#but it still stings every time i see a mention of something I'm not in

[none-ofthisnonsense]

I hate missing so much from so many people and so many communities just because I don't use Discord - I shouldn't feel the need to go on there to keep up with stuff.

I guess it's just me being left out like literally every time.

[jupiterpilgrim]

Drown With Me

Ningning x Minji x Male Reader

word count: 10K

"I was so happy, you know?"

Her words, her tone, her expression – they’re etched in your memory...

—

Firstly: let's rewind to the moment that started it all. Or rather, the fight that started it all. But just a part of it, because the whole argument was a bit too... dramatic.

—

"You fucking asshole! I can't believe you're making me feel guilty about this trip!" Minji screams, tears streaming down her face as she throws clothes into her suitcase. Her small hands are shaking with rage.

“I just can't understand you! When I keep my shit to myself, you complain that I'm not being truthful in the relationship, and when I decide to tell you what's bothering me, you freak out. You know this promotion means everything to me, Minji, and now you're acting like I'm abandoning you," you snap back, watching her frantically pack from the doorway of your shared bedroom.

"Abandoning me? No, you're just being a selfish prick who can't be happy for his girlfriend's success!" She slams the suitcase shut, mascara running down her cheeks. "I've supported every single one of your career moves, but the one time I get a huge opportunity, you make it all about you!"

"That's not what I'm saying and you know it! I just wish you'd discussed it with me first instead of just announcing you're fucking off to Singapore for a month!"

"Discuss it? With you?" She laughs bitterly. "Why? So you could try to talk me out of it? Make me feel even more guilty?"

"Minji, come on..." You try to reach for her but she jerks away.

"Don't touch me. I can't even look at you right now." She wipes her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. "I have to go or I'll miss my flight. Don't bother calling."

You watch helplessly as she drags her suitcase out of the bedroom, the wheels thumping against the hardwood floors. The front door slams shut moments later, leaving you alone in the sudden silence of your apartment.

"Fuck!" You punch the wall, immediately regretting it as pain shoots through your knuckles.

—

She drops it on you out of nowhere, right in the middle of a forkful of pasta, like it’s just casual dinner conversation. “So I’ll be in Singapore for a month. My trip is scheduled for next week.” she says, barely looking up as she keeps eating. No heads-up, no “Hey, I was thinking…” Just lays it out there, cold as fact.

You should be happy for her. Hell, you should feel damn proud. Minji, your Minji, jetting off for a huge business trip, about to prove to everyone what you already know - that she’s amazing at what she does. But instead, there’s this weird little twist of annoyance clawing its way up from somewhere deep. It’s like you’re happy, sure, but there’s this raw, stupid irritation bubbling under it all that you didn’t see coming.

She never mentioned it before. Never talked about weighing options, asked you what you thought, nothing. Just tosses it at you like a done deal, already set in stone. And yeah, it stings a little, like she didn’t even think you’d want a say. It’s petty, it’s stupid, but it’s there, scratching around at the back of your head, whispering: am I an afterthought now?

You catch yourself, feeling like the world’s most selfish boyfriend because you know she deserves this. She’s worked herself to the bone, fought for this chance to prove herself, to show she’s worth every bit of it. Of course you want her to go, to kill it, to come back with stories of how she made the whole damn boardroom take notice. But somewhere inside, there’s still that ugly little itch, wondering - couldn’t she have acted like this was a decision for the two of you? Just… a little?

The guilt starts swirling in after that, heavier than before, sinking low and deep. What kind of boyfriend gets hung up on something so small when his girlfriend’s about to take this huge step? You want to push it down, make it disappear, go back to that exact second before she said anything, and just feel proud. Proud without all this stupid baggage.

But the feeling’s there, thick and stuck, wedged between the pride and the frustration, and there’s no easy way to get it out. So you sit there in silence, forcing yourself to nod, to smile at the right parts, while she lights up, spilling plans and ideas and everything she’s about to do. You’re trying to just let it all go, to be the guy she deserves - a guy who’s genuinely happy for her without strings, without ego. But it clings to you anyway, like some shadow you didn’t invite, and all you can do is pray it doesn’t twist into something even messier down the line.

But we know exactly how it ended.

—

Three days pass in misery, all you have is takeout containers, beer bottles, and mindless TV shows. You've texted Minji multiple times but only gotten short, cold responses. The apartment feels too big, too empty without her presence.

You're sprawled on the couch, starting your fourth beer of the evening, when there's a knock at the door. For a moment, your heart leaps thinking it might be Minji, but you know she's still in Singapore.

"Coming!" you call out, grabbing a t-shirt off the floor and pulling it on as you stumble to the door. When you open it, you find yourself face to face with Ningning, Minji's best friend.

"Wow, you look like shit," she says bluntly, pushing past you into the apartment.

Ningning has always been stunning in an almost intimidating way. Today she's wearing a tight black crop top that shows off her toned stomach and high-waisted jeans that hug every curve. Her long black hair falls in waves past her shoulders, and her dark eyes seem to see right through you.

"Nice to see you too," you mutter, closing the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Minji asked me to check on you." Ningning wrinkles her nose at the mess of bottles and takeout containers. "Good thing she did. This is pathetic."

You run a hand through your unwashed hair. "I'm fine. You can tell her I'm fine."

"Really? Because you look and smell like you haven't showered in days." She picks up an empty beer bottle, examining it. "And it seems like you're trying to drink yourself into oblivion."

"It's none of your business," you snap, snatching the bottle from her hand.

Ningning's red lips curve into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Actually, it is my business. Minji's my best friend, and she's worried about you. Even though you're being a total dick about her trip."

"You don't know anything about it."

"I know enough." She steps closer, and you catch another whiff of her perfume. "I know you made her cry before the biggest opportunity of her career. Dick move."

The guilt and alcohol make your head spin. "I didn't mean to... I just... fuck." You sink onto the couch, head in your hands.

You feel the couch dip as Ningning sits beside you, close enough that her thigh brushes against yours. "Hey," she says, her voice softer now. "I get it. Long distance sucks. But it's only a month."

"A month feels like forever right now," you admit. The beer is definitely hitting you now, making your tongue loose. "The apartment feels wrong without her here."

"Then maybe you need a distraction." Ningning's hand lands on your thigh, and your whole body tenses. "Something to take your mind off things."

You turn to look at her, meaning to tell her to back off, but the words die in your throat. She's closer than you expected, those dark eyes boring into yours. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and you can't help tracking the movement.

"Ning..." you start, but you're not sure if it's a warning or something else.

"I always wondered what it was like to be in Minji's shoes," she murmurs, her hand sliding higher on your thigh. "Maybe now's my chance to find out.”

"We can't..." But your protest sounds weak even to your own ears. The combination of alcohol, loneliness, and Ningning's intoxicating presence is making it hard to think straight.

"Why not?" Her other hand comes up to cup your face, turning you toward her. "What Minji doesn't know won't hurt her."

Before you can respond, she closes the distance between you, pressing her lips against yours. For a moment, you're too shocked to react. Then your body takes over, responding to the first intimate contact you've had in days.

Her lips are soft but demanding, nothing like Minji's gentle kisses. When her tongue pushes into your mouth, you taste mint and something sweet. Your hands move of their own accord, gripping her waist and pulling her closer.

Ning swings one leg over your lap, straddling you. The position brings her core right against your growing erection, and she grinds down deliberately, drawing a groan from your throat.

"That's it," she purrs against your lips. "Stop thinking so much."

Her hands slip under your t-shirt, nails scraping lightly against your abs. You know you should stop this, push her away, but your body is on fire with need. When she rocks against you again, your hips buck up instinctively.

"Fuck, you're already so hard for me," Ningning breathes, pulling back to look at you with heavy-lidded eyes. "Let me take care of you."

She grinds down again, more forcefully this time, and your head falls back against the couch. "This is wrong," you manage to say, even as your hands slide down to grip her ass.

"Then why does it feel so right?" She attacks your neck with lips and teeth, sucking hard enough to leave marks. The pain-pleasure sends jolts straight to your cock.

Your hands slip under her crop top, finding bare skin. Her body is different from Minji's - more toned, with smaller breasts but wider hips. The comparison makes guilt twist in your stomach, but it's quickly drowned out by lust when Ningning bites down on your earlobe.

She pulls back just long enough to yank your t-shirt over your head, then immediately latches onto one of your nipples. The sensation makes you buck up against her again, your cock straining against your boxers.

"Someone's eager," she teases, rolling her hips in slow circles. "Want to see how wet you've made me?"

Before you can answer, she grabs one of your hands and guides it between her legs. Even through her jeans, you can feel the heat radiating from her core. When you press your fingers against her, she moans and grinds down onto your hand.

"See?" She captures your lips in another burning kiss. "I've wanted this for so long. Wanted to show you what you've been missing."

The words should be a bucket of cold water, reminding you of Minji, but instead they just fuel the fire burning through your veins. You squeeze her ass with your free hand, pulling her harder against you as you devour her mouth.

Ningning breaks the kiss to stand up suddenly, leaving you bereft of contact. But before you can protest, she's hooking her fingers into the waistband of her jeans, slowly shimming them down her legs.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of her black lace thong, barely covering anything. Her legs seem to go on forever, and when she turns around to step out of her jeans, you get a perfect view of her round ass.

"Like what you see?" she asks over her shoulder, giving her ass a little shake.

"Fuck," is all you can manage, adjusting yourself in your pants.

She turns back to face you, crossing her arms to grab the hem of her crop top. In one fluid motion, she pulls it over her head, revealing a matching black lace bra. Her breasts strain against the material, nipples clearly visible through the delicate fabric.

"Your turn," she purrs, hooking her fingers in your pants. "Up."

You lift your hips automatically, letting her pull your pants and boxers down and off. Your cock springs free, already rock hard and leaking pre-cum. Ningning licks her lips at the sight, wrapping one hand around your shaft.

"Mmm, bigger than I expected," she says, giving you a few slow strokes. "No wonder Minji always looks so satisfied."

The mention of your girlfriend's name sends another pang of guilt through you, but it's quickly forgotten when Ningning drops to her knees between your legs. She maintains eye contact as she leans forward, running her tongue from base to tip.

"Fuck!" you gasp, hands gripping the couch cushions.

"Just wait," she smirks, before taking you into her mouth.

The wet heat of her mouth is incredible. She takes you deep right away, her throat relaxing to accommodate your length. Unlike Minji's hesitant, gentle oral skills, Ningning sucks cock like she was born for it.

Her head bobs up and down, tongue swirling around your shaft. One hand works what doesn't fit in her mouth while the other massages your balls. The sight of her red lips stretched around your cock, mascara starting to smear from her watering eyes, is almost enough to make you cum right then.

You thread your fingers through her long hair, not guiding her movements but just holding on. She hums around your length, sending vibrations through your whole body. When she pulls back to focus on your tip, sucking hard while her hand works your shaft, you have to grit your teeth to hold back.

"Shit, Ning, I'm gonna cum if you keep that up," you warn her, trying to pull her off.

But she just takes you deeper, looking up at you through her lashes as she deepthroats you. The sight of your cock disappearing into her throat, combined with the intense suction, pushes you over the edge.

You cum with a shout, pumping rope after rope of hot cum down her throat. Ningning swallows it all, continuing to suck until you're completely spent and oversensitive.

When she finally pulls off with a wet pop, strings of saliva and cum connect her lips to your cock. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

"Tasty," she says, licking her lips. "But we're not done yet."

Before you can recover, she's standing up and reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. Her breasts bounce free, smaller than Minji's but perfectly shaped with pink nipples standing at attention.

She hooks her thumbs in her thong, slowly sliding it down her legs. Your cock twitches at the sight of her bare pussy, already glistening with arousal. She's completely shaved, her pink lips puffy and inviting.

"See how wet sucking your cock got me?" She runs a finger through her folds, gathering her juices before bringing it to her mouth to suck clean. "I bet you want to taste me."

You nod dumbly, reaching for her, but she pushes you back against the couch. "Uh uh, just sit back and enjoy."

She climbs back onto your lap, but this time facing away from you. The position gives you a perfect view as she reaches between her legs to guide your semi-hard cock to her entrance.

"Ready for round two?" she asks, rubbing your tip against her wet slit.

Before you can answer, she sinks down onto you in one smooth motion. You both groan at the sensation - she's incredibly tight, her walls gripping you like a vice as she takes you to the hilt.

"Fuck, you're so big," she moans, grinding her hips in small circles. "Stretching me so good."

Your hands find her hips as she starts to move, lifting herself up before dropping back down. The sight of your cock disappearing into her pussy, her ass bouncing against your thighs, has you fully hard again in no time.

Ningning sets a brutal pace, riding you hard and fast. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with her increasingly loud moans. She reaches back to brace herself on your shoulders, changing the angle so your cock hits deeper.

"Yes, yes, fuck me!" she cries out, her pussy clenching around you. "Harder!"

You plant your feet firmly on the ground and start thrusting up to meet her bounces. The new force has her screaming, her nails digging into your shoulders as she takes everything you give her.

One of your hands slides around to rub her clit, and she nearly convulses at the touch. Her walls flutter around your cock as she gets closer to the edge.

"Gonna cum," she pants, movements becoming erratic. "Make me cum on your big cock!"

You increase the pressure on her clit, rubbing tight circles as you continue to thrust up into her. When she finally breaks, her whole body goes rigid, pussy clamping down on you like a vice as she screams your name.

The sight and sensation of her cumming triggers your own orgasm. You grip her hips hard enough to bruise as you empty yourself inside her, filling her pussy with hot cum.

Ningning collapses back against your chest, both of you breathing heavily. Your softening cock is still inside her, and you can feel your combined fluids leaking out around it.

"Holy fuck," she says after a moment, turning her head to kiss you lazily. "That was even better than I imagined."

Reality starts to creep back in as the post-orgasm haze fades.

You just cheated on Minji.

With her best friend.

On the couch where you and Minji usually cuddle and watch movies.

"We shouldn't have done that," you say, but make no move to push her off.

"But we did." Ningning stands up, cum running down her thighs. The sight makes your spent cock twitch. "And we're going to do it again."

She gathers her clothes and heads to the bathroom, leaving you alone with your guilt and confusion.

What the fuck have you done?

—

The next few days are a sickening mix of shame, guilt and lust, oh, and more incredible sex than you've ever had. Ningning comes over almost every day. You fuck on every surface of the apartment - the kitchen counter, the shower, the dining room table.

She's insatiable, always wanting more, always pushing your boundaries. She makes you do things you've never done before, things you never even considered with Minji.

After that sixth time, with both of you tangled up, tipsy and reckless, she watches as you crumble, phone in hand after hearing Minji’s voice. Tears slip down your face as the reality hits hard. You and Minji talk, stumbling through apologies and whispered promises, mending the torn edges between you. By the end, you’re clear: Ningning won’t be coming around again.

When you tell Ningning, she just smirks, as if it were a joke that only she understands. "You’re drunk," she says. "You'll change your mind. We're the same, you and me." Her words dig in, and Ningning knows that you have no way of proving her wrong. So you just grit your teeth and ask her to leave.

She does. But that smile lingers as she goes, certain she’s right.

Oh, and she is.

—

You're sitting on your couch scrolling mindlessly through your phone when you hear a knock on the door. Opening it, you freeze at the sight before you. Ningning stands there in a tight white button-up shirt tied above her belly button, red tie, an obscenely short plaid skirt that barely covers her ass, white knee socks, and her black hair in pigtails. Your cock instantly stirs as memories of buying this exact outfit for Minji flood back.

"Like what you see?" Ningning purrs, doing a little twirl that makes her skirt flare up. You catch a glimpse of tiny white panties underneath.

"Ning, how in the world did you get here dressed like that?" You try to keep your voice steady but fail miserably. "We can't keep doing this."

She pushes past you into the apartment, her perfume - sweet and intoxicating - filling your nostrils. "Why not? Minji's gone on her work trip, isn't she? The one she didn't even discuss with you first?"

Your jaw clenches at the reminder. Ningning knows exactly which buttons to push. She saunters over to your couch, deliberately swaying her hips. When she bends over to adjust her sock, her skirt rides up to reveal the full curve of her ass.

"Remember how you bought this exact outfit for Minji?" she continues, straightening up and facing you. "How she said roleplaying made her uncomfortable?" Ningning runs her hands down her body. "Yeah, she tells me everything and, well, I'm here to fulfill your fantasy."

"This is wrong," you protest weakly, but your eyes are glued to her body. "You're her best friend..."

"And you're her boyfriend who she takes for granted," Ningning counters, stepping closer. "When's the last time she really fucked you properly? Made you lose control?"

Your breathing grows heavy as she closes the distance between you. Her small hand traces down your chest, over your stomach, to cup your hardening cock through your pants.

"Mmm, someone's excited," she giggles. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind is fighting it."

"Ning..." you groan as she squeezes gently.

"Want to be my teacher?" she whispers, looking up at you through thick lashes. "I've been such a naughty student..."

Your resistance crumbles as she drops to her knees, quickly undoing your belt and zipper. Your cock springs free, already rock hard. Ningning licks her lips.

“Your dick is too good to be unusable for a whole month," she purrs, wrapping her small hand around your shaft. "Minji was very irresponsible this time."

The mention of your girlfriend sends wave of guilt through you, but it's quickly overwhelmed by pleasure as Ningning's hot mouth engulfs your cock. She takes you deep, deeper than Minji ever has, until her nose is pressed against your pelvis.

"Fuck!" you grunt, hands instinctively grabbing her pigtails. She moans around your length, the vibrations making your knees weak.

Ningning pulls back with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. "Use my mouth," she begs. "Fuck my throat like you've always wanted to fuck hers."

You know you should stop this. Push her away. Call Minji and confess everything. But instead, you grip Ningning's pigtails tightly, using them like handlebars as you thrust deep into her willing mouth. Her throat bulges visibly each time you push in, the outline of your thick shaft visible through her delicate neck.

"Fuck, you really know how to take it," you groan, watching her glossy lips stretch around your girth. Unlike Minji, who always struggles past the halfway point, Ningning swallows your entire length without hesitation.

She looks up at you with watery eyes, mascara already starting to run down her cheeks. The sight of her in the schoolgirl outfit, on her knees, throat stuffed with your cock, is almost too much to handle.

"You like that, don't you?" you growl, pulling her pigtails to force her deeper. "Like being a better cocksucker than your best friend?"

She moans around your shaft, the vibrations making your cock throb. Drool runs down her chin as she gags slightly, but she doesn't try to pull back. Instead, she grabs your thighs and pulls herself even closer.

"Such a hungry little slut," you praise, starting to thrust into her mouth. "Taking my cock deeper than Minji ever could..."

Ningning's eyes roll back as you fuck her face, her throat relaxing to accommodate your full length. Every time you pull back, a string of thick saliva connects her lips to your cock.

"Is this what you imagined?" you ask, increasing your pace. "All those times Minji complained about not being able to deepthroat me... were you thinking about showing her how it's done?"

She tries to nod with your cock still buried in her throat, making herself gag. The sound only encourages you to thrust harder, using her pigtails to control the depth and speed.

Your balls slap against her chin with each stroke now, adding to the obscene symphony of gagging and slurping sounds. Her makeup is completely ruined, black streaks running down her face as tears flow freely.

"Such a good little throat slut," you groan, holding her head still as you fuck into her mouth. "Taking every inch like you were made for it..."

She reaches up to massage your balls while you use her throat, encouraging you to go harder, faster, deeper. The contrast with Minji's careful, hesitant blowjobs is stark - Ningning truly loves having her face fucked.

"Bet you practiced for this," you continue, watching her throat bulge. "Bet you've been using toys for months, just waiting for this moment..."

A particularly hard thrust makes her gag violently, but still she doesn't pull away. If anything, she pushes forward, burying her nose in your pubic hair as she swallows around your length.

The sight of her taking your cock so eagerly, combined with the tight squeeze of her throat, brings you dangerously close to cumming. But you're not done using her mouth yet.

You pull out completely, letting her catch her breath. Strings of thick saliva connect her swollen lips to your cock as she gasps for air.

"Please," she begs, voice hoarse from the throat fucking. "Use my mouth... wreck my throat... show me what Minji's too scared to take..."

You slam back in without warning, making her eyes go wide as you bottom out in her throat. Her nose presses against your pelvis as you hold her there, feeling her throat contract around your shaft.

"Fuck, you're such a good cocksucker," you groan, slowly withdrawing before thrusting deep again. "Taking my cock like a proper slut..."

She moans around your length, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge. Her hands grip your thighs tighter, encouraging you to use her mouth however you want.

Your pace becomes brutal as you chase your orgasm, fucking her face with abandon. The wet sounds of your cock plunging into her throat fill the room, along with her muffled moans and gagging.

"Gonna cum," you warn, pulling her pigtails harder. "Gonna flood your throat with my load..."

