing I’ve had to a daughter until—” You cut yourself off. “They’re gone, Henry and Nick aren’t, that’s it.”

“That’s not it,” she counters. “What about Joel’s daughter? What happened to her?”

“Ellie, I—”

“Tell me,” she presses. “I think I’m owed a few fucking answers, Liv.”

You balk. “She was killed by a soldier the night of the outbreak,” you spew out, and her eyes widen. “Joel and Tommy were trying to get out of Austin, she hurt her foot, and Joel was carrying her. A soldier stopped them, wouldn’t let them pass, and shot at them. He missed Joel but got Sarah, and she died in his arms. I wasn’t there, I was in Boston, but you know that part already.”

You don’t need to tell her the rest, how Tommy told you when he first got to Boston, how you brought it up when you first saw Joel after nearly six years and all it did was build a wall between you. You don’t need to tell her how you got yourself nearly beat to death to get Joel and Tess into the QZ, Joel who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you, until he did.

Ellie throws her arms around you, nearly knocking off your feet, hugging your middle. For a moment, you’re too shocked to move, but then you return her hug, setting your chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles into your front. “That was very asshole-ish of me.”

“No,” you tell her, and she lifts her head slowly. “You’re right; you are owed answers. I know that Joel isn’t the most…forthcoming, about anything, really, but I…I meant what I said: it wasn’t a secret, none of it. Just harder shit to talk about.”

She nods, stepping away from you and reaching for her new coat. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Maria said something and it got me thinking and I—”

You freeze. “Maria said something to you?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes are big as they meet yours. “She said to be careful who I put my faith in, and that the only people who can betray you are the people you trust.”

Your gut flares with anger and you look past Ellie, at the crowd still watching the movie. Maria’s still standing in the same spot she was, and you watch Tommy appear at her side, murmur something to her before disappearing again. “Go watch the movie,” you tell Ellie, pushing her shoulder gently, guiding her back toward the seats. “I need to talk to Maria.”

+

Joel’s head is not a good place to be right now.

Since you set foot in Jackson, he’s been going a mile a minute. His thoughts don’t stop, spinning and weaving and folding in on themselves, making his chest tight, his throat closing up, the inevitable bearing down on him like an iron weight on his shoulders.

He’s going to lose you. He’s going to lose Ellie. He’s going to lose everything.

The bright spark was finding his brother. The sheer relief and happiness that had consumed him when he saw Tommy’s face was completely insane, and then he had to go and fuck it all up by drudging up the past, lying to Tommy about Tess, storming out and then running off on you.

You, who’s only ever wanted to take care of him, to keep him safe.

You, who found part of her family again, hidden behind Jackson’s walls.

He was nothing short of proud when he saw you punch Cowan’s lights out. It would have been something if you’d knocked him out cold, but the hook you delivered was impressive, but he could feel the anger radiating off of you as soon as he got close enough, mixed with the same relief he felt. Cowan and Henry — the closest thing you’ve ever had to a son — are alive, after all this time.

And jealousy is an ugly emotion to carry.

So he’s made himself scarce. The walk he took did little to ease his mind, but after seeing those girls in the street, the older one that looked so much like Sarah…

He had half a mind to slip into Tommy’s bar and drown himself in whiskey.

But he didn’t. Instead, he’s found himself in something of a workshop, reminiscent of the one he and Tommy worked in back in the day. He’s trying to fix his boots, having peeled the duct tape away, but his hands are shaking too hard to get a good grip on the pliers he’s using, his heart beating too fast to focus.

He’s going to lose you. He’s going to lose Ellie. He’s going to lose everything.

He wouldn’t blame you, for staying here. Part of him knows you’d never leave him, not for Cowan, but for a chance to have a life, to make the most of it with the grown boy who is basically your son? Joel couldn’t fault you for that, no matter what it did to him.

And Ellie…

He tosses the pliers away, barely aware of them crashing onto the tabletop as he drops the boots to the floor. Stupid fucking things. The door opens, the wind howling outside, and he lifts his head to see his brother stepping inside, his collar turned up against the cold.

“The guys said I might find you here.” His brother crosses the room quickly, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. “Figured I’d save you the trouble.”

Tommy sets a new pair of boots on the worktable in front of Joel, and then steps away, putting distance between the brothers. Joel just stares at the boots as Tommy does a little loop, turning back to him.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” his brother says, and the exact words he’s referring to echo through Joel’s mind. Just because life stopped for you, doesn’t mean it has to stop for me.

It did and it didn’t, in a way. Joel knows that a part of him died with Sarah, gone with the wind as her life faded away in his arms that night. But then…then he found you again, found a reason to keep going again, and goddamn it if Tommy’s words haven’t gnawed at him.

He never even asked you.

“I don’t even believe it,” Tommy continues. “You have Liv, and you’ve made a life together, despite all this bullshit. And I…I know you’re happy for me. It’s complicated for you, and I’m sorry.”

Joel stares down at his hands. Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it. He can’t properly articulate all the thoughts running through his head, all the reasons for his guilt, everything that seems hellbent on pulling him in every direction.

“So, you gonna let me off the hook,” Tommy says, his tone almost joking now, “or what?”

“This ride to the University,” Joel starts, referring to the University of Eastern Colorado, where Tommy said the Fireflies had set up shop, a week’s ride south of Jackson, but severely fucked-up, as Tommy had put it. “Is it a suicide mission?”

His brother’s brow crinkles. “No, it’s dangerous, but it’s nothin’ you and Liv can’t handle. Just prepare and do what you do.”

“You’ve had people go that way and come back?” Joel asks, finally forcing his eyes to Tommy’s. 

“All of ‘em,” Tommy answers, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his coat. “What is this?”

For a moment, Joel goes quiet. He’s toyed with this all day, a million plans sprouting in every direction the moment you all walked through the gates. But then his mouth opens, and the truth spills out. “She’s immune,” he says, and the words seem to hang in the air. “The kid. Just like Liv.”

Tommy’s face is a mixture of shock and confusion. “What?”

“She got bit, same as Liv, and she didn’t get sick, same as Liv.” He can see the wheels turning in his brother’s head. “And then she got bit again, right in front of us. That was months ago. Months. And she’s fine. She’s immune,” he repeats. “The same as Liv.”

Slowly, Tommy walks past him, and for a moment, he thinks his brother is going to walk out on him. Wouldn’t be the first time. Your immunity was what drove Tommy from Boston in the first place.

But Tommy doesn’t walk out. He pulls a stool out and sits himself down, facing Joel. “From the beginning,” he says. “The whole truth, Joel.”

“It was your old pal, Marlene,” Joel starts, staring down at his hands again. “She hired us to smuggle Ellie to some Fireflies. It went bad. Tess got bit.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Tommy startle, and remembers his lie back in the bar, that Tess was just fine. “She made us swear to take the kid. Made Liv promise. It was her dying wish; what the hell were we supposed to do?

“We made it as far as K.C., and then…” He swallows, the memories of it all swimming to the surface of his mind. “Y’know, she saved our lives back there, from another kid. They came at us and I thought Liv had been shot, and I lost it for a moment. Next thing I know I’m on my back with a fuckin’ rifle cuttin’ off my air and Ellie, she…

“She had to shoot him to save me. Save Liv. And she did. Fourteen years old. Because I was too slow, too distracted, and too fuckin’ deaf to hear him comin’. And I saw…” He shakes his head, everything that happened in the hotel that night making his eyes blur with tears. “I saw a man kill his own brother, to save her, while I just watched. And today, I thought that dog was gonna tear her apart because he smelled something on her, and all I did was stand there. I couldn’t…move. I couldn’t think of anything to say, I just…I was so afraid.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, leaning against the worktable behind him.

“You think I can still handle things,” Joel says, the words bubbling up now, spilling out of him, “but…I’m not who I was. I’m weak. Lately, there are these moments where the fear comes up outta nowhere. My heart feels like it’s stopped. And I have dreams. Every night.”

“What kinda dreams?” his brother asks.

“I don’t know,” Joel breathes, that phantom feeling gripping at his lungs. “I can’t remember. I just know that when I wake up, I’ve lost somethin’. I’m failin’ in my sleep. That’s all I do. It’s all I’ve ever done is fail her, again and again.”

Her. 

Liv, Sarah, Ellie, Tess. 

The list goes on and on. He loses her over and over and over again.

“You want me to take her.”

“I’m just gonna get her killed, I know it. I can barely keep my own wife alive, Tommy. I can’t…I can’t lose them both. I have to leave her.”

“Joel—”

“I mean, it’s why you took off on us, right? To make up for the things we did? The secrets we made you keep? Well, here’s your chance to bring your kid into a better world. You’re younger than me. You’re still strong. You said it yourself, you’ll come back. You have to take her.”

Tommy nods, but it does nothing to ease the weight on Joel’s chest.

“And you can’t tell anyone, not even Maria. Tommy, you’re the only one Liv and I trust. If anyone else sees those bites on her, what’s under her skin, they’ll shoot her. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. I swear.”

The tears fall unbidden, hot tracks down his cheeks, and Tommy looks down at his hands. “And Liv, she knows you’re askin’ me this? I saw her and Ellie talking in the mess hall; you can’t tell me she wants this too.”

“I can’t lose them both, Tommy. I won’t. I trust you, and I know you can get Ellie there safe. That’s all that matters. Liv and I…we’ll go back to Boston, or Lincoln, or we’ll stay here, I don’t know. I can’t keep them both safe.”

“And what am I supposed to tell Liv, huh?”

“Tell her it was my decision.”

Tommy’s eyes flick to him before returning to his folded hands. “I’ll take her out at dawn.”

+

Ellie only lasts another twenty minutes of the movie, before coming back to where you’re stood beside Maria, telling you she’s going to head back to the house. “You know the way?” you ask, and she nods, pulling on her coat. You touch her shoulder and then she’s gone.

You turn back to the movie screen, leaning your forearms on the table in front of you. When you made your way over, Maria disappeared and came back with a glass of water for herself and a whiskey for you. The sight of liquor made you balk, but you got over it quickly. “Tommy makes it himself,” she murmurs, her voice low as you take a sip, the familiar burn building in the back of your throat.

“Thanks for getting Ellie new clothes,” you reply, toying with the rim of your glass. “That coat looks warm.”

“Should be,” she returns, leaning back on her hip, crossing her arms over her chest. “There’s some stuff for you and Joel in the house, too.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

She waves you off, but bites out, “That’s what family does.”

You almost laugh. “Is that what we are?”

Maria goes quiet, and for a moment, you think the conversation is over, that you can stow your anger and douse it with whiskey, but then she mutters, “Doesn’t mean I trust you, but we are.”

“What was that?”

She turns then, her dark eyes flaring as she stares at you full-on. “I don’t trust you.”

You scoff, tossing back the rest of the whiskey. Fuck dousing your anger, she’s just ignited it. “And what makes you think I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” she replies, lifting a brow. “You don’t know me, and I barely know you. But your reputation precedes you, and Tommy and Nick Cowan don’t paint a pretty picture. You’ve been through hell, you’ve lost people, but that doesn’t make up for all the terrible things you did, Liv. Nothing can.”

You inhale slowly, forcing your voice calm. “Everything I did, I did to protect the people I love. I have never once claimed to be innocent of anything, nor am I claiming that what I’ve been through makes up for the terrible shit I did. I have to live with it, and it haunts me, make no mistake. It’ll haunt me until the day I die, and probably after that. 

“But you—” You’re in her face now, pointing a finger at her. “—need to watch what you say about my family, you hear me? Ellie is not your concern, she’s mine. And my husband does not deserve your bullshit remarks about being dangerous. You don’t know dangerous, cooped up here, safe behind your walls. You don’t know.”

You pull back, trying to slow your racing heart, to stop the ringing in your ears. That might have been a mistake, and for a moment, you think she’s either going to backhand you or haul you off to the prison she pointed out earlier, but she does neither. Instead, she asks, “You done?”

“Yes.”

“Go get some rest, Liv.” Shoulders drooping, you turn on your heel, and as you start to walk away, you hear her final words: “Just because I don’t trust you, doesn’t mean I don’t respect you.”

As you reach the door to the mess hall, you see Tommy standing on the other side, his brow furrowed. You pull the door open, and he pulls you into a hug a second later, a welcome warmth against you.

“I just told your wife off,” you mumble into his shoulder, hugging him tightly, “so I’m sorry for what you’re about to walk into.”

He stiffens against you. “What?”

“She doesn’t trust us, Tommy. I can’t say I blame her, but she said something to Ellie and I just…” You shake your head. “Have you seen Joel?”

“He was headin’ back,” he tells you. “You know the way?”

“I do. Henry showed me.”

Tommy just hugs you tighter for a moment before pulling back, pecking your cheek as he goes. “Sleep well, Liv.” And then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd behind you.

Snow crunches under your boots as you walk out into the street and your eyes are drawn up to the fairy lights draped across the sidewalks. More snow is falling, fat flakes that cling to your hair and melt on your cheeks. The cold still stings, but you find it almost bearable, like you’ve finally gotten warm right through, your bones no longer feeling like ice.

Your steps are slow as you make your way back to the house, taking the same path Henry had shown you. You’re still confused by Tommy, having expected more of a reaction, but you’re sure Maria will tell him what you said, and there’ll be hell to pay tomorrow. Joel will probably give you shit for it, but you don’t care. You meant what you said: he doesn’t deserve her judgement. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t know either of you. Though you still wonder how much Tommy has told her, and the scar on your side prickles in response.

There’s light coming from the second-floor window of the house, another by the front door, but you pause as you get closer, able to see two figures standing in the window, one taller, one shorter. Joel and Ellie. Your pace quickens, and you make your way through the door, making sure to lock it behind you, shucking off your coat and boots before heading for the stairs.

As you hit the landing, you hear Joel’s gruff voice. “I made this decision for your own good.” Your mind reels. This decision? What decision? “You’ll be way better off with Tommy.”

What?

You freeze in place, clinging to the bannister, digging your nails into the wood.

Joel keeps talking. “He knows the area better than we do—”

Ellie cuts him off. “Do you give a shit about me or not? Does Liv? Does she know you’re doing this?”

“Of course, I give a shit,” Joel spits.

“Then what are you so afraid of?” Ellie asks, her voice climbing. Your heartbeat is in your ears, nearly blocking out their words, but you take another step, getting closer to the bedroom they’re in. Silence echoes from the room, your steps make a floorboard creak, and for a moment, you think you’ve been caught, but then you hear Ellie. “I’m not her, you know.”

Joel’s silence is palpable and you step closer to the door, peering around the jamb. You can see the tension in his back, the rigid line of his shoulders, and just past him, Ellie’s face, eyes trained on Joel.

“Liv told me about Sarah, and—”

“Don’t,” Joel whispers, and his voice sends a chill down your spine. He shakes his head. “Don’t say another word.”

Ellie doesn’t listen, taking a step toward him. “I’m sorry about your daughter, Joel, but I have lost people, too.”

“You have no idea what loss is,” he spits, and you can’t hold back anymore, swinging your body around the doorjamb and stepping into the room, calling his name, but he doesn’t so much as acknowledge you.

Ellie doesn’t seem to notice you either, tears glittering in her eyes as she stares Joel down. “Everyone I have ever cared for has either died or left me. Everybody, fucking except for you two!” She shouts the last part, shoving at Joel’s shoulders. He stumbles back a step and you reach up, putting a hand on his back, making him flinch. But Ellie continues. “So don’t tell me that I’d be safer with somebody else, because the truth is I would just be more scared!”

“You’re right,” Joel murmurs, his voice laced with so much cold that you drop your hand, stepping back from him. “You’re not my daughter. And I sure as hell ain’t your dad.”

“Joel,” you say again, trying to cut him off, but he won’t let you.

“No,” he snaps, turning to you for a second, his eyes flared with anger. “No. Come dawn, we’re goin’ our separate ways.”

Without another word or glance in your direction, he turns on his heel and leaves, yanking the door shut behind him, leaving you and Ellie alone in the room.

For a too-long moment, you have no idea what to say, your mind playing catch up. I made this decision for your own good. God, you have a sneaking suspicion Joel wasn’t just talking about Ellie, and it makes your gut churn. It explains Tommy’s furrowed brow, the way he’d all but ignored your spat with Maria.

Ellie sinks down on the window seat, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Just, just get some sleep, okay?” you manage to stutter out, finally finding some words. “I’ll talk to him, I’ll—”

“He’s doing this for you,” Ellie says, staring you down, and it makes your chest ache. “He loves you. He wants to keep you safe, and he couldn’t keep Sarah safe.”

It all rolls through you like a tidal wave, the weight of this entire day. You shake your head. “That doesn’t mean he gets to make my choices for me, Ellie. Or yours for you. I’ll talk to him. I’ll…” You trail off, shoving a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know about this, I need you to know that. I would never...” Sighing, you walk over to the window seat and sit down beside her. After a second, she leans her head on your shoulder. “I’ll talk to Joel. Get some rest, okay?” You turn your head and plant a kiss on the crown of her head. “Bet that bed feels like a cloud compared to the forest floor.”

She just nods, but you sit there a moment, letting her lean on you, your lips pressed to her hair.

+

Joel’s not sure how much time has passed since he stormed out of Ellie’s room.

He feels stuck in place, perched on the edge of the bed you’re meant to share, the lamp on the bedside table casting a yellow glow over everything. His chest is tight, his eyes sting, there’s a ringing in his bad ear that refuses to cease. His mind cycles through it all, the look on Ellie’s face, the look on yours. He hadn’t wanted you to find out this way, but maybe it was for the better. If he’d told you before he went to Tommy, you’d just try and talk him out of it. You probably still will

The door creaks open and you step through, pulling it shut behind you. His eyes track you as you walk around the bed to where he’s sitting, but you don’t join him, instead staying standing in front of him, your arms crossed over your chest.

“That was unnecessary.”

Slowly, he meets your eyes, the spark in them worming its way into his chest. “I can’t keep you both safe, Liv. I’ve almost lost you more times than I can count now, and I can’t…Tommy will keep her safe, get her where she needs to be and you and I, we can—”

“We can what, Joel?” you ask, your voice low, but laced with pain. The betrayal is obvious in your voice. “Go back to Boston? To Lincoln? We’re supposed to, what, pretend like this whole thing never happened? Like she hasn’t changed everything for us?”

“Liv, please—” he starts, but you lift a hand.

You sink onto the bed beside him, your hand over his, palm pressed to his knuckles. “I would go anywhere for you, baby. You know that.” Despite the anger in your eyes, the corner of your mouth lifts. “You wanna go raise flocks of sheep on the moon? I’m your girl. But I’ve been thinking, and maybe…maybe when all of this is over, wherever we go, Ellie could come with us.”

“Liv,” Joel grunts, unable to say anything else. 

“You think I haven’t noticed you around her these last months? I know you care, and it’s okay that you do. I wish you knew that. I wish you knew that you’re still allowed to care, that you don’t have to push the world away from us.”

“She’s not my daughter,” he says after a beat, echoing his own words, ignoring the tightness in his chest.