She looks up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging for your cum. The sight of her - face a mess, throat bulging, schoolgirl outfit disheveled - pushes you over the edge.

With a final thrust, you bury yourself to the hilt in her throat and explode. She swallows eagerly around your pulsing cock, drinking down every drop of cum as you pump it directly into her throat.

Only when the last spurt has been swallowed do you slowly withdraw, watching as she gasps for air. Her lips are swollen and red, face covered in smeared makeup and saliva.

She couldn't be more beautiful.

"Thank you," she rasps, voice wrecked from the throat fucking. "For showing me what a real face fucking feels like..."

“Damn... That was amazing... You were amazing.”

"All for you, baby," she says hoarsely, standing up. "But now it's my turn to have some fun." She unbuttons her shirt slowly, revealing a lacy white bra underneath.

Ningning sits on the couch, looking at you, sliding her hands along her thighs, waiting for you to touch her.

You approach Ningning, your fingers hover at her entrance, teasing through her slick folds. She's already dripping wet, her pussy lips swollen and flushed pink. You can smell her arousal.

"Mmm, stop being such a tease," Ningning whimpers, spreading her legs wider. Her tiny white panties are soaked through, a dark wet patch visible in the center. "I need those thick fingers inside me..."

You trace light circles around her clit through the thin fabric, making her squirm. "Patience," you murmur. "Good girls wait for what they want."

"But I'm not a good girl," she purrs, grinding against your hand. "I'm the kind of girl who seduces her best friend's boyfriend while wearing a schoolgirl outfit..."

The reminder of what you're doing - who you're touching - sends a fresh wave of guilt through you. But it's mixed with an undeniable surge of arousal that makes your head spin.

You hook your fingers in the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her smooth legs torturously slow. She kicks them off impatiently, spreading herself open with both hands to give you a perfect view of her pussy.

"Look how wet I am for you," she breathes, running a finger through her folds. "I've been dripping since I put this outfit on, thinking about how I was going to make you lose control..."

You replace her finger with yours, sliding through her wetness. Her clit is hard and swollen, begging for attention. You circle it slowly, barely touching, making her hips buck seeking more pressure.

"Fuck, your fingers feel amazing," she moans. "Minji told me they would..."

Your cock throbs at her words. "What else did she tell you?"

"Mmm, everything," Ningning says with a wicked smile. "All those late night girl talks, sharing secrets about our sex lives... She loves bragging about how good you are with your hands..."

You push one finger inside her slowly, groaning at how tight she is. Her inner walls grip you like a vice as you start pumping in and out.

"She told me how you can make her cum just from fingering her," Ningning continues, rolling her hips to meet your thrusts. "How sometimes you have to hold her down because it gets so intense..."

Adding a second finger, you stretch her tight hole while curling them to search for that special spot.

When you find it, her whole body jerks.

"FUCK!" she cries out, grabbing your wrist. "Right there! Harder!"

You massage that spot relentlessly, watching her face contort in pleasure. Her small tits bounce with each thrust of your hand, nipples hard and visible through her thin bra.

"Know what else she told me?" Ningning pants between moans. "That sometimes- oh god! Sometimes you make her squirt... but she gets embarrassed... tries to hold it back..."

You add a third finger, stretching her even more. Your thumb finds her clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud while your fingers work that spot inside her.

"I'm not shy like her," she continues, voice getting higher as pleasure builds. "I want to soak your whole fucking hand... want to show you what you're missing with her..."

Her pussy gets wetter with each thrust, juices running down your wrist and dripping onto the floor. The obscene squelching sounds fill the room as you finger-fuck her mercilessly.

"She also told me about your schoolgirl fantasy," Ningning moans. "How you bought her this exact outfit... but she was too vanilla to wear it... said roleplaying made her uncomfortable..."

Your fingers pump faster at her words, thumb working her clit harder. She's so wet now, practically gushing around your fingers.

"But look at me," she purrs. "Wearing exactly what you wanted... letting you do exactly what you've been dreaming about... being exactly the dirty little slut you need..."

Her words drive you wild. You curl your fingers more aggressively, massaging her g-spot while your thumb rubs quick circles on her clit. Her thighs start trembling as she gets close.

"That's it," she encourages. "Make me cum like you make her cum... show me why she brags about those fingers..."

You can feel her pussy starting to contract around your fingers. Ningning pulls the bra off in one go, breaking the strap. She's close, so close. You lean down and take one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking hard while your hand works between her legs.

"Oh fuck!" she screams. "Right there, don't stop, gonna cum gonna cum gonna-"

Her whole body goes rigid as the orgasm hits. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers like a vice, gushing fluid all over your hand. But you don't stop - you keep going, working her through it as she writhes and moans.

"Don't stop don't stop don't stop!" she chants, riding your hand desperately. More fluid gushes out with each thrust, soaking your arm and the couch beneath her.

Just when you think she's done, another wave hits. Her thighs clamp around your wrist as she squirts again, spraying her release all over you. The sight of your girlfriend's best friend coming undone on your fingers is the hottest thing you've ever seen.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" she screams, grinding against your hand as a third orgasm builds immediately after the second. Her whole body is shaking now, covered in a light sheen of sweat that makes her skin glow.

You keep going, relentless in your assault on her g-spot while your thumb continues its torture on her oversensitive clit. She's babbling incoherently now, lost in pleasure.

"Too much!" she finally gasps, trying to close her legs. But you hold them open with your free hand, not letting her escape the stimulation.

"I thought you weren't shy?" you tease, curling your fingers harder inside her. "I thought you could take what Minji couldn't?"

Those words seem to trigger something in her. Her eyes roll back as another orgasm crashes through her, this one even more intense than the others. She squirts so hard it sprays up your chest, soaking your shirt.

Only when she begs you to stop, you slowly withdraw your soaked fingers. She grabs your wrist before you can pull away completely, bringing your fingers to her mouth.

Looking directly into your eyes, she sucks them clean one by one, moaning at her own taste. Her tongue swirls around each digit, making sure to get every drop.

"Mmm," she purrs after releasing them with a obscene pop. "I taste good on your fingers,” she pants, pulling you up, “but I bet I taste even better on your cock..."

These words are enough to make you sit on the couch, Ningning jumps on your cock with desperate abandon, she adjusts herself on your lap and you feel the warm and delicious grip of her tight pussy. Her schoolgirl skirt fans out around her hips as she rides you, the pleated fabric barely hiding where your bodies join.

"Fuck, you're so big, I bet you need to be careful not to hurt Minji's pussy with that thick cock," she moans, grinding her hips in circles.

And it's true.

Each time you’re with Minji, that balance between careful tenderness and locked-up heat tears at you. And somehow, the comparison between the careful sex you have with Minji and the raw sex you're having now makes your cock throb harder inside her tight hole. Ningning notices, clenching her pussy walls around you.

"Does it turn you on?" she purrs, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. "Knowing you're stretching her best friend's pussy? Filling me up while she's working?"

You grab her hips harder, helping her bounce faster on your shaft. Her small tits bounce with each movement, nipples hard and visible through her thin white shirt. The whole schoolgirl outfit is disheveled now - tie loose, shirt unbuttoned, skirt hiked up around her waist.

"God, you feel so good," she pants, throwing her head back. "So much better than I dreamed about all those nights touching myself..."

Your cock twitches at her words. "You touched yourself thinking about me?"

"Mmhmm," she moans, grinding down harder. "Every time Minji bragged about your cock, I'd go home and finger myself imagining it was you... imagining you choosing me instead of her..."

She starts bouncing faster, her tight pussy taking your full length with each stroke. The wet sounds of her arousal fill the room, along with the slap of skin on skin.

"But the real thing is so much better," she continues, voice getting higher with pleasure. "Your thick cock stretching me open... making me take every inch..."

You can feel yourself getting close, the familiar pressure building in your balls. But you try to hold back, not ready for this to end.

"I can feel you throbbing," she teases, clenching her walls around you again. "Are you going to cum for me? Going to fill up my tight little pussy?"

The thought of cumming inside her makes your cock pulse dangerously. You know this shouldn't be happening, but her pussy feels too good, gripping you like it never wants to let go.

"Do it," she encourages, bouncing even faster. "Cum inside me. Give me what you give her..."

Your hands tighten on her hips as you get closer to the edge. She's riding you like her life depends on it now, taking your cock so deep you can feel her cervix with each stroke.

"One time when Minji was drunk and loose, she told me that you love creampie," she suddenly whispers, and your cock throbs hard at the admission. "Minji mentioned you have a breeding kink... that you love the risk..."

You try to lift her off your cock but she pushes back down hard, taking you to the hilt. "Don't you dare pull out," she demands. "I want to feel you flood my fertile pussy..."

The pressure in your balls is almost unbearable now. Every bounce of her tight pussy brings you closer to the edge. Your cock swells even larger inside her as your orgasm approaches.

"That's it," she moans, feeling you grow. "Give me your cum. Breed me like you want to breed her..."

With a groan, you explode inside her. Your cock pulses violently, shooting rope after rope of hot cum deep in her unprotected pussy. She keeps riding through your orgasm, milking every drop from your throbbing shaft.

"Fuck yes!" she cries out, grinding down hard as you fill her. "I can feel you pumping me full... marking me as yours..."

Only when the last spurt of cum coats her walls does she slow her movements. She stays seated on your cock, clenching her pussy to keep your seed inside her.

"Mmm, perfect," she purrs, leaning forward to kiss you deeply. "Now I'm going to keep your cum warm in my pussy all day... let it soak into my fertile womb..."

You can feel the tension in the air, a twisted mix of possessive satisfaction and something darker, something that feels dangerously close to obsession.

You give a low chuckle, tightening your hold on her hips. "About that," you murmur, watching her expression shift as the words sink in. "You do know I had a vasectomy, right?"

For a moment, she just blinks at you, her lips parting as the realization hits. "What?" Her voice is sharp, barely above a whisper, her brows knitting together in visible confusion.

"Yeah. Minji was the one who asked for it," you continue, watching every flicker of emotion on her face. "She said she wouldn’t let me come inside her unless I did.”

“B-but I thought that… The breeding kink…”

“Yeah, I like it, but you know Minji would never go for it. Well, maybe in the future... But at least I can cum inside her now, so that's a win.”

She bites her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. Eyes narrowing, and, for a second, there is an almost obsessive tone in her voice. “So, you’re telling me… this whole time, all of this,” she gestures to herself, still seated on you, your cum mixed with her juices already leaking down her sweaty thighs, “has been for nothing?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Were you actually trying to get pregnant?"

Ningning’s cheeks flush, and she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Pfft, no way. I'm not crazy! That was just dirty talk to turn you on. I’m not even in my fertile period,” she says, her voice forcedly nonchalant.

You arch a brow, skeptical. Her gaze wavers for a split second, and a strange feeling knots in your gut. For the first time, you notice that hint of danger in her gaze, something deeper and darker… or maybe it's just the image of your adultery reflected in her eyes.

—

Three weeks into Minji's trip, you're lying in bed with Ningning, both covered in sweat from another intense session. She's tracing patterns on your chest with her fingernail, occasionally leaning up to kiss your neck.

"I don't want this to end when she comes back," she says suddenly, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you.

"Ning..." you start, but she cuts you off with a kiss.

"Don't give me that bullshit about how wrong this is," she says against your lips. "We both know this is more than just fucking."

"What do you want me to do?" you ask, running your hand down her naked back.

"Break up with her." Ningning's voice is firm, no room for argument. "End it as soon as she gets back."

"I can't do that to her," you protest weakly. "I… I'm still in love with her. My feelings for Minji haven't changed… She doesn't deserve-"

"What she doesn't deserve is a boyfriend who's fucking her best friend behind her back!" Ningning cuts in. "Either you tell her, or I will."

The threat hangs in the air between you. You know she means it - Ningning has never been one to make empty threats.

"You'd really do that to her?" you ask, though you already know the answer.

"I'd be doing her a favor." Ningning sits up, the sheet falling away to reveal her naked body. "Better she finds out now than after you've wasted more of her time."

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. It's Minji's mother, and your blood runs cold when you see the message.

"Minji's in the hospital," you read aloud, sitting up quickly. "She collapsed during a meeting. They think it might be her heart condition acting up again."

Ningning's expression doesn't change, but her eyes harden slightly. "Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know. Her mom says they're running tests." You're already getting out of bed, looking for your clothes. "I need to call her."

"Of course you do," Ningning says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Run back to her like always."

You ignore her as you pull on your pants and grab your phone. Minji answers on the second ring, her voice weak but happy to hear from you.

"Hey baby," she says, and your guilt threatens to choke you. "Don't worry, I'm okay. Just pushed myself too hard."

"What happened? What are the doctors saying?" You pace the room as you talk, very aware of Ningning watching you from the bed.

"They want to keep me here for observation for a few days." She sounds tired. "But I should still be able to come home on schedule next week."

"That's good," you say, though your stomach churns at the thought. "Just focus on getting better, okay?"

"I miss you so much," she says softly. "I can't wait to come home and just be with you. Maybe we can finally start talking about getting married like we always planned."

The words hit you like a physical blow. Behind you, you hear Ningning scoff quietly.

"Yeah, maybe," you manage to say. "Get some rest, okay? I love you."

Those beautiful words seem to have a sarcastic connotation coming from you now, reality seems to make sense again, your mind being taken over by reason, so logical and obvious, and with it, all you can think is: I ruined everything. After you hang up, you turn to find Ningning already dressed, gathering her things.

"Well, this should be interesting," she says with a cruel smile. "What are you going to do now? Marry her while fucking me on the side?"

"This has to stop," you say, running a hand through your hair. "She needs me right now."

"No, what she needs is the truth." Ningning steps close to you, running a hand down your chest. "When she comes back you will tell her everything or I will. And trust me, my version won't be kind."

She leaves you standing there, torn between desire and guilt, love and lust.

—

The next few days are torture. Minji calls or texts constantly from the hospital, full of love and plans for the future. Meanwhile, Ningning sends you increasingly explicit photos and videos, reminding you of what you'll be missing. And when you ignore everything she sends you: that's when the threats come back. Roughly speaking, it's like she has a double-edged sword, cutting you with both lust and guilt.

But you try to stay away from Ningning, to focus on being there for Minji, but it's like she has a sixth sense for when you're at your weakest…

The knock at your door comes just after midnight. You're lying in bed, unable to sleep, thoughts of Minji in that hospital bed haunting you. When you open the door, Ningning stands there in a trench coat, red lipstick perfectly applied, dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Miss me?" she purrs, letting the coat fall open. Black lace barely covers her tits, the lingerie leaving nothing to imagination. Your cock instantly hardens despite your best efforts to resist.

"You need to fucking leave," you growl, but your eyes are glued to her body. She knows she has you.

"Make me," she challenges, stepping closer. Her perfume fills your nostrils - sweet and spicy, nothing like Minji's soft floral scent. "We both know you want this."

"I hate you," you snarl, grabbing her arm and yanking her inside. The door slams behind her.

"Show me how much," she taunts, shrugging off the coat completely. The lingerie is even more revealing than you thought - just scraps of black lace held together by thin straps. Her nipples peek through the sheer fabric.

You grab her throat, pushing her against the wall. "You're a fucking terrible friend. Minji trusts you."

"And yet here you are, getting hard just looking at me." Her hand cups your erection through your sweatpants. "Face it - you like that I'm bad. That I'm nothing like sweet, innocent Minji."

"Shut up," you growl, crushing your mouth to hers. She tastes like cherry lipstick and sin. Her tongue battles yours as she grinds against your hardness.

You bite her lower lip hard enough to hurt. She moans into your mouth, fingernails raking down your chest. Unlike Minji's gentle touches, Ningning wants to mark you, to leave evidence of what you've done.

"Fucking slut," you mutter, ripping the flimsy bra. Her tits spill free, nipples hard and begging to be bitten. You grab them roughly, pinching and twisting until she gasps.

"Yes, hurt me," she pants. "Do all the dirty things she won't let you do."

The reminder of Minji makes you even angrier. You spin Ningning around, shoving her face-first against the wall. One hand tangles in her long dark hair, yanking her head back.

"Is this what you wanted? To be my dirty little whore?" Your free hand comes down hard on her ass, the smack echoing through the room.

"Fuck yes!" She pushes back against you. "Spank me harder. Leave marks."

You rain blows on her ass until it's bright red, each strike punctuated by her moans of pleasure-pain. Your cock throbs painfully, straining against your sweats.

"Look at you, getting wet from being spanked." You rip her panties down, fingers finding her dripping pussy. "Such a filthy slut."

"Only for you," she purrs, spreading her legs wider. "Minji told me how gentle you are with her. But that's not what you really want, is it?"

"Don't talk about her." You thrust two fingers into her roughly, making her cry out. Her pussy clenches around them, cream coating your hand.

"Why not? She tells me everything about your sex life." Ningning rocks back on your fingers. "How you always ask to cum on her face but she won't let you. How you hold back because you're afraid of being too rough."

Rage and lust war inside you. You withdraw your fingers and shove them in her mouth. "Taste yourself, whore."

She sucks them clean eagerly, moaning around them. When you pull them out, spit trails from her lips.

"On your knees," you order, shoving her down. She goes willingly, looking up at you with those dark, knowing eyes.

You free your cock, slapping it against her cheek. Pre-cum smears across her skin. "This what you came for?"

"Mmm, I love choking on your cock." She licks the head teasingly. "She says you're so careful with her mouth, afraid of going too deep."

You grab her hair with both hands, ramming your cock down her throat. She takes it like a pro, nose pressed against your pelvis, throat contracting around you.

"Fuck, you really are a whore." You hold her there until she gags, tears streaming down her face. When you finally let her breathe, she gasps but immediately opens wide for more.

"Use my throat," she rasps. "Make me choke on it."

You fuck her face brutally, hips snapping forward as you force your cock deeper with each thrust. Spit and pre-cum drip down her chin, mascara running from her tears. She maintains eye contact the whole time, those dark eyes challenging you to go harder.

When you pull out, she's a mess - lipstick smeared, face covered in her own saliva. Your cock twitches at the sight.

"Get on the couch," you command. "Hands and knees."

She crawls there slowly while taking off her high heels, making sure you get a good view of her red ass and dripping pussy. Once in position, she looks back at you with a smirk.

"Going to fuck me like you wish you could fuck her?"

You answer with action, lining up and slamming into her in one brutal thrust. She screams, back arching as you bottom out.

"I wanna hear you scream," you growl, setting a punishing pace. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room.

"Yes, yes! Wreck my pussy!" She pushes back to meet each thrust, tits swaying beneath her.

You grab her hair again, pulling her head back as you pound into her. Your other hand comes down hard on her ass, leaving fresh handprints.

"Such a fucking whore, seducing your best friend's man." You slam in deeper, making her whole body jerk. "Bet you planned this from the start."

"Maybe," she pants. "Or maybe- fuck! - Maybe I just knew you needed someone who could handle all this."

You respond by fucking her harder, angling your hips to hit that spot that makes her walls clench around you. Her moans get higher, more desperate.

"That's it, make me cum on your cock!" She reaches between her legs to rub her clit. "Show me why Minji keeps you around!"

The mention of Minji's name sends fresh anger through you. You pull out suddenly, flipping her onto her back. Before she can protest, you're back inside her, pinning her wrists above her head.

"I said don't fucking talk about her." You bite her neck hard enough to leave marks, sucking bruises into her skin.

"Make me stop," she challenges, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you deeper.

You release her wrists to grab her throat instead, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. Her pussy gets even wetter, cream coating your cock as you rail her.

"Is this what you wanted? To be choked while I fuck you senseless?" Your thumb presses against her windpipe.

She can only nod, eyes rolling back as her first orgasm hits. Her whole body convulses, pussy spasming around your length.

You don't slow down, fucking her through her climax and beyond. She claws at your back, leaving long red scratches that sting deliciously.

"More," she demands when she can speak again. "I want it all."

You pull out, cock glistening with her juices. "Get that ass in the air."

She quickly flips over, face down and ass up, reaching back to spread her cheeks. Her asshole winks at you invitingly.

"Another thing she won't let you do," Ningning taunts. "But I love it up the ass."

You gather her wetness on your fingers, working them into her tight hole. She moans wantonly as you stretch her.

"Dirty fucking slut," you growl, adding more fingers. "Taking it in all your holes like a proper whore."

When she's ready, you line up your cock with her asshole and push in slowly. The tight heat makes you groan despite yourself.

"Fuck yes, stretch my ass!" She pushes back, taking more of you. "Fill me up!"

You grab her hips, digging your fingers in hard enough to bruise as you bottom out. Her ass grips your cock like a vice.

"I'm gonna sink my cock in that tight little ass." You start thrusting, each movement making her moan.

"God yes! Harder!" She reaches back to spread herself wider. "Use me like the whore I am!"

You pick up speed, watching your cock disappear into her ass over and over. The sight is intoxicating - this perfect little slut taking everything you give her.

Her hand moves between her legs again, fingering her dripping pussy as you fuck her ass. The double stimulation has her trembling, approaching another orgasm.

"That's it, play with that wet cunt while I wreck your ass." You spank her again, leaving more red marks. "Show me what a filthy slut you are."

"So close," she pants. "Fuck, your cock feels so good in my ass!"

You reach around to pinch her nipples, twisting them roughly. That pushes her over the edge - she screams as she cums, whole body shaking.

Her ass clenches rhythmically around your cock, nearly making you lose control. But you're not done with her yet.

You pull out of her ass, flipping her over again. "Open that pretty mouth, whore. Time to taste your ass."

She eagerly takes your cock between her lips, moaning at her own taste. You fuck her face again, slower this time, letting her tongue work over every inch.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you grunt. "Born to take dick in all your holes."

She hums in agreement, reaching up to fondle your balls. The vibrations send pleasure shooting through you.

You pull out before you get too close. "On your back again. Want to see those tits bounce while I fuck you."

She spreads her legs wide as you mount her again, sliding back into her pussy. It's even tighter now after her orgasms, gripping you with a new creamy softness.

"Fuck me raw," she demands. "Make me feel it for days."

You grab her legs, pushing them back until her knees are by her ears. The new angle lets you go even deeper, your balls slapping against her ass with each thrust.

"Gonna fill this pussy up."

"No," she pants. "Want you to cum on my face. Paint me with your load like you've always wanted."

The thought pushes you closer to the edge. You've fantasized about this countless times - covering a pretty face with your cum.

Your thrusts become erratic as you near your peak. Ningning notices and grins up at you.

"Do it," she urges. "Show me what Minji's missing."

You pull out just in time, straddling her chest as she opens her mouth wide. Your cock erupts, shooting thick ropes of cum across her face.

She moans as you paint her, cum landing on her cheeks, lips, forehead. Some gets in her hair, more drips down her chin.

"Fuck yes," she purrs, licking what she can reach. "Mark your territory."

You keep jerking off to failure while admiring your beautiful work of art. Her face is completely covered in your cum, makeup ruined, lips swollen from sucking your cock.

"Fuck yeah," she growls, slurping up every fucking drop she can get her tongue on. “You came so much all over my face, baby."

"Look at you, you filthy little cumdumpster," you grunt, using your cock to spread the cum all over her face like a paintbrush. "Fucking beautiful.”

She looks up at you, a wicked grin on her cum-covered face. "Minji would never let you do this to her, would she?" she taunts, licking the remnants of your orgasm off her lips.

You keep spreading your cum, avoiding her gaze, the guilt gnawing at you. She grabs your wrist, stopping your movements. "Tell me I'm better than her," she demands, pulling your cock back to her mouth, licking the sensitive head.

"Don't fucking say that," you mutter, trying to pull away, but she holds firm.

"Tell me!" she insists, taking your cock deeper into her mouth, sucking hard.

You finally yank your cock away, getting off her abruptly. "No," you say firmly. There's a heavy silence as you pull on your pants and walk to the apartment door to open it and grab the coat she left in the hallway. "Get out!” you exclaim, throwing the coat at her.

“May I clean myself first, sir?”

When she comes out of the bathroom, you're a little calmer.

In fact, you're fucking tired.

“Why are you doing this to her?” you ask, the frustration spilling over, sharp and bitter. “She’s your best friend. Doesn’t any of this mean a damn thing to you?”

Ningning slowly sits on the couch to put on her high heels, taking her time. "Best friend?” she scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Minji’s no friend of mine. Hasn’t been for a long time. You think she even cares?”

You frown, trying to make sense of this mess. “You two were inseparable-”

“Were,” she interrupts, voice cold and dismissive. “Until she swooped in and took you right out of my hands.” Her eyes narrow, and she lets out a bitter laugh. “Do you even remember how we met? How I was the one who introduced you to her?”

You do remember, vaguely, those early nights working late at the bar, Ningning hanging around, laughing too loud, leaning a little too close. And then she’d brought Minji along one night, saying something about “my best friend, you’ll love her.” And you had, instantly.

She watches realization dawn across your face, her smirk deepening. “Yeah, that’s right. I brought her to meet you. She saw me with you and knew exactly what she was doing.” Her voice drops, bitter. “She knew I liked you. And then she went and did what she always does - takes what she wants without a damn thought about anyone else.”

You shake your head, but doubt nags at the edges of your mind. “She couldn’t have known-”

“She knew,” Ningning hisses, stepping toward you, her gaze fierce. “She fucking knew! But that’s Minji, isn’t it? Perfect little Minji, the one who can do no wrong. Sweet, innocent, perfect, while the rest of us scrape for her leftovers.” Her laugh is harsh, cold. “But guess what? She doesn’t get everything. Not anymore.”

The bitterness in her voice grates against you, hitting nerves you didn’t know you had. “You could’ve just told her,” you say quietly. “All of this - the stab in the back, the lies - none of it would’ve happened if you’d just been honest.”

She rolls her eyes. “You really think she’d care? Even if I had told her, she wouldn’t have given a fuck. She’s never cared about me. I was just someone to make her look better, someone to stand in her shadow.” Her voice drips with scorn. “She’s never really seen me.”

“So this is what, revenge?” you demand, voice hard. “Just because she didn’t fall over herself to make you feel special?”

She gives you a slow, dark smile, filled with satisfaction and anger. “Call it whatever you want. But you’re here, aren’t you? And every time you touch me, she loses a little more of that shiny perfect life of hers.”

"You're just a spiteful bitch. You don't deserve Minji's friendship.”

She steps closer, running a hand down your chest, voice low, almost a whisper. “And what does that make you? Huh? Besides a lying, cheating asshole? Minji’s so delicate, so breakable… shouldn’t you be taking care of her instead of - well - fucking me?”

You push Ningning away abruptly and point to the door. “Get out of my sight!”

When the door clicks shut, you glance back at the couch - a disaster of tangled sheets, a pillow on the floor, the lingering scent of sweat and regret. That couch… the same one where Minji used to kneel between your legs, her soft hands trailing up your thighs, her sweet, shy giggles filling the air whenever you teased her.

—

You stand anxiously at the airport arrivals gate, your heart pounding as you wait to see Minji again after a month apart. Your hands are sweaty and trembling - not just from excitement to reunite with your girlfriend, but from the crushing weight of guilt pressing down on you. The past few weeks have been a living hell of secrets, lies and desperate late-night encounters that you know will destroy everything if they come to light.

Finally you spot her emerging through the sliding doors, pulling her pink carry-on suitcase. Despite being sick during her trip, she looks beautiful as ever in her oversized cream sweater and blue jeans. Her face lights up when she sees you and she runs forward, throwing herself into your arms.

"I missed you so much!" she exclaims, pressing her face into your chest. You hold her tight, breathing in her familiar sweet scent, trying to push away the intrusive thoughts of all the times you've betrayed her trust.

"I missed you too, baby," you say, and it's not a lie. You've ached for her every single day she's been gone.

Which makes what you've done even more fucked up.

On the drive home, Minji chatters excitedly about her trip, though you can tell she's tired from the long flight. She mentions feeling weak and dizzy a few times while traveling, which worried her given her heart condition. You listen and nod, but your mind keeps drifting to Ningning's latest threatening text:

"Time's running out..."

—

At home you're helping Minji with her suitcase, trying to act normal while your heart pounds with a mix of desire and crushing guilt. Her delicate frame moves gracefully as she organizes her clothes, and you can't help but stare at her perfect ass in those tight jeans. The same ass you've missed so fucking much this past month.

"I really missed you, baby," she says softly, turning to face you with those innocent eyes that make your stomach twist with shame. Before you can respond, she's in your arms, her soft lips pressing urgently against yours. The familiar taste of her cherry lip gloss floods your senses.

Her tongue slides into your mouth as her hands grip your shoulders. You can feel her whole body trembling with need against yours. "I need you so bad," she whispers between kisses. "It's been too long."

You pull back slightly, studying her face. "Are you sure you're feeling better? Your heart..."

"I'm fine now, completely recovered," she assures you, already working on your shirt buttons. "Please, I want you so much." Her voice is breathy with desire.

Your hands shake slightly as you help her undress. Each inch of exposed skin is like a dagger of guilt mixed with raw hunger. You can't stop thinking about how Ningning's skin felt under these same hands just days ago. But Minji's body is different - softer, more delicate, familiar like coming home.

Her breasts spill free as you unhook her bra, dark nipples already hard and begging for attention. You lean down to take one in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive peak as she gasps. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer.

"Fuck, I missed your mouth on me," she moans. The pure love and trust in her voice makes you want to cry.

You worship her breasts with lips and tongue, trying to pour all your remorse and devotion into each kiss. Her skin tastes sweet and clean, so different from Ningning's musky perfume that still haunts your memories. You trail kisses down her flat stomach, dropping to your knees.

Her panties are already soaked through when you peel them down her legs. The familiar scent of her arousal makes your cock throb painfully. You spread her thighs wider, drinking in the sight of her pretty pink pussy that belongs only to you. Or at least, it should have.

"Please," she whimpers, hips rolling forward seeking your mouth. You don't make her wait, diving in to lap at her swollen clit. She cries out, legs trembling as you devour her like a starving man. And you are starving - for her forgiveness, her love, her pleasure.

Your tongue traces patterns over her sensitive flesh as she writhes above you. You slip two fingers inside her tight heat, curling them to stroke that spot that drives her wild. Her walls clench around your fingers as you pump them in and out.

"Oh god, right there," she pants. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You double your efforts, sucking her clit while fucking her with your fingers. Her thighs begin to shake as she gets close. You can feel her pussy pulsing, drawing your fingers deeper.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, grinding against your face. You hum encouragement against her clit and she explodes, crying out your name as she floods your mouth with her sweet juices. You lap up every drop, helping her ride out the intense orgasm.

When her tremors finally subside, you stand and kiss her deeply, letting her taste herself on your tongue. She moans into your mouth, hands fumbling with your belt buckle.

"I need you inside me," she breathes. "Need to feel you stretching me open."

You finish stripping as she pulls you toward the bed. Her small hand wraps around your rock-hard cock, stroking firmly. Pre-cum leaks from the tip and she uses it to lubricate her movements.

"You're so big," she purrs. "I forgot how perfectly you fill me up."

The praise makes you throb in her grip, even as shame burns in your chest. You remember Ningning saying almost the same words as she rode you. Push the memory away. Focus on Minji, only Minji.

You lay her back on the bed, settling between her spread thighs. Her pussy is still dripping from her orgasm as you line yourself up. You start to push inside but she stops you.

"Wait," she says softly. "I need to tell you something first."

Your heart nearly stops.

Does she know?

Did Ningning confess?

"I'm so sorry about our fight," she continues. "I should have talked to you about the trip earlier. I don't want you to think you're being left out. Can you forgive me?"

Relief floods through you, followed immediately by fresh waves of guilt. "Baby, no. I'm the one who should apologize. I was a complete asshole. I love you so much and I never should have..."

She silences you with a kiss. "It's okay. We're okay. Just make love to me now."

You push inside her slowly, savoring every inch as her tight walls stretch to accommodate you. She's so fucking tight after a month apart. Her nails dig into your shoulders as you bottom out.

"Fuck," she gasps. "So full. Move, baby, please move."

You start a steady rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before sliding deep again. Each thrust draws soft moans from her perfect lips. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

"I love you," you tell her between kisses. "Love you so much." The words taste like ashes in your mouth but you mean them with every fiber of your being.

"Love you too," she pants. "Harder baby, fuck me harder."

You pick up the pace, driving into her with more force. The wet sounds of your coupling fill the room along with her increasingly loud cries. Her pussy squeezes you a little tighter, so hot and perfect around your aching cock.

You shift angles slightly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes her see stars. Her back arches off the bed as she claws at your shoulders.

"Right there, oh fuck right there!" she practically screams. "Don't stop, gonna cum again!"

You maintain the angle, pounding into her g-spot relentlessly. Her whole body starts to shake as another orgasm builds. You can feel her pussy fluttering around you, trying to milk your cock.

"Cum for me baby," you growl. "Let me feel that tight little pussy cum on my cock."

Your words push her over the edge. She throws her head back with a cry of pure ecstasy as her walls clamp down hard. You fuck her through it, drawing out her pleasure as long as possible.

When she finally comes down, you slow your thrusts but don't stop. You're nowhere near finished worshipping every inch of her perfect body.

You pull out and flip her onto her hands and knees, admiring the curve of her spine and the perfect globes of her ass. Her pussy is dripping down her thighs, swollen and pink from your attention.

You slide back inside in one smooth thrust, both of you moaning at the deeper penetration this position allows. Your hands grip her slim hips as you start moving again, watching your cock disappear into her eager hole over and over.

"You feel so good," you groan. "So fucking perfect wrapped around my cock."

She pushes back to meet your thrusts, taking you impossibly deeper. "Love your cock," she gasps. "Fill me up so good."

You lean forward to kiss and bite at her shoulders, one hand sliding around to play with her clit. She's so sensitive after two orgasms that she jerks at the contact.

"Too much?" you ask, easing the pressure.

"No, don't stop," she begs. "Want to cum again. Please make me cum again."

You rub tight circles on her swollen clit as you continue fucking her from behind. Her moans get higher and more desperate with each passing moment. You can feel her starting to tighten around you again.

"That's it baby," you encourage. "One more time for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

Her arms give out and she faceplants into the pillow, muffling her screams as a third orgasm rips through her. You have to grip her hips tight to keep her from collapsing completely.

When she stops shaking, you carefully pull out and turn her over. She looks absolutely wrecked in the best way - hair a mess, lips swollen from kissing, skin flushed and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

You kiss her deeply as you slide back inside her oversensitive pussy. She whimpers into your mouth but wraps her legs around you, pulling you closer.

"I want to try something," she says shyly when you break the kiss. "Something we haven't done before."

Your cock twitches inside her as you wait for her to continue. She bites her lip nervously.

"When you cum... I want you to cum on my face."

The words hit you like a physical blow. Images of Ningning's face covered in your cum flash unbidden through your mind. The way she'd smirked and said "Minji would never let you do this to her, would she?"

You try to keep your voice steady. "Are you sure? You've never wanted that before."

She nods. "I've been thinking about it while I was away. I want to try new things with you. Want to make all your fantasies come true."

Guilt threatens to choke you but your cock throbs traitorously at her words. You kiss her hard, trying to convey everything you can't say.

You start moving inside her again, harder and faster now. She meets you thrust for thrust, getting into it despite her previous orgasms. Her hands roam over your back and shoulders as she kisses and nibbles at your neck.

"You're so beautiful," you tell her between ragged breaths. "So perfect. I don't deserve you."

She doesn't know how true those words are. Doesn't know the depth of your betrayal. But you pour all your love and remorse into every thrust, every kiss, every touch.

You can feel your own orgasm building as her tight pussy squeezes around you. The familiar pressure builds at the base of your spine. Your movements become more erratic.

"Getting close," you warn her. "Where do you want me?"

"On my face," she reminds you breathlessly. "Want to feel your hot cum all over my face."

You pull out with a groan and move up her body. She looks up at you with such trust and love as you stroke your cock above her beautiful face. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips in anticipation.

The sight pushes you over the edge. You cry out as the first rope of cum lands across her cheek. More follows, painting her lips, nose, and forehead with your seed. She keeps her eyes closed but her mouth opens slightly to catch some on her tongue.

When you're finished, you use your still-hard cock to spread the cum around her face, just like you did with Ningning. The comparison makes you sick but you can't help it. Minji looks even more beautiful like this - face covered in your cum, lips curved in a satisfied smile.

"Was that okay?" she asks softly, opening her eyes to look up at you.

You lean down to kiss her cum-covered lips. "You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect."

She giggles and reaches for tissues to clean up, but you stop her. "Let me," you say, grabbing a warm washcloth from the bathroom. You tenderly clean her face, pressing gentle kisses to each spot after you wipe it clean.

"I actually really liked that," she admits as you finish. "The way you marked me as yours..."

If only she knew. If only you deserved her trust and devotion. But you push the guilt down and pull her into your arms, holding her close as if you could protect her from your own betrayal.

"I love you so much," you whisper into her hair. "More than anything."

She snuggles closer with a contented sigh. "I love you too. I'm so glad to be home with you."

You stroke her back as her breathing evens out, exhausted from travel and multiple orgasms. Soon she's fast asleep in your arms, completely trusting and vulnerable.

You lie awake holding her, torn between overwhelming love and crushing guilt. The memory of Ningning won't leave you alone - the way she seduced you, how easily you gave in to temptation. You don't deserve Minji's pure love and trust.

You press a final kiss to her forehead before closing your eyes, praying that someday you'll feel worthy of her love again. For now, you just hold her close and try to forget everything except how perfectly she fits in your arms.

—

Suddenly there's a knock at the front door.

You wake up feeling a little dazed, but soon your brain reminds you of the hell you got yourself into. Your blood automatically runs cold - you'd know that aggressive knock anywhere.

"Ignore it," Minji whispers sleepily.

"It might be important," you say reluctantly, getting out of bed. You quickly pull on your pants while Minji wraps herself in a sheet.

Sure enough, when you open the door Ningning is standing there with a predatory smile. She's wearing a tight black dress that shows off her curves, her long dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders.

"Oh, did I interrupt something?" she asks innocently, pushing past you into the apartment. Her eyes rake over your bare chest and the obvious bulge in your pants from morning wood.

"Ningningie!" Minji calls happily from the bedroom. "Give me a minute to get dressed!"

While Minji is changing, Ningning corners you in the kitchen. She presses her body against yours, her hand sliding down to squeeze your still-hard cock through your pants.

"Miss me?" she purrs. "I know you've been thinking about me. About all the nasty things we do together."

You grab her wrist and push her away. "Stop it. This has to end."

She laughs. "You know what you have to do if you want it to end. Break up with her, or I'll tell her everything."

Before you can respond, Minji emerges from the bedroom fully dressed. Ningning immediately steps away, her demeanor changing completely as she hugs her best friend.

The three of you sit in the living room while Minji tells Ningning about her trip. You can barely focus on the conversation, too aware of Ningning's predatory gaze and the way she keeps "accidentally" brushing against you.

When she finally leaves hours later, you feel physically ill. You know you're trapped - there's no way out of this that doesn't end in devastating heartbreak for Minji.

That night, after Minji falls asleep, your phone buzzes with a text from Ningning: "Come over. Now."

You shouldn't fucking go. Every fiber of your being screams that this is wrong, that you should stay in bed with Minji's warm body curled against yours. But the threatening texts from Ningning make your blood boil - if you don't show up, she'll spill everything to Minji. That manipulative bitch has you by the balls and she knows it.

"Fuck," you mutter, carefully extracting yourself from Minji's embrace. Your girlfriend shifts slightly but doesn't wake. The guilt churns in your stomach as you slip on clothes and shoes.

The drive to Ningning's apartment is torture. Your hands burn from being pressed against the steering wheel, jaw clenched so hard it aches. When you knock on her door, she answers wearing nothing but a sheer red lingerie set, her nipples are clearly visible through the see-through fabric, and the tiny thong barely covers her pussy.

"You fucking bitch," you snarl, shoving past her into the apartment. "This is the last goddamn time. I'm done with your manipulative bullshit."

Ningning's red lips curve into a wicked smile. "Mmm, I love when you're angry," she purrs, pressing her nearly-naked body against yours. "You can take it all out on me tonight, daddy. I want you to punish me for being such a bad girl."

She produces a pair of metal handcuffs, dangling them from one finger. "I'll let you restrain me. Do whatever you want to me. Hurt me, use me, make me pay." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I know you want to."

Your cock betrays you, hardening in your pants despite your rage - or maybe because of it. Ningning notices and grinds against your erection. "See? Your body knows what it wants, even if you pretend otherwise."

With a growl, you grab her wrists and snap the cuffs around them, perhaps a bit tighter than necessary. She gasps but her eyes sparkle with excitement as you roughly shove her toward the bedroom.

"On the bed. Now." Your voice is cold and commanding. She obeys eagerly, lying back with her cuffed hands above her head. The red lingerie contrasts beautifully with her pale skin, but you're too angry to fully appreciate the view.

You climb onto the bed, straddling her waist. Your hands wrap around her throat - not squeezing, just resting there as a threat. "I should fucking choke you for what you're doing to my relationship."

"Do it," she moans, arching up against you. "Make me suffer."

Instead, you release her throat and roughly grab her tits through the sheer bra. Your fingers find her hardened nipples and pinch them harshly, making her cry out in pain and pleasure.

"Is this what you wanted, you manipulative slut?" You twist her nipples cruelly. "To force me here so I can hurt you?"