You sigh, your shoulders drooping. “I know that. No one will ever replace Sarah. But letting Ellie in, making her feel like family, making her feel safe, that doesn’t erase Sarah. Nothing can.” Your head lifts, your eyes trained on the wall in front of you, tracing over the painting hung there. “It’s not the same, I know, but knowing that Emily is really gone, the closest thing I ever had to a daughter, it hurts me so deep I don’t know how I’m still upright, but she’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”

Joel turns to face you, sees the glimmer of a tear fall down your cheek and moves his hand to your knee, squeezing lightly.

“But Ellie?” you continue, giving him a sidelong glance. “She needs us, Joel. Both of us.”

His throat tightens. “I can’t keep you both safe, Liv.”

“Maybe not,” you say, shaking your head slightly. You turn towards him fully then, reaching up to put a palm to his cheek, turning his face to yours. “But the both of us can keep her safe. You forget I’m a better shot than you, Joel Miller.”

“Liv—”

“We can’t make this decision for her,” you continue, shaking your head again. “You’ve given her the option of Tommy, and if that’s what she decides, then so be it. But if she picks us, then we go. Together. We’ve come this far, and I can’t…” Another tear slips down your cheek. “I can’t just leave her, Joel. Not after all we’ve been through. I won’t.”

You’re right. He knows you’re right. Down to the marrow of his bones, he knows what he did was wrong. He knows he let his fear get the better of him, that he let a singular path of logic take root in his mind and convince him it was the best one.

He can’t keep you both safe, but the both of you can keep her safe.

And if the moment calls for it, he’ll put himself in the line of fire for either of you. Without hesitation.

Joel moves to stand. “I should go and talk to her and—”

But you stop him, your hand curling around his thigh, keeping him in place. “You’ve done enough for one night, Joel. Let her sleep off her anger. We’ll meet her and Tommy at the stables in the morning, and let her decide for herself.”

He sighs, leaning into your touch, letting his eyes flutter shut when you lift your hand to his cheek, scratching your fingers through his beard. “I’m…I’m sorry, that I did all this without talkin’ to you. This day has just been…” His body slumps, and you lean in and kiss his forehead.

“Intense,” you murmur against his skin, scooting closer to him on the bed. His hands reach for you automatically, curling around your hips. “I know I should be furious at you, and part of me still is, but I think it all just got the better of us.” You clear your throat, leaning back slightly. “My hand’s gonna hurt something fierce tomorrow after punching Nick like that.”

Despite it all, the corner of Joel’s mouth lifts. “He deserved it.”

“I don’t know that he did,” you say, your brow furrowing. Joel lifts his hand, smooths his thumb over the line in your forehead. It eases some with his movement, and he keeps going, over and over until you relax into his touch. “We talked it out though, and it’s…better now, I think. Henry, too.” Your eyes dart to the side. “Maria, not so much.”

“Maria?”

“I may or may not have told her off in the mess hall, basically told her to watch her ass. I didn’t like what she said to you earlier today, then she basically told Ellie to watch how much she trusts us, and I just…lost it.”

Joel stares at you, trying to remember the conversation you’d all had. “What she said earlier?”

You nod. “Tommy said a bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad, and she made it very obvious she thought it didn’t apply to you. You don’t deserve that, that bullshit kind of judgement. She doesn’t know you, she—”

He surges forward, kissing the rest of the sentence out of your mouth. You squeak with surprise, your hands falling to his shoulders, gripping his flannel like a lifeline. God, you’re something else. Always at his side, defending him at every turn, taking care of him even when he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

Always.

Joel deepens the kiss, leaning you back on the bed, laying you out on the blankets. One hand cradles your head, fingers twisted in the strands of your hair, while the other skims up and down your body, curling behind your knee and lifting your leg over his hip. 

He has you in a bed, after all these months. He’s not planning on wasting it.

You chase his movements, back arching when he bites into your bottom lip, hooking your fingers in the front of his flannel and pulling him close to you, and Joel snakes his hand under your sweater. Your skin is warm beneath his fingers, and fuck, he’s glad for it. He worried every night you camped outside, that you’d freeze to death, that you’d go hypothermic, but now you’re warm.

You’re okay.

But then his hand skims across your stomach, and his mind twists. The guilt he’d pored over all day surges through his chest, and he pulls back from you slightly, but you just chase him, leaning back up off the bed, hooking your arm around his neck.

He finds it in himself to ask, “Are you upset that I never gave you…that?”

Your brow pinches, and he can’t fault your confusion. He’s being cryptic as hell, but he doesn’t know if he can say it outright. “What?” you ask, your head tilting slightly to the side. “Joel, what are you saying?”

“Kids,” he says after a beat, and the word tastes like defeat on his tongue. 

You pull back slightly, relaxing your grip around his neck, sinking back into the bed as you stare him down. “What did Tommy say to you?”

“He and Maria are expecting,” he tells you, and you let out a breath, understanding creeping across your face. “But I…”

“What did he say, Joel?”

“What does that mean?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, and Joel pulls his hand out from under your shirt, but lets his palm ride the curve of your hip over and over. “I love Tommy to pieces. You know I do. Like he were my own brother. But he has a nasty habit of saying shit to you that gets your head in a place it has no place being.” You shake your head, your eyes fluttering slightly before they flick back to his. “But no, Joel, to answer your question, I’m not upset.”

“I never even asked you, Liv,” he blurts. “Even before. We never—”

You shake your head again, lifting your fingers to his mouth, cutting him off. “After you got to Boston, when I found out about Sarah, when Nick took the kids away, I knew it wasn’t something either of us was capable of. And this world, it’s not something I’d want to bring a baby into, no matter how high the walls are. It’s not fair.”

A single tear drips down Joel’s cheek, and you wipe it away. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” you reply, your voice cracking on the words. “And I won’t lie to you, I thought about it. About some sweet little baby with your eyes and your chin and your hair cuz it’s nicer than mine.” That actually draws a laugh out of him. “But it just wasn’t in the cards for us, Joel. Maybe in another lifetime.”

“You think we’d still be together, in another lifetime?” he asks. “Another universe?”

“You walked across the country to find me,” you tell him, tracing your fingers over the curve of his face, scratching your nails through his scruff, “and I followed you across the country to find your brother. I love you in every lifetime, Joel. Every single one.”

PREV | NEXT

[jamiedc-they-them]

Being Maeve’s sister and her helping you when you have a panic attack:

Maeve knows you struggle with anxiety. You have been since forever.

Maeve is someone who researches a ton, and so she has found out all she can about your mental struggle.

When you’re able to, you tell her what you can. Trying to explain it in a way that she’d understand. She hates how it just adds to your struggle as you keep going in – what you assume to be anyway — circles and getting frustrated.

The school is actually fairly good with you and your struggle. They allow you to leave class when you need. It’s on one of these days that you can feel it starting. Your handshakes, you feel your heart start to race – alongside your mind.

You raise your hand, and the teacher nods, even if looking concerned.

Maeve looks even more so. She doesn’t put her hand up, however, and just goes after you.

She doesn’t have to look far. She finds you leaning against the wall, eyes shut and mind spiralling.

She runs up to you, taking her bag off while trying to also find an object inside of it. It’s a mess.

“Shit. Y/N. Ok. You’re ok. Uh, fuck, hold on,” she says as she falls to her knees, looking through her bag again.

“Here,” she says, putting a ball in your hand. Your eyes open at the contact. You squeeze it out of instinct.

“Try to follow my breathing, ok?” she asks. You look at her, eyes saying so many things to her at once. She hates it, she hates seeing you like this.

She takes a deep breath in. You try to copy. It’s not perfect, and you restart a few times, but you manage to copy her.

“And out for four,” she says, slowly exhaling. Once again, you try to follow.

“Keep on with the ball. Copy me again. You’re ok, Y/N. You’re ok,” she repeats this, alongside the breathing exercises, a few times.

She doesn’t care how much time has passed, if any at all. Right now, you’re the priority.

After a few more goes, you start to get your breathing under control.

“Are you ok with contact?” She asks. You nod, and so does she. She sits against the wall, and pulls you into her side, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your arm.

“Tha – Thank you,” you get out, shakily, curling into yourself.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she says softly, putting her head on yours, “I’m always here.”

“I don’t—”

“You aren’t a burden on me or anyone. Ever.”

“Don’t you get bored of saying that, though?”

She shakes her head, “no. I’ll say it as many times as a have to. Do you want to stay sat for a bit longer?”

“Can we?”

“We’ll stay as long as you want us to,” she pauses as you both see a student pause and look at you both like it’s weird, “fuck off, ok,” she says, voice stern. When the student doesn’t move, she reaches her foot out, ready to give a kick with at least some power. The student runs off. She returns her head on top of yours.

“Thanks,” you say.

“Anytime. Nosey wankers, anyway.”

She’s true to her word. She sometimes moves to combing her hand through your hair as you subconsciously squeeze the stress ball you forgot you had years ago.

When you’re ready to leave, she helps you up, and gives you a once over. She checks with you again if you’re ready.

The teacher doesn’t say anything when you both re-enter, but once there has been some work set, there is a relieved smile given to you. You return it.

You then look back at your sister, giving her a grateful smile. She returns it.

She’s always got your back. However/whenever you need.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Part 5 of the breakup please!!!

Tangled In The Weight Of Our Own Lies

college baseball player!drew starkey x fem!reader

part of the college baseball au (the breakup part 5) pt 1 , pt 2 , pt 3 , pt 4

warnings: angst, miscarriage, mourning, cuss words, arguing, hints at panic and anxiety attacks. Please don’t read if any of these topics will be difficult to read. Your mental health is always first!

“Drew?” You mumble surprised, not expecting Drew to be the one knocking at your door so late at night.

Drew was just as surprised when you opened the door. Not because you opened it, but because the shape you were in wasn’t like he had ever seen before. Your hair was knotted, not tame like he’s always seen it. Your eyes were bloodshot and you had dark circles underneath. Even when you stayed up all those late nights, studying for finals or midterms, he’s never seen your eyes look like that. Not to mention, your lips were chapped which was probably from you biting them in anxiety, and because you probably weren’t drinking enough water.

“What are you doing here?” You ask after Drew stays silent.

He winces when he hears how hoarse your voice is.

“I needed to come see you and talk to you. Can I come in?”

You just move to the side as a sign for him to walk in. You both situate yourselves on the sofa and wait to see who will talk first.

“Drew? What did you want to talk about?” Your tone is snappy and you look annoyed.

“Right. Um… well you see, I went to Houston and did the tour and everything; it was so insane. I really think I’ll like the city. I even got to sign a contract which you know is my biggest dream,” Drew says to you.

“Wow. That’s great, Drew. I’m really happy for you,” you whisper because you know that at any minute the tears will break loose.

Drew wants to ask if everything's fine, but he’s afraid that you’ll shut him out again. He knew he needed to pry you open, but he also didn’t want to make you upset.

“Yeah, but you see the thing is that I always pictured you in that dream, and I still do. After the tour and everything I went to a bar to just drown my sorrows. This girl I met there talked with me about love, and that if I truly love someone, I shouldn’t let them slip away,” Drew explains.

Your sadness turns to anger in less than a second. How could he just talk to some random girl about your business, and then have the nerve to tell you about it.

“So you came here just to tell me about a girl you met?” You accuse.

Drew’s faint smile instantly drops into a frown. You were taking it the wrong way and he was about to mess things up even more.

“No. No, it isn’t like that,” Drew says frantically.

“Then what’s it like? Huh?”

“She helped me to see that no matter what I will always need you, and that it’s okay to always need and want you.”

“Bullshit! It seems like you met a nice girl who wanted to know about your business and you just had to chat her up!” You almost yell out.

Drew didn’t think you’d freak out, or feel so upset about him mentioning another woman.

“Then you had the fucking nerve to come here and tell me about. Are you trying to rub it in my face that you’re getting everything you’ve ever wanted!” You scream.

Drew shakes his head repeatedly and goes toward you with open arms, trying to hold your body tightly to his to comfort you. You just back away.

“Well guess what, good for you. Move to Houston, get with that girl and live your life away from me, the so-called ‘one that you need’,” you continue.

Drew roughly cards his fingers through his hair, trying not to yell out in frustration. He needed you to listen.

“No! I’m trying to tell you that you’re the one-“

“No! No! I needed you, Drew and you weren’t there!” You cry out, falling to your knees. It hurt too much to think about the baby, the future, you lost.

“What…?” Drew questions confused.

“I needed you, but you were about to head to Houston, ready to start your life while I was holding onto something that I never knew I wanted, but I couldn’t even hold onto it because it was ripped from me,” you say, breathing heavily and tears falling fast.

“What are you talking about? I’m here now. I’m here now,” Drew mutters, getting on the ground to be eye level with you.

“I was pregnant,” you finally say the words that you were so scared to say.

“You’re pregnant?” Drew sounds so shocked.

“Was. I found out just after we broke up. I lost them the morning you called to tell me about the letter you got in the mail,” you tell him some of the details.

“Y/n, why didn’t you say anything?”

You scoff at his question.

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Drew. Congrats on your offer, but I just wanted to let you know that I was pregnant with your child and I ended up losing them this morning.’ Be for real, Drew.”

“Something. Anything. You could have told me anything! I asked you if there was something wrong on the phone that day,” Drew claims.

“I couldn’t admit it to myself, so I definitely wouldn’t have been able to tell you- especially over the phone.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Drew admits, tears in his eyes. They’re seconds from spilling over and you hated seeing him cry.

“Don’t say anything. Just go and never come back,” you direct him.

“What? No! I came here for you and I’m not leaving until I know I have you!” Drew seemed like he wasn’t giving up, but you weren’t giving in.

“Go to Houston and don’t look back,” you say.

“No. I know what you’re going through is unimaginable especially because you were on your own. I should’ve begged you to tell me about it that day. I hate seeing you so sad and lifeless. Please! Please just give me another chance,” he’s holding onto your shoulders, staring right into your eyes. It causes you to break down again.

“You don’t really want me,” you laugh sarcastically, trying to hide your pain as best as you can.

“I do!” Drew states.

“No, because if you really did, it wouldn’t have taken some random girl at a bar for you to come here,” you say bitterly.

“I already told you it’s not like that. It’s not like she forced me to come here! I wanted to come here. I have been wanting to get you back ever since you walked out of my front door, but I have been convincing myself that you didn’t need me begging you and that if you wanted to come back, then you’d come back. Persephone only helped me see that it isn’t wrong to fight for you. I was dumb to ever think that it’d be wrong to fight for you,” Drew states.

“Persephone,” you whisper.

You haven’t stopped crying and the yelling only made your voice more faint. Your breathing wasn’t even, and you felt that you might pass out.

“I swear there’s nothing between me and her. I do have her number-“

“Get out!” You interrupt.

Standing up, you go to open your front door for him.

“No! It’s not like that!” You stop in your tracks before you could get to the door.

“You keep saying that, but I’m not believing it,” you say back.

“I only gave her my number because she wanted me to text to let her know that everything went well, and that we are back together. Please, y/n! Please stop pushing me away!,” Drew pleads.

“All I can do is push you away! I know it’s not your fault that I went through my loss alone, but I don’t know how to open up to you anymore,” you try to speak through your sobs.

“It’s not just your loss. You may have gone through it alone, but that was my baby, too. You can open yourself up to me, you’ve done it before. I love you! I love you so much and I’m willing to do anything to prove it. What do you need me to do? I love you, y/n. If being together means not going to Houston and following you to New York, then I will do it. I need you. I can’t live without you. I won’t,” he cries out and it takes everything in you not to wrap him in your arms.

“No. You have to go to Houston. It’s your dream and I can’t take that away from you.”

Drew’s face is crestfallen, he looks like he doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost.

“It’s not my dream without you. You’re my dream,” he whispers against the skin of your knuckles.

“You may think that, but in the long run you’ll resent me for taking you away from the one thing you’ve always wanted,” you keep disagreeing with him.

“No I won’t. I love you and I want you in my life,” Drew keeps trying.

You stay quiet with tears still running down your cheeks. You have to let yourself think about how things would go from this point on if you would just admit to him that you still want him.

“Marry me,” Drew pulls you out of your thoughts with his impulsive request.

You gasp when you see the closed velvet box sitting in his hand, waiting for you to say yes.

The ring box had been sitting heavy in Drew’s pocket, practically burning a hole.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Marry me.”

“No! How dare you think that asking me will just magically fix everything. It’s not fixing anything! You need to leave, now!” You accuse him and then guide him to your door.

“This isn’t me fixing things. I’m not just trying to put a bandaid on your open wound, but I’m trying to show you that I have always known you were it for me. I have had this ring since junior year. We graduate in 2 weeks. You have been it since the day I met you,” he sighs. His voice is dejected and he can’t look you in the eyes anymore.

You know you’re hurting him by pushing him further away, but it was just too much right now. You didn’t know how to be the woman he deserved after you went through your loss, hell, you were still mourning. Every day you cry about the baby you’ll never get to meet, and you don’t know how to ask for help.

“Go,” it’s the best thing you could do for the both of you.

He nods his head, shoving the ring box back in his pocket and walking out your door. He turns around to look at you one more time, but you’re not looking back, and then he realizes that he didn’t know how to win you back after all. Too much had changed.

As he walks back to his car, the ring box weighs more than it used to and it weighs on his heart. He didn’t want to give you up ever again. He needed to find out how to be there for you without actually being there, so you could see that he still loved you.

a/n: This is part 5 of the breakup!!! There should only be one part left and I’m super excited to write it. I hope you all enjoy!

[ukulelevillainwrites]

who follows the rules anyway?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

complete

pairing : anthony lockwood x she/her reader

word count : 4.6k

content : tw there's some negative self talk and a panic attack in this chapter, other than that you get a bandaging wounds scene ;), there's banter, hurt/comfort and the intrigue gets a bit more set up

tag : @cassiopeiia24 🩷

She didn’t have time to touch the floor, two arms were already holding her up, unfortunately pressing down on her wound. The sudden pain jolted her awake. She pushed him away and settled on the bench in the hall.

“Look, you’re gonna have to put aside the fight we had for a minute and explain what is going on.” Lockwood said in a deep voice. He looked like he had just woken up but he showed nothing of it. It was like he was mustering all the authority he was capable of.

She looked up at him and was surprised to see him genuinely worried. His eyes looked concerned and his arms were crossed tightly across his chest like he was trying to find some comfort.

“Seriously what happened to you? Where were you y/n? We were worried like crazy when we came home and you weren’t there!”

She raised her right hand to stop him from asking more questions.

“My left arm is hurt, I need help taking care of it. The rest can wait.” She tried to sound as in control as she could. She didn’t want to appear scared, not in front of him.

“Okay…” he said taken aback. “We have a first aid kit in the kitchen.”

He helped her up, offering his hand and holding her as they went down the stairs to keep her from falling. He could be very gentle when he wanted to. He led her into the kitchen and pulled out a chair.

“Sit down I’ll get the kit.”

As he turned to look through a cupboard, she stood up again so she could take off her jacket.

“You really can’t listen do directions, can you?” He had a stern voice but he couldn’t help his mouth curving upwards.

“I follow directions very well, just not when they come from you.” She had a weak smile on her face. Exhaustion started to settle in and her eyes had a hard time staying open.

“I just need to take off my sweater to put the bandage on.”

He immediately turned around.

“You don’t need to. Actually, I kind of need your help… My arm is killing me.”

“Oh… s-sure.”