"Yes! Fuck yes!" She writhes beneath you. "I love when you're rough with me. So different from how gentle you have to be with precious little Minji-"

"Don't you fucking dare say her name," you growl, slapping her face. The crack of skin on skin is loud in the quiet room. A red handprint blooms on her cheek.

Ningning moans obscenely. "Sorry daddy. I forgot you don't like to be reminded of your girlfriend while you're fucking your side piece."

You rip her flimsy bra off, exposing her full breasts. Your mouth descends on one nipple, biting down hard enough to make her squeal. Your other hand roughly kneads her other breast, pinching and pulling at the sensitive flesh.

"Fuck yes, hurt me daddy!" she cries out. "Mark up these tits that you love to stare at when Minji isn't looking!"

Another harsh slap across her face silences her. "I told you not to say her fucking name." You grab her jaw, forcing her to look at you. "You're nothing compared to her. Just a worthless whore I'm using to get my rocks off."

The words seem to excite her more. She spreads her legs wide, the tiny thong doing nothing to hide how wet she is. "Then use me, daddy. Use this worthless whore's holes however you want."

Your hand travels down her body, roughly groping and squeezing. When you reach between her legs, you find her pussy absolutely soaked through the thin fabric. You yank the thong aside and thrust two fingers deep inside her without warning.

"Fucking slut," you growl as you finger-fuck her roughly. "Already this wet just from being manhandled. You're pathetic."

"Yes! Yes I am!" She rocks her hips, trying to take your fingers deeper. "I'm a pathetic slut who gets off on stealing other women's men. Punish me for it!"

You curl your fingers to hit her g-spot while your thumb circles her clit. But you keep the pressure light, teasing rather than satisfying. She whines in frustration, trying to grind against your hand.

"Please daddy, I need more!" she begs. "Stop teasing me!"

"Shut the fuck up," you snap, shoving three fingers into her mouth. She immediately starts sucking on them obscenely, her tongue swirling around the digits. "That's all your mouth is good for - being stuffed full."

You continue fingering her pussy torturously slow, bringing her close to orgasm before backing off. Her whole body trembles with need, hips bucking desperately. Wet sounds fill the room as you pump your fingers in and out of her dripping cunt.

"Look at you, so desperate to cum on my fingers," you taunt. "Such a needy little whore. I bet you touch yourself thinking about me fucking you like this while I'm in bed with Minji."

She moans around your fingers in her mouth, nodding eagerly. The admission makes your cock throb with anger and arousal. You withdraw your fingers from her mouth and pussy, making her whine at the loss.

"You want my cock, slut? Beg for it." You start undressing, watching her squirm on the bed.

"Please daddy, I need your big cock inside me! Need you to fuck me hard and rough, the way you can't fuck her. Want you to take out all your anger on my tight little pussy. Please please please!"

Once naked, you grab her hair and yank her head up. "First you're going to choke on it." You slap your hard cock against her face. "Open wide, whore."

She parts her lips eagerly and you waste no time shoving your cock down her throat. She gags and chokes but takes it like the experienced cocksucker she is. Tears stream down her face as you fuck her mouth brutally.

"This is what you deserve," you growl, watching your cock disappear between her stretched lips over and over. "Being used like the worthless cocksleeve you are."

Ningning moans around your shaft, clearly loving the degradation. Her tongue works the underside of your cock as you thrust, adding to the pleasure despite your anger. Spit and pre-cum dribble down her chin.

You pull out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting your cock to her swollen lips. She gasps for air, face flushed and makeup smeared. "Thank you daddy," she pants. "Love choking on your big cock."

"Shut up," you snap, roughly flipping her onto her stomach. You grab her hips and pull them up, leaving her face pressed into the mattress with her ass in the air. The position strains her cuffed wrists but you don't care.

You tear her ruined thong off completely and spread her ass cheeks, exposing both her holes. Her pussy is absolutely drenched, cream coating her inner thighs. You slap her ass hard, leaving a red handprint.

"Look how wet you are, you fucking slut," you growl, running your fingers through her slick folds. "Getting off on being treated like garbage. Pathetic."

"Yes daddy, I'm pathetic! Please fuck this pathetic whore's pussy!" She pushes her hips back, trying to entice you.

You line your cock up with her entrance and thrust in balls deep in one brutal stroke. She screams into the mattress, her pussy clenching around your shaft. The wet heat of her cunt feels incredible.

"Fuck, your pussy is so tight," you grunt, starting to pound into her roughly. "Too bad it's attached to such a worthless excuse for a woman."

"Yes! Use my tight pussy!" she moans. "Fuck me harder daddy! Show me what a worthless whore I am!"

You grab her hair and pull her head back sharply as you continue drilling her pussy. The new angle lets you hit even deeper, making her whole body shake with each thrust.

"Is this what you wanted so much?" you growl in her ear. "To be fucked like the dirty slut you are? To have your pussy destroyed by another woman's man?"

"God yes! Love being your dirty little secret!" She pushes back to meet your thrusts. "I bet her fragile little heart couldn't handle those dirty words!"

You release her hair, letting her face fall back to the mattress. Your hands grip her hips bruisingly tight as you absolutely rail her pussy. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, along with her muffled moans and your grunts.

Her pussy gets wetter and wetter, cream coating your cock and balls. The obscene squelching sounds only fuel your anger - she's getting off so hard on being used like this.

You bring your hand down hard on her ass again and again, turning the flesh bright red. Each spank makes her clench around your cock as she cries out in pain and pleasure.

"Fucking whore," you pant as you pound her. "Taking my cock so well. Such a good little cumdump."

"Yes! I'm your whore! I belong to you. Your cumdump!" she babbles into the sheets. "Use me daddy! Wreck my pussy!"

You can feel her getting close, her walls fluttering around your shaft. But you're not ready to let her cum yet. You pull out suddenly, making her whine in protest.

"No! Please don't stop!" she begs. "I was so close!"

"Shut up," you snap, flipping her onto her back again. You grab her legs and push them up toward her chest, folding her nearly in half. "Remember this: you don't belong to me… And I'm not done using you yet."

You slam back into her pussy, somehow going even deeper in this position. She screams in pleasure as you resume fucking her brutally. Her tits bounce with each thrust, nipples still red and swollen from your earlier abuse.

"Look at you, taking my cock like a proper whore," you growl. "This is all you're good for - being a set of holes for me to fuck."

"Yes daddy! That's all I am!" She's nearly sobbing with pleasure now. "Just holes for you to use! Please don't stop!"

Your pace becomes punishing, hips snapping against her with bruising force. The headboard slams rhythmically against the wall as you pound her pussy. Sweat drips down your chest from the exertion.

"Gonna cum soon," she moans. "Please daddy, can I cum on your cock? Need it so bad!"

You wrap a hand around her throat, squeezing just enough to restrict her breathing. "You have to be a good girl if you want to cum."

The choking seems to drive her wild. Her pussy clenches around you even tighter as she gasps for air. You can feel her whole body trembling on the edge of orgasm.

"Please!" she begs when you ease the pressure on her throat. "Please let me cum daddy! I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" You slow your thrusts, making her whimper. "Even leave me and Minji alone?"

"N-no," she admits. "Can't give you up daddy. Need your cock too much."

You squeeze her throat again, harder this time. "Wrong answer, whore." You start pounding her pussy mercilessly, your own orgasm building.

"Sorry daddy!" she chokes out. "Please don't stop! Need to cum so bad!" The wet sounds of skin slapping skin filled the room along with her moans and whimpers. You could feel her getting close, walls fluttering around your cock. "Yes, yes yes! Gonna cum so hard for you!"

You keep the punishing rhythm, watching her writhe and arch closer to her peak. Her pussy drips, coating your cock in her arousal.

"That's it, Daddy, make me cum! I want to feel you fill me up when I do!"

But you have other plans. Just as her breathing hitches, her walls starting to spasm, you pull out completely. She cries out in frustrated protest.

"No! Please! I'm so close!"

You stroke your cock over her heaving body. "You don't deserve to cum, you manipulative bitch."

"Please! I need it! Need to feel you cum inside me!"

You aim your cock at her tits as your own orgasm builds. "The only thing you deserve is to be covered in my cum like the worthless slut you are."

She’s shaking, chest rising and falling as she watches, helpless. “No,” she whimpers, hips arching toward you, hands struggling against the cuffs. “Put it back in, Daddy, I need it-I need to cum- Cum with me, plea-” With a grunt, you explode over her perfect tits and stomach, thick ropes of cum painting her skin. She huffs in anger and frustration.

"You bastard! You ruined it on purpose!"

You get out of bed, satisfied with her denied pleasure. "I told you this was the last time. We're done."

She lies there panting, hands still cuffed above her head, covered in your seed. Her pussy is red and swollen from the rough fucking, cream still leaking out.

You unlock the handcuffs and start getting dressed without looking at her. The post-orgasm clarity brings the guilt crashing back full force.

You’re halfway into your shirt when her voice cuts through the room, honey-sweet and venomous.

"One week left." She leans back against the bed, crossing her arms with a satisfied smirk. "After that, I'm sending Minji a nice little video collection of us. And until then, you'll be here every night, and no more pranks on me!"

Your hands freeze mid-button, blood chilling. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Her eyes glint, sharp and dangerous. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been recording us. Why do you think I encouraged you to drink over and over again until you forgot your name?” She lets it sink in, enjoying every second you look at her like she’s lost her mind. “I’m not stupid, and I know you’ll try to crawl back to her. And knowing her, after so much crying, she might even give you another chance. But with some beautiful visual proof of how much you were loving cheating on her, she'll hardly forgive you. Not when she watches you cum in my pussy while I scream your name.”

The anger bubbling up feels like fire beneath your skin. “You’ve been recording us without telling me? You’re out of your fucking mind, Ning!”

“Oh, I’m the crazy one?” she sneers, voice dripping with mock innocence. “And what about you? Lying to Minji, sneaking around to fuck me late at night?” She steps closer, all her rage and bitterness on full display now. “Don’t act like you’re some victim. You wanted this. Now it’s gonna cost you.”

Your hands ball into fists, trying to keep your voice steady. “This is insane. You really think blackmail’s gonna make me stay?”

“I just want her to know the truth,” she laughs, almost sweetly. “I want her to see what kind of man she’s clinging to. I want her to see you for the liar you are. And maybe - just maybe - she’ll finally understand what it’s like to lose something she thought she owned.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you spit. “Minji never stole anything from you.”

She’s inches from you now, voice low and seething. “She stole everything,” she snaps, voice shaking with rage she’s clearly been holding back. “She was always the pretty one, the smart one, the good girl. The one everyone wanted to be around. And every time, people just forget about me.”

“That’s all in your head,” you say, shaking your head, voice cold. “Minji would never hurt you on purpose.”

“Please.” She snorts, a nasty smile twisting her lips. “She plays the innocent act so well, doesn’t she? Sweet Minji! Everyone’s favorite! But the second you walked into her life, she had to have you. Didn’t care that I liked you first!”

You laugh bitterly, stepping back. “You’re delusional.”

“Say what you want. You know I’m right.” She shrugs, looking at you like you’re a bug under her shoe. “Minji needs to learn what it feels like to be humiliated. And if you don’t break things off, she’s gonna get a front-row seat.”

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “This is all about you. About your fucking ego. You don’t give a damn about me or what happens to her.”

“Believe whatever makes you sleep at night.” She gives you a saccharine smile. “One week. I want you here tomorrow at this same time. And I think you better make me have at least four orgasms to make up for the anger you made me feel tonight... Now get the fuck out of here - I need to make myself cum!”

—

The next few days are exactly the same. You can barely eat or focus at work. You just don't sleep anymore. Minji notices something is wrong but you brush off her concerns, saying you're just stressed about a project.

Ningning keeps showing up at your apartment unannounced, finding excuses to touch you and whisper dirty things when Minji isn't looking. And at night? Well, there you are, in Ningning's room, fulfilling her whims, helpless and at the mercy of a maniac girl. During these days you couldn't find a way to tell Minji the truth. You know it will be the end of your relationship. Damn, you know this will destroy her, and there's no way this ends well, but even so, you keep putting off the truth... Suffering for the inevitable.

You feel like you're going insane.

Finally, the deadline arrives. You're sitting on the couch with Minji when her phone chimes with multiple notifications. "Why the hell is Ning sending me so many messages?” she asks with a chuckle, glancing at her phone's locked screen, showing only the number of messages and the sender. Your heart stops - you know what Ningning has sent.

"Wait," you grab Minji's wrist before she can check the messages. "I need to tell you something first."

She looks at you with concern. "What's wrong? You've been acting so strange lately."

You take a deep breath, knowing these next words will shatter her world. "I... I've been sleeping with Ning."

The color drains from Minji's face. "What?"

"It started when you were away. I was drunk and upset after our fight, and she was there..." You try to explain but the words sound hollow even to your own ears.

"How long?" Minji whispers, tears filling her eyes.

"A month. It... it kept happening. She threatened to tell you if I didn't leave you for her. I'm so sorry, Minji. I never meant-"

"My best friend?" she cuts you off, voice breaking. "How could you do this to me? Both of you?"

Her phone continues to buzz as Ningning sends video after video. Minji's hands tremble as she unlocks her phone and begins scrolling through the videos and photos.

“Babe, don't look…”

"How could you?" she asks, her voice breaking. "With my best friend? In our bed?"

"Minji, I'm so sorry," you start, but she cuts you off with a slap across your face.

"Don't!" she screams, stumbling backward. She throws her phone at the couch with such force that it bounces and falls to the floor. "Don't you dare apologize! When did this start?"

"Three days after you traveled," you admit, your cheek stinging. "It just happened, and then-"

"It just happened?" she laughs hysterically. "What, you just accidentally fell into her pussy? Multiple times?"

She picks up the phone from the floor, scrolling through more of the photos Ningning is still sending. "Oh my god, the kitchen counter? Where I make breakfast every morning? Our fucking couch?"

Her breathing becomes erratic, and she clutches her chest. You step forward in concern, but she holds up a hand to stop you.

"Don't touch me," she gasps. "I can't... I can't breathe…”

She stands up shakily, pressing a hand to her chest. Her breathing becomes labored and her face contorts in pain.

"Minji?" Panic grips you as she suddenly collapses. You catch her before she hits the ground, frantically calling her name as you dial the emergency number.

The next hours are a nightmare of hospital corridors and worried doctors. Minji's parents arrive and bar you from her room, though you can hardly blame them.

—

Days pass in a haze of guilt and worry. You call the hospital constantly for updates, but they won't tell you anything since you're not family.

Finally, after a week, you get a text from Minji herself.

"You can come see me. Room 412."

Your hands shake as you drive to the hospital. When you reach her room, you almost turn back, but you force yourself to knock.

"Come in," her voice calls weakly.

She's propped up in the hospital bed, looking small and pale against the white sheets. There are monitors beeping steadily beside her, IV lines running into her arm. The sight breaks your heart.

"Hi," you say softly, hovering by the door.

"Sit," she indicates the chair beside her bed. When you do, she studies your face for a long moment. "You look terrible."

"I haven't been sleeping." You lean forward, elbows on your knees. "Minji, I am so, so sorry-"

"Stop." She holds up a hand, just like before. "I don't want your apologies right now. I want answers."

You nod, prepared to tell her everything.

"Why?" she asks first. "Did I do something that ended up hurting you?"

“This has nothing to do with you," you admit. "I take full blame. Ning came to visit me as you asked, I was drunk, lonely and sad. She kissed me and I... I didn't stop her."

“If I'd called earlier and said I was sorry for the fight, would it have changed anything?”

“Minji, this-”

“Answer me with yes or no!” she exclaims and soon begins to cough.

“... Maybe. But it's absolutely not your fault."

“How many times did you fuck her?”

"It happened maybe... Twelve or thirteen times." Each admission feels like ripping open a wound. "She would come over, saying she missed me, and then..."

"And then you'd fuck her," Minji finishes flatly. "In our home. In our bed. While I was thousands of miles away, sick and missing you."

"Yes." There's nothing else to say.

"Did you think about me? When you were inside her, did you think about how this would destroy me?"

"I tried not to think at all," you whisper. "I knew it was wrong, but she kept coming back, threatening to tell you if I didn't keep seeing her."

“Let me see the messages.”

You hand her your phone and everything is there, from the first threatening messages to the most recent ones, the nudes, the multiple missed calls early in the morning, the promises… There was a certain obsession in it all, which made Minji feel bad, returning the phone to you in disgust.

"So you were protecting me, huh?" Minji laughs bitterly. "How noble of you."

"No, I was being a coward," you admit. "I was weak and selfish and I destroyed the best thing in my life because I couldn't keep my dick in my pants."

She flinches at your crude words but doesn't disagree.

"Do you love her?"

"No," you say immediately. "God no, Minji. I love you. Only you! What happened with Ning was just sex, just a horrible mistake that I would give anything to take back."

"But you can't take it back," she says quietly. "You can't undo what you did to me, to us."

Tears start falling down your face. "I know. But please, please give me a chance to make it right. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" She looks at you with those dark eyes that used to hold so much love. Now they're full of pain and disappointment. "Would you get on your knees right now and beg?"

Without hesitation, you slide out of the chair onto your knees beside her bed. "Yes. I'll beg, I'll crawl, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to you if you'll let me."

"I heard that conversation of yours," she says suddenly. “When you were talking to your mother on the phone about marrying me."

Your heart stops. You were planning to buy an engagement ring next year.

"I would be so happy," she continues, voice breaking. "I spent that whole month dreaming about our wedding, our future together. And the whole time, you were fucking my best friend in our bed."

"I'm sorry," you sob, grabbing her hand. "I'm so sorry, Minji. Please don't give up on us. Please give me one more chance."

She lets you hold her hand for a moment before pulling away. "I need time," she says finally. "When I get out of here, I don't want you at the apartment. I need space to think."

"Of course," you agree quickly. "Whatever you need. I'll stay with a friend."

"I'm not promising anything," she warns. "I don't know if I can ever trust you again. But... I still love you. God help me, I still love you."

"I love you too, baby," you whisper. "More than anything. I'll wait as long as it takes."

She nods, then closes her eyes. "I don't want you to call me baby. It's disgusting now... I'm getting tired. You should go."

You stand reluctantly, wanting to say more but respecting her wishes. At the door, you turn back.

"Minji? What about Ning?"

Her face hardens. "She was here a few hours ago. We had a private conversation about our friendship. Things that only concern the two of us. Of course, I never want to see her again."

You nod and leave, hope and despair warring in your chest.

—

Outside, the air feels harsh, almost judging, as if the world itself knows what you’ve done.

In the parking lot you see her: Ningning, draped across the hood of your car, wearing a tight red dress that seems inappropriate for a hospital visit. She flashes that sly, knowing grin, like she’s already the winner, already got you tangled in her web.

“Took you long enough,” she purrs, reaching for you, fingertips grazing your chest. “Now we don’t have to hide.”

You step back, swatting her hand away. “No. This isn’t happening anymore. We’re done.”

She laughs, a low, dark sound that echoes in the empty parking lot. “Oh, come on. Are you really going to give up on us just because you had a sad little chat with her?” Her eyes flash with that dangerous mix of pride and amusement. “I know it must have been hard. But now we can be happy together...”

“It was a mistake,” you say, cold. “I betrayed her for what? A few nights of-”

“Of what? Say it,” she cuts you off, stepping closer. “Of something you couldn’t resist? Or are you too much of a coward to admit it? We both know you wanted this as much as I did. You loved every second of it.”

“I don’t want it anymore. Don’t want you anymore.”

She laughs again. “You’re a goddamn hypocrite. You want to play the martyr now, pretend you’re a good guy?” She leans in, her face inches from yours, breath hot on your skin. “Please, you’re still that same bastard who kept crawling back for more. Don’t act like you’re suddenly above it.”

Her words make you want to flinch, but you stand your ground, hands clenched tight. “Maybe I was. But I’m done now. I don’t need you. I need to fix what I broke.”

“Wow, So is she willing to give you another chance? Okay, quite predictable. But you know why she didn’t yell, why she didn’t throw shit at you in there? Because she fucking knows she deserved it,” Ningning starts, her expression is kind of scary, as if she knows all the secrets of the world. “Yeah, she sat there, looking all wounded and pure, but don’t let that act fool you. She knew. She’s known all along, even if she’ll never say it out loud.”

You try to interject, but Ningning cuts you off, her voice rising, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Don’t give me that look! I'm not crazy! I saw it in her eyes when I walked in. That flicker of guilt, like she’s been caught, like she’s thinking, ‘Maybe I had this coming.’ Because guess what? She fucking did. She knew I loved you first. I’ve loved you since before she even knew your fucking name.”

She takes a step closer, jabbing a finger at your chest. “Do you know what it was like? Watching her swoop in with her sweet little smile, acting like she was all innocent and shy, when really, she was stealing what was mine? And I said nothing. I stood back, swallowed it, because, what, I was supposed to be the bigger person? Fuck that! She knew how I felt, and she still went for it. And she got you. She fucking won.”

Ningning’s voice cracks, but she pushes through. “And don’t think for a second she’s blameless. She played her part in this. She played you, she played me, and now she’s sitting up there in that hospital bed, acting like she’s some goddamn victim. But deep down, she knows. She knows she took something she never had a right to. And now? Now, she’s paying for it.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and she exhales, running a hand through her hair like she’s trying to keep herself from spiraling further. “But the difference between me and her? I fucking own it. I wanted you, and I took you. I don’t hide behind some bullshit innocence or play the martyr. I go for what I want, and yeah, maybe that makes me the bad guy, but at least I’m honest about it.”

She gives you one last look, as if she's hoping that now you finally understand everything, her voice dropping, quieter now, but no less cutting. “She won’t admit it, but she knows. She deserved every second of this. But you know Minji. She’d rather die than let you see that, let you think for one second that she’s anything less than perfect.”

"You need help, Ning, you've created a whole fantasy in your head. Do you think you're that special to make Minji plot against you like this?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Unbelievable. You’re pathetic. How can you be so blind and not see the truth? I'm trying to help you make the right fucking choice.” She spits the words at you like daggers. “You and I… we’re the same, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You shake your head, ignoring the pang her words bring. “We’re not the same, Ning. Not anymore.”

“You think you can just walk away from this? From me?”

“Watch me,” you mutter, yanking the car door open. The finality in your voice is ironclad, leaving no room for argument.

“You’ll be back,” she hisses. “You'll miss me when you realize who Minji really is. But then it'll be too late...”

But you don’t look at her as you drive off, leaving her alone in the parking lot.

And that was the last time you saw her.

—

Two months pass slowly. You move in with your friend, throwing yourself into work to avoid thinking about the mess you've made of your life. Ningning continues to send threatening messages, until you finally block her for good.

Finally, one rainy evening, your phone rings. It's Minji.

"Can we meet?" she asks without preamble. "Tomorrow at the café where we had our first date?"

Your heart races. "Yes, of course. What time?"

"Noon," she says, then hangs up.

You barely sleep that night, alternating between hope and dread. When you arrive at the café the next day, you're thirty minutes early. You order her favorite drink - vanilla latte with an extra shot - and wait.

She arrives exactly at noon, looking beautiful in a simple sundress. Your breath catches at the sight of her. She's gained back the weight she lost in the hospital, her cheeks rosy with health.

"Hi," she says, sliding into the seat across from you.

"Hi," you respond, pushing her coffee towards her. "I got your usual."

A small smile flickers across her face. "You remembered."

"I remember everything about you," you say softly.

She takes a sip of coffee, gathering her thoughts. "I've been doing a lot of thinking these past two months," she begins. "About us, about what happened, about what I want."

You wait, hardly breathing.

"I'm still angry," she continues. "I'm still hurt. What you did... it broke something in me that might never fully heal."

"I know," you whisper. "I hate myself for hurting you."

"But I've realized something," she says, meeting your eyes. "I don't want to hate you. I don't want to let what happened destroy all the good memories we have, all the love we shared."

"What are you saying...?"

"I'm saying... I think I can forgive you. Not completely, not yet. But I want to try."

Tears fill your eyes. "Really?"

"But," she holds up a hand, "there have to be conditions. First, we start as friends only. No romance, no sex, no pressure. We need to rebuild trust before anything else. If it doesn't feel right, then you'll disappear from my life."

You nod eagerly. "Of course. I'll do whatever you want, all at your own pace."

"Second, complete honesty from now on. About everything. One more lie and we're done forever."

"Absolutely," you agree. "I promise."

"And third," her voice hardens, "Ning is out of our lives completely. I'm sure she's still trying to contact you."

You pull out your phone and show her how you've blocked Ningning's number. "Already done. I haven't spoken to her since the hospital. She was waiting for me in the parking lot, thinking that suddenly we would be together."

Minji nods, satisfied. "She tried to convince me that you two were in love."

"What did you say?"

"I told her I saw the messages she sent you, threatening to tell me if you didn't keep sleeping with her." Minji's voice is cold. "She's not innocent. You're both guilty. But you told me you don't love her... Guess I can believe that for now. Oh, and after her mask fell off, I managed to convince her to delete all the videos she had recorded. I think the sight of me in a hospital bed touched her a little bit. No need to thank me."

You hang your head, shame burning through you.

"And," Minji continues, "you told me the truth before she could expose you. That counts for something, I guess."

"I should have told you sooner," you admit. "I was just so scared of losing you."

"And you almost did," she says quietly. "My heart literally couldn't take it."

You reach across the table, hesitantly taking her hand. When she doesn't pull away, you squeeze gently.

"I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you," you promise. "If you'll let me."

She looks at your joined hands for a long moment. "We'll see," she says finally. "One day at a time."

You spend the next hour talking - really talking - about everything that happened. She tells you how betrayed she felt, how the thought of you with Ningning still makes her physically ill. You tell her about the guilt that's been eating you alive, the sleepless nights spent hating yourself.

“I was looking at some wedding rings during my trip, just dreaming…” she says suddenly, catching you off-guard. “I was so happy, you know? Because I thought… I thought I’d found the one I wanted.” Her voice cracks, and she swallows, steadying herself.

The words sink deep, and your chest tightens. “Maybe someday… if we get there again, I’ll buy you the most beautiful ring in the world.”

She gives you a small smile. "One day at a time, remember?"

When it's time to leave, you walk her to her car. Before she gets in, she turns to you.

"I'm having dinner with my parents tomorrow night," she says. "Would you like to come?"

Your heart leaps. Her parents have refused to speak to you since the hospital. "Are you sure?"

She nods. "They need to see that I'm choosing to try again with you. It won't be easy - they hate you right now. But if we're going to move forward, they need to accept it."

"I'll be there," you promise. "Thank you, Minji. For giving me another chance."

She reaches up and touches your face softly - the first intimate contact she's initiated in two months.

"Don't make me regret it," she whispers, then gets in her car and drives away.

You watch until her car disappears around the corner, hope filling your chest for the first time in months. You know the road ahead will be difficult. Trust, once broken, is hard to rebuild. But you'll do whatever it takes to prove to Minji that her faith in you isn't misplaced.

Your phone buzzes - a text from an unknown number.

"Everything I did, I did for you," the message reads. "Hope you are happy with your choice. Don't say I didn't warn you."

You delete the message without responding and block the new number.

She'll have to give up at some point.

The only person you belong to now is Minji - if she'll have you.

As you walk to your car, you start planning how to win back not just Minji's trust, but her heart. It won't be easy, but nothing worth having ever is. And Minji is worth everything.

[stylesispunk]

"Did the love affair maim you too?" | Part ii

Joel Miller xf!reader

part one | next part

chapter summary: After getting back his memories, Joel and you slipped away again.

word count: 15,3k (yes, it's longer than the first chapter)

warnings: angst, perhaps fluff, mentions of death, mentions of blood, and more angst, you will find out why Joel is mean in this chapter. I know I'm a teacher, but I didn't proofread, so I apologize for any mistake. paragraphs in italics indicate flashbacks.

a/n: Hello! The awaited part 2 of this story is here! I want to say thank you for the amount of love the previous part received, it was so nice to see all your reactions to this one! It was also my first fic reaching 1k> in less than a week and was overwhelming (positively). THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART, so stay tuned for the next! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! happy reading and PLEASE tell me what you think. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

For a mere second of time, wanting was enough for you. In a harsh reality where a tender love couldn’t be part of the writing pages of a tragedy that had changed the plans destiny had for humanity, even a simple glimpse of a spark was enough to initiate the fire.

Finding a reason to wake up was enough. Joel was enough for you, even when it was a path with not a clear ending.

A lie.

A maim affair engulfed in fire burning your lungs.

A tragedy.

You looked up from your work as you sensed people entering at the place, your eyes meeting Joel’s for the first time. His expression was hard, his eyes narrowed as he sized you up. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with a guarded look that made you feel like you were being evaluated.

“Can I help you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady under his intense gaze.

“She needs that looked at,” he said, his tone brusque as he gestured to Ellie’s arm.

You nodded, motioning for Ellie to sit down. As you began to clean the wound, you could feel Joel’s eyes on you, watching your every move. It was as if he was waiting for you to make a mistake, to prove that you didn’t belong there.

“So, you’re infamous nurse” Joel said after a moment, his voice still cool and distant.

You looked up from your work, meeting Joel’s eyes briefly before returning your focus to Ellie’s wound. His words hung in the air, a subtle challenge beneath the surface.

“Infamous?” you repeated, trying to keep your tone neutral. “I didn’t know I had a reputation.”

Joel shrugged, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving you. “Small town. People talk.”

You nodded, understanding that this was as much about sizing you up as it was about Ellie’s injury. You’d heard about Joel—everyone in Jackson had. He was a protector, a survivor, and not someone who trusted easily.

“I’m just here to help,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you wrapped Ellie’s arm with a bandage. “That’s all.”

Ellie, sensing the tension, glanced between the two of you, her eyes wide. “She’s okay, Joel,” she said, trying to ease the atmosphere. “It’s just a scratch.”

Joel didn’t respond to Ellie; his focus remained on you. There was something in his eyes—a guardedness, a wariness that told you he was waiting for you to prove yourself, or perhaps waiting for you to slip up.

“I’ve been in Jackson for a few days” you continued, finishing up with Ellie’s bandage. “Just trying to do my part.”

“Everyone’s got a part to play,” Joel said, his tone still clipped. “Just make sure you know yours.”

You felt the sting of his words but didn’t let it show. Instead, you nodded, stepping back as Ellie hopped off the table.

“Thanks,” Ellie said, giving you a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, managing a smile in return.

Joel pushed off the wall, his eyes still on you as he motioned for Ellie to follow him. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice softening slightly when he spoke to her.

As they walked towards the door, Joel paused for a brief moment, his hand resting on the doorknob. He turned back, his eyes meeting yours once more. There was something in his gaze, something more than just suspicion. It was as if he was searching for something in you, trying to read who you really were beneath the surface.

For a second, the hardened lines of his face softened, but just as quickly, the guarded expression returned. Without another word, he turned away and led Ellie out of the infirmary, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud.

You felt like breathing again.

By the moment you had reached your house, the sun had barely risen, casting a pale light over the quiet settlement. A few people were starting their duties as you walked with dried tears on your face, just wanting not to be perceive and being able to take a shower and follow your routine as you always used to die it since your arrival, but the ache was bigger than your wiliness and you ended up lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, the horror on Joel’s face kept replaying in your mind. The heartbreak was raw and overwhelming, making it hard to breathe, let alone face the day.

You didn’t even notice you had fallen sleep until a knock came at your door, it took a moment for you to register the sound. You dragged yourself out of bed, wiping at your newly fresh tears from your eyes and trying to compose yourself as best as you could.

Opening the door, you found Maria standing there, her expression concerned.  “Hey,” she said softly, her eyes scanning your face. “Ramirez told me you didn’t show up at the infirmary this morning. Thought I’d check on you.”

You forced a weak smile, stepping aside to let her in. “Thanks, Maria. I just... fell asleep”

Maria nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She glanced around, taking in the disarray before turning back to you. “You don’t look like you’ve slept much.”

“I had a pretty good sleep” you said, voice breaking at how you so could still picturing Joel’s eyes looking at you with adoration last night “But morning came” you said, voice breaking “Joel got his memory back.”

Maria's eyes widened with concern and understanding. She moved closer, gently placing a hand on your arm. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again. "He doesn't remember loving me, Maria. He thinks I took advantage of him. He hates me."

Maria's expression softened, and she pulled you into a comforting hug. "I can't imagine how painful that must be for you. But you didn't take advantage of him. You both shared something real, even if he doesn't remember it now."

You clung to her, "I don't know what to do. I feel so lost right now."

Maria pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Take it one step at a time. Give yourself permission to feel what you're feeling. And remember, you have people here who care about you. You don't have to go through this alone."

You nodded, trying to find some comfort in her words. "Thanks, Maria. I just... I don't know how to face him now."

Maria squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You don't have to figure it all out today. Take some time for yourself. Maybe stay away from the infirmary for a today? give yourself a break."

You sighed, feeling lost. "Yeah, maybe that's a good idea."

Maria smiled softly. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You're stronger than you think, and you have a lot of people who care about you."

You managed a small smile. "Thanks.”

She nodded, giving you another comforting squeeze before standing up. "I'll check in on you later, alright? And if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

As she left, you felt a small sense of humiliation, as if what had just happened was just a small piece of gossip to feed a community.

You stare at the wall for a minute, getting your stuff together. If you could get over what happened before arriving to Jackson, you could follow your life. That’s what you were making yourself believe.

So, you changed into new clothes, placing Joel’s shirt under your bed to not having sight of it again. And with a deep breath you left your house, walking to de infirmary to get your job done.

A broken heart wasn’t really a big issue in an already broken world.  

As you walked to the infirmary, the weight of the morning's events lingered in your chest. The usual bustle of the settlement seemed distant, like a muted backdrop to your internal turmoil. Every step felt heavy, but you kept moving, determined to focus on your responsibilities and find some semblance of normalcy.

Upon arriving at the infirmary, you were greeted by the familiar soft hum of activity. People glanced at you with curiosity, but no one asked any questions. You were grateful for their unspoken understanding, and you quickly immersed yourself in your tasks, finding solace in the routine.

Hours passed in a blur of tending to some Jackson residents, organizing supplies, and ensuring everything was in order. The work kept your mind occupied, though it couldn't completely drown out the ache in your heart.

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Maria standing there, her expression gentle yet firm.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft but steady. "How are you holding up?"

You managed a small, tired smile. "I'm getting by. Staying busy helps."

Maria nodded, understanding in her eyes. "I'm glad you're here. I just wanted to check in and see if you needed anything."

You shook your head. "I don’t want to talk. It’s over” you said, avoiding her gaze.

She placed a reassuring hand on your arm. "I know you said you don't want to talk, but I'm here if you change your mind," she said softly. "Sometimes it helps to just let it out."

You looked at her, the pain still fresh in your eyes. "Thanks, Maria. Maybe... maybe later. I just need some time now."

She nodded, respecting your need for space. "Take all the time you need. Just remember, we're here for you."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, a bit of rage simmered.

“You all were the ones who told me to go for it. You told me Joel was in love for me and him recovering his memory wouldn’t break what was there, but this morning he treated me like a whore and broke my heart.”

Maria's eyes filled with sympathy and regret. "I know, and I'm so sorry for what you're going through. We all believed it would be different. Joel... he's complicated. The things he's been through have left deep scars. But that doesn't excuse how he treated you."

You took a shaky breath, the pain still fresh and raw. "I just don't understand how it could change so quickly. One moment, we were so happy, and the next... he hates me."

Maria reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. "Joel's been through a lot, and sometimes people lash out when they're scared or confused. But that doesn't make it any easier for you. You deserve better than that."

You nodded, tears welling up again. "I just wanted to be happy. I thought we could be happy together."

Maria's grip tightened slightly, a gesture of support. "You will be happy again. It might not feel like it now, but you will. You're strong, and you have people who care about you. We'll get through this together."

Maria gave your arm one last reassuring squeeze before stepping back. You watched her leave, feeling of sorrow. The pain was still there, but you knew it would take time, but you also knew you wouldn't have to face it alone.

Later that evening, the emotional turmoil still roiling within you, you decided to head to the bar. You hoped the familiar atmosphere and a drink might help numb the pain, even if just for a little while. As you pushed open the door, the hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses filled the air, a stark contrast to the quiet despair you felt inside.

You made your way to the bar, trying to avoid looking around too much, but it was impossible not to notice Joel sitting at a table in the corner. His arm was wrapped around Lori, and they were laughing together, looking every bit like a happy couple. The sight hit you like a punch to the gut, the wound from the morning’s confrontation ripping open all over again.

Taking a deep breath, you walked up to the bar and ordered a drink, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you waited, Rick, the bartender, sensing your mood offered a small smile.

“What’s wrong with your face, darling?” he asked, concerned on his eyes.

You graced him with a small, tired smile at the question. “Just a rough day,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded understandingly, setting your drink in front of you. “Well, here’s something to help take the edge off. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” you said, taking a sip of the drink. The warmth of the alcohol spread through you, momentarily dulling the pain.

As you sat there, trying to lose yourself in the comforting anonymity of the bar, you couldn’t help but glance back at Joel and Lori. Their laughter and closeness were a stark contrast to the emptiness you felt. You turned away quickly, not wanting to see any more.

“Is it Joel?” Rick asked gently, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down.

He sighed sympathetically, shaking his head. “Love can be a real mess sometimes.”

You chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

The bartender gave you a knowing look. “It’ll get better, you know. It might not seem like it now, but time has a way of healing these things.”

You took another sip of your drink, hoping he was right. “I hope so.”

“If you need anything, just ask me, okay?” he said, smiling at you before going back to his task.

You took another sip of your drink, hoping he was right. “I hope so.”

You nodded, trying to muster a smile in return. As the Rick moved away, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you again. Lost in thought, you barely noticed the person sitting next to you until you felt their presence.

Turning slightly, you saw Joel, his expression unreadable. Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of emotions surging through you, all the pain, anger, and a lingering trace of love.

Perhaps he was here to apologize.

Joel cleared his throat, looking almost as uncomfortable as you felt. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. “Hey,” you replied, your voice strained.

Joel shifted in his seat, glancing at the drink in front of you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say much more. The sight of him so close, the contrast memories of his tender touch last night and the harsh words from the morning still fresh, made it hard to breathe.

He took a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Look, about this morning…I was asking myself if I should let my door open tonight for you to come in the lure or something?”

The laugh he made after that cracked your already broken heart. The sound was harsh, cruel, and it cut through you like a knife. Your eyes widened in disbelief, and you felt your entire body tense.

“You think this is funny?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with hurt and anger. “You think what happened between us is something to joke about?”

Joel’s laughter died on his lips as he saw the hurt and anger in your eyes. “I- “

“What did you mean? you interrupted, your voice rising despite your efforts to keep it steady. “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re entertaining yourself by making jokes right now.”

Joel's face twisted into a bitter expression. “What do you expect me to say? That I suddenly remember everything and I'm head over heels for you? Life doesn't work that way, princess”

Your heart sank further, the cruelty of his words stinging more than you wanted “You don’t have to be cruel to be funny, Joel. You could at least try to understand what I’m going through.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms defensively. “Understand what? That you’re upset because you tried to rewrite a history that doesn’t exist between us? I’m sorry, but I can’t change how I feel—or don’t feel.”

You shook your head, feeling an anger bubbling within you. “You don’t get it.” You said, simply. Taking a seat on the stool, again.

Joel’s expression hardened. “You’re too busy living in a fantasy to see that whatever you think happened between us is over. I don’t remember it, and I don’t care to. Move on.”

You looked at him, fighting the tears. “I will move on from you. You’re not that important.” You looked towards the direction he had come from, not breaking the façade. You immediately spotted Lori who seemed amused at Joels treating you badly. “Go back to your woman, Miller”

Joel’s jaw tightened at your words, and he leaned in closer, his voice low and laced with anger. “You know what? I will. At least she knows where we stand. Unlike you, clinging to some fantasy that never existed.”

Your vision blurred with anger and hurt as you stared at him. “You really think you’re better than me.”

He smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. “I’m done with your drama.”

The words hit you like a slap, and before you could stop yourself, you balled your hand into a fist and swung at him. The punch landed squarely on his jaw, causing him to stagger back, a look of shock and pain flashing across his face.

The bar fell silent as everyone turned to witness the commotion. Joel touched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you, anger and something else—something more vulnerable—flickering in his gaze.

“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again” you spat, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “You are the worst mistake I’ve done here.”

Joel's eyes blazed with a mix of anger and shock, but he didn’t say anything. You could see his jaw clenching, and the vulnerability in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened look. The silence in the bar was deafening, every eye on you.

You didn’t wait for his response. You turned on your heel and marched towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of your emotions threatened to overwhelm you, but you refused to let Joel see you break down.

As you pushed the door open, the cool night air hit your face, offering a small respite from the intensity of the bar. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. You wiped them away angrily, not wanting to show any more weakness.

As you stormed out into the night, the tears mingling with the cool air, you heard the door swing open behind you. Heavy footsteps quickly followed, and you knew who it was before you even turned around.

"Hey," Tommy called out, his voice filled with concern. "Wait up."

You spun around to face him, your anger and hurt bubbling over. "What do you want, Tommy?" you snapped, your voice trembling with emotion. "Did you come to see the fallout of your brother's words?"

Tommy stopped a few feet away, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "I came to check on you," he said softly. "I saw what happened in there. Are you okay?"