He slowly walked over to her and stopped abruptly not knowing what to do next. She took off her sleeves carefully as he stood awkwardly next to her. She started pulling the sweater over her head when she cried out in pain again. That made him jump to her rescue, he started pulling it off as carefully as he could to help her out. Instead, he pulled her hair too.

“It’s like you’re doing it on purpose!”

“I’m just trying to help! I can always go back to bed and let you take care of everything yourself.” He said this but didn’t mean it one bit since he was already pressing gauze on her wound to stop the bleeding. His tone wasn’t the one he used earlier this evening. It was lighter, even playful, like he was teasing her and they were the best of friends. It was a nice change. She hadn’t forgiven him though. But for now she was too tired and hurt to care. She sat back down, now only wearing a tank top, and slouched into the chair, keeping her arm up where Lockwood held the gauze.

“No, stay. Please.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What did you just say?” He really was messing with her now.

“You heard me just fine and don’t make me beg for your help when I’m in pain.”

He laughed as he went to get the disinfectant and the bandages he had left sitting next to the kettle.

“But it’s such a pleasant change from ‘I don’t need your help’ and ‘I can control everything’. At least let me enjoy it.” He did a terrible impression of her but it still made her chuckle. It cheered up her anxiety-filled night.

“So you do remember that night.”

“I remember it very well actually.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

She looked down. She didn’t know where she stood anymore. He was being nice now but he could always go back to being a jerk once she was healed. And she didn’t want to let him off the hook that easily.

“What if we forgot the whole thing?” Lockwood asked, breaking the silence.

“Will you admit that you ruined that case for me?”

“You’re incorrigible.” He said with a laugh. “Though, if it makes things better, I just wanted to humiliate Kipps, I never meant to hurt you.”

“You’ll have to tell me what the deal is with you two.”

“Maybe some other time, when you’re not bleeding out in my kitchen.”

He had the biggest smile she had seen in the last two days.

“Are you actually relishing the wound I have in my arm?” She didn’t know if they were bonding or if he was being a jerk again. But his laugh seemed genuine and echoed the relief he seemed to feel knowing she was alright.

He gently turned her arm to take a look at the cut she had. His face turned more serious as he disinfected the cut.

“So, what happened tonight?”

“Relic-men. I surprised a meet up, they chased me and threw knives at me apparently.” She said pointing at her wound. She tried to look unaffected, but saying it aloud reminded her of the panic she had felt just an hour ago. Lockwood stopped taking care of the cut to place a consoling hand on her shoulder.

“George was right. Dufour is selling sources to relic-men. I saw her tonight.” y/n admitted, defeated. She leaned her head on his hand for a moment, not realizing he was more tense than a minute ago. Thinking that she lost her job because of this horrible woman made her seek comfort.

“Rule number two is to never doubt George’s instinct.” He casually told her.

“What about rule number one and never doing what he does?” She chuckled. “Seems contradictory…”

“Well, it’s not like we play by the rules anyway.” He said with a wink. He removed his hand to grab the bandages and she immediately missed the warmth of it on her shoulder. She hated that.

He finished bandaging her wound, his touch soft on her skin. He wasn’t the best at this, but at least she wouldn’t bleed out. He offered her tea once she had put her sweater back on. She was too exhausted from the chase and desperately wanted to go to bed.

“I’ll help you get upstairs. I wouldn’t want you to get a head injury on top of your cut.”

They progressed slowly up the narrow staircase, her arm hurting every now and then, but the pain was already becoming more bearable. They awkwardly climbed step by step in silence all the way to the attic. He let go of her waist as they reached the door to her bedroom. She went to open the door.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier…”

She looked at him, surprised that he wasn’t too proud to apologize. She slowly nodded with a thin smile. He turned to go back to his room.

“Lockwood, wait.”

He turned back around.

“Thank you. For tonight, and for letting me stay here. And for helping me even though I was so rude to you.”

He smiled politely.

“And also thank you for-”

“y/n, all that matters is that you’re safe. Now you should get some rest.” She smiled back at him, grateful for his behavior tonight.  

“But if there’s more you can always thank me again tomorrow. I love starting the day getting praised.”

Of course he had to get back into character now. She rolled her eyes.

“You do owe me a lot. I’ll make sure to remind you that constantly.” He was beaming with joy.

“I hate you.” She tried to sound serious, but she was too tired to keep her mouth from smiling.

“Good night, y/n.”

---

The first rays of sunshine started to glow through her window. The light blinded her awake, but five more minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. She turned to face the wall, hugging her pillow closer, and slowly drifted back to sleep. But as her consciousness was slipping away, she heard footsteps in the stairs leading to her attic room. It startled her awake. Maybe Lockwood or George needed her for something. Maybe it was far later than she had realized. She reluctantly sat in her bed and struggled to open her eyes. To her surprise, the girl she had already seen in a dream was standing at the foot of her bed. This seemed unnecessarily threatening. She pulled her blanket closer, as if it offered some kind of protection. “Keep looking.”

She gasped and stood up straight in her bed, alone and greeted by the first lights of early morning. She had never seen the same person twice in her dreams. And the tone was getting ominous. Who was this girl and why was she supposed to look for her? And why couldn’t she say more than two words? An explanation would have been welcome. An eerie feeling started to creep up on her. The sudden movement had awoken the pain in her arm and the memories of the night before came crushing back. It was too much to deal with this early in the morning.

She went downstairs in the kitchen, she might as well start her day now. She was careful not to make any noise to avoid waking up the boys so early, especially Lockwood who had been up with her long past midnight. But she couldn’t avoid the creaky step in the last flight of stairs. She winced and made a mental note to watch that step specifically. She went in the kitchen and closed the door quietly behind her.

“Good morning.”

She jumped at the voice behind her. She turned around to see George sipping tea. Though it didn’t look like he had been up for very long. His hair was even more a mess than usual, his eyes were only half open and he wasn’t wearing any trousers. It actually made her more comfortable standing there only in a t shirt and shorts.

“I didn’t expect you to be up so early.”

“Don’t get used to it I usually wake up way later.” He poured her a cup without asking. As he handed it to her he noticed the bandage on her arm.

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story.” She warned him, preparing to tell him all about Dufour’s dealings.

“Oh, please no long stories this early.”

“If I had to listen to you talk about a case until 1 in the morning you’re going to hear what I have to say now.”

He sighed before taking a sip. “Fine.”

“You were right about Dufour.”

His eyes seemed to come to life at those words. He took another sit and pulled up a chair for her next to him.

“Tell me more.”

She had just finished telling George about everything that happened last night when Lockwood stepped into the kitchen, already dressed and ready for the day.

“I was right about that devious supervisor!” George told him, all triumphant.

Lockwood went to pour himself a cup of tea. As he took the teapot he hesitated and turned to y/n.

“You didn’t make this, right?” He said with a sleepy smile.

She rolled her eyes as she reassured him that she hadn’t touched it.

“I can’t believe I was right.” Repeated George, still in disbelief.

“I’d never bet against you on this type of thing.” Lockwood answered.

“Sure, but if I’m right about something like this who knows what else I could be right about?” he told Lockwood with a wink.

Lockwood immediately changed the subject and asked what the plan was for the Hopkins Street case. Was work the only thing he could think about?

They couldn’t finish the job the night before with her gone. The boys agreed on calling the client back to explain the situation and see if it was possible to come back tonight.

“y/n, obviously you’re coming with us to back us up tonight.” Lockwood said as he went to fetch the phone.

“On one condition.”

He stopped to stare at her. He almost looked worried.

“You let me do my job.”

He sighed. “Only if you promise to be careful with your arm. No need to get any more injured.”

“Deal.” She said with a satisfied smile on her face.

They arrived back at their client’s house a little before sundown. Luckily for them the house was vacant since their client was absent this week. Still, it wasn’t a reason to linger any longer. They wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, especially since the reports of strange activity weren’t very impressive. All their client could tell them was that he felt a presence late at night and that for the past two weeks the house had a bad energy. With only this description it was hard to draw any conclusions. George had done extensive research on the house, as usual, but he didn’t find anything conclusive either. There weren’t any violent deaths that were reported in the house or any sort of traumatic event worth reporting. They were going in almost blind, the only useful information they had being the drop in temperature they had noted the night before.

They started in this room, checking for any form of activity, Lockwood using his Sight, y/n finally using her Touch. She picked up the figurine that had caught her attention yesterday and immediately had images flashing before her eyes. She saw a child playing with it, giggles filling her ears. A woman entered the room and y/n was suddenly overwhelmed with frustration, the sharp emotion overpowering the sweet innocence she had felt only a few seconds ago. The woman picked up the figurine to put it back on the shelf.

She opened her eyes to ask George if their client was married and had any kids. Apparently not, then who was the woman?

“This house is pretty old, it’s probably a family home that’s been passed down.” George said.

“Could be his mother then. A memory from his childhood?” Lockwood asked her.

“Yes, that could be it. But I still don’t know what the source could be.”

“Keep looking.”

His words triggered a flashback of the dream she had, the girl’s face flashing in her mind for less than a second.

“You’re doing great.” He told her with a thin smile.

She smiled back, pushing the memory of her dream in a corner of her mind. It could wait, for now she wanted to focus on the case and make up for last night. What in the room could be linked to their client’s childhood? It was a library, so it didn’t have the usual childhood memories like old toys or clothes. The books that filled the shelves weren’t meant for children and couldn’t be bedtime stories. The only family items were the framed photographs settled on the mantel. y/n went to pick one up, it was a picture of the woman she had seen. She was standing next to a man, probably her husband, and between them was the little boy from her vision. But the moment she lifted the frame she dropped it, her hand burning from how cold the object was. The good news was that she had found the source. The bad news was that dropping it had awakened the ghost. And clearly it wasn’t a harmless type one at all.

She had just the time to back away and warn the boys before the spectre lunged to try and attack them. They were safe for now in their iron circle, but the source was outside and they needed to retrieve it in order to go home. The problem was that the spirit grew angrier when it felt the force of the iron chain. It was now pacing around the circle, waiting for them to step out.

“Well, what do we do now?” George asked.

“Easy. Go grab the source, I’ll distract it. y/n, stay here.”

Before she could protest, Lockwood was already stepping out of the circle, tempting the spectre to keep its attention away from George. He was being just as unreasonable as he had been the night they met. George better be quick to avoid the worst. He hurried to the opposite side of the room, reaching for the frame. He was so focused on the source that he didn’t see that the corner of the carpet was out of place. He tripped and lost precious seconds. It was enough for the spirit to send a powerful pulse of energy that knocked Lockwood into a bookshelf. His right arm met the shelf first, making him lower his rapier. y/n jumped out of the chain circle and put herself between him and the spectre just in time. She slashed through the ghost. It weakened it just enough to give George time to cover the photograph with a silver net. They all took a breath when they realized they were out of danger. For a second she wanted to thank the relic man for cutting her left arm and not her right. She rushed to see if Lockwood was alright. She lent him a hand to help him up. He winced as he got up.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah… My arm is just a little sore from the shock that’s all.” He put his smile back on, like a mask to hide what he was really feeling. “Your posture was a little off just then, and you would have been more efficient if you had-”

“A simple thank you would have sufficed, you know?” She was irritated that the first thing he did was criticize her once more, but she couldn’t resist quoting him back to him.

There was a silence. During those few seconds his smile grew softer and his eyes looked for hers.

“Thank you.” He said gently.

She smiled as she nodded. They held each other’s gaze for a second too long. She hadn’t realized she had gotten lost in the depth of his dark eyes when George interrupted her reverie.

“We should take this to the furnaces before going home.” He said as he started packing up their bags.

She cleared her throat and helped him carry them out of the room, hoping the night was dark enough to cover the redness of her cheeks.

---

She hadn’t been to the furnaces that often. Usually, Kipps took care of it and he used to send her and Bobby home early. And before that it was the supervisors who oversaw it most of the time. At least in the teams she had been a part of.  She had forgotten the peculiar smell coming from the working ovens, and how the light there painted everything in a greenish fluorescent color. At night with no daylight coming through the windows everyone there looked like they were sick. She couldn’t wait to get out and get some fresh air. They arrived at the reception desk to register the source in the records. A red-haired girl greeted them.

“Hey, George! What’ve you got for us tonight?”

“Nothing very exciting, just a picture frame…”

They seemed to know each other well and got to talking. But y/n was distracted by a familiar group of Fittes agents coming their way.

“Tony, what a pleasant surprise!” Said a familiar voice.

Lockwood turned around abruptly and winced at the pain in his arm when he put his hand on the hilt of his rapier.

“Oh, did someone get injured?”

Lockwood tried to dismiss him. He clearly wasn’t in the mood to have this kind of conversation tonight. Kipps ignored him.

“You should watch those reckless habits of yours. At this rate your agency will run into the ground before its third month. It would be too bad since you’re the last hope of so many Fittes’ rejects.”

y/n had been avoiding eye contact ever since she heard his voice, but those few words made her turn around. Kipps had his eyes set on George who was still talking to the girl at the reception, then focused back on Lockwood. Her ex-team leader didn’t pay her any attention, like he hadn’t noticed she was standing there. She looked at the team standing behind him. Bobby wasn’t there, instead Kipps was joined by a tall brown-haired guy and a girl about his size with black hair tied neatly into a ponytail. She was relieved El wasn’t standing there judging her but the thought of them showing up to add another judgmental comment was too much to bear. She left in a hurry, walking briskly down the hall. She thought she heard her name being called from afar but all she wanted to do was get out of there.

She had a hard time adjusting to the night after the neon lights from the furnaces. She didn’t wait for her eyes to get used to the dark and started walking back to Portland Row. The walls were caving in on her chest, her lungs had shrunk. She had only been walking for five minutes when her knees buckled. She was shaking and struggling to breath. She was also getting really tired of being in this state again. What was it, like the third time in four days? She mustered the remaining strength she had to hail a night cab passing by. In the backseat, she tried her best to look normal, but anxiety was choking her. Tears burned her eyes. She was so focused on staying quiet she didn’t realize they were already there.

She pushed open the iron gate and climbed the familiar steps only to realize that she was locked out. Again. She tried to hold it together until she was inside and bent down to retrieve her hooks, but as soon as her knee touched the floor she collapsed and couldn’t stop the spiral that followed. Crouched in the doorway, she felt like she was suffocating. Tears were running down her face. Her nose was runny and she inhaled hoarsely through her mouth like air was running out. Her mind was racing, a thousand thoughts crossing her mind every second. She was a Fittes’ reject. That was her reputation now. Any potential employer in this field would only see that. It didn’t matter that she was talented, that would fade away soon enough. Saying she worked great under pressure would be a huge joke given her reaction now. She was just doing it for the attention anyway. To have someone care, pity her, reassure her that she didn’t do anything wrong. But she deserved all of this, she brought it all on herself. She was weak and easily influenced. She hadn’t been too bright and now she was a screw-up with no future. The harsh reality hit her like a train. Her career was over before it could even start and there was nothing she could do about it.

Desperation settled in. Her mind went blank. The voice in her head had gone silent for an instant. A shiver made her realize she was still outside. She picked the lock, got inside, grabbed a box of tissues from the living room and sat on the floor of the library in front of the fireplace. She felt so pathetic. She was pathetic. She blew her nose and dried her tears before lifting her head and noticing the ghost jar she had seen George with sitting in a pile of ashes. The skull inside frowned before making a horrible face at her. Great, one more person mocking her.

“Shut up.” She mumbled as she covered it with tissues.

She sat in the dark in silence, her anxiety clenching her stomach. She was staring into space when she heard the door open. The lights turned on and she heard Lockwood call her name. She tried to tell him she was in the library, but her voice caught in her throat. Tears filled her eyes once more. She hated the thought of Lockwood seeing her like this. Before she could think about moving to go anywhere else, she heard the relief in his voice as he said

“y/n, there you are! Are you okay?”

He sat down, his knew colliding with hers as he settled next to her. She avoided his gaze, ashamed.

“You shouldn’t listen to Kipps. He’s an idiot.”

“No… He’s right… I’m such a failure.” She admitted, defeated. A few more tears choked her again.

“I won’t let you say abominations like ‘Quill Kipps is right’ under my roof.” He said with a laugh as he draped his left arm over her shoulder. He brought her closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “And I can’t let you say that about yourself. You’re an amazing agent, y/n. I’ve always thought so.” He said in a gentle voice, that last part barely above a whisper.

“I threw my whole career away.” She sobbed. “I have no future.”

“Yes, you do.” He paused. “With us.” He said quietly.

Her breath caught. She looked up at him frowning, tears still filling her eyes. 

“George and I already discussed hiring someone else now that we’ve set up the business. We could cover more interesting cases that would bring more publicity. Really you’d be doing us a favor.”

“That’s way too generous. Can you really do that?”

“It’s my company, I can do what I want. And you owe me, remember?” He gently nudged her with his elbow.

“Lockwood, I… I don’t know what to say…”

“Don’t worry. It’s a simple exchange of services. You help us take on larger cases, I help you out back. You also saved my life.” He added with a laugh. “So, call us even.” He kissed the top of her head before resting his chin in her hair.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like this. His steady breathing grounded her. Slowly, the dark thoughts that clouded her mind lifted. She suddenly realized how close they were. What was she doing? Just three days ago she hated this guy. She felt self-conscious all of a sudden and straightened up, feigning reaching for a tissue.

“Technically, I saved your life twice.”

“She’s back!” He grinned proudly.

A discreet smile lit up her face.

“So how did you get in, exactly?” He crossed his arms.

She settled back next to him, her back against the sofa, and reached into her sock. He scoffed at the sight of her lock picking tools.

“Should I be scared?”

“It’s just a trick my dad taught me.” She assured him with a delighted look on her face. “It’s actually very useful.”

“Remind me to put better locks on the doors.”

“Fine, I like a challenge.” She winked.

 His eyes hadn’t left hers, and she felt the same pull she had a few hours earlier. The intensity of his stare lit up every time he laughed, making the brown of his irises even warmer. She felt hypnotized, her self-consciousness gone and forgotten. She could have stayed there all night.

The front door slammed.

“Could you at least tell me when you go home? I looked for you everywhere at the furnaces!”

y/n jumped at the noise and stood up abruptly.

“I’m sorry George, it’s my fault. I tend to run away when things get difficult…” She apologized.

“Kipps was being a jerk, I should have warned you I was going after her.” Lockwood added.

“Well, you really missed out. Norrie told me that strange things have been going on for the past two weeks.”

“Norrie?” She asked.

“The girl at the furnaces. Apparently sources have gone missing, ovens get turned on late, records keep disappearing…”

“Maybe management isn’t up to the task.”

“Maybe, but I think it’s connected to Dufour.”

[hailthegodsong]

OUR LOVE IS BORN

Masterlist

Chapter 6 ~ Bad Day

Content Warnings: Exam stress, mentions of nightmares, descriptions of violence and injury from car accident, flirting, anxiety, anxiety attack, major anxiety, near car accident, reckless driving, dangerous driving, extreme anxiety, panic attack, hyperventilation, unintentional self-harm, blood, crying, disorientation, mentions of car accidents, comfort.

The next five weeks flew by, and before I knew it, we were trudging through the muddy depths of exam weeks.

Time was too scarce for sledding or picnics, and we were forced to watch the beauty of winter from indoors, studying for our exams.