You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and broken. "Do I look okay to you, Tommy? Your brother just ripped my dignity there?”

Tommy's eyes were filled with sympathy. "I know Joel can be a real asshole sometimes. But he's just confused. This whole memory thing has messed with his head."

You shook your head, the tears streaming down your face. "No, Tommy. This isn't his memory. He doesn't care about me. He never did. He never will”

Tommy took a step closer, his expression pained. "That's not true. I know my brother, and I know he cared about you. He's just scared. He doesn't know how to handle this."

You scoffed, the anger boiling over. “Care about me?” you laughed. “He was just dumfounded. What you saw inside is the real him.”

Tommy's face twisted with concern, his eyes pleading for you to understand. “Look, I know it seems like that right now, but Joel’s been through a lot. This memory thing has him all messed up.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling. “No, Tommy. You didn’t hear the things he said. He thinks I took advantage of him. He doesn’t remember any of the good times, any of the moments we shared. He just sees me as some... some opportunist.”

Tommy sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say. Joel’s always been stubborn, and this whole situation is making it worse. But you’re not alone in this. We all care about you.”

“Caring about me doesn't fix what he did," you said, your voice breaking. "He treated me like I was nothing.”

“I get it. I really do,” Tommy replied, his voice softening. “Just... give it time. Maybe things will get clearer.”

“Time won’t change what he said. It won’t change how he made me feel,” you replied, the bitterness in your voice evident.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, realizing there were no words that could ease your pain. He took a step back, giving you space. “I’m here if you need me. Just remember that.”

“I don’t need the baby miller protecting me.” You spoke. “From now on, I’m just the nurse and if you need me patrolling, I don’t want Joel near me.”

Tommy's face fell slightly, but he nodded, understanding the gravity of your words. "Alright. I'll make sure to arrange things so you don't have to cross paths with him."

You could see the concern in his eyes, but you didn't have the energy to address it. "Thank you," you said, your voice hollow. "I need to be alone now."

Tommy hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Take care of yourself, alright?" He turned and walked back towards the bar, leaving you standing alone in the quiet night.

As you watched him go, you felt a mixture of relief and sadness. The night air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort.

Turning away from the bar, you started walking, not sure where you were heading but knowing you needed to move. Each step felt heavy, but you forced yourself to keep going. You would find a way to heal, even if it felt impossible right now.

One step at a time, you told yourself again. One step at a time.

Week one.

You had promised yourself to not having. And Joel had had started to have punctuating headaches.

When he arrived, he noticed another guy standing where you used to be. The unfamiliar face caught him off guard, and a sense of unease settled in his stomach.

"Where's the nurse?" Joel asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The new guy, a young man with sandy hair and a nervous demeanor, looked up from his preparations. "She asked to be reassigned. Said she didn't want to do patrols anymore."

Joel's heart sank. "Did she say why?"

Before the guy could answer, Tommy walked over, overhearing the conversation. "I'll take it from here," Tommy said, looking at the new guy, who nodded and walked away.

Joel turned to Tommy, his expression a mix of confusion and worry. "What's going on, Tommy? Why'd she ask to be reassigned?"

Tommy sighed, crossing his arms. "She didn't want to be around you, Joel.”

Joel felt a pang of guilt and frustration. "I didn't mean for things to get this bad. I was just... I was trying to deal with everything, I think I handled it wrong."

Tommy nodded. "Yeah, you did. And now she’s moving on as you asked her to.”

Joel's chest tightened at Tommy's words. "I didn't think she'd actually was…I- I thought she’d... I don’t know, understand.”

"Understand what, Joel?" Tommy asked, his tone sharper than usual. "That you were scared and hurt, so you took it out on her? You made your bed, now you’ve gotta lie in it."

Joel ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his mistakes. “Okay what’s so wrong? Since when she is in love with me?”

“Did you know she was the one who brought you back here when you feel and hit your head so hard you forgot about her? Or about all this past year?” Tommy said exasperated, “She was there for you every single day and man, she was scared of letting you in because she knew all this was going to happen.”

Joel's mind reeled as Tommy's words sank in. "She brought me back?" he echoed, a wave of guilt washing over him.

"Yeah," Tommy said, his voice heavy with frustration. "She did everything for you. Every single day. And you just pushed her away like she meant nothing."

Joel felt his heart constrict. He had been so consumed by his own confusion and pain that he hadn’t stopped to consider what she had gone through. "I didn't know. I didn't remember."

"That’s the point, Joel. You didn't remember, and instead of trying to understand, you lashed out at her."

Joel nodded slowly, trying to absorb the pieces of new information.

"You can't just fix this with a few words, Joel.” Tommy added, as if he had just read his brother’s mine. “She had gone through much already.”

“What do you mean by that?” Joel asked, concern came from nowhere.

Tommy sighed deeply, looking away for a moment before meeting Joel's gaze again. "She went through hell before she even got here, Joel.”

Tommy’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken pain. Joel's brow furrowed as he tried to grasp what his brother was saying.

"What do you mean?" Joel asked, his voice low and hesitant, the concern now unmistakable.

Tommy looked at him for a long moment, as if debating whether to reveal something he wasn’t sure Joel was ready to hear. Finally, he sighed, his expression softening with a mix of empathy and frustration.

"She was on her own for a long time before she found Jackson," Tommy began, his tone measured. "Lost her family, everyone she ever cared about. Saw things that would break most people. But she survived. She made it here, and despite everything, she decided to stay and help us. She didn’t have to, but she did. And when you came back hurt and lost, she put everything into helping you, even though she knew it was a risk."

Joel felt a lump forming in his throat as Tommy spoke. He had been so wrapped up in his own struggles that he hadn’t seen the depth of what she had endured.

"And you," Tommy continued, his voice thick with emotion, "you were her last straw, Joel. She let her guard down for you, and you crushed her.

Joel’s heart ached at Tommy’s words. He felt the sting of regret deep in his chest, knowing that he had only added to her pain.

"Tommy, I..." Joel started, but the words failed him. What could he say that would make any of this right?

"You need to understand something, Joel," Tommy said, his voice firm but not unkind. "She’s not just some woman who’s here to patch us up and send us on our way. She’s a survivor, just like us. And she deserves a hell of a lot better than what you gave her."

Joel nodded, feeling the full weight of his actions pressing down on him. He realized now just how much he had taken for granted, how much he had failed to see.

That same afternoon, the weight of his guilt and determination pressing heavily on his chest, Joel made his way to the infirmary. He had rehearsed what he would say a hundred times in his head, but the closer he got, the more uncertain he felt. He needed to talk to you, to apologize, to start making things right.

When he arrived, he hesitated at the door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. The familiar smell of antiseptic and the soft hum of activity greeted him as he stepped inside.

You were at the far end of the room, organizing supplies and preparing to leave for the day. Your back was turned to him, and for a moment, he just stood there, unsure of how to start. But then you sensed his presence and turned around, your eyes meeting his.

For a brief second, something flickered in your gaze—recognition, maybe even surprise—but it was quickly replaced by a cold, distant expression.

"Hey," Joel said, his voice sounding more tentative than he intended.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you continued with what you were doing, organizing a stack of medical supplies. It was clear you were trying to keep busy, to avoid engaging with him.

"Can we talk?" Joel asked, taking a cautious step closer.

You paused, your hands stilling for a moment before you turned to face him fully. Your expression was unreadable, your eyes guarded. "I'm busy, Joel," you said, your tone clipped and distant.

Joel felt a pang in his chest at your coldness, but he knew he deserved it. "I know. I just... I wanted to apologize. For everything. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry."

You looked at him for a long moment, your expression hard. "I don’t need your apologies," you replied, your voice steady but laced with an edge of bitterness. "What’s done is done."

Joel swallowed, feeling the sting of your words. "I understand that, but I still want to make things right. I want to try."

You shook your head, a small, bitter smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "You can’t just fix this with a few words, Joel. You made it clear how you felt. I was so pathetic for seeking tender love in a world like this, and I was so pathetic for accepting it from you."

Joel flinched at your words, the harsh truth of them cutting deep. He opened his mouth to respond, to say something—anything—that might reach you, but you were already moving past him, grabbing your coat and heading for the door.

"Wait," he said, reaching out to stop you, but you brushed past him without a second glance.

"I’m done with this conversation, Joel," you said over your shoulder, your voice cold and final. "If you have something to say, save it for someone who cares or maybe for when you fuck Lori.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, his heart pounding in his chest as he replayed the conversation in his head. The way you looked at him—so detached, so unlike the sweet person you were—shattered any remaining hope he had of mending things between you. Joel clenched his fists frustration welling up inside him.

And with that, you were gone, leaving Joel standing in the infirmary, the empty room echoing with the silence of everything left unsaid.

Week two.

The distance between you and Joel grew even wider. You kept yourself busy with your duties at the infirmary, throwing yourself into work to avoid thinking about him. Jackson was large enough that it wasn’t hard to avoid each other, especially since you made a point to steer clear of any places where you might run into him.

Joel, on the other hand, wasn’t faring as well. The days felt like they were dragging on, each one heavier than the last. The guilt and the lingering regret of how things had ended between you, was starting to take a toll on him. He found it harder to concentrate on anything, his mind constantly wandering back to you, replaying your last conversation over and over again.

Things hadn’t started bad between the both of you. There was a time, not too long ago, when things between you and Joel had been different—better. When you first arrived in Jackson. He was wary, of course, just as everyone. People with big walls up for protecting the same from the dangers from the outside.

Initially, he had kept his distance, observing you with a cautious eye. But as days turned into weeks, something shifted. You’d taken on the role of a nurse with a quiet determination, and your compassion and dedication gradually began to break through the walls Joel had built around himself.

There was one particular evening when you both found yourselves at a small community gathering. It was one of those special moments for people to unwind and reconnect. Joel, usually reserved and gruff, had shown up with Ellie in tow, and you were surprised to find him engaging in casual conversation, a rare sight indeed.

You and Joel had ended up chatting while sitting around a makeshift bonfire. The conversation had started with practical matters—how best to handle a certain type of injury or a recommendation for new supplies—but soon it evolved into more personal topics. Joel had shared stories from his past life, and you found yourself opening up about your own one.

The old versions of two people trapped in the endless tragedy

The atmosphere was relaxed, and for the first time, you saw a different side of Joel.

Joel was seated across from you, a relaxed look on his face that you rarely saw. His eyes, usually so guarded, were softer tonight. Ellie was nearby, occupied with a makeshift game she’d crafted from scavenged materials.

“So, you actually went through all that trouble for a single, mediocre meal?” you asked, chuckling at Joel’s tale of a particularly botched cooking attempt.

Joel grinned, a rare and genuine smile that lit up his face. “You’d be surprised what we went through to get even a half-decent meal back then. We were pretty desperate.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t imagine. I’m just grateful for what we’ve got now, even if it’s not gourmet.”

Joel nodded in agreement. “Yeah, things are better here. A lot better than they were.”

There was a comfortable silence between you, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire. You glanced at Joel, noticing how his eyes softened as he spoke. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have someone who understands what it’s like out there.”

Joel met your gaze, his expression sincere. “And I’m glad you’re here too. You’ve done a lot for everyone. For Ellie, especially.”

For Joel, dealing with all of this started to become unbearable the moment migraines hit. They had started as a dull ache, a constant pressure in his head that he could push through if he focused hard enough. But as the days went on, the pain intensified, becoming sharp and unrelenting. The pounding in his skull would come in waves, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. He tried to hide it at first, not wanting anyone to see him weak, but it wasn’t long before people began to notice.

He’d find himself gripping the edges of tables or leaning against walls to steady himself, his vision blurring as the pain surged through him. He hadn’t had migraines like this in years, not since the early days when the world had first gone to hell. But these were different, more intense, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were somehow connected to something else.

Maybe someone, his thoughts screamed.

Tommy noticed too, of course. He had been keeping a close eye on his brother ever since the confrontation in the infirmary, and it didn’t take long for him to realize that something was wrong.

Joel had just returned from patrol; his face pale and his movements unsteady. As he walked through the door of the house, he winced, his hand pressing against his temple. The migraine had hit him hard, and he was struggling to keep it together.

Tommy was already in the kitchen, grabbing a drink when he noticed Joel’s distress. He set the cup down, crossing the room quickly. “You okay, Joel?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Joel tried to force a casual shrug, but the pain in his head made it difficult. “Yeah, just—” He hesitated, trying to find a plausible excuse. “—just got a bit of a headache. My new patrol partner’s been causing me more stress than usual. You know how it is.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Your new partner? We’ve only had him for a few days. Doesn’t seem like he’d cause this much trouble.”

Joel rubbed his temples more vigorously, trying to stave off the waves of pain. “It’s been rougher than I expected, okay? Just one of those days.”

Tommy didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push the issue further. “Alright, if you say so. But if this keeps up, you should get it checked out. Don’t let it go too long.”

Joel nodded, grateful for Tommy’s concern but unwilling to admit the full extent of his struggle. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need to rest.”

Joel couldn’t even convince himself. He just didn’t find strength to face you.

That evening, the bar was lively, filled with the hum of conversation and laughter. Joel sat at a corner table with Lori, Tommy, and Maria. He was trying to focus on the conversation, but the throbbing pain in his head made it difficult. Lori, noticing his discomfort, kept a concerned eye on him, occasionally reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly.

As you walked in, the bar’s ambient noise seemed to momentarily quieten, and Joel’s gaze instinctively shifted toward you. You moved with purpose, but your demeanor was cold and distant. Tommy and Maria spotted you first and greeted you warmly.

“Hey, it’s good to see you,” Tommy said, waving you over.

Maria offered a friendly smile. “Yeah, come join us.”

You returned their greetings with a nod, but when your eyes met Joel’s, you turned your attention elsewhere, ignoring him completely. Joel shifted in his seat, trying to hide his discomfort, but the strain was visible in the tense lines of his face.

Lori noticed the awkwardness and frowned. “You could at least hide you jealously and stop being a mean bitch” she said to you, loud enough for everyone around to shut.

The bar’s noise seemed to drop as Lori's words cut through the air. You felt every eye on you as the tension escalated.

You turned to Lori, your face hardening. “I’m not here to entertain you or play nice.”

Lori’s face flushed with anger. “Well, if you can’t be civil, then maybe you shouldn’t be here at all.”

Joel, trying to defuse the situation, interjected, “Lori, that’s enough.” His voice was strained, both from the growing migraine and the emotional weight of the confrontation. “We don’t need to make this any worse.”

“No! I’m tired of this bitch being a pain to us just because you don’t love her back” she continued, calling you out.

Joel’s face tightened with a mix of frustration and pain. “Lori, seriously, stop. This isn’t helping anyone.”

You stood tall, your voice icy as you spoke. “I don’t need a lecture from you or anyone else. I’ve been nothing but professional, and this—” you gestured between yourself and Joel, “—is a personal matter. I’m done being the target of everyone’s frustration.”

Joel’s gaze wavered, his eyes reflecting the hurt from your words. “You don’t have to be like this.”

“No,” you snapped, “I don’t have to be here at all. If you want to know why I’m acting this way, it’s because I don’t want to be around someone who can’t see my worth.” Your voice cracked with emotion. “You can keep Joel. I don’t want a man who can’t appreciate me.”

You sighed, taking a deep breath. “I’m so done with all your pity because the man I’m in love with doesn’t remember loving me. But life moves on, and so do I. I’m done being the center of anyone’s misplaced sympathy.” You sighed a little, embarrassment creeping up your body “I’m just- I want you all to stop talking about me as if I’m a broken little girl, please.”

With a final, resolute glance at the group and the rest of people inside, you turned and walked out of the bar. The door swung shut behind you, the muffled noise of the bar fading as you stepped into the night.

Joel froze there, the harsh sting of your words lingering.

The man I’m in love with.

Why did you even love him?

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest as he processed your words. The sting of your rejection mixed with the searing pain in his head, making it hard to think clearly. He stood frozen for a moment, watching you leave, his mind racing with regret and confusion.

After a few seconds, he shook himself out of his daze. He could feel Lori’s eyes on him, her frustration still palpable. Ignoring her, Joel pushed himself up from the barstool, his movements tense and hurried.

“Sorry, I need to go,” he muttered, his voice rough and distant. He didn’t wait for a response and headed for the door. As he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him, offering a brief reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere of the bar.

Joel saw you standing just outside the bar, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The cool night air seemed to accentuate the solitude you radiated, and the flickering streetlight cast uneven shadows over your face. Joel’s heart ached as he approached, the intensity of his migraine fading into the background compared to the weight of his regret.

He stopped a few feet away, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Hey," he said, his voice rough but gentle. "I didn't mean to... to make things worse tonight."

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. They were red-rimmed, a sign of the emotional toll the evening had taken. "What do you want, Joel?" Your voice was quiet but edged with defiance.

Joel shifted uncomfortably, the words coming out in a rush. "I know I screwed up. I know I can’t undo what’s been done. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. I was a damn fool, and I didn’t see how much you were hurting."

You shook your head, looking away. "It’s too late for apologies. You made your choices."

“I know,” Joel admitted, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“Go back inside to your woman” you said, voice steady yet the truth of the words cut your throat.

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with an aching with regret and yearning. He could feel the pounding in his head lessen, as if your presence, though tense and fraught with pain, was soothing the storm within him.

He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I don't want to go back inside. I came out here to talk to you. I need to explain—"

You cut him off, your voice colder now. "I don’t want explanations, Joel. I want you to be honest with yourself and with me."

Joel's expression faltered, his usual resolve wavering under the weight of his migraine and the emotional strain. "I don't know what to say," he admitted quietly. "Every time I try to make things right, I just seem to make it worse."

"Look," Joel said, taking a step closer, though he kept a respectful distance. "I know I can’t fix everything right now, and I know I’ve hurt you more than I ever intended. But if there's any chance at all to mend things, I want to try. I need to try."

You glanced at him, feeling the strange mix of emotions. His presence, his apology, even his struggle, created a confusing pull. You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"Just... take things slow," you said finally, your voice softening slightly. "Show me, don’t just tell me."

You gave him one last, lingering look before turning away, the night air feeling strangely lighter as you walked back toward your house. Joel watched you go, a fragile sense of relief mingled with the lingering weight of his migraine.

Joel nodded, his heart aching.

Week three

The situation between you and Joel remained tense and unresolved. Despite the brief moment outside the bar, there was still an emotional chasm between you two. Meanwhile, Joel's migraines continued to worsen, each one more debilitating than the last. The pain had become a constant companion, gnawing at him, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

Tommy had been watching his brother closely, his concern growing with each passing day. He had noticed how Joel winced at the slightest noise, how he gripped the edges of tables to steady himself, and how he often retreated to dark corners to try and alleviate the pain. Tommy knew something had to give, and he wasn't sure how much longer Joel could keep this up, especially with patrols still on the agenda.

During the morning, as the patrol assignments were being handed out, Tommy pulled Joel aside. “You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “These migraines… they’re getting worse, Joel.”

Joel nodded, though the movement sent a sharp pain through his temples. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, not wanting to admit how bad things had really gotten. “Just need to keep moving, keep my mind off it.”

Tommy sighed, not entirely convinced. “Alright, but I’m pairing you up with someone who won’t hesitate to call for backup if things go south.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, wondering who Tommy had in mind. His answer came when you walked into the room, your expression unreadable as you glanced at Tommy, then at Joel.

“You’re on patrol with Joel today,” Tommy said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “Consider it part of the consequences for that little outburst at the bar the other night.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but then closed it, seemingly deciding against saying anything. Instead, you simply nodded, surprising both Tommy and Joel.

Due to your situation with Joel, you would have argued, pushed back, but you didn’t. Whether it was out of a sense of duty, or because you had your own reasons for going along with the assignment, neither man could tell.

Joel looked at you, his expression hard to read. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he knew that this patrol was going to be anything but ordinary. The tension between you two was palpable, and the fact that you hadn’t fought the assignment left him uneasy.

As the two of you geared up and headed out, the silence between you was thick, neither of you willing to break it first. The path ahead was familiar, but the atmosphere was charged with unresolved emotions and the weight of things left unsaid.

As you and Joel prepared to head out for patrol, Tommy pulled you aside, his expression serious. “Listen, I know things are tense between you two, but if Joel starts feeling bad, you come back immediately. No heroics, no pushing through it. Understood?”

You nodded, not meeting Tommy’s eyes. “Understood,” you replied, your tone neutral. The truth was, you didn’t know how you felt about being on patrol with Joel, but you weren’t going to argue with Tommy’s orders.

Tommy looked at you for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but he held back. Instead, he just gave you a small nod before turning back to Joel, who was adjusting his gear a few feet away.

Joel caught Tommy’s eye, and there was a silent exchange between the brothers—Tommy’s concern evident, and Joel’s stubborn determination clear.