The stress of it all was not helping with my nightmares, and I often found myself lying awake at night, unable to close my eyes and struggling to force out the feeling of asphalt against my cheek as I stared at the wreck of cars before me, thick red oozing from my body.

I thought I lost my leg after catching sight of the volume of blood spilling onto the floor beneath me.

The aching reminder had reappeared too, as I'd picked up my favourite pastime of running, which only worsened my condition, leaving me with discomfort every time I took a step.

Josh and I hadn't been speaking as much as we used to due to our busy schedules, and I began to realise that we only spoke on our drives to and from school.

I hadn't seen Mum for all five weeks. We never spoke after our fight, and the only way I knew she still came home after work was the evidence of a growing wine stash in one of the kitchen cupboards.

Dad and I however, were closer than ever, and prior to my busy study schedule, we spent a lot of time together baking, listening to music, and he occasionally joined me on a run.

Dad was also in a much better headspace, as he was shortly hired by a record company for work. He'd taken up golfing in his free time too, and I knew he'd made some friends doing it.

In essence, I was in a kind of middle space, between happy and miserable. Never quite fulfilled due to the raging thoughts that rampaged through my mind, yet comfortable with the idea that everyone around me was doing well.

It was an oddly warm day that we'd decided to go to the library to study. Josh, Jake, Sam and Danny were all keen on the exploring Saginaw for a day, with the guilt free justification that we were studying too.

Dad and Mum were going on a date night too, meaning I could stay out late and not face the wrath of a worried parent.

It was safe to say I was feeling exited.

I slipped on some black jeans, paired with a light grey half zip Ralph Lauren sweater, with a tote bag hanging from my shoulder. Bubbles of excitement boiled in my stomach, as I hadn't spent proper time with any of the boys in a while, and I couldn't wait to laugh with them all.

After checking that my bag had everything I needed one last time, I bounded down the stairs, bidding Dad a cheery goodbye and slipping on my shoes, before making my way across the path to their house.

I had braided my hair into two parts today, and I loved the way they looked draped over my shoulders, with small bows tied to the hair ties at the bottom, and stray hairs falling over my face.

The Kiszka house was chaos when I walked through the open door. Karen was screaming at one of the boys, and in the mess of movement I couldn't tell who. Sam and Jake were arguing over a shirt they both wanted to wear, and I assumed Josh was inside the bathroom that Ronnie was pounding a fist on angrily.

I stood awkwardly by the door, not wanting to intrude as I watched the madness unfold.

"Out of the kitchen right now or I'm burning that God-damned shirt so that neither of you can wear it!" Karens voice boomed through the house, and Sam and Jake came sulking towards my line of sight, still bickering under their breaths.

"And I'm older than you," Jake remarked, but Sam had noticed I was standing there and wandered over to me with a goofy smile on his face.

He threw an arm around my shoulder, "Layla, don't you think this shirt would look much better on me than Jake? I mean, the blue was just made for my beautiful, fair complexion," Sam lifted the denim blue shirt up between us, waving it around with exaggeration.

Jake threw a shooing hand up to Sam, "For fucks sake, just take it Sam, I don't even care," he huffed, before walking up to me and ruffling the hair on my head, sticking his tongue out and blowing a wet raspberry.

I glared at him and flattened my hair back down, "Gross."

He smirked as he sauntered off to his room.

"Josh, I swear to god if you spend one more minute-" Ronnies voice boomed down the hallway, as the click of the door sounded, and Josh walked out, smirking with a cocky hop in his step as he shimmied his shoulders in Ronnies face. After spotting me, his smile widened to his eyes and he make quick pace to reach me.

Danny rounded the corner, offering me a sweet smile which was shortly followed by a yawn, "I don't know how much study I'll be able to get done. I'm exhausted," he said, and I noticed the sleepy droop of his features.

"That's because you guys went to bed like, an hour ago," Josh commented, and I inferred that Danny must have slept over the night before.

Sam clapped and punched his fits outwards as he slipped on the blue shirt, leaving majority of the buttons undone, "Not me! I feel fresh as a daisy."

"You both better go to bed early tonight, I swear to god I can't deal with you keeping me up for two nights in a row," Josh complained sending them both a pointed look.

It took another half hour before all the boys were coordinated and ready, and finally, we piled down the highway towards Saginaw.

I sat in the backseat with Sam and Danny, and spent the ride watching the world pass by through the window, trying to distract myself from the familiar feeling of sitting in the backseat of a car, as the memory of my nightmare last night crept into my mind.

I occasionally caught Josh's eyes in the rear view mirror, but would quickly look away shyly.

Once we'd arrived, the group clambered into the library building, which had an old fashioned style to it. Antique wooden furniture littered the spaces, and rows of shelves were pressed against the walls.

I inhaled the comforting smell of books, and followed after the boys as they claimed a table to study on. I took a seat between Josh and Danny, before taking my laptop, notebooks and textbooks out of my bag to begin studying.

I was positive I got the most work done out of the group, as none of the boys could go longer than fifteen minutes without getting distracted by one another and becoming lost in conversation.

I was particularly deep in researching the metabolic rate of aerobic-based athletes, when someone tugged lightly on my plait. I looked up and realised that everyone had left the table. Books, pens and laptops were scattered over the table in a mess of knowledge, but every seat was empty.

I tossed my head around aimlessly, hoping to spot them all by the bookshelves, but nobody was there, save for an older man who was flipping through a worn, brown book in a leather seat nearby.

Deciding I was too busy with schoolwork to join in their childish games, I turned back to my work and typed notes onto my laptop, highlighting a few things here and there from my papers on the desk.

Another soft pull on my braid had me huffing in frustration, pausing the quick movements of my hands to turn around. Josh's retreating body, which I assumed was attempting to be swift and sneaky made me huff out a laugh, along with the sight of the boys peeking out from behind the bookshelves, clearly over studying and enjoying their time annoying me instead.

I sent a glare their way, and went back to my work, hoping that this time they knew I was serious.

About five minutes later, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I whipped around angrily.

"I swear to God, Josh-" I whisper-yelled. Yet the face I was met with when I looked up wasn't Josh. And it wasn't any of his brothers either. Instead, the girl I had met on my first day of school stood beside me, a look of shock and regret on her face.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" I rushed out, still trying my best to keep my voice at a minimum in the void silence of the room. "I thought you were someone else, it's great to see you again...Aanya, was it?" I asked, sending her a look of apology.

She smiled warmly, "That's okay, and yes that's me, Layla, right?" she asked and I nodded. "Well I was just coming to ask if you could help explain something for me for the art exam... but if you're busy I totally get that, I don't want to ruin your flow or anything."

"No, no, no, you're totally fine," I said, pulling Josh's chair out from next to me and gesturing for her to sit down. I pulled out my art books and got the documents up on my laptop, "What did you need help with?"

We spent the next ten minutes discussing the art exam, and another ten minutes sketching out ideas as I tried my best to explain to her the concept of constructing form. As we spoke, I realised how nice it was to talk to another girl in our year, seeing as I hadn't made any friends yet, other than the Kiszka's. Her girly comments made me feel giddy and exited, and I realised very quickly how nice of a girl she was.

Both of us zoned out once we had began sketching, becoming intensely involved with the pen on paper, a sense of meditative relaxation and peace washing over me in the silence of the room and my mind. That was, until a pair of hands landed on my shoulders making me jerk upwards and streak a line of lead across the white of my paper. Aanya's head popped up in surprise too.

"When were you gonna introduce us to your friend?" Josh's voice drifted next to my ear.

I turned around and smiled at him, "Oh hey, this is Aanya. Aanya, this is Josh."

Aanya said a quick 'hello' and Josh smiled kindly at her, before all the other boys made their way over, disrupting our silent peace completely. Everyone introduced themselves in a quick flurry of names, that I was sure Aanya would not remember.

"Wow this is great, did you draw it?" Danny asked, picking up Aanya's paper.

"Oh yeah," she quickly snatched it from his hand and placed it facedown on the desk, "It doesn't look to great cause it's not finished yet," she blushed.

His eyebrows furrowed, "No way, that was amazing, you're very talented," he replied softly and Aanya blushed. I glanced at Josh with my eyebrows raised and he looked down at me, still leant on my chair with his hands, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Righty then are we gonna get the hell outta here or what?" Sam spoke suddenly, clapping his hands together.

"Yeah, it's so sad in here I'm getting depressed," Jake commented, running a lazy hand over his face.

I laughed a little but bit my lip, "I just wanted to write a few more notes for my English essay, I promise I wont be long," I said, turning back to my desk and opening up my laptop again. The others moved off huffing, but I could feel Josh's presence behind me still.

He placed his warm hands on my shoulders and began to massage, kneading out the tightness of my muscles, and nearly making me drop my head forward in pleasure.

He leaned down close to my ear, "Don't you think you've worked hard enough for one day?"

I somehow managed to mumble an ‘uh-uh’as I shook my head side to side, struggling to move my fingers across the keyboard.

"C'mon. You overwork yourself too much, lets go buy some cool shit," he gave my shoulders one more releiving squeeze before shaking me to regain my consciousness.

I shook my head to refocus, and sucked in a deep breath, "Okay fine, lets go." The boys all rushed to pack up their things, and I stretched over the back of my chair, hitting a particularly blissful spot on my back.

"Wanna come with us?" I asked Aanya, who had resumed her drawing, "We're gonna go around to some thrift shops I think, just explore the city a bit."

She contemplated it for a moment, her eyes flicking over to the group of guys, catching on Danny, who as if on queue looked up to her stare, before she quickly looked back at me with a blush.

"I don't know..." she trailed off shyly.

I smiled, "I'd love for you to come, please? It would be nice to have another girl around for once." We both laughed and she agreed, packing up with the rest of us and following as we all piled out of the building.

"Sun!" Josh yelled once we had stepped onto the street, his arms reaching up into the air, and head tilted back as if he was having a spiritual cleansing. I laughed, and made my way next to him for the short walk to the first shop we encountered.

It was a small, minimalist style business, with an eerie silence, and the air conditioning on far too cold. They sold trinkets like hair clips, and belt buckles and scarves, but the boys didn't last long in the noise quashing environment, and we were soon back out on the street.

We stopped by a small sandwich vendor for lunch, standing in almost complete silence in the street as we all stuffed our faces with replenishments before setting off again.

The next shop we visited seemed much more promising. It was a small hole in the wall, with an archway entrance. I was immediately met with dim lighting, scarves and other sheets hung and strewn around the ceilings and walls, wrapping around the warm, buzzing lightbulb. The unmistakable voice of Jim Morrison was playing softly through a speaker somewhere, and I could hear some metal chimes tinkle from the wind in the doorway.

The man at the counter lifted his head at our presence, and I admired his curly head of hear and mustache. I wondered if Josh would ever grow a mustache like that.

"Hey guys, can I help you with anything today?" he asked.

"We're just gonna have a browse if that's aright," Jake responded, and the worker nodded, smiling kindly before retuning to whatever task he was working on.

The shop was small, yet we all naturally drifted apart to look at seperate sections, and I soon found myself lost in a rack of clothes, with a pile of jackets, tops and jeans thrown over my forearm.

"What do you think about this one?" Josh asked, and I turned to my left to see him smiling brightly, with a thick red beanie mounded on his head with a few of his little curls peeking out the edges.

I scrunched my nose up, unable to contain a smile, "So cute, Joshy," I reached over and grabbed a chunk of his smily cheek like a grandma. He shook me off playfully, laughing as he slipped the beanie off his head and fitted it onto my own. I posed in front of him, putting on my sharpest model face ironically.

He took a step back with his hands propped on his hips as if to admire his work, "Wow. There is no way this beanie isn't going home with you."

I smiled, "Does it look good?" I asked, wandering over to the small mirror situated in the corner of the shop.

"You look beautiful in it," he said quietly, and I watched in the mirror as he peeked up from behind me, his hand hesitating to touch my arm as it hovered absently beside it. I smiled into the reflection, unable to take my eyes off Josh and wishing he would just reach out and touch me.

"Layla! Do you think this dress would fit me?" I heard Aanya call from the other side of the room. I awkwardly smiled at Josh, slipping the beanie off and placing it back into his hands before making my way over.

After a rough hour in the same shop, we left with a bag of clothes each, smiling like children at our buys, as we made our way down the crowded street.

"I can't believe those boots were in my size. I saved a ton," Aanya remarked, in reference to a pair of white cowboy boots that she was going to spend a hefty amount of money on online.

"I know, you're so lucky you hadn't bought the expensive pair online already," I answered, squinting as we walked towards the bright sun.

"Yeah... I can't wait to see you wear that white dress, you looked like Stevie Nicks reincarnated," she joked.

"Which dress?" Josh asked, shamelessly eavesdropping on our conversation.

"I'll show you later," I said, only hearing how domestic the statement sounded after the words had escaped my lips. I blushed, looking away to the busy road beside us.

I watched in silence as the cars drove by on the street while the others talked beside me. And as if the universe was out to get me, I caught sight of a car which recklessly merged into another cars lane without indication, almost causing an accident.

It was insignificant and unnoticeable if you weren't paying attention, so nobody paid it any mind but me. A pit of anxiety began to swirl in my stomach and something inside me tensed. It took everything in me to force the negative thoughts from my mind, trying my hardest to ignore the ache in my thigh.

"Alrighty, next stop!" Sam yelled as he swiftly turned into another shop perched on the corner of the street. Stepping in, I sighed at the sight of vinyl shelves, which reached down into the long, hearty depth of the store. A few others mingled already in the isles, as we excitedly made our way through them.

I found it interesting to watch which genre called to everyone, as Danny was drawn to the folk section, Sam to the jazz, Jake to the rock, Aanya to the alternative.

Josh remained glued to my side, "So, where do you wanna look at first?" he asked.

"Oh, you don't have to follow me," I urged, feeling guilty that I may be keeping him from his own interests.

He smiled, "I want to." He placed a hand on the small of my back and gestured a hand forward, "Lead the way."

Josh and I exhausted the blues genre within minutes, each with a couple of sleeves tucked under our armpits as we made our way to the next section.

"No way, I've been looking for this everywhere," Josh exclaimed, pulling out a yellow and black vinyl from the shelves.

I wandered over to hm, looking at it curiously, "What is it?" I asked.

"It's this band called Amanaz, this is the only album they ever did called Africa. Some great stuff on here," he said excitedly, slipping it under his arm. "Whatcha got there?" he asked, nodding to the vinyl in my hand.

I held a finger out towards him, indicating he had to wait a moment, as my face contorted grotesquely and I shot out a muffled sneeze into the corner of my arm.

I sniffed and apologised before I lifted it up in front of us, "It's a Lynard Skynard album I've not heard of before. I'm trying to decide if I should risk the buy or not," I pondered. Josh took the vinyl from my hand, flipping to the back and reading contents.

He rose his eyebrows and nodded his head, "Theres a few songs I recognise on here, I say buy it."

I winced, "But I've already got three I wanna buy, and I don't wanna go over my budget. I'll just have to chose one to get rid of," I said bashfully, a bit embarrassed of my very low bank balance.

Josh hummed, "Let me know which ones you end up going for." He then resumed his casual browsing of the store.

In the next ten minutes, I had sneezed about twelve times, and was starting to get very annoyed.

"Are you alright? You're not sick, are you?" Josh asked after I sneezed again as we made our way into an isle that Jake was in, filtering through a rack of vinyl.

"Yeah, no I feel totally fine, it's just my nose, I don't now what's up with it," I said, squeezing my nose with my fingers to try and ease some of the itchiness.

"Hey," Jake said once we were next to him. I returned to looking through the albums, when Jake's obnoxiously loud sneeze gave me a fright.

"My God, do you really need to sneeze so loud?" I asked, looking around to see if anyone heard.

"Sorry," he said bashfully, "The dust in here is really pissing me off."

Josh patted us both on our shoulders, "Hmm Layla, you must be allergic to dust then."

I furrowed my eyebrows at his comment, "What? No I'm not."

"Jakey is though, and you've both been sneezing like lunatics since we got in here," he commented. They both looked at me with a knowing stare and I sniffled.

"That sucks I thought I wasn't allergic to anyth-" I interrupted myself with another sneeze.

"Okay, lets get out of here," Josh stated, dragging us both along with him to the payment counter. I had ended up putting my Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyl back, and opted for my original pick of three, paying the polite cashier, before letting Jake do the same. Josh had gone to collect Sam, Danny and Aanya, and returned back moments later with them all, the boys with a pile of at least ten records each.

In fact, the volume of all of their purchases made me begin to wonder how much they must be getting paid at their small gigs.

Once we'd left the store, we all decided that we had had enough for the day and were ready to go home, however, the boys needed to stop by the grocery store to buy some ingredients for dinner.

I bid goodbye to Aanya, promising to find her on Monday for art class that we apparently had together unknowingly. She smiled shyly at the rest of the boys before leaving, and I didn't miss the pink tinge on Danny's smiley cheeks when she told them she'd see them on Monday too.

We decided to drive the distance to the grocery shops, not wanting to have to carry the bags across Saginaw to where we had parked, and despite the familiarity of having Josh drive me around, I felt a surge of anxiety at the thought of being in the car.

Josh insisted that I sat in the front seat this time, and as I clipped on my seatbelt, I found myself needing to take deep breaths to calm my racing heart. My nails picked at one another while everyone got in and buckled up for the ride, and as we pulled out of the parking lot, I had to force myself to look at my hands in fear of seeing a moving vehicle outside and setting off a panic attack.

All I could picture in my mind was the near accident I had witnessed, and my mind morphed the memory to show a horrific scene of a violent accident.

"You alright over there?" Josh asked, and I glanced up at him slightly, unable to form a coherent string of words, as I merely nodded my head and sent him a tight lipped smile. My jaw was tight and my leg bounced in the seat.

I felt terrible, knowing it was close to impossible for Josh to not see that something was wrong, which was completely unfair to him. He had done nothing to make me afraid in the car with him, yet my nerves were firing mercilessly, my mind going haywire.

I felt the ghost of an ache in my thigh, teasing me, like my body was testing its own mental limits. My fingers tightly kneaded into the muscles, desperately trying to reach the bone where the ache stemmed from.

Regrettably, my eyes wandered to the windscreen, where the car piled down a busy road, other vehicles passing our left and I was unable to look away, fixated on the traffic in fear of collision.

The music in the car swelled, and the volume of speech in the car rose, and my heart thrummed in my ears. I missed the days that I could sit in a car without worries, feeling safe enough to relax and enjoy myself.

That part of me had been ruined.

"You coming?" Josh's words broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked around to find we were already parked in the grocery parking lot. I could see the rest of the group walking into the store.

I must have dissociated for the rest of the ride.

"Yep," I choked out, quickly jumping out of the car and speeding towards the store. I could feel Josh following silently behind me, concern radiating from his body.

I ignored him, keeping my head down and following after the group of boys in the store.

My mind ran through the lists of anxiety and PTSD coping mechanisms I was given by my post trauma therapist in Australia, yet it seemed that all I could focus on was the sensation of being trapped in a flipped car, blood rushing to and out of my head.

"Reckon Mums gonna check the receipt?" Sam asked the group, "We could sneak some snacks in here, I doubt she'd realise," a sly smile playing at his lips. Jake smacked the back of his head.

At some point during the shopping trip, Danny stood beside me, where I had a safety gap between me and the group, feeling overwhelming bouts of anxiety for the car ride home.

He crooked his body down slightly to reach his head closer to my height, "You doin' alright?" he whispered.

I swallowed and nodded, my body conflicting between not wanting to worry anyone, but having no energy to fake my emotions anymore.

He spoke again, caution lacing his words, "Sammy gets... really bad anxiety sometimes," he started, and I turned my head to him slightly, indicating I was listening. "Like, really bad. "

He paused. "I don't know if that's what's going on here, but if you want to talk to someone, or need help, he's definitely the one to go to."

My head swam. Sam has anxiety? He was one of the most relaxed and carefree people I'd ever met.

"Of course we're all here to help, or talk, or whatever you need... but, just keep that in mind," he slipped back to the group silently, and I took a deep breath.

The boys didn't waste much more time shopping, and we were soon seated back inside the car, which now felt stuffy and uncomfortable. Everyone began chatting and Jake stuck his head to the front and leant his forearms on the back of Josh and my seats so that he and Josh could chat.

My eyes were locked on the road ahead of us, and I found myself frequently pressing my foot into the empty space at my feet, when I felt like Josh wasn't breaking quickly enough.

I felt incredibly bad doubting his driving skills, although the thrum of my heart and whizzing in my mind had me absolutely immobilised in fear.

"You alright over there?" someone asked, and I looked over to see Jake looking at me, and Josh sending me short glances, his eyes trained mostly on the road.

"Yes," I said tightly, to both of them, not knowing which had asked the question. "You know, you should really put a seatbelt on," I said to Jake, anxiously watching his positioning between us both.

He smiled, ruffling the hair on top of my head before landing his hand gently on my shoulder, "You sure you're okay? You seem a bit tense."

I swallowed and sent him my most convincing smile, bile rising in my throat each time I took my eyes off the road.

"Yes," I said, my voice cracking embarrassingly.

"Holy fuck," Josh spat, and I whipped my head to the road before us.

I braced my hands on the dashboard in front of me, as Josh slammed on his breaks, narrowly avoiding the red pickup truck which had decided to run his red light into the intersection. Jake nearly fell forward into my seat, and I heard Danny and Sam fall into the back of Josh and my seats.

Josh leaned out the window and flipped him off, yelling profanities as the pickup drove away carelessly.

"What the fuck!" Someone yelled.

While the rest of the car complained and cursed, I couldn't manage to tear my eyes from the road before us, where our cars would have collided, had Josh not stopped.

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"What a fucking prick."

"I swear to God, it's always the pickup drivers, think they own the whole road."

Jake plopped back into his seat in the back, and I heard the boys click their seatbelts in, clearly shaken from the risk of being in an accident.

"Is everyone alright?" Josh asked, looking through the rear view at the three in the back. I didn't hear their responses. My hearing went fuzzy. I'd been submerged under a body of water.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but we were moving again. The car had gone quiet. Or maybe it hadn't, but I couldn't hear anything.

My stomach churned, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to focus on something in particular, but everything was happening. But nothing was happening too. My nails were digging into the soft flesh of my palm, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the oxygen I'd been depriving them of since the car had stopped.

My jaw was clenched so tight, I could imagine the sound of my teeth as they ground together, crumbling under each others weight and falling lose in my mouth.

I was going to be sick.

Josh was talking to me, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I could see his mouth moving in my peripheral, and he even placed a hand on my thigh at one point. I knew he was trying to get my attention, but I couldn't pull my consciousness from that deep, dark place in my head.

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

I glanced down at my stomach, at where I knew a scar lay, sheathed beneath clothing. I looked further to my thigh, where a metal rod sat, invisible under layers of muscle, blood and skin.

I could smell the ghost of blood. My chest rose and fell, yet it felt like the water I'd been submerged under was filling them up slowly.

My breathing shallowed immensely around the time we turned the corner onto our street.

I knew I was about to have a panic attack. I had had them before, but never with so many people around. I was dying to go inside and break down. Alone.

The moment the car stopped in front of my house, I swung the door open, muttering a thanks, and shutting it behind me before speeding up the path to my porch. My breaths came out quick and uncontrolled, and someone grabbed my arm behind me. I couldn't breathe.

I was going to be sick. I was going to be sick all over me and all over Josh and all over the pavement below us.

"Layla, what's going on?" Josh was in front of me, and I couldn't bear the look on his face. My hands landed on my head, tugging at the roots of my hair.

"Nothing, I-" My breath caught in my throat. Panicked, my eyes widened and I tried to take a breath in, but I couldn't. My lungs were full of lead. There wasn't any space left.

My hand shot to my throat, as my lungs begged me for air.

Disorientated and panicked, I stumbled backwards and my back hit something but I didn't feel it as I slid down onto the floor.

I couldn't breathe.

"Fuck," Josh spoke, dropping down to my level. He touched my hands, my face, my arms, trying his hardest to comfort me. "What can I do, Layla?"

I couldn't speak. I was going to pass out, my head going fuzzy with the lack of oxygen.

Then Josh was gone, and Sam was in front of me. Pain was radiating from my scalp as I ripped at the roots of my hair.

"Okay Layla, can you hear me?" Sam asked, his hands reaching up to my own and removing them from their assault on my hair.

I nodded, "Sa-Sam," I gasped, "I- I can't-"

"It's okay, you don't need to talk, you're finding it hard to breathe?" He asked.

I could smell blood again, and when I looked down at my hands I could see drops of it falling from my palm, crescent moon marks from my nails embedded in them. I nodded in response, feeling bile rise in my throat, the smell of blood clawing out my darkest memories. Memories I would give anything to forget.

"Can you try and take a deep breath out for me?" He asked. I was gasping for air now, trying my hardest to let air into my lungs. Sam watched me intently, "Stop trying to breathe in, you need to make space in your lungs for the air first."

My vision was going blurry with panic. I could only see Sam's face. I could smell blood. I couldn't hear anyone but him. Where had everyone gone? My chest felt tight, I couldn't breathe. My eyes were glued to my hands, blood dipping onto the wooden deck below.

"Layla. Look at me," Sam ordered, his hands on the sides of my face, "Concentrate."

His stern tone brought me back for a moment.

"Breathe out with me," he said, opening his mouth and letting a long deep breath out. I tried to do the same, regaining control of my lungs and huffing out a short breath, only to sharply inhale again, my lungs burning for air.

"Good. Again, just a bit longer this time," he instructed gently, repeating his actions, and as if an elastic band had been released from my windpipe, my shoulders dropped, and a heave of air left my lungs. I gasped in a breath, panting heavily at the function of my lungs, and collapsed forward into him, a sob falling from my lips. He wrapped me up in his arms tightly, and began to rock us back and forth gently on the floor.

"Breathe, that's it, just breathe," he whispered.

My hands shook as I held them close to my body. Taking a clearer look at the world now, I could tell that it was around sunset, and as the sun had set behind the trees, the air had dropped to a cooler chill.

Not much time passed when the pressure in my ears had released and I could hear the sound of both my own and Sam's breaths in the silence of the empty world we sat in.

I lifted my head from his chest, and he released his arm around me. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, smiling sheepishly at him, and muttered a small apology. He only shook his head.

We both sat on the concrete floor, and I untucked my legs to sprawl them out before us, while Sam copied.

"Danny, um... Danny told me you would be able to help," I said quietly, "He said you get anxiety..."

He looked out to the street, as if deep in thought before speaking, "Yeah, it can get pretty bad sometimes."

I placed my hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry. And thank you, so much for that, I don't- I don't know what I was going to do..." I said aimlessly.

He cleared his throat, and looked over at me, "It's okay," he smiled sweetly. "Did something cause it? Or..."

I sighed. It was my turn to look out at the street now. I could feel him looking at me for an answer, so I merely nodded my head, before letting it drop forward limply, exhausted with everything.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked quietly. As much as I wanted to say no, I was tired of keeping it to myself. I needed to tell someone. The secret was eating me from the inside and I desperately wanted to get it off my chest.

So, I nodded quickly, "Yes please." I glanced over to him, "If you don't mind."

I could have guessed something was up with Layla the moment we got into the car. Her avoidant stares and fiddling hands served as an immediate warning that something was wrong.

Though, once we'd exited the car, she seemed okay again, her anxiety only fluctuating in spurs, rendering me useless in trying to help her.

I began to feel truely worried once we reached the grocery store. Never had I seen her so... absent.

She wasn't speaking, and I could see the tremor in her hands which she had balled into tight fists. It was common for her to tuck her hair behind her ears when she was nervous or anxious too, and I caught her reaching up to brush away hair that wasn't even there from her face.

Every fibre of my being wanted to hold her, help her, calm her. It broke me to see her like that, and all I could do was sit by uselessly and watch.

After the near accident at the intersection, I knew she was going to break. I tried to speak to her, distract her, take her attention away from whatever was going on in her head, yet her mind seemed trapped in a place very far away.

"Layla, what's going on?" I would ask, even going as far as to place my hand on her thigh, shaking gently to catch her attention. But it was to no avail.

"Please, talk to me, are you okay?" I asked. Luckily, the boys had taken notice to Laylas mood, and distracted themselves with talk of the band and upcoming concerts, allowing me to feebly try my hardest to help her without worrying about prying ears.

Frustrated, and trying my absolute hardest to get through to her, I worriedly glanced into the rear view mirror where I made eye contact with Jake, who looked back at me in understanding, having heard my efforts.

Soon, we rounded the corner to our street, and Layla burst from her seat before I had the chance to fully stop the car. I jumped out of my seat and ran after her as she sped down the path to her house. I could hear her heaving breaths from behind her, and my own anxiety increased tenfold.

I took hold of her hand, and she whipped around, eyes red and wide, and her chest was having in panic.

"Layla, what's going on?" I asked worriedly. She looked everywhere but at me, eyes darting to he road and car, and then to the floor. She grabbed the roots of her hair and held tightly, wild strands of it falling around her arms and face.

"Nothing, I-" Her breath caught.

She was having a panic attack. A bad one. I had been around while Sam went through this many times, but never one this bad. She struggled to take in a breath, focusing on inhaling and clearly neglecting a much needed exhale.

One of her hands shot to her throat and she stumbled back into the pillar of her porch steps, hitting her head painfully. Yet she didn't seem to notice, as she slid to the floor, gasping for air.

"Fuck," I whispered, dropping down to my knees before her. I reached out for her, touching her arms and face and, fuck, I didn't know what I was doing. She wasn't breathing and I feared she was going to pass out any moment.

"What can I do, Layla?" I asked frantically, her eyes going cloudy with exhaustion.

I grasped onto her shoulders firmly, "Please just breathe, Layla." But she wasn't listening. Panicked, I turned around to find Jake behind me, but I knew by the helpless look on his face, he wouldn't be much better at helping than I.

Sam lingered with Danny by the car, clearly hesitating to intrude.

"Sam!" I yelled desperately and he stepped in quickly, practically pushing me out of the road, and taking Layla's harsh hands away from her hair.

"Okay Layla, can you hear me?" He asked gently.

She nodded, trying to speak through gasps, "Sa-Sam, I- I can't-"

I was torn. My heart aching at the sight of her, broken and fragile. Blood was on her hands, I didn't know how, but there was. And then Sam was waving the group of us off, but I didn't want to leave. I couldn't leave her.

He turned around briefly, "Go, she needs space." Jake took me by the arm and led me to the car where our pile of groceries sat.

We picked them up in silence and walked them over to our house, unlocking the door and entering the warmth of the home. Mom was in the kitchen, cooking up dinner when we unloaded the groceries into the fridge and pantry.

I rushed to one of the living room windows, the one that didn't look into Laylas kitchen, but instead had a view of the front of her house, where I could see the figures of Sam and Layla sat on the pavement.

I sat on the couch and leaned my arms on its back, peering out and watching them. She seemed to have calmed down now, her body still as she looked out to the street apart from her mouth which was moving silently. Sam was doing the same, yet it looked like he was listening to whatever she had to say.

A pang of jealousy shot through me and I hated myself for it. But I couldn't help but wish she would talk to me too.

Jake and Danny saddled up to the couch next to me, and one of them patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, she's alright," Jake said. But we both knew my sour mood surpassed worry for her, as I ached to know the root of her unhappiness.

Don't get me wrong, I felt like I was being torn from head to toe at the idea of her being upset, sad, worried, panicked or afraid. But her apparent inability to fully open up to me was killing me.

I knew she was hiding something. Something from her past. I had seen the scar on her stomach, and the way she frequently rubbed her thigh, wincing in pain. But she would always cover up, and mask her discomfort when she caught me staring, and I hated it.

My insides were screaming for her to open up. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know every inch of her mind, her body, her soul.

And it broke me to know that she didn't trust me enough to do so.

After a painful hour of waiting around with Danny and Jake in the living room, I heard the front door open. All three of our heads whipped at the sound to watch as Sam stepped in with what I could only describe as a look of sympathy. Layla followed behind him timidly, her head cast down, but eyes peeking up around the room.

I stood up from my spot on the couch, desperate to do something. To talk to her. To hold her.

Mom stepped into the room at the sound of the door and smiled brightly when she saw Layla.

"Oh, hello Layla dear, are you joining us for dinner tonight?" she asked, slipping off a pair of oven gloves.

Layla nervously glanced up at Sam, whose eyes caught mine for a beat before he spoke, "Hey Mom, actually, could Layla stay the night? Her parents aren't home and-"

"Of course! I don't have to be the only woman in the house dealing with you lot," she remarked, and Layla smiled.

"Thank you," she said kindly.

Mom walked out of the room and back into the kitchen and the room went quiet.

"Sam, wanna head up and you can show me the new headset you got?" Danny asked, dragging Sam along with him up the stairs, and Jake stood too, scratching the back of his head.

"I've uh, got some stuff to do," he said plainly, walking out of the room, leaving Layla and I standing alone, staring at each other.

In a blink she was in my arms, both of us having rushed to close the space between us. She clung to me tightly, and I breathed in her scent, swaying on the spot. I sighed at the feeling of her in my arms again.

When she pulled away, I took her hands and looked down at the blood on them. Frowning, I narrowed my gaze on the bloody crescent shapes on her palm, where her nails had dug so harshly into her hands that she had broken skin.

"I can help you clean this up... If you'd like," I offered timidly, unsure of how fragile she still was and not wanting to spur on another panic attack.

"Yes please," she whispered.

Once in the bathroom, I wet a rag and wiped off the blood from her hands, including the dried drops that had ran down her forearms. She winced when I accidentally ran the rag across one of the fresh cuts.

"Sorry," I said, pulling back and looking at her.

She sighed deeply, staring at me in silence for a few moments, looking as if she was around to burst.

"I'm so sorry Josh. I don't know what happened I just- I don't know. I can usually handle them better it just- the car and, fuck it was all just a lot, but thank you for being there," she blurted out, her expression close to tears.

I reached a hand up to her face where streak of dried tears marked her cheeks, "Please don't apologise." She nodded.

"Are you okay now? Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, and when she shook her head 'no', I frowned.

"I'm okay now, but.. I kind of want to forget it happened."

"That doesn't sound very healthy," I commented, smirking, and she smiled at me.

"Do you think your mum will let me get away with not having dinner?" she asked and my frown returned.

"Why don't you want dinner?" I asked back.

"I just feel a little sick still. I usually lose my appetite when... that happens."

"Does it happen a lot?" I asked and she looked away, biting her lip gently.

"No, not a lot. But sometimes,” she said quietly, clearly done with this conversation. I guess that was all I was getting out of her tonight then.

"I'll talk to her. But it'd be best if you keep yourself busy while we eat. I don't think she could live with herself if you sat at the table with an empty plate," I told her.

She laughed a little, and then sighed, "I love your mum." A flicker of sadness crossed her face, before she regained her composure again, "I'll take a shower while you all eat then."

Dinner went by quickly, and I practically inhaled my plate to get away from the table as soon as I could. Mom wasn't happy with Laylas absence, but I assured her that it was for the best. I had given Layla some of my pyjamas for her to use for the night, and as soon as I heard the shower turn off, I was dying to see her.

When I cleaned up my dish and left the kitchen, Layla was setting up some sheets and pillows on the couch.

"What are you doing?" I asked her. She had tied her hair up and she stood in some red plaid pants with a green hoodie on top.

My God was she beautiful.

"Getting ready for bed?" She questioned, fluffing up the pillow and seating herself onto the couch atop the duvet cover.

"No, no I can't let you sleep out here. Sleep in my bed, I'll sleep here," I insisted.

"I don't mind," she smiled, slipping under the covers.

I dragged a hand down my face, very unhappy with these sleeping arrangements. "What about the guest room?" I smiled, proud to have solved the issue.

"Your mom told me it was being repainted," she commented.

"Fuck, you're right. Ronnies room?" I tried again.

"I already texted her, she'll be home in about thirty minutes. Don't worry, Josh. I'm fine, really." She gave me a reassuring smile, but I still wasn't happy.

I pursed my lips, "I'll come down here too then."

"What?" She asked, but I was already gone, grabbing a thick yoga mat from my room, and stripping the covers from my bed to bring down with me. Ignoring Layla's protests, I set up a makeshift bed on the floor beside the couch, slipping under and getting comfortable.

"Far out, fine. But when you wake up in the morning with a bad back, don't blame me," she commented, and I smiled, glad her witty personality was back.

Jake came in for a glass of water, bidding us both goodnight as he switched off the light.

Cloaked in darkness, I rolled over toward the couch, looking up to where Layla was already looking at me, "Good night, Layla," I whispered.

"Goodnight Josh."

Tag List ~ @wrldabomination @peaceoftheland @asacredthebread @jessiebronze2 @godly-sinsx

[lavendermoonlitskies]

Dream A Little Dream of Me fic series (Good Omens) part 4: “Le Chant du Rossignol (Song of the Nightingale)”

Final part to my Good Omens fic series is live! If you’ve read it thus far I just wanted to say thank you and I hope you enjoy the finale :)

Rating: T (mind the tags!!!)

Here’s a short snippet of it:

It was another nice day at last. A day of perfect weather, and the sounds of a bustling city full of people who went about that day generally feeling good. A day without anxiety, the feeling that everything that made this life worth living could be ripped away again at any moment. Such anxiety was simply a fundamental part of who Aziraphale was, but for the first time, something felt different.

Overtime, they fell back into their routine that they hadn’t known since before Gabriel had shown up at the shop, consequently uprooting their entire lives as one thing led to another. A routine that they had adopted after Armage-didn’t where, for four glorious years, Crowley would arrive at the bookshop in the morning with his six shots of espresso in a large cup and a cup of English breakfast tea for the angel, perhaps they’d dine at The Ritz later on, they might eventually wander down to the park to watch the ducks in the afternoon, then the day would end with the two of them sat at a table that Aziraphale had set (miraculously, with a quick snap of the fingers), talking over a bottle of wine until the very late hours into the night. Aziraphale considered this way of life to be rather perfect.

In the days following Aziraphale’s return to this plane of existence, the two of them welcomed back this routine with open arms. The sun was just rising over the bookshop’s skylight when Crowley backed in through the door, cups of coffee and tea respectively in hand. Aziraphale, a bright smile across his face, beamed as he approached the demon and grabbed one of the cups from his hands.