Once outside the gates, the silence stretched between you and Joel, heavy and uncomfortable. The forest around you was quiet, the only sound was the crunch of your boots on the dirt path. You kept your eyes ahead, focused on the task at hand, but you couldn’t help but be aware of Joel’s presence beside you.

As you walked, you noticed something strange. Joel, who had been rubbing his temples and wincing in pain earlier, seemed to be a bit more at ease. The tight lines of pain on his face had softened, and he wasn’t clutching his head like he usually did.

You didn’t want to think too much about it, but you couldn’t help but wonder if your presence had something to do with it.

Joel, too, was aware of the change. He had been bracing himself for another wave of pain, expecting the migraine to hit hard as it had been for days now. But instead, he felt… better. The pain was still there, lurking in the background, but it was muted, manageable. And the only thing that had changed was that you were with him.

As you continued walking, the strange shift in the atmosphere didn’t go unnoticed. Joel glanced at you every now and then, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he was trying to figure out what had changed. You kept your focus straight ahead, but the weight of the unspoken tension between you two was hard to ignore.

After a while, you slowed down and finally came to a stop, gesturing for Joel to halt as well. Without saying anything, you walked over to your horse and untied a small bouquet of flowers that had been carefully wrapped and secured to the saddle.

Joel watched, puzzled, as you held the bouquet tightly in your hand. "Just... just wait for me here for a bit," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. There was a softness to your tone that caught Joel off guard, and he nodded, sensing that whatever you were about to do was important.

You walked a short distance off the path, through the dense trees and underbrush, until you reached a small clearing. The air was still, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.

Joel stayed where he was, leaning against his horse, but his eyes followed you, curiosity and concern mingling in his expression.

In the clearing, you knelt down beside a small, unmarked grave, the earth slightly raised from where you had buried your boyfriend two years ago.

You placed the bouquet gently on the grave, your fingers lingering for a moment on the petals. Your heart ached with the familiar pang of loss, the pain of carrying love for someone who was no longer here. It was a pain you had learned to carry with you, but it never really went away.

As you knelt there, a few silent tears slipped down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away. This was a private moment, one you hadn’t shared with anyone, not even Joel. He had no idea about the depth of your loss, about the man you had loved and lost before arriving in Jackson.

When you finally stood up and turned back toward the path, Joel was still waiting, his expression unreadable. You walked back to him in silence, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft as his eyes studied your expression.

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers brushing lightly against your jacket. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "This is where I buried him. My fiancé."

Joel’s heart sank as he remembered the voice of Tommy telling him some things he didn’t even remember about you. And now seeing you here, in this quiet, sacred place, made the weight of your grief all the more real.

"I didn’t know," Joel said, his voice laced with regret. He felt a pang of guilt for not being there for you when you had gone through this, for not understanding just how much you had carried with you all this time. "I’m sorry."

You nodded slowly, still staring at the grave. "It’s been a long time since I’ve come here. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it, but… I guess I needed to say goodbye again. Properly."

Joel stepped closer, his presence a comforting warmth at your side. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he needed to be there, to offer whatever solace he could.

"He was a good man," you continued, your voice stronger now. "He was kind, patient, everything I could have asked for. But this world… it takes everything good and leaves you with nothing but memories."

Joel clenched his jaw, feeling the familiar ache of loss that never truly went away. He knew all too well the pain of losing someone you loved, the emptiness that followed, the way it changed you forever.

"He deserved better," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "He deserved a future, a life. But instead… he got this."

Joel rested his hand gently on your shoulder. "I’m sorry," he repeated, the words feeling inadequate but all he could offer.

But instead of finding solace in his touch, you flinched, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. The grief, the anger, the overwhelming sense of loss—it all came flooding back, and you couldn’t handle it, not right now.

“Don’t touch me, okay?” you said, your voice trembling as you pulled away from him, putting a small but significant distance between you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you needed space, needed to breathe without feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of your emotions.

Joel froze, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it, the rejection hitting him harder than he expected. He swallowed, trying to push down the rising tide of guilt and pain that your words had stirred up.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew better than to push, knew that you needed time to process everything on your own. But it didn’t stop the sting of your words from cutting deep, reminding him of all the ways he had failed before, all the ways he had let the people he cared about slip through his fingers.

“Peter was the only man who deserved my love,” you said, your voice laced with a mix of bitterness and sorrow. The truth of it stung, cutting through the air like a blade. You didn’t mean to be cruel, but the words slipped out before you could stop them, a reflection of the turmoil swirling inside you.

Joel swallowed hard, the hurt in his eyes evident as he processed what you had just said. He knew you were grieving, that you were speaking from a place of pain, but it didn’t make the words any easier to hear. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond, his mind reeling from the sudden shift between you.

“I get it,” he finally said, his voice tight with emotion. “You loved him. And he was… he was a good man. Better than me.”

He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, feeling the weight of his own inadequacies bearing down on him.

 “Yes, he was” you said without a doubt. “And that killed him.”

Joel’s heart clenched at your words, the blunt truth of them landing like a blow. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, the weight of your statement pressing down on him. The silence between you grew thicker, charged with the grief and anger that neither of you could fully express.

“He and I had a kid” you confessed, you heart clenched at the memory of that little boy you took care of for five years of your life.

Joel’s head snapped up at your confession, his eyes widening in shock. The weight of what you had just revealed hit him hard, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“He and I… we had a kid,” you repeated, your voice trembling as you forced the words out. Your heart ached at the memory of the little boy you had taken care of, loved, for five years of your life. The pain of losing him, of losing the family you had built, was still fresh, a wound that hadn’t even begun to heal.

Joel’s expression softened, the anger and frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface giving way to something deeper—compassion, understanding, and an overwhelming sense of sorrow for everything you had lost. He could see the pain etched into your features, the way your shoulders slumped under the weight of your grief, and it broke something inside him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t know what else to say.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, not wanting to break down in front of him. “His name was Sam,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was just a baby when we found him, abandoned… we took him in, raised him as our own. And then, one day” you sobbed, “They killed him…Those fucking soldiers killed him.”

“Peter and I had planned on how leaving all behind, he had hear about Jackson from a friend, and then he trusted the wrong people.”

Joel’s breath caught in his throat as he listened to you, the horror and anguish in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He could see the pain etched deeply into your features, the way your body trembled with the force of your grief. The image of what you had endured—losing not just your partner but the child you had raised together, taken away in such a cruel and senseless way—was almost too much to bear.

“They killed him,” you repeated, your voice thick with emotion as tears streamed down your face. “They took everything from me… from us. We just wanted to be safe, to give him a life that meant something. But those soldiers… they didn’t care. They saw us as a threat, as nothing more than collateral damage.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, anger surging through him at the thought of what had been done to you and your family. He knew the kind of world you were living in, where trust was a dangerous thing, and hope could be ripped away in an instant. But knowing it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“I’m so sorry,” Joel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He wanted to say more, to find the right words to ease your pain, but everything felt inadequate in the face of such a profound loss.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as you continued. “Peter and I… we had it all planned out. We were going to leave everything behind, start over in Jackson. He had heard about it from a friend, and it seemed like the only chance we had. But… he trusted the wrong people.”

Your voice broke again, the sobs coming harder now as you relived the nightmare. “They promised us safe passage, said they’d get us out. But it was a trap. They turned us over to the soldiers, and Sam… he didn’t stand a chance. He was just a little boy. He didn’t even know what was happening…”

Joel felt a lump in his throat, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him as he watched you unravel before him.

Without thinking, Joel stepped closer, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly against him. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to offer empty words of consolation. He just held you, letting you cry against his chest, his hand gently stroking your back in an attempt to soothe you.

The world had gone eerily quiet after the gunfire ceased, the only sounds left were your ragged breaths and the distant cries of crows circling overhead. You could still feel the heat from Peter’s body fading beneath your hands, his blood soaking into the earth beneath him. The image of his lifeless eyes, staring blankly up at the sky, was seared into your mind, a horrific reminder that he was gone, that the man you loved, the father of your child, was never coming back.

You had been too stunned to cry, too numb to feel anything beyond the cold realization that you were alone.

Hours seemed to pass in a blur before you finally forced yourself to move. You couldn’t stay there, not with Peter’s body cooling beside you, not with the knowledge that those men might come back to finish what they started. So, you rose on shaky legs, your heart pounding in your chest, and stumbled away from the scene of the massacre, your mind numb as you left him behind.

The sun had begun to set by the time you found the old cabin, hidden deep within the woods. It was small, decrepit, with broken windows and a door that hung askew on its hinges, but it was shelter, and that was all that mattered. You pushed open the door and stepped inside, the musty smell of decay filling your nostrils as you surveyed the dark, empty space.

It felt wrong to be alive, to still be breathing when Peter wasn’t, when Sam wasn’t. But survival was instinctual, and something inside you kept pushing you forward, kept you searching for a way to stay alive, even when all you wanted was to curl up and disappear.

You sank to the floor, your back pressed against the rough wooden wall as the tears finally began to fall. They came slowly at first, like a trickle, but soon they turned into gut-wrenching sobs that echoed through the empty cabin. You clutched your knees to your chest, rocking back and forth as the storm outside began to roll in.

The wind picked up, howling through the trees and rattling the cabin’s fragile walls. Rain began to pour in heavy sheets, drumming against the roof and leaking through the cracks, pooling on the floor around you. Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark interior in brief, blinding bursts, and the thunder that followed was so loud it shook the very foundation of the cabin.

You were alone for the first time in years, truly, devastatingly alone. The weight of that realization crushed you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think of anything other than the emptiness that stretched out before you. The storm outside mirrored the chaos inside you, the violence of it a reflection of the torment that raged in your heart.

Maria and a group of people found you two days later

And you had become terrified of storms ever since.  

You stiffened in Joel’s arms, the overwhelming flood of emotions too much. You couldn’t let yourself be comforted, couldn’t let someone else get close, not after everything you’d lost. The fear of opening up, of allowing yourself to be vulnerable again, was suffocating.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you stepped back, pulling away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

Joel’s arms fell to his sides, the rejection clear in his eyes as he took a step back, giving you the space you needed. The hurt in his expression was evident, but he didn’t push, didn’t try to reach out for you again.

“You just feel pity because you see me as a broken doll” you said.

Joel’s expression tightened, his brow furrowing as your words cut through the air like a knife. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, clearly struggling with how to convey what he was feeling. The accusation hung between you, heavy and bitter, and the silence that followed felt suffocating.

“I don’t—�� Joel started, his voice low and rough. He took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. “I don’t see you that way.”

“Then why are you here, Joel?” you demanded, your voice rising with the pent-up frustration and pain. “Why are you trying so hard to be… whatever this is? You didn’t care before, but now you do because I’m broken?”

“How were you so sweet to everyone after what happened?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and a hint of disbelief. It was as if he couldn’t comprehend how you managed to keep going, how you could still find kindness within you after everything you’d endured.

You looked at him, your expression softened by the lingering sadness, but there was a strength behind your eyes, a resilience that had kept you moving forward. “Because I didn’t lose them because of you all,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the pain that laced your words. “I wasn’t going to become angry at the people who gave me another chance.”

The truth of your statement hung in the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. You had chosen to protect the small bit of humanity you had left, to hold onto the kindness that others had shown you when you needed it most. But that didn’t mean the anger, the grief, or the pain had disappeared—it was still there, buried deep, threatening to consume you if you let it.

Joel looked down, his shoulders sagging slightly as he absorbed what you said. He understood the weight of guilt, the way it could twist inside you, making you question everything. He had carried his own burden of guilt for years, but hearing you speak those words, seeing the strength it took for you to hold onto the good in the face of so much loss, it humbled him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words barely above a whisper. “I wish I could take it all back, change what happened. What I did to you and how I treated you the morning you woke up in my bed” he sighed, “Sorry for not remember what happened between us”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with a quiet, resigned sadness. “It doesn’t change anything, Joel. It’s done. I can’t change the past either.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words settling heavily on him. The finality in your voice, the distance between you, made him feel even more lost, and he turned away, the ache of regret and loss deepening with each step he took.

Joel walked away, his steps heavy and deliberate. The weight of your words hung over him, a constant reminder of the things he couldn’t change, the pain he had caused. Each step felt like a step further from any hope of repairing what had been broken.

You watched him go, the solitude of the moment pressing in around you. The quiet was suffocating, filled with the echoes of the past and the weight of unspoken words. You turned back toward the grave, the memories of what you had lost mingling with the present pain.

A simple affair, torturing you.

+

Grieving the death and grieving the living were taking a tool on you.

Week four

A week had passed since that tense confrontation. The days had been a blur of activity and emotional exhaustion, the storm within you a constant companion. The quiet conversations with others and the daily routines in Jackson offered little distraction from the lingering sadness, but they kept you moving forward, one step at a time.

Everyone could say than a simply affair would dissipate with the time, that each week would make you unlove Joel, but you couldn’t take a complete distance from your lingering feelings.

And Joel? Joel had kept his distance, following your request for space. His presence was felt in the background, a reminder of the unresolved tension and the feelings that had been left hanging in the air. You had seen him around, in passing, but there was an unspoken agreement that he would not intrude upon your space.

He couldn’t bear to face you.

One morning, as you prepared for another day at the infirmary due to Tommy’s request, you found yourself in the familiar surroundings of the clinic. The routine was a small comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions. The soft hum of medical equipment and the scent of antiseptic filled the air, offering a sense of order and control.

As you were organizing supplies and checking on your patients, a familiar voice broke through the calm. “Hey.”

You looked up from your tasks to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of hesitation and resolve. He seemed slightly out of place in the clinical setting, but there was a determined look in his eyes.

“Joel,” you greeted, your voice steady but tinged with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Joel took a step inside, his gaze scanning the room before settling on you.

“I’ve been trying to find the right time to give this to you,” Joel said, his voice a bit rough, as if he was struggling to find the right words.

Curiosity mingled with the apprehension you felt. “What is it?”

Joel took a deep breath, stepping closer but still maintaining a respectful distance. “It’s a little something I thought might help. I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I wanted to offer it to you anyway.”

You hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take the package from him. It was small and wrapped simply, the gesture surprisingly thoughtful given the circumstances. You carefully unwrapped it, revealing a worn leather-bound journal. The cover was embossed with a delicate pattern, and as you opened it, you found pages filled with blank lines, waiting for your thoughts and feelings.

“You can write on it,” Joel said softly. “And I thought maybe, if you wanted to, this could be a place for you to put everything that’s been on your mind. It’s not much, but I thought it might help.”

The gesture was unexpected, and as you looked up at Joel, you could see the genuine care in his eyes. It was a small attempt to bridge the gap between you, to offer something meaningful despite the unresolved pain.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice almost choked with emotion. “It’s… thoughtful.”

Joel nodded, a small, almost relieved smile touching his lips. “I hope it helps, even just a little.”

There was a moment of silence between you, the weight of the past week settling in the air. Joel’s eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of the connection that had once been there, while you felt the tug of conflicting emotions—appreciation for the gesture, but also the lingering pain of his actions.

“How are your migraines doing?” You asked.

Joel looked slightly taken aback by your question, the personal nature of it a stark contrast to the more distant conversation that had been unfolding. He studied your face for a moment, perhaps surprised by your concern.

“They’re getting worse every day,” he admitted, his voice carrying a weight of weariness. “But today, I’m feeling a bit better. It’s been rough, though. The migraines have been relentless.”

You felt a rush of blood to your cheeks, concern and embarrassment at the question. “Tommy mentioned it,” you said quickly, wanting to clarify your source of information. “I just—well, I wanted to know how you’re doing.”

Joel nodded, his eyes softening slightly. “Thanks for asking. It means a lot. It’s been tough, but I’m managing.”

The vulnerability in his admission made you feel a pang of empathy. It was hard to see him struggling, especially when you had your own unresolved feelings and painful memories.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having a better moment today,” you said, your voice steadying as you tried to offer some comfort.

Joel’s expression grew more thoughtful, and he gave a small, appreciative smile. “Yeah, I’m holding onto that. Thanks for checking in.”

The silence between you was charged with unspoken emotions. You both stood there, the weight of your recent conversations lingering in the air. Joel looked like he was about to say something else, but instead, he gave a nod and started to walk away.

“Take care,” you called after him, the words carrying a genuine warmth despite the emotional distance that remained between you.

You had settled onto a barstool, a glass of whiskey in hand. The amber liquid was smooth and comforting, its warmth spreading through you as you took a sip. The effects of the alcohol were starting to take hold, making everything feel just a little more relaxed, a little more bearable.

Joel was at the bar, nursing a drink of his own. He hadn’t been particularly social that night, just sitting in his usual spot, lost in his thoughts. As the evening wore on and you became tipsier, you found yourself drawn to him, the comfort of familiarity outweighing the shyness that normally kept you at a distance.

You slid off your stool and made your way over to Joel, the room spinning slightly as you approached him. “Hey,” you said, your voice a bit louder than intended, carrying the cheerful buzz of someone who’d had a few too many drinks. “Mind if I join you?”

Joel looked up from his glass, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Sure, have a seat,” he replied, gesturing to the empty stool next to him.

You plopped down beside him, the warmth of his presence surprisingly comforting. “You know,” you said, leaning in slightly and grinning, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here this early before. You’re usually so… serious.”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound of a low rumble that was both soothing and grounding. “Yeah, I guess I am. Just needed a drink tonight.”

In the afternoon, the usually calm atmosphere of the infirmary was disrupted by the sound of the door swinging open with a sense of urgency. Joel stumbled inside, his face pale and etched with pain. He moved slowly, his usual steady gait faltering under the weight of his unbearable migraines.

You looked up from your work, your heart sinking at the sight of him. He was clearly in distress, his eyes squeezed shut as if trying to shut out the world. You quickly set aside what you were doing and hurried over to him.

“What do you want?” you asked, intending to sound too rude.

“I—” Joel started, but the words were interrupted by a sharp grimace of pain. “I can’t take it anymore. The migraines… they’re just too much.”

“From one to ten? How much is the pain?” you asked.

“What’s that bullshit?” He cried out.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your own frustration in check. Despite the roughness of Joel’s response, you could see that he was in genuine distress, and you needed to get a handle on his pain level to help him effectively.

“It’s just a way to measure how bad the pain is,” you explained, your voice firm but compassionate. “On a scale from one to ten, where one is no pain and ten is the worst pain, you’ve ever felt, where are you right now?”

Joel clenched his teeth, his face twisted with agony as he tried to focus. “It’s… it’s an eight,” he finally managed to say through gritted teeth.

He had saved that ten.

 The ten was the amount of pain he had when he lost Sarah.

A ten was the pain his heart felt when he looked at you from the distance.

You nodded, quickly assessing the situation. “Alright, I’m going to get you something stronger for the pain. Try to sit down and breathe slowly. I’ll be right back.”

As you hurried to prepare a stronger medication, you felt the weight of the past few weeks pressing heavily on you. The bitterness in your words and his pain seemed to intertwine, creating a tense atmosphere that was hard to ignore. But your focus remained on getting Joel the relief he needed.

You quickly gathered the necessary medication and made your way back to Joel, who had seated himself on one of the examination tables. As you approached, you noticed his breathing was uneven, and his eyes were squeezed shut as if he was trying to block out the pain and your presence.

"Let me check your head," you said softly, your voice gentle despite the tension that hung between you. "I need to make sure there's nothing else going on."

Joel nodded slightly, his face still contorted in discomfort. As you leaned in to examine his head, your proximity made his breath catch in his lungs. The closeness between you seemed to amplify the charged atmosphere, making the air around you feel heavy.

You carefully placed your hands on his temples, your touch light but firm as you assessed his condition. Joel's breath became shallow and uneven, a sign that he was acutely aware of your closeness. He tensed under your touch, the intensity of his pain mixed with the vulnerability of the moment.

"How's that feel?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you moved your fingers over his forehead and the sides of his head.

Joel swallowed hard, his eyes still closed as he tried to focus on your touch rather than the pain. "Feels… a bit better," he managed to say, though his voice was strained. "Just… don’t know if I can handle this much longer."

You gave a reassuring nod, trying to offer comfort despite the lingering tension. "You're doing great. The medication should help soon. Just hang in there a little longer."

You both could feel your breathing mingling together, the agony of the closeness taking everything from you.

Joel closed his eyes for a bit, feeling you scent and your fingertips on his temples. In the haze of his agony, there were fleeting glimpses of a night that felt both distant and achingly familiar. He remembered the warmth of your touch, the softness of your lips against his. The kiss you had shared the night before he got his memory back began to resurface, bringing with it a surge of emotions he had long tried to bury.

The kiss had been tender. Joel could almost feel the echo of that moment now, a soft, lingering taste of intimacy that was both comforting and heartbreaking.

He remembered the way you had looked at him, the way your eyes had softened with unspoken words. The image of your face, so close to his, the way you had smiled before the kiss, replayed in his mind with a clarity that cut through the pain. It was as if your closeness was pulling these memories to the surface, forcing him to confront them once more.