“Oh- angel, I think that’s the-”

Aziraphale’s face contorted as the bitter taste of piping hot pure espresso with nothing else to dilute it attacked his tongue, nearly spitting out the vile liquid. Crowley laughed.

“I think that’s mine,” he said.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh at himself, wiping his mouth with the napkin that had been wrapped around the cup.

“Perhaps those cups shouldn’t be quite so identical,”

The sound of their laughter together filled the air over the gramophone playing some quiet classical music, just how Aziraphale liked it in the morning. This morning, it was a recording of Chopin’s Étude Op. 10, No. 3 in E major. A hopeful piece, one littered with such wistful romanticism that Chopin himself had claimed he’d never written another melody so beautiful. It had reminded him of his homeland, and such a morning had gotten Aziraphale thinking that his home was never in Heaven, but rather anywhere that Crowley could be found right at his side.

Crowley was his home.

The coffee cup slipped through his fingers and toppled over onto the floor, to which Crowley did protest, but such contempt couldn’t last long before Aziraphale’s hands had cupped his face and their lips had connected. Passionately, desperately, they kissed as if it was the last time they ever could. Aziraphale’s tea was long gone as well, though the mess of spilled coffee and tea mixing at their feet was merely an afterthought as Crowley leaned the angel up against a nearby bookshelf, deepening the kiss. The angel relished in this moment of feeling wanted, a feeling he certainly wasn’t used to until he felt Crowley’s hair between his fingers and that same demon’s arms snugly wrapped around him with the same fervor.

-

read the rest here

And here’s a link to all of the parts in order:

[edgessunflower]

Dominik Mysterio who is always jumpy before his matches and like when the reader is there to help him settle down and get ready

Yessss

Cooling nerves

Pairing: Dominik Mysterio x Fem reader

Description: You help Dom calm his nerves before his match

Warning: Swearing, anxiety, and panic attack

You see Dom jumping and shaking his arms which makes you giggle as you take a sip of your drink. You stood beside him seeing the fear, nervousness, and anxiety in his eyes which makes you grab his arm "Hey you okay?" he jumps for a little bit longer before stopping and groaning in his hands, you notice his hands shaking and his heavier breathing making you gently grab and lead him away from others nearby, you take him to your locker room closing and locking the door as he paces the room "Stop look at me what's wrong?" he sighs shakily as he looks at you, tears flowing from his eyes which broke your heart "I don't want to fuck up, I am terrified of messing the match up and I feel like I'm not good enough" you feel your heart break even more as he quietly cries and starts gasping for air. "I can't bre-" you immediately sit him down and grab water for him, setting the bottle on the floor and grabbing his face in your hands "Listen to me breath through your nose out through your mouth" he looks at you shaking his head as you hold his face more and move strands of hair out of his face "Deep breaths follow my breathing" he follows your actions and as the next couple of minutes go on, he slowly feels all the weight on his body disappear, his breathing was normal again, and his body was jerking uncontrollably as it was earlier "It's okay, you are gonna do great don't let nerves get you" you slowly pull him in your arms and hug him tightly that made him feel so much safety and love that made him smile as he wraps his arms around you "Thank you, you saved me" you smile and giggle as you lightly scratch his scalp "I didn't do much I just grounded you is all" the two of you get up and you talk to him as he gets ready and drinks the cold water you gave him, you look at him smiling when he stands next to you "You're more than good enough Dom" he smiles big which makes you giggle as you share one last hug before walking out to the gorilla and ring together.

[pandulce135]

Okokok anxiety ridden single father dad getting high with Glenn just to relax

But it ends up being a paranoid high

And so Glenn has to comfort him through the worst and first and probably only mega disasters terrible badbadbad bad trip

Fear the Highs and Fear the Lows

Note: I started this a hot minute ago but here we are now! I was able to pull from my own experiences of getting high, and while I don't get anxious while high, I was able to recall my first big high. This one is short and sweet but I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: drug use, anxiety/ panic attack, bad trip

If you enjoy, consider buying me a ko-fi!

You stared the joint you held between your fingers that you were just handed. The brown wrapping was oddly smooth and pretty nice to the touch, but now the space around you reeked. You had never gotten high before, not even during your college years. You prioritized your learning, making sure you got good grade in your classes. Between classes, you worked at the school library and at the local grocery store on the weekends.

Your nerves were already acting up. Being lost in some sort of dimension with your son missing made your heart pound in your chest. Your hands were sweaty and it almost felt that with each passing second, the joint was getting heavier. Getting high on top of everything that’s been happening? It probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

“I don’t know, Glenn,” you said quietly as you finally pried your eyes away form the joint you held. “I don’t think getting high is a smart thing to do right now.” When your eyes settled on Glenn, you finally noticed how calm he was. While it was dark out in the forest you all found yourselves in, there was a fire that sat in front of the two of you that lit up his features just enough. His shoulders were rolled back, his head was lolled to the side, and he wore a stupid grin.

“Don’t freak out.” He gestured with is hand to remain as calm as you could be. “You’ll ruin the vibe. This is the stuff I use when I need to chill out, too, bro. Just try it.” He leaned back on his hands, getting himself comfortable for the high that was about to hit him.

Your eyes met his brown ones, the whites of his eyes now a pinkish, before looking at the joint in your hand again. “I’ve never gotten high before.” Your voice was quiet and weary and its higher pitch of embarrassment didn’t escape Glenn’s hearing. He chuckled.

“A good lookin’ guy like you never went to a frat party and got high?” Glenn leaned back and ran a hand through his hair before looking back at you. All the while, you felt a heat crawl up your neck to your face and ears with an embarrassed frown to showcase your flustered state. “If you don’t like it, I won’t make you do it again. I’ll be right here, too.”

Your gaze met his and his dark eyes held a rare sincerity shown only during his most vulnerable moments. Strangely enough, you found yourself relaxing slightly with his calm stare. This wasn’t a great idea, you knew this. But, if it could help you relax for awhile while the rest of the dads were asleep, and maybe even get you asleep, who were you to refuse?

Holding his stare, you brought the joint up to your lips and breathed in.

“Wait-”

It was too late. You were a coughing mess, leaning over to the side, away from Glenn, who was laughing like a maniac. He reached to save the joint as you coughed up what felt was going to be your right kidney. It was weird. It wasn’t a scratchy cough like when you’re clearing your throat, even though your throat needed that scratch. It was not a satisfying cough.

“You took too big of a hit for your first time, man,” you heard Glenn say between your coughs. He was sitting straighter up now, you noticed.

When you finally caught your breath and sat up straight again, the high came crashing in like a tidal wave. Your brain felt like static and you no longer felt like you were sitting. It was like you were in water, with how your body felt like you were in constant motion. You had to fight the urge to allow gravity to tip you over. Your throat felt dry but that wasn’t what occupied your mind.

Glenn seemed to have noticed the looming thoughts finally taking hold of the forefront of your brain, your facial expressions gave it all away.

“Whoa, man. You good?” He asked, his hand beginning to reach out slightly as you stared at it with wide, paranoid eyes. His fingers looked so gentle, Glenn was trying to be so calm for you, but with a quick glance up to his face, you knew he wasn’t exactly comfortable navigating the scene before him.

Your eyes dipped down to the ground again. The world around you felt shaky and you felt as if your heart was about to beat out of your chest. You heard your breaths, no longer as calm as you could be, but rather erratic. In-out. In-out. In-out! You held onto the front of your shirt as you tried to relax as well as you could.

“Hey,” you felt a warm hand on your back and you couldn’t stop yourself from flinching. “Hey, look at me.” Glenn’s voice rung through your head and got you to finally look at him. “Talk to me. What’s going on in your head?” He captured your attention, and your panicked eyes landed on his once more. Calm… collected.

“Our, our kids,” you croaked out. Your throat was still dry from taking such a big hit. “What if we can’t save them? What if we get them killed? What if we get killed?” Your eyes searched Glenn’s for an answer, anything even. He remained the same. “Glenn!”

“Don’t think like that, man.” He adjusted how he sat so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders. “We’ll take it one day at a time.” He held you close and you let your head fall on his leather clad shoulder. “The worse we get, the less likely we’ll be able to help our kids. We gotta stay strong.” You let him support you as you finally began to calm your breathing.

After a moment of silence, you were able to find your words again. “I’m scared.”

“Yeah, me too.”

[arielhopepeace]

Welcome, my loves, to another Joel Miller fanfic! Please be sure to read the trigger warnings before reading this story since this one focuses on the traumatic past of y/n ❤️ it shows how she’s able to push past the trauma to find love in a man again. This is something I have personal experience with, and I know how hard it can be. So, I’m hoping that it may be a comfort to anybody who needs it. It certainly was comforting to write 💕

She is a successful 25 year old lawyer, and Joel is a successful 35 year old dad who owns his own carpentry business and seeks out y/n for help! This was a story suggestion from a good friend of mine, and I hope you all enjoy it.

Part two is here

18+ only

Tw: smut, talk of sexual assault, trauma flashbacks, anxiety, panic attacks, age gap, talk of death of loved ones, talk of drug abuse

Word count: 7,500

   "Ms. Y/l/n, your three o' clock is here," my receptionist says gently over the intercom.

I let out a preemptive sigh, squaring my shoulders as I adjust myself in my chair. It's not common for me to take on male clients, being that I'm not particularly fond of them.

The only man in my life is my dad. Even though he lives about an hour away, we still talk every day with the occasional FaceTime chat so that we can see each other when our schedules are too busy for in-person meetings. He's my rock. He got me through the most difficult times in my life, and worked two jobs just to put me through college.

Thanks to him, I'm now an accomplished lawyer at twenty-five years old. I owe my life to my dad, and I know that no other man could ever live up to everything he's done for me. It doesn't matter if they tried. I'd never trust them, anyway.

"Send him in," my voice barks.

It's not Cynthia's fault that I'm on edge about a man coming into my office. It's only that he's the first man I'll have been alone with since...him; the name that I never allow to pass my lips, the name that any time I hear it out in public it makes me cringe and spark that bit of fear in my chest. He is the reason for my total disrespect and mistrust for men, because he showed me how truly evil they can be.

There's a knock on my office door, and I let out a short, clipped entry to the client. He steps in and closes the door behind himself, the lock clicking only promoting my apprehension for accepting his case. I wish my boss wouldn't have talked me into it; wish he wouldn't have made a fuss about me not accepting a male client and how it's not ethical. I can accept whatever client I damn well please, and I don't want a man telling me otherwise. But I have to keep my job. It's always been my dream to be a lawyer. It was my father's dream, too, but he could never afford the schooling. That's why he worked so hard to make sure I got in. He wanted it for me as badly as he wanted it for himself.

"Hi, I'm Joel Miller," the man's voice interrupts me from mindlessly shuffling through papers on my desk.

When I turn my gaze up to his I feel myself gulp, flicking my eyes briefly over to the shut door before having them settle back onto his. They're soft and brown, inviting, and seeming wholly innocent. His skin is tanned and smooth, only having slight wrinkles at the creases of his eyes. He has dark hair that's a bit longer, resulting in small, half-curls scattered sporadically on his head.

His hand is extended to mine, and I stand, reluctantly taking it to maintain professionalism. I never should've accepted a male client. My heart rate must be through the roof at this point, my palms a sweaty mess that he probably took notice of. God, get it together, y/n. It's your job.

"How can I help you today, Mr. Miller?" My voice projects smoothly, not having a hint of anxiety in it.

How did I manage to pull that off?

He shifts a bit in his seat before his eyes meet mine, still having that magnetic, gentle demeanor to them. "Well, I just wanted to say thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

I smile with a nod, even though I didn't really have a choice. My boss was so heavily insisting that I chose a male client, that he basically threw this guy into my lap.

"Of course, Mr. Miller."

"I own Miller Carpentry over on Hugh street," he gestures a tanned finger in the general direction, "and recently I hired a few new people to go do some jobs independently without me being a shadow. Well, that was a mistake. One of them took the money from a few jobs and never gave me, the company, a percentage of it."

My pen glides across the paper as I take notes of his claim, trying not to focus on the fact that we're alone in the room. I make bullet points of everything I'd like to incorporate if this gets brought to court, adding potential selling points beneath each sentence.

"And I'm assuming you tried to reach out and you had no luck?"

Joel shrugs. "It's like he's a ghost. Can't find him anywhere."

"How much did he make off with? Do you know?"

He exhales sharply. "At least five grand."

My eyes flick to the closed door again, letting out a gentle sigh as I try to relax. "I'll contact a friend at the police station and see if he can't find your worker. If he doesn't pay, he'll go to jail and end up having to pay you back one way or another."

"I contacted police, and they said to find a lawyer in the meantime because he most likely won't just give it up."

I scoff as I roll my eyes. "People are untrustworthy."

Joel beams at me once I stop scribbling, my tense body shifting again. "In the ten years I've had my business, this is the first time this has happened, so I'd like to say that's not true."

"Ah, so you're a carpenter and an optimist. Sounds exhausting."

He laughs heartily, the sound slightly relaxing me. "I think it's only normal for lawyers to be pessimists. You deal with criminals for a living."

"I like to avoid taking on cases that make me uncomfortable, Mr. Miller. So, no. I don't normally deal with criminals."

His fingers scratch at his slight facial hair as he continues smiling. The hairs are gray mixed with mostly black, like a medley of salt and pepper.

"I don't blame you. I couldn't do it. It's mentally demanding, I'm sure."

My mouth twists up slightly. "It entertains my therapist."

Joel chuckles, my shoulders relaxing a bit more. "I wanted to discuss cost with you. How much will you cost if we go to court and we win?"

"When you win, it'll be about two and a half grand."

He breathes out heavily. "Okay, I can swing that. I'll be able to use the half of what I'm owed from him, then."

"There's cheaper lawyers out there, Mr. Miller. If finances are an issue, I can refer you to someone else."

He shakes his head vehemently. "A friend suggested you to me, and she said you were great. So, I thought it would be best to go to someone that has a good reputation."

I beam. "I'm glad to hear good things about me."

Joel grins back, flashing a neat, white smile. I'm ashamed to admit that I find him incredibly attractive. It's been years since I've looked at a man in any way other than a predator, but Joel seems—kind. I'm immediately putting an end to those thoughts, shaking my head in disgust for betraying the promise I made to myself when I was seventeen. I'll never let a man in again, and I intend on keeping that promise.

Clearing my throat, I pick up my pen again. "May I have your home and email addresses, please?"

He recites them to me and I scribble them down, nodding my thanks.

"I'll keep in touch via email with any updates on what I hear back. Could I also get the man's first and last name?"

"Kevin Bridges," Joel says bitterly. "Bastard."

I chuckle, a sudden buzzing interrupting the meeting. Joel pulls his phone out and gives me an apologetic look before he answers the call.

"Hi, honey, I'm in an important meeting. Are you okay?" Joel hums sweetly.

Must be his wife, right? I glance over to his left hand and notice an empty ring finger. Okay, his girlfriend, then.

"I'll be home soon. Just stay with Mrs. Cheshire until I get there, okay? I don't want you home alone." His eyes briefly flick to mine and I smile. "Okay. I love you too, Sarah. Bye." Joel sighs with raised brows as he beams. "I'm sorry, that was my daughter."

"Oh," I grin, for some reason feeling relieved. "How old is she?"

"Ten. She thinks she's a full-grown adult who can stay home unsupervised. I just have her go by the neighbor's when I don't make it home in time after school. She's an old lady that loves my Sarah to death."

My chest aches when he talks about his daughter, so much enthusiasm and evident love in his words. It reminds me of my dad and I, and it makes me miss him desperately.

"Sarah seems like a lucky girl to have you as her dad," I smile. "It's just me and my dad, too. My mom left the picture when I was very little. Drugs."

Joel's brows knit with what I can only describe as sympathy. I don't want him to pity me. "I'm sorry. Sarah's mom died when she was a baby, so she doesn't really know what it's like to have a mom."

"I'm sorry for your loss." My voice is robotic, as I always have to be to detach myself from my clients. "Poor girl," I say with a hint of my genuine emotion.

"Ah, she's wonderful. Highest grades in her class, and quick as a whip," he laughs fondly. "Definitely gets it from her mom."

I chuckle, clearing my throat as I stand, holding my hand out. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Miller. I'll be in touch."

He stands, too, taking my palm into his and giving a firm shake. "It was very nice meeting you, Ms. Y/l/n. Thank you again."

I nod, practically sprinting to the door to allow the fresh air into my suffocating office. Joel walks out with a grin, my eyes briefly following him before I disappear behind my desk again. It feels like I can finally breathe now that he's not here. It's not that I felt unsafe or uncomfortable in his presence, but it's exactly that fact that concerns me. Last time I felt comfortable around a man, horrible things happened. I can't let a man force his power over me ever again. I won't let it happen.

My house is empty as it always is when I walk in, the crisp air greeting me in the delicious way it does to alleviate my warmed body from the scorching summer weather. It's July, and I'm convinced the sweltering heat will be the death of me.

I kick off my heels and strip off my stockings from beneath my skirt, laying them on my neatly made bed before walking naked to the shower. The hot water is a welcoming feeling after the stress of the day.

Joel Miller is the first male stranger I've been alone in a room with since I was seventeen, which was eight years ago. He was friendly and handsome, but he also needed something from me. Men are always nice to you when they need something. I can't think about his soft brown eyes and expect them to be just as inviting when he no longer needs my help. 

How am I going to continue meeting him in private until his case is solved? I'm so damned anxious the entire time, and it eats me alive. Yes, he seems kind, but so do all men until it's their time to strike and you instantly become their prey.

Panic consumes me, reliving the horrible, violent memories that I've experienced as I fall to the shower floor, holding myself tightly in my arms. I was so young, and somebody that I loved and trusted took advantage of me. Of course I've somewhat moved passed the sexual abuse, but there's always my days where something triggers my brain, and I'm in a rough state for the remainder of my time awake.

Today is one of those days. Joel's presence set me into a downward spiral of all-consuming panic. I'm tempted to plead to my boss about it, and beg for him to be reassigned elsewhere, but I know he won't have it without an explanation.

Nobody knows what happened to me when I was seventeen besides my dad and a few police officers. My ex-boyfriend who abused me, Justin, got a few months in jail since he was also seventeen. The man who helped him, however, was twenty-four at the time and got sentenced to one year in prison. I wanted the judge to grant a lengthier sentence, but since it was their first offenses, he cut them some slack.

Being a lawyer, I've had several opportunities to defend sexual assault victims, and I have. I've always advocated for lengthier sentences, and almost every time I'm met with a judge who takes my suggestion. I can't help but wonder if Joel's friend who suggested me to him was a woman who I've helped with a sexual assault case.

I'm glad that it's not common knowledge amongst the public about my past. It's not something I want people knowing and pitying me for, or thinking I'd be too emotional to do my job. Never once have I lost my composure in a court room during one of those cases, and I never will.

Before anything else, I'm a professional, and I don't let my emotions get the best of me at work. I'm not the type to express my feelings, either, not even to my dad. He always knows when something's bothering me, but I normally change the subject and brush it off as to just being tired. It's just hard to open up. I hate doing it.

  Later as I lay in bed, slightly wine-drunk and ready for sleep, I'm reminded of the gentle burr of Joel Miller's voice. His hand was heavy and calloused in mine, making me feel as if someone had just given me a massive weight to hold. His tanned skin flashes in my mind, and I can't help but wonder what he smells like. Does he have a specific scent that smells just as manly as he appears?

Without realizing, I'm grinning with my eyes closed, picturing my fingers in his loose, soft-looking hair as I inhale whatever aroma lingers on his neck.

***

  My eyes scan the document in front of me, nodding as I copy a few pieces of information and type it into my email for a client. A slight ding hums through my computer, and I instantly click on my email notification.

To: Y/n  Y/l/n

Subject: Rat Bastard

  Hi, Ms. Y/l/n,

I was just reaching out to let you know that the son of a bitch was finally caught. He agreed to give me back what was owed to me, and wants to avoid court and jail at all costs. I decided to not press charges even though he's still a bastard. Thank you again for all of your help so quickly. I really appreciate it. I know that you don't need to be paid unless you win the case, but I still took up your time. If you ever need some carpentry work done around your house, I'll do whatever you need for free. Please don't hesitate to call or text if you ever need anything. My number is 276-555-0909. Thank you again.

Joel Miller

A little sigh leaves my curled lips, my heart drumming in my chest. I'm relieved yet saddened that Joel won't be joining me in my office anymore. Of course I know that I can contact him at any time, but I don't need any carpentry work done around the house even a little bit.

My washer has been on the fritz, leaking a bit almost every time I do laundry, but I was just going to buy a new one. The one I have isn't old, there's just something wrong with it. Should I ask Joel for help with it?

No, that's ridiculous, right?

How insane am I that I'm letting a strange man into my house just because I want to spend some time around him? No, I'm crazy. I can't do that. What if he hurt me? What if he tried to attack me?

I immediately halt my racing thoughts, closing his email and resuming my other one. Just because I find Joel attractive, doesn't mean that I can just start letting my sky high walls down. He's still a man, and that makes him dangerous.

  At home, I finish my call with my dad. We caught up on our current work lives and anything new that's happened. It's luckily all the same as usual, and we made plans to see each other soon.

My bare feet patter into my laundry room, seeing that there's a puddle on the floor, making me scoff and curse. It feels like the universe is telling me to call Joel and have him come over to help me, but I'm too afraid.

If I invite him over, he'll be the first man ever in this house, and I don't want to forsake my promise. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I let out a sharp exhale, pulling up the email app to copy Joel's number, pasting it into my phone. My thumb hovers over the "call" option, my heart feeling like it's about to leap out of my chest.

Before I realize what I've done, the line is trilling, and it's too late to hang up now.

"Hello?" he answers curiously.

"Hi, Mr. Miller. It's y/n  y/l/n."

"Oh, hi!" Joel says brightly. "I take it you got my email, then."

"Yes," I say shyly, clearing my throat. "Um, are you busy?"

The line is quiet for a moment, then he speaks. "No, actually. I just settled into the couch with Sarah to watch some show that she likes, but I don't think she cares whether I'm here to watch it or not," he laughs. "What's up? Is everything okay?"

"How much do you know about fixing washing machines?"

Joel chuckles. "I'm a very handy man, Ms. Y/l/n."

"Mine has been leaking for a bit, and I just walked into my laundry room to find a huge puddle. You think you can help?"

"Definitely. I'll grab my tools. Could you send me your address? I'll leave now."

I clear my throat, panic constricting it. "Uh, if you're comfortable with it, you can bring Sarah. I know you said you usually leave her with the neighbor if you can't supervise her."

Joel laughs lightly. "I'm not sure if she'll want to come, but I'll ask her. Thank you for thinking of her. That's sweet of you."

I giggle, the thought of Sarah being here comforting me. "Of course. I'll see you soon."

"Bye."

"Bye." I hang up.

I'm suddenly scrambling to my bathroom, drying my wet feet on the carpet that lays in front of the sink. My fingers run through my hair in an anxious manner,  attempting to tame it a bit. I opt for throwing it up into a messy bun, reapplying my subtle makeup just a bit to my eyes.

Why am I trying to look good for Joel? God knows. I haven't been this way in years, but something about him just draws me in. Everything in my mind is screaming at me to not give in, and to stay alone as I had planned to. It's safer when you're alone. There's no one here to hurt you. It's just you and solitude.

  When I hear my doorbell, my heart picks up its pace, and the panic has settled in to my bones. I'm letting in deep breaths, breathing them out slowly. Joel won't hurt me, right? He's only here to fix my washer. He wouldn't do anything else...right?

I swing open the door and see Joel with a smile fitted onto his face, and a large toolbox in his right hand. He's wearing dark blue jeans that hang from his hips, a white v-neck shirt and large brown work boots on his feet.

My eyes search for his daughter, desperately hoping that she's here. "Hi, thanks for coming by." I gesture him inside.

Joel nods and steps in, standing in the living room. "Your house is beautiful. When did you buy it?"

"Last year," my voice croaks, making me clear it. "But thank you. I like it a lot. It's my favorite home I've ever lived in."

He chuckles, his eyes briefly on the floor before they meet mine again. "Care to show me to your flood?"

I laugh, beginning to walk toward the laundry room. I open the door, revealing the several towels that I've laid out to clean up the mess. Joel steps right onto them, his boots leaving a distinct print in the fabric.

"Did you turn the water off to the house?"

I nod. "Yes, actually. I figured that might be a problem."

Joel settles down onto his knees on the damp tile, opening the washer door. "Just don't want to be sprayed."

My eyes linger back to the closed front door, shifting in the entryway of the laundry room. "So, Sarah didn't want to come, I take it?"

"Nah, she wanted to watch her show. I told you she didn't care if I was there or not."

I giggle, admiring the flex of his biceps as he stretches into the washer. "I'm sorry to pull you away."

"No, don't be," he beams at me. "I'm more than happy to help you."

"Would you like a drink, Mr. Miller?"

He chuckles. "Water would be fine, and please call me Joel."

"Right," I smile, my cheeks feeling hot.

I leave the laundry room, making my way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge, walking it back to Joel where half of his body is inside of the washing machine. My lingering gaze admires the strength of his thighs in his jeans. He's such a man.

God, what is he doing to me? I never think like this. Not even about handsome celebrities I see on tv.

"Here you go," I finally say, setting the bottle down beside him. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No. I think I see your problem, though."

"Oh, yeah?" I ask hopefully. "What is it?"

"There's a bit of a hole in your water connection. I'm not sure how that happened, but you'll need a new pipe."

I sigh, shaking my head. "How much do those cost?"

He leans out of the washer, standing up. "Free, because I'm buying it."

My eyebrows fit together. "Joel, I can't have you purchase the part and install it. It's too much."

"You helped me. Now I want to help you."

"I barely did anything."

He smiles vastly. "But you were willing to do everything."

"It's just my job." My voice is small.

Joel eyes me. "Do you not like people doing things for you?"

I sink in to myself, my cheeks feeling hot. "I don't know. I guess not."

"Hm," he smirks. "Would you like to go to the supply store with me for a new hose?"

"Sure," I say before even thinking.

Joel beams as we exit the room, my hands shaking as I slide on my shoes. I grip my keys, feeling them jingle more than necessary from my trembling as I lock the front door. I turn around to see a large black truck, relaxing a bit at the roominess of the cab.

Why did I agree to having Joel drive me around town? The last man who ever drove me anywhere was Justin, and I was stuck where he took me, having horrible things done to me with no escape. The memory makes me wince as panic twists in my chest.

Joel opens my door for me, and I look to him with a shocked expression. He holds his hand out for me to grab and surprisingly I do, loading myself into the passenger seat of his truck.

He steps into the driver's seat, my eyes adverted away from him as I buckle my seatbelt. My leg is bouncing anxiously, my gaze fixed out the passenger window.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Joel asks gently from beside me as we drive down my road.

"Yeah," I say breathlessly. "Sorry, just a long day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

My head turns to look at him, and he's giving me a gentle smile back, the wrinkles by his eyes deepening. His eyes are still that puppy-dog style brown that is alluring and comforting all at once. He isn't looking at me any differently than he was in my office, and he no longer needs anything from me.

"Oh, uh, just a difficult case, I guess. I can't give too many details, you know," I fib.

He nods, "Of course. Well, from what I've heard, you're a wonderful lawyer. My friend raved about you."

"Who's your friend?"

"Vivian Meyers. You helped her with her sexual assault case."

My body stiffens. Damn, I knew it. "Oh, yes. I remember her."

His eyes soften as they look to me. "You really helped her get justice."

"It's just what should've been done. Too many of those creeps get away with light sentences. I don't let that happen, if I can help it."

He beams wide at me, turning his gaze back to the road. "You're an incredible woman, y/n."

My cheeks warm to his compliment, my body wiggling in my seat. "Thank you."

  After the supply store, Joel gets right to work on the washing machine, shoving his body behind it to unscrew the faulty hose on the outside to replace it. My stomach turns with hunger, my hand flying to it to grip it tightly. I was far too anxious to eat earlier, and now I'm suffering the consequences of that decision.

"Can I treat you to dinner?" I ask Joel, gazing at his legs since it's the only part of him I can see.

He laughs. "You don't have to repay me for this, y/n. I really don't mind."

"C'mon," I laugh, "please? You've been so kind."

Joel lets out a loud, dramatic sigh, making me giggle. "Fine. What did you have in mind?"

"Ooo, something simple. I'm not much of a cook."

He laughs. "That makes two of us. I'm good with anything. I'm not picky."

"Chinese food?"

"God, my stomach is growling just thinking about it. Yes, please," he says loudly.

I chuckle as I pull out my phone, adding a few things to the basket that I want. "What do you like? I ordered chicken and broccoli, egg rolls, pork fried rice, and steamed dumplings."

"Oh, god," he groans playfully, the sound stirring something unfamiliar within me. "Yes. All of that sounds perfect. Maybe just add a general tso's chicken and that'll be good. That's my favorite."

"You got it."

"I'll be done in about five minutes. The old hose is almost off," he grunts as he exerts himself. "Forgive me for not being dainty for dinner."

I laugh, watching him reach his hand out for the new hose. "Please. I'm just in my comfy home clothes. You're fine."

"I'm a mess and I smell like old water. You sure you want me to stay?"

"Joel, please," I almost scold. "Yes, I want you to stay."

My eyes widen as I realize what I've just said. I've broken so many of my rules today, and I don't know what to make of it. I've let him in my house, let him drive me around, and now I'm insisting that he stays for dinner. What is this man doing to me?

  Joel pops out from behind the washing machine a bit later, the Chinese food saying it'll arrive in twenty minutes. His white shirt is dampened on the side, causing it to be a bit see through. His body looks soft, but still in shape. I'm not even sure how old he is, but I know he has to be older than me by at least a few years since he has a daughter that's ten.

My eyes linger on his wet shirt. "I'm sorry, I don't have anything for you to change in to."

He shrugs with a smile. "If you don't mind, neither do I." His eyes look around as we leave the laundry room, making our way to the living room. "So, you live alone, I take it?"

"Yes," I breathe. "Being alone is one of my favorite things."

Joel chuckles. "Not me. I couldn't stand it if I didn't have Sarah. She's a blessing for many reasons."

I smile as I walk into my kitchen, bending down into my fridge to pull out an amber bottle. "Beer?"

He nods. "Didn't take you for a beer drinker."

"I keep them around for my dad, actually," I chuckle. "More of a wine drinker, if I'm honest."

Joel twists off the top and discards it on the counter, leaning against it as I take out my wine that I was drinking just last night, thinking of the man standing before me as I fell asleep.

"Where does your dad live?" he asks.

"Oh, about an hour from here. We see each other when we can since we both work like crazy."

He grins wide at me. "What does he do?"

"He works in a warehouse. I'm always worried he's going to hurt himself, but it keeps him in good shape."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. How old is he?"

"He's forty-five. My mom and him had me when they were both young."

Joel's brows furrow, seemingly wanting to say something upsetting, but it looks like he decides against it when his face changes. "Yeah, my wife and I had Sarah when I was twenty-five."

He's thirty-five?! God, he's still so young, but older than me by a decent amount. Why do I find that so attractive?

"You said your wife passed away," I begin cautiously, "how did she die?"

He gives me a soft, small smile. "Car accident. She was on her way to work and someone t-boned her on the driver's side going sixty miles an hour. They told me it was quick and she didn't feel anything."

My hand reaches out and grips his forearm. "God, Joel, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. It was nine years ago. I've come to terms with it and learned how to cope. It took a long time, but—" his voice trails off. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be depressing."

"No! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." I suddenly move my hand, realizing that it was lingering against his skin.

"Y/n," he chuckles, shaking his head, "you can always ask me anything."

We stand there smiling at each other for a moment, the air feeling electrically charged between us. I take a sharp breath in as the doorbell ding rips me from my little daydreaming bubble, and I slightly jump before scurrying away to the front door.

The young girl hands me the food and I thank her as she leaves, gathering the bags in my hands and settling them down gently onto the coffee table.

"Not the dining room?" Joel asks with a slight chuckle.

I grab the remote and flip on the tv. "Thought we could do with some entertainment."

He leaves to go to the kitchen, returning with my wine and his beer, placing them on the table beside the food. "I'm good with anything."

Joel sits beside me on the couch, and I'm hyper-aware of how close he is. I pull out all of the food, quickly finishing the wine in my glass before I pour myself some more.

I turn on a random movie that's playing, not really knowing what it is. "Chopsticks?" I hand him a pair.

Joel takes them and breaks them apart, giving me a slight smirk. "Do you want me to grab a plate?"

"Only if you want them. I'm fine with just eating out of the containers. Doing dishes might be my least favorite thing to do."

He laughs loudly, his head cocked back. "For someone who doesn't like doing dishes, your house is extremely clean."

"Well, I'm a bit of a control freak, I guess. I'm lazy, but my brain doesn't let me be."

Joel chuckles, flashing that gorgeous smile of his. "Being a control freak probably comes from being a lawyer."

No, it's because I don't trust anybody and I must do everything that I can myself.

"Yeah," I lie, chuckling slightly.

I dig my chopsticks into the chicken, pushing the meat and broccoli between the thin wood before bringing it to my lips. I groan at the flavor, my stomach growling in delight.

"This is so good," I moan, nodding my head.

Joel takes a bite and rolls his eyes in enjoyment. "This is exactly what I needed. I usually eat dinner by now."

"Me, too. I was just too distracted with the washer. I'm sorry for dragging you out here."

He shakes his head. "I wanted to help. Please, stop apologizing. You don't ever have to apologize to me."

I swallow the dry lump of attraction that has formed in my throat, leaning forward to pour myself more wine, quickly downing the glass.

Joel laughs as he glances at me. "I guess today was really tough, then?"

No, being near you is next to impossible.

"Yes," I lie again, pouring myself another glass. "I'm glad you got your money back. I'm surprised he was so willing to give it back once he was caught. Most people would fight it."

He shrugs. "He's stupid."

I laugh, shoveling some rice into my mouth with a hand beneath the chopsticks to prevent any rice from falling onto the floor.

"Most men are," I blurt out.

Joel laughs. "I'd love to say you're wrong, but you're not."

I laugh with him, the alcohol lightening my anxieties. "You're not, though."

"Oh, that's not true," he chuckles. "I've done some really stupid stuff."

"Like what?"

He leans back slightly, wiping his mouth with one of the provided napkins. "When I was a teenager, probably about sixteen, I really wanted this girl to like me. So, I thought the cool thing would be to light fireworks off in front of her house. I swore she would think it was the most romantic gesture she's ever seen. Well, turns out that the tree she had in her front yard was incredibly flammable."

I gasp with my hand to my mouth. "Oh, my god!"

Joel nods with a vast grin. "Yup. Tree burned to the ground and she never spoke to me again. Damn thing nearly fell onto her house! I was lucky her parents didn't try to get me in trouble for that. They were furious, but they knew it wasn't my intention."

I laugh loudly, my head cocked back. "I can't believe that. That's hilarious!"

"She did not think so."

"I've never had anyone do something so crazy for me before." My laughter fades, flashing back to Justin and his friend cornering me in that unfamiliar room.

Quickly, I down more wine, my leg beginning to bounce again as I attempt to push away the negative memories that are replaying in my head. No, no, no. This can't happen now.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Joel asks, cutting me back to reality.

My body is trembling, and I'm doing my best to remain calm, but the terror in my mind won't stop. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Y/n, you're shaking." Joel goes to reach out but I quickly retreat. "Was it something I said?"

"No!" my voice answers quickly. "No, Joel, you're fine."

He lets out a sharp sigh. "You're having a panic attack, I can tell. I had them all the time after my wife died. Talk to me, y/n. What's happening?"

"I can't tell you, Joel. It's—too much."

He backs away a bit as he nods. "Okay, how about I tell you another story about how I'm stupid?"

My eyes squeeze shut, nodding my head. "Tell me."

"When Sarah was born, I hadn't gotten much sleep that night before my wife went into labor because I was so nervous about being a dad. I hadn't been eating or sleeping well for a few days, actually. Anyway, she finally goes into labor and I'm wide awake, running through the house to collect all of her things and get her to the hospital. Well, when we get there, and she's finally having the baby, I faint."

I laugh, my heart rate beginning to settle. "You fainted?!"

"It wasn't the blood, the screams, or any of that. It's because I freaked myself out so bad that I couldn't sleep or eat! So, I basically missed my daughter's birth because I'm an idiot."

My lips quiver up. "You were scared to be a dad?"

"Oh, definitely," he nods, beginning to smile, "but once I held Sarah, I knew being a dad is what I'm meant to do with my life. I loved her from the second I saw her, and I still get that feeling every time I look at her. That girl has my whole heart with her."

My brows slant, emotion welling up in my chest that I force down. "Joel, you're an amazing dad. I can already tell that."

"Thanks," he laughs shyly. "I do my best. It's hard being two parents."

"My dad has been two parents from the time I was Sarah's age. He's everything to me, and I know you're everything to her, too. My dad got two jobs just to get me through law school, something he wanted but never had the money for."

"He sounds like an amazing man."

I nod with a small smile. "He is."

Joel's eyes flick to my legs, then back up to my gaze. "Your legs stopped bouncing. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," I breathe out slowly. "Thank you, Joel."

He nods. "You're welcome." His eyes flick between mine. "Do you get those often?"

"Not super often, no. Just lately I've been having some triggers, I guess."

Joel frowns with furrowed brows. "What I always tried to do was just take deep breaths and distract my brain by watching something light. Have you tried that?"

I nod with a smirk. "Therapist recommended."

He chuckles. "Mine too."

"You helped a lot, honestly. My dad is the only one who was ever able to help talk me down from an episode."

Joel looks to me with those soft eyes, my living room light shining off the velvety brown of them. "That's a very nice compliment. I had to go through them completely alone. I only had my one year old daughter when they were at their worst. If you ever want to reach out when you're panicking, you can. You shouldn't have to go through them alone."

My gaze softens, those tears trying to make their way to the surface again but I shoo them away. "That means a lot, Joel. Thank you."

"You're welcome, y/n."

  After the movie ends, and I'm tipsy from the wine, I lean onto Joel's shoulder, my eyes beginning to flutter closed. I feel calm in this moment beside him, and I'm not sure if it's the alcohol or just Joel.

"Y/n?" he whispers.

"Hmm?"

"It's getting late and I have to get back to Sarah. Will you be okay if I leave?"

I nod, lifting my head to look up at him. "Of course."

His eyes search mine, concern etched into them. "Promise me you'll call or text if you're panicking again. I don't want you going through them alone."

"You're sweet to care, Joel," I beam at him. "Thank you."

He grins as his slightly glares at me. "You didn't promise."

"That's because I can't. I don't open up or express my feelings to anybody, not even my dad."

Joel goes to touch my face, but stops himself. "I was that way too. I promise it's better to not face whatever you're going through alone."

With a steady hand, I grab his and place it on my cheek. "I'm sorry for freaking out earlier. I'm embarrassed."

He tucks some hair behind my ear, cupping the side of my face. "No, don't be. I'm glad I was here to help."

I lean into his touch, my eyes closing a bit to savor the feeling of his skin on mine. When I open them, I see Joel gazing at me, giving me a look that I know is want. Normally it would completely freak me out, but the tipsy affect of the wine mixed with Joel's gentle aura have me feeling incredibly—safe.

"You can," I say softly, my eyes on his lips.

Joel cocks his head. "I can, what?"

"Kiss me. I can see that you want to."

He chuckles slightly, rubbing his thumb against my cheek. "Do you want me to?"

I nod. "Yes."

Joel slowly leans in, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest as he gently takes my lips against his. His mouth is gentle and eager, my own mouth parting to allow him to slip his tongue into it. He does exactly that, eliciting a quiet moan from my throat. He tastes of beer and Chinese food, mixed with his own unique flavor. It's intoxicating, making me feel more drunk on him than the wine.

My fingers go into his hair, gently tugging to control the kiss as our tongues swirl together. My body is alight with a passion I've never experienced, and there's an ache between my legs. Joel's right hand stays on my face, the other at the small of my back, pulling me in closer to him.

I part our lips and kiss his stubbly jaw, moving down to his neck and throat. He lets out a small groan of approval, the sound further arousing me.

"Y/n," he breathes out, stopping me in my tracks. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but we should stop."

My lips come to a halt from his bobbing Adam's apple, moving my face into view of his. "You want to stop?"

He strokes my face, his gaze having a bit of heat to it. "I've thought you were beautiful since the moment I walked into your office, and I've wanted to kiss you all night. That being said, you drank a bit, and I don't want you doing something you'll regret."

I stare at him with a dumbfounded expression, the rate of my heart only increasing from the realization that Joel might actually be a good guy.

"I—" my voice trails off, "I can't believe you said that."

Joel cocks his head as he chuckles. "Why? Who the hell would take advantage of a drunk woman?"

"A lot of people."

"A lot of fucking creeps," he mutters. "It makes me a bit sad that you're impressed by the bare minimum from a man. Have you ever had a decent boyfriend?"

With tears filling my eyes, I shake my head. "No."

Joel's eyes soften as he pulls me in to a tight hug, my body weakening in his hold. He embraces me for a moment, the tears finally spilling over my lids and onto my cheeks. Is this the way men are supposed to treat women? Am I supposed to feel this safe and cherished? I barely know him, yet I feel like he'd go to war to protect me.

"Joel," I say through my sniffling.

He pulls away, swiping my tears away with his thumbs. "Yes, y/n?"

My shoulders sag as I let out a large sigh. "Would you like to go on a date with me some time?"

Joel beams, nodding his head. "Definitely. This Saturday?"

I giggle, "I'd love to."

  When Joel leaves, he gives me a soft, lingering kiss at the front door, smiling as I watch him walk away with his tool kit in his hand. My body stays leaning against the doorframe until he drives away, letting out a sigh of pure contentment.

I haven't felt this giddy since Justin and I first started dating, but the fuzzy feelings towards him were short-lived. We didn't date for very long before we slept together for the first time, and after that it was like something switched in him. I was upset that I gave him my virginity, but I trusted him when I did. It was probably about two weeks later when him and his friend took me to his house and had their way with me.

My eyes close as the vivid images of them come back, doing my best to shoo them from my mind. I'd like to be honest with Joel and tell him just how scared I am of being intimate with him, but I don't want to freak him out.

Maybe I will after our date this Saturday. I was more than ready and willing to jump his bones tonight, a feeling I never thought I'd get again. But Joel seems to be changing me, and though I'm terrified, I'm somehow also hopeful that it'll be okay with him.

****

[jerzwriter]

Thank you for the asks @maritzaldvr I feel like it's a homework assignment, lol. But that's OK - we writers like nothing more than going on and on about our crazy little characters - so thank you! ❤️

From this list.

1 - How would they handle a breakup?

Ooofh. How I hate even thinking of it - they're my forever couple. I think a breakup would be the hardest thing they'd ever have to go through - short of anything happening to one of their girls. They truly love each other, and that wouldn't stop, so there would have to be a very serious reason for the split. It's one of those "I'll love you forever, but we can't be together" events that are just brutally painful. If they didn't have children yet, I don't know if they'd keep in touch - it would be too painful. But they might because they're more open-minded and progressive than most, so they don't think a romantic relationship ending means you have to cut each other off for life. It would be difficult for them to move on and I think anyone else they'd be with in the future would have to understand, they'd never have their complete hearts.

I have written a few AU's with breakups, including Unblemished (which is a favorite of mine). They had a breakup in the AU series Friends* (another one of my favorites) and All in the Past. There are also two WIP AU's that I've really got to get back to, What's Forever For? and Where it Goes From Here. Also, I make no promises in the current AU Mono-Poly. I was going to say I need to write an AU break up - but apparently, I don't lol

13. How do they act when they’re stressed, and what are some things they do to relax?

More below...

It depends on the level of stress. In my HC, they both had a lot of therapy after the chemical attack, so they have learned how to handle a lot. Also, Tobias has a very laid-back attitude, which helps, especially since Casey is prone to anxiety. What do they do to reduce stress? 😏😏😏 Well.... lol You know. lol But in addition to that, I think they also make sure to get rest, exercise, and have frequent massages and pampering to help reduce stress.

But a BIG stressor is another issue - for example, Casey nearly dies after their third baby is born - and Tobias nearly falls apart. He does what he has to for his daughters, but he's hanging on by a string. Fortunately, he has a great group of people around him who help, but it's not pretty.

20. How do they react to getting hurt? Both in the sense of a small injury like a paper cut or a bigger injury.

I think they both blow off minor injuries; I can imagine they get a lot of smaller ones on the job, and they just keep going. I think they're pretty resolute when it comes to bigger injuries, too. They'd react as most people would, but they'd be anxious to fix it and move on - they've got things to do.

41. Are they messy or clean? How do they react to a mess?

I think they are both very neat and don't like it at all when things become messy. However, there is a caveat... Casey's morning routine leaves a big ol mess in the bathroom - make up, skin and hair care, products left all over. She cleans it as soon as she returns from work, but since she and Tobias are not always on the same shift - sometimes he's stuck with the mess and I don't think he loves it. lol That's probably a growing pain when they first live together. Also, with a cat and three daughters, they will have to become a little more accustomed to messes, but they still don't love them - and they will do their best to keep them minimal.

43. What are their eating habits?

Given that they are both doctors, they tend to watch what they eat and follow a healthy diet. That said, they know balance is key, and they indulge in foods they love, too.

47. What is one thing that they’re really good at?

Sex. I mean, sorry, but it's true! lol They're also excellent at communication.

49. How clingy are they? What do they act like?

They're very into PDA, but I don't think they're clingy. To me, clingy means they're at a party, and they can't leave each other's side. They're not like that. They love being together, but not in a toxic way. They'll go talk or interact in different groups, but they'll always be so happy to return to each other.

52. On an average day, what can be found in their pockets?

Hmm. At work? For both, I think you'd find hand sanitizer, lip balm, and maybe tissues. Casey likely has lotion and mints/gum. Tobias, a lollipop or two. I totally see him as having a thing for lollipops.

63. How important is personal hygiene to them? What do they smell like?

Very, very, very important. These two like things neat, they're into their appearances - they are almost always well groomed. Tobias often smells like Tom Ford's Oud Wood. If not, he sounds like his sandalwood body wash. Casey will smell like whatever Bath & Bodyworks scent is her favorite at the moment.

90. Do they drink alcohol? If so, what’s their favorite type of alcohol?

Yes, they do. They will often have a drink to wind down at the end of the night, but only some days. On the weekends, they definitely do some drinking. I imagine Tobias likes some high-end single malt whiskeys, and he has a wine cellar filled with everything from Casey's favorite (Bartenura Moscato) to very pricey vintages. They have beer in the fridge - likely a yummy craft beer - that they will drink during bar-b-ques or while watching sports.

Thanks so much for the asks! :)

[vash-the-trans-catboy]

Title: Too Much Morality Will Cause Anxiety

Prompt from @alvodra : Always on the search for more Logan calming Virgil down and being the only one truly understanding anxiety, possibly with Patton messing up somehow

Summary: Patton causes Virgil a lot of anxiety but Logan is there to help Virgil through it.

Word count: 1630

Tag list: @prince-rowan-of-the-forest @ishipgenfics (let me know if you want to be added)

TWs: Mentions of alcohol, manipulation, anxiety, panic attacks, little unsympathetic Patton

AO3

Thomas paced around the living room, occasionally glancing down at his watch. There was a debate going on inside his head and it looked like he was losing. Thomas decided he might as well make this debate real.

“Can everyone meet me in the living room? Please it’s an emergency?” Thomas called out loud to summon his logic, morality, anxiety, and creativity.

First, his logical side, dressed in business casual as usual, popped into the room.

“Is everything alright, Thomas?” Logan asked with a slight face of concern. A few emotions slipped through his stoic face. Logan tries to keep an appearance of seriousness, but Thomas and the other sides know Logan does care a lot.

“I’m-" “THOMAS, ARE YOU HURT?!?” Patton rushed into the conversation, interrupting Thomas.

While Logan and Patton were busy trying to figure out what was wrong with Thomas, Virgil quietly snuck in. Like a cat, Virgil stood on the steps observing everyone, waiting for his opportunity to make his presence known. His purple eyeshadow glimmered in the light. As grumpy as he pretends to be, his eyeshadow clearly gave away that he was having a good day.

Finally, the most dramatic side appeared.

“Oh god! Thomas! This is really an emergency. Your hair is absolutely atrocious. This must be why you called us here so suddenly.” Roman summoned a hairbrush, “Don’t worry as the most stylish side I got you covered.”

“My hair isn’t why I called you all here.” Thomas tried to correct Roman, but Roman was not listening. He threw the hairbrush at Thomas. It flew through the air, then went straight through Thomas’ head. Roman tended to forget since he was part of Thomas’ mind that anything he summoned Thomas could not touch. Thomas blankly stared at his sides as the hairbrush fell onto the floor. “Still isn’t about my hair.”

“Are you sure?” Roman raised one eyebrow in a questioning matter, “Couldn’t hurt for me to teach you to style it.”

“Ok. Moving on. This is wasting time. Thomas, why have you called us here?” Logan huffed at Roman’s antics as he returned the floor to Thomas.

“Maybe he’s dying.” Virgil deadpanned.

Thomas continued talking about his emergency, ignoring the dying comment, “So there’s this party. And this really cute guy invited me to go. But I don’t know if I should actually go.”

Logan rolled his eyes, “You must learn what is a real emergency.”

“A party! With a cute guy! Thomas, you’d be insane to say no.” Roman happily said.

“I don’t know guys. Crowded places aren’t always the best setting for Thomas. We should politely decline and go under our covers instead.” Virgil said looking a bit uneasy.

“Oh, Virgil. Being a downer as usual.” Patton said, “Thomas as your side that is your happiness you have to go. Socialization is great. Plus if Virgil said no you automatically know to do the opposite. When is listening to anxiety ever good?”

“What if the cute guy doesn’t show? Do you know anyone else at this party? What if the host doesn’t want you there? Will there be alcohol or drugs? Who am I kidding, it’s an adult party of course there will be alcohol and drugs. What if you get taken advantage of while not completely in your senses?” Virgil’s eyeshadow turned to a slightly darker purple, all the glimmer disappeared.

“Now you are just being stupid, Virgil. Real life isn’t as bad as your mind tells you it is. Thomas, trust me. I’m your morality. Would I ever really do something to harm you? This party will be good for you, for all of us.” Patton glanced at Virgil, “It will be especially good for dear Virgil here. You know how a little bit of alcohol can take the edge off. Maybe a few drinks and the nagging voice in your head will calm down.”

Virgil’s eyeshadow turned another shade darker. The purple started to mix with black. The joy from Virgil’s eyes was long gone. “If you drink you might not be able to make a rational decision. How well do you know this cute guy? What if he has bad intentions?”

“Please don’t listen to Mr. Fearful over here. Virgil is overreacting. This isn’t even an argument. Everyone knows you should go to the party and you really want to.” Patton smiled at Thomas. Virgil knows that smile and recoiled a bit, pushing his hood over his head, “So you’ll go to the party, right? Wouldn’t you love a night off from anxiety?”

Thomas shifted from one foot to another, he could feel the tension. “I’m not so sure I want to go now.”

“It’s because of Virgil isn’t it?” Patton pointed his finger accusingly at Virgil, “Maybe next time only bring the important sides if you actually want to get anything done.”

The room got deadly silent for a second. The only sound to be heard was heavy breathing.

Virgil’s eyeshadow turned completely black. His eyes dulled in color as well. He wobbled a little as the room spun.

Logan took a step closer to Virgil, “Virgil, you are looking pale. Do you feel alright?”

Virgil promptly collapsed to the floor before sinking out.

Complete chaos broke out the second he disappeared.

Thomas was too stunned to talk. He’d seen Patton and Virgil not get along before, but never to this degree.

“What the hell, Patton?” Roman yelled at Patton.

Logan was trying to hold back his anger, “You crossed a line this time.”

“I didn’t say anything there rest of us weren’t thinking.” Patton shot back.

“I don’t have time for this. I’ll lecture you later.” Logan turned to Roman, “Make sure Thomas is alright. I’m going to check on Virgil.” Logan sunk out.

“Patton please leave”

“But kiddo”

“No. You’ve done enough.” Patton pouted, then left the room in defeat.

…………………………….

Logan appeared in front of Virgil’s door. “Hey, Virgil. Are you in here?” He knocked on the door and waited for an answer. A minute passed; No one answered. He knocked again, “It’s Logan. I’m concerned.”

He attempted to open to door since Virgil was starting to worry him. He twisted the knob; It was locked. “Please, Virgil. I am truly worried.”

Still no answer. Logan sighed and took a seat next to Virgil’s door, “I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m going to give this shot. Take a deep breath. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight. Repeat. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight.” Logan breathed in and out as he instructed Virgil on his breathing. He wanted to give off as calm of an aura as possible.

“Getting in touch with your senses usually works to help ground you. What are five things you can see? You don’t have to say them out loud if you don’t want to.”

Logan heard a few mumbles from the other side of the door. It sounded vaguely like, “Bed, plushies, lamp, door, fan.”

“Very good, Virgil. Now four things you can feel.” Logan felt an immense sense of relief hearing Virgil’s voice.

“Carpet, clothing, impending doom, coldness.” The door lock clicked open.

“May I come in?” Logan stood up, putting his hand on the doorknob. He waited for Virgil’s response.

It was quiet for a few moments, a small “yeah” was heard in the background.

Logan slowly opened the door. “Three things you can hear.” He said as he walked in.

“Door creaking, sound machine, your voice.” Virgil closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You are doing great. Two things you can smell.”

Virgil started to sniff the room, “Lavender and your hand sanitizer.”

Logan sat down next to Virgil, “One thing you can taste.”

“Umm, my tongue I guess?” Virgil wiped his eyes, smudging his eyeshadow.

“Physical contact?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, I’m good with physical contact today.”

Logan took Virgil’s hand. He helped Virgil stand up and lead him to the bed. Virgil collapsed into Logan’s arms and started hysterically sobbing.

“I am just trying to protect Thomas and be helpful,” Virgil mumbled into Logan’s chest.

Logan rubbed circles on Virgil’s back, “I know. I think everything you said had a valid point. It is always important to think about safety.”

“I don’t understand why Patton hates me so much.”

“I do not see the logic in him hating you. We are a team. Targeting one of us will just be counterproductive.” Logan ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, “Tomorrow I am going to give Patten a stern lecture.”

Logan heard a small laugh from Virgil. He looked up to meet Logan’s gaze, “You’d do that for me?”

Logan smiled, “Of course. You know I love a good lecture.”

Logan shifted Virgil off his lap and onto the pillow. He carefully slid off the bed.

Virgil reached for him, “Please stay.”

“I will be right back, I promise.” Logan went into the bathroom connected to Virgil’s room. He pulled out a container of makeup wipes from the draw. Logan gently took off Virgil’s eyeshadow to prevent it from ruining his bed or getting in his eyes.

Virgil’s eyes drooped in tiredness.

“I think it would be best to call it a night and go to sleep.” Logan pulled the spider web patterned comforter over Virgil.

Virgil reached out and tugged on Logan’s wrist, “Stay here tonight.”

“Of course, Virgil.” He pushed the comforter over and slid over it. Logan pulled Virgil into his arms and kissed his forehead. “Sleep tight, my dear.”

Virgil’s breaths eventually evened out as he fell asleep. Once Logan was sure Virgil was soundly asleep he pulled Virgil closer and fell asleep. Logan held onto Virgil all night to let him know was he always there for him.

[writingseaslugs]

Che'nya: Reader Who's Scared of Storms

So I actually wrote this one a while back for an example! The post can be found right here, and it’s just about my process in making several headcanons at a fast pace. So this one was already technically posted, but here it is all by itself.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Che’nya: Scared of Storms

Che'nya finds out you’re scared of storms when he’s managed to sneak into the school one day and was looking for Riddle. It was just about to start raining, and he saw you off in the distance. He was planning on just scaring you when he heard the first crack of thunder. He watched you literally jump and scream, clearly not realizing a storm was about to happen. He then watched as you scurried off into the nearest structure while looking panicked. He investigated and headed over, finding you having a full-blown anxiety attack. He asked to see if you were alright, coming over and startling you. Once you realized who it was, you were embarrassed but explained your issue with storms.

Once Che'nya knows, he’s going to be trying to calm you down through laughter. He’s going to drag you to find Trey and Riddle, messing with them by turning invisible to jump out at them. You’re playing as the distraction. If you prefer being away from others, he’s cool with that too. Besides, he hasn’t seen Ramshackle yet and is excited to drag you there. He’ll be raiding your kitchen, saying that tea is apparently good for calming you down. Then he goes into detail about how he used to be skittish with storms when he was younger to help you feel a bit better.

You’re never going to have to worry about calling him. He always knows when a storm is on its way, like a weird 6th sense. Once he does, he ditches his campus and heads over to Night Raven. He always makes an excuse at his school as to why he’s gone so he can spend the entire night. Expect him to make hot milk and watch some cheesy movies with you. He’s curling you up in his lap and playing with your hair the entire night as well, loving when you let your guard down and fall asleep on him.

Are you a fan of Diasomnia like me? I bet you are if you read my content (we love the boys in this household). Want to support a visual novel that will feature Diasomnia dorm, has multiple routes and endings, as well as some spicy visual scenes? Check out @twstfournights and if you want info, check out their announcement post!