Joel’s breath caught as he recalled the warmth of your lips, the way it had felt to hold you close. It was a vivid contrast to the overwhelming pain he was experiencing now, and it made him realize just how much he had missed and lost. The memory of that kiss, the feeling of being connected to you, made his heart ache with a mix of longing and regret.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to ground himself in the present while the memories swirled around him. As much as the past few weeks had been a struggle, this moment of closeness with you was stirring up feelings he had tried to keep buried. Joel’s eyes opened slightly, looking at you with a vulnerability that he hadn’t shown before.

“Sun…” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

The sound of "Sun" coming from his lips felt almost foreign, yet deeply familiar. It was a term of endearment he had used before his memory loss, one that had held a special place between you two.

“Sun…” he repeated, the word carrying tenderness and longing.

Your heart skipped a beat, the nickname a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared. It was a small yet significant piece of the past surfacing, offering a glimmer of connection despite everything that had happened.

You felt a rush of conflicting emotions, the glimmer of hope mingling with a deep-seated fear of revisiting old wounds. The nickname, the touch, the faint echo of past affection—it all stirred up feelings you weren't sure you were ready to confront.

Taking a steadying breath, you stepped back, your hand moving quickly to hand him the medication. “Here,” you said, your voice steady as you handed him the small packet of pills. “This should help with the pain. You should head home and rest.”

Joel looked up at you, a flicker of understanding and disappointment in his eyes. He could sense the shift in your demeanor, the way you were putting distance between you both. “You sure you don’t need any help?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “No, I’m fine. Just… please, go home. A storm is coming, and you should get back before it hits.”

Joel hesitated for a moment longer, but the look in your eyes told him that you needed space, that pushing further would only cause more pain. With a reluctant nod, he took the medication and turned to leave, his steps heavy with the weight of what was left unsaid.

As he walked out of the infirmary, you watched him go, the storm outside a stark parallel to the storm brewing inside you. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself against the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The fleeting connection, the memories stirred up—it was all too much to handle right now.

You were a bit tipsy, the effects of the whiskey making your steps a little unsteady. Joel walked beside you, his presence a steady anchor amidst the haze of your inebriation. You were both quiet, the conversation from the bar having dwindled into comfortable silence.

As you approached your house, you turned to him, a small, tipsy smile playing on your lips. The intimacy of the evening and the warmth of his proximity were too comforting to ignore. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. The action was impulsive, driven by a mix of affection and the blurred boundaries of alcohol.

Joel's reaction was immediate. He responded to the kiss, his arms finding their way around you as he deepened the connection. There was a brief moment where the world seemed to hold its breath, the kiss a sweet and tender promise of something more.

When you finally pulled back, your faces were flushed, and you looked at him with a mixture of uncertainty and contentment. Joel’s eyes were filled with a mix of surprise and warmth, the kiss having ignited something within him that he hadn’t anticipated.

“Good night, Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft and slightly slurred as you turned to go inside.

Joel watched you enter your house, his thoughts swirling in the wake of the kiss. He felt a strange blend of hope and confusion, uncertain about what the kiss meant for both of you. But the feelings were there, undeniable and strong.

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow in your bedroom. You woke up with a throbbing headache, the remnants of last night a blurry haze. As you shuffled through your routine, the details of the previous evening remained frustratingly out of reach. The bar, the tipsy laughter, Joel walking you home—these were fragments, but the kiss itself was a complete blank.

When you encountered Joel later that day, you greeted him cheerfully, assuming nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Hey, Joel. How’s it going?”

Joel’s response was curt, his eyes avoiding yours. “Hey. I’m alright.”

You noticed the shift in his demeanor, the coldness in his tone. It was as if he was keeping you at arm's length, his usual warmth replaced with a frigid distance. You tried to brush it off, attributing it to a possible bad mood or personal issue.

Joel had resolved never to bring up the kiss, his feelings of hurt and confusion simmering beneath the surface. He’d come to see the incident as a miscommunication, a misunderstanding that he’d decided to keep buried rather than confront. The bitterness of feeling forgotten and dismissed had solidified into a quiet, unspoken rift between you.

Joel found himself unable to shake the feeling of the day's events. The migraine had ebbed slightly during the patrol, but as soon as he was back in his house, the pain returned, gnawing at him with a persistent, dull ache.

The house was quiet, save for the steady patter of rain against the windows. The storm outside was fierce, the wind howling and the rain pouring down in relentless sheets. Joel’s mood matched the tempest outside—stormy, unsettled.

As he was trying to organize his gear and get ready for bed, his eyes fell upon something on a chair near the door. It was the blouse you had lost that morning when he pushed you away from him, a soft, familiar fabric that he recognized immediately. He picked it up, holding it gently, and his mind replayed that morning events.

Joel held the blouse up to his face, breathing in deeply. The scent was faint but unmistakable—a mix of the outdoors, a hint of your perfume, and something more personal, something that reminded him of you. As the scent reached his senses, it hit him with a wave of emotions he hadn’t fully processed until now. He felt a rush of regret and longing. The migraine that had been a constant presence in his head now seemed to fade slightly as he held the blouse. The emotional weight of his actions, the pain he had caused you, and the gulf that had grown between you all came rushing back

You sat in the dimly lit living room of your small house, wrapped in a blanket, trying to find some semblance of comfort amidst the chaos outside. The storm had intensified, the wind howling and the rain slashing against the windows with a ferocity that made the walls tremble. Every rumble of thunder and flash of lightning felt like a jolt to your already frayed nerves.

You tried to focus on something—anything—to distract yourself from the fear that had settled deep in your chest. The living room was sparsely decorated, the bare walls and simple furnishings reflecting the practical, no-frills life you had tried to build for yourself. But tonight, it all seemed cold and empty, unable to offer you the comfort you so desperately needed.

You glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight, and sleep was elusive. The noise of the storm outside seemed to drown out any thoughts of rest. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, trying to stave off the chill that had little to do with the temperature and everything to do with the lonely feeling that had enveloped you.

As you huddled on the couch, the flashes of lightning illuminated the room in brief, stark bursts. Each flash cast eerie shadows on the walls, making the storm outside feel even more menacing. You found yourself jumping at every crack of thunder, your heart racing with each one.

Part of you wanted to reach out to someone, but who? The distance between you and Joel felt insurmountable, and you had made it clear that you wanted to be left alone.

The living room was filled with the sound of the storm, punctuated only by your occasional sighs and the rustling of the blanket around you. You tried to focus on breathing deeply, calming yourself in the midst of the chaos. But as the storm raged on, so did the turmoil within you.

It was during a particularly intense flash of lightning that you heard a knock on the door. Your heart leaped into your throat, and you froze. Another knock, louder this time, followed by a faint call. “It’s Joel. Can I come in?”

The voice was muffled by the storm, but it was unmistakable. Your emotions were a whirlwind of confusion and surprise. You hesitated, wondering why he would come here, why he would seek you out now, but the desperation in his voice made you move towards the door.

You opened it cautiously, the cold wind rushing in and mingling with the warmth of the living room. Joel stood there, drenched from the rain, his face lined with worry and a mixture of other emotions that you couldn’t quite place.

“Joel,” you said, barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at you with an expression that was a mix of regret, concern, and something softer that you couldn’t quite define.

Words weren’t need for moments like these. Two hearts beating as the silence felt like freedom of the remised prisoner love victim of the passage of time, the destiny or perhaps the fate of cursing spells.

It was there for you to see it and it was there for him to see it, but blindness was his curse. Not remembering was his curse. Joel wasn’t incapable of loving someone, but he was terrified of the pieces of the old him coming to the present where losing people was a daily occurrence.

Joel was terrified of loving and losing the last flame of goodness left in this mad world that had tainted people, but you. There was a pure innocence in your eyes, in your actions and in your kindness and he had come to face his old him through you, the old him that had died with his daughter years ago.

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes reflecting the soft light from the flickering candles. His voice was a murmur, almost lost in the howling of the storm outside. “You’re afraid of storms.”, he said quietly, his voice low and gentle. It wasn’t a question. He was stating a fact, something you had confessed to him when the love affair between you was burning. 

You looked at him, the realization dawning on you like the slow break of dawn. “You remember.” You whispered.

And you could only hear the steady beat of your own heart and the sound of Joel’s breathing.

I tagged everyone interested in part 2 but I couldn't tag everyone because all got mixed () if you don't want to be tagged you can tell me, if you want to be tagged, you can also tell me

💌 tags: @dreamtofus @paperstarzzz @chewie-bars @hotleaf-juice

@riedswifts @dizzyforyou @prideandaesthetic @chateaujoon

@18dmlk @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @frogjumps-world @camy-nyancat @sarahhxx03 @jasminedragoon @cuteanimalmama @eleganthottubfun @skysmiller @nana90azevedo @astralqueenoc

@missladym1981

[haeryna]

in my dreams you love me back (i still love you) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: soft moments with shoko keep your heart soft as well, but suguru finds something that he wasn't supposed to.

tw: sfw but vague mentions of losing your virginity. your mother MEDDLES but let's be real, we'd do the same. allusions to the bible for the aesthetic but also because i like the imagery of the themes. not proofread.

notes: title taken from red velvet's "in my dreams." the second half of "i would give up heaven if i had to." another short chapter because i split it in two originally! banner from @/cafekitsune

"You look like shit."

You can't stop the huff that escapes your mouth as Shoko peers at you from your phone, propped up against your rice cooker. She's somewhere in the United States right now, attending a medical conference. She isn't wrong; your ten minute break in the bathroom had turned into a full-blown half hour breakdown. Thankfully, none of your coworkers pointed out the redness of your eyes and the sallow tint to your skin. Your manager had practically forced you to go home early. They all assumed that you had broken down about how the Gojo Satoru had demanded you be the one to make his drink. At this point, you were too tired to correct them.

"I just got back from the cafe, leave me alone." Yawning, you reach for a bowl. "I'm starving and exhausted, and now you're going to yell at me, Sho?"

You can hear the heavy exhale, and the camera blurs as she lets out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I never said that. Did you see them today?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Nobody else can make you cry that hard, and I know it wasn't me."

You hesitate for a moment. "Mom thinks I should hear them out."

"Personally, I would tell them I'll speak to them after a down payment of 5k."

"Shoko!"

But your laughter fills the air, and you can catch Shoko's self-satisfied smirk from the other end. "There she is." A soft haze fills your screen as her voice softens. "Do I need to fly back and tell the two of them to fuck off?"

"I can tell them to leave myself," you protest, but Shoko gives you a deadpan stare. "Okay, well, maybe it'll be hard."

As the silence falls, warm and comfortable, you bustle around the kitchen, spooning rice into your bowl of leftovers. The air is warm, and despite your exhaustion, you can't help but appreciate the dreaminess of the evening. Shoko watches you, dark eyes unreadable. "What?" you finally ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

"Just be careful," she sighs. "Satoru and Suguru will probably do some crazy shit to get you to notice them. I just don't want those idiots to scare you."

"They don't care enough to do that," is your sardonic reply, and this time, it's her turn to laugh.

"If you really think that, then you're blinder than I thought."

He is breaking me down on every side, and now it's too late for me; he has uprooted my hopes like a tree.

When the number of your old landline rings on Suguru's cellphone, he almost blocks it out of habit before he registers the last four digits. Panicking, he immediately accepts the call.

"Hey, is everything okay? I-"

Your mother's voice chirps back at him, a bit staticky from the old phone that he knows she'd insisted on keeping installed in the kitchen. "Suguru, dear, could you do me a favor?"

Ingrained instinct forces a "yes ma'am," from his mouth before he can even process the request. He can practically hear the smile in your mother's voice. "It won't take too long, don't worry. My back has been aching an awful amount after my last surgery, but I've been meaning to wear some of my old church clothes to Bingo Night. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

The attic is cluttered and old, and the dust stings his eyes, but Suguru can't bring himself to complain as he begins to rummage through boxes. It feels like seeing you again, like being your Suguru again, as he unearths old photo albums, and stuffed toys. There was the rabbit you used to carry around all the time. A picture frame, of you, Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru one summer afternoon. Carefully, he wipes away the dust, smiling at the memory. You'd lost your front tooth that summer; now, it was forever memorialized.

Finally, he reaches a small collection of boxes in the back. The dress lays draped over a small stack of boxes, but as he grabs it, one topples over, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Suddenly, selfishly, Suguru is grateful that Satoru stayed behind back in their hotel room, because inside the cardboard box is envelopes. At least thousands of them, crammed into each possible corner, dates written on the front in the same handwriting you've had since high school. He tears open another box, only to find the same. Three whole boxes of letters. Selfish hope and heavier dread sinks into his skin like the dust that is slowly falling to the floor; Suguru has unearthed something that he knows he's not supposed to see.

Was this how Adam felt, holding the forbidden fruit in his hand? Which was stronger; the will of God, or the love of man?

"You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

He's almost frantic as he searches for the first letter, scattering them around himself until he finds it; labelled a week after Suguru had taken Satoru with him to pursue what they had believed to be an impossible dream. Suguru hesitates only for a moment, until with one decisive swipe, he rips the flap from the waxy paper beneath. This one is addressed to him.

Suguru,

My parents put me in therapy. Remember how we always used to joke that if anyone needed it, it would be you? Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong? It hurts, Sugu, why, why, why My therapist thinks that keeping letters will help, and my parents want me to at least give it a try. Mom won't say anything, but I know she's concerned. Dad's already torn into Toru's parents, so the whole town is fully aware of what they've done. Shoko says that they're practically livid with shame, skulking around the town as that'll fix their reputation. You missed it; there was one night when the fireflies came back, and I swear they filled the entire sky. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the first time we met, do you remember that?

I wish you'd been here to see it. I'm sorry, Suguru. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough to take along. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I love you. I hope you're safe. I hope you're taking care of Toru for me.

I love you so much that it's hard to be mad.

Water drips down onto the ink of where you'd signed your name, and with a start, Suguru realizes he's crying. Gently folding the letter, he sets it aside, and reaches for the next one.

Mom and Dad have what Grandma had. I'm scared, Toru. I wish you were here. You'd always say something silly that would make me forget for even a moment.

Another.

I saw you on the television today, Toru. You're so beautiful it hurts.

Another.

I've given up on properly going to college. They're so sick that I'm terrified to leave them alone.

More. More. More.

I try my best not to listen, but the radio in the coffee shop plays the songs you make, Sugu. I hate it, but it's selfish of me. The girl you sing about, does Toru get along with her? Does she make you happy?

He can't stop himself from reading any more than he can stop the tears pouring down his face. They'd missed so much of your life, and yet you'd dutifully written letter after letter, as if you'd planned on them seeing it. Like you hoped they would come back some day. The next letter was only written two years ago, but it turns Suguru's blood to ice.

I saw the scandal on one of the gossip magazines while I was out shopping for groceries, Toru. The Chanel model? Really? I was kind of hoping for the Gucci one, she seems so nice to her assistant.

I say this like you're a celebrity. A celebrity that I can just laugh at, and say "must be nice, having supermodels fall into your lap!" You were mine, once, long before you were hers. I love loved you.

I did something stupid, last night. Remember Kenji, from high school? The one you always hated? I can't even explain it, how furious I was, when I saw you with that model. You looked so happy, like it didn't matter that all your joy and abundance didn't come at my expense.

I ended up sleeping with him for the first time, with anyone for the first time really. I'm not going to write more; it's embarrassing, and it wasn't even good, but I think I'm more upset with myself. It doesn't matter.

It's not like you'll ever find out. Even if you do, it's not like you'll care.

It's not like my love mattered to you to begin with.

Suguru's chest feels as though someone has washed his heart in acid. On paper, the person you were after they left was more jaded. Less optimistic. You no longer spoke of things you wished they were able to experience with you, but rather all the things they'd left behind. You thought they didn't care, and as he forces his useless lungs to take another breath, he knows that he can't leave this town until he convinces you to come with him. As he stumbles down from the attic, dress in hand, your mother gives him a knowing stare.

"Did you find the dress I asked you to grab?"

"Yes ma'am," Suguru says numbly. It's all he says. It's all he can say. Your mother sighs, patting the chair next to her. "Why don't you call Satoru over, hm? Try some of the tea I bought. I remember your mother saying you only drink black. You really should call her more."

Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?

"I'm home!" you call out, slipping your shoes off with one hand as you balance the full bag of groceries in the other. "Did you take your medi-"

The carrots drop to the floor as you take in the sight of Gojo and Geto sitting at your kitchen table with your mother of all people. "What the fuck?"

Geto's eyes are rimmed red, like he'd been crying, while Satoru stares at you with a hint of anguish. "What the fuck," you repeat again, dumbfounded. "Why are you in my house right now?"

Geto opens his mouth to speak, but your mother waves it away. "You know how bad my back's been lately, I really wanted to wear that old emerald dress your father got me, do you remember?"

Stunned, you can only nod.

"And, I didn't want to have you come all the way back from the city just to grab a dress for me, so I called over Suguru and Satoru to help me out," your mother finishes. You can't stop the panic from leaking into your voice.

"Where was the dress?"

From the look on their faces, you know that Geto and Gojo have found it. All the letters you were too weak to send, too weak to throw away. How much did they read?

"The attic, dear," is your mother's quiet response, and when you turn her attention to her, you can see the quiet love and encouragement in her eyes.

What's more important? The love for all the things they did do, or all the things they didn't?

White noises rushes into your head, and you can barely process your mother's departure. Something about Bingo Night? The door clicks shut and you're left with silence so profound that your body almost instinctively crumples in on itself. Suguru can't look you in the eyes, absentmindedly tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup that looks comically small next to his calloused hands. Satoru merely watches, but you can see the tension in his neck, in the way his fingers flex around empty air.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You run.

Turning, you all but sprint up the stairs. You lied. You couldn't do this, couldn't face them, see them, hear them-

Toned arms reach around from behind, pulling you decisively to a well-defined chest. The air is forced out of your lungs as you yelp, squirming out of the hold, only to freeze as Satoru places his cheek on your head, nuzzling into your hair.

"I missed you."

Tears spring to your eyes but Satoru keeps going. "You were the only thing that kept us going. Our apartment was so shitty, we had to put cardboard on the floor just to keep warm. I thought of you all the time. I thought of which stage outfit you'd like better, how you would get along so well with the other members of the group. We didn't forget you. We love you too much for that."

"Stop," you choke out, as your legs crumple under you. Satoru catches you, tugging you further into him, as tears trickle down your face. A blurred shape; Suguru, kneeling in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

"One chance, princess," he breathes. "Give us one chance to explain ourselves. After that, we'll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want. We've only ever been yours."

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part eighteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Over the next four days, you find yourself panting in exhilaration each morning you spar with Ghost. Every slam of your hand into his ribs feels strangely better than the last. He goes harder on you. He'd been holding back, too, apparently— an unfortunate fact for your ribs. The pain seems to motivate you more, even if he is still beating the shit out of you.

Blue also motivates you. "Hit his nose again!"

Of course, that is the one part of him you purposely avoid.

The sun returns and sweat glides down your face. You knee his stomach. It's less vulnerable than swinging a kick, but still, he attempts to grab you by the waist. You quickly skirt away, the ground firmer beneath your feet, only for his hand to latch onto one of your braids, instead. A sting pulses through your scalp as he tugs hard, wrenching your ear close to his mouth.

"Quicker. Good. But don't get too cocky."

"I thought you wanted me to be more confident," you retort between ragged breaths. 

"Yes, but you can't forget who has the advantage here." There is the slightest bit of arrogance in his voice that makes your teeth grit.

"How could I ever forget?" Your head tilts and he releases the braid. Suddenly, the thought of smacking his nose again doesn’t seem so bad.

His eyebrow quirks. "Get some water, Twix. You need it."

The water caresses your tongue as you gulp it down without abandon. Unsurprisingly, Blue has disappeared somewhere in the treetops. The lack of more broken bones has waned her interest.

When Ghost lifts his mask to drink, you steal a glance at his nose, noticing that the swelling has gone down significantly. The fact he is still wearing that thing with a broken nose upholds your theory that he is at least slightly insane— as if the fact that he once shoved a gun into your fresh wound wasn’t already evidence of that.

Out of nowhere, he materializes beside you and places a hand on your stomach. Your sore muscles spasm under the surprise of his touch, his long fingers stretching from one side of your ribs to the other.

"Your strength starts here,” he explains in a hoarse murmur. “Keep it tight and you will deliver more damage."

You purse your lips to hide a wince and tap your nose. "Don’t I already deliver enough damage?"

"The nose is fragile. You may be landing more hits on me, but I still hardly feel a thing from them."

He allows you to pry his hand off, but the pressure of it seems to linger. Ghost studies you in a way that turns you translucent before demanding, "Lift your shirt, Twix."

Exhaling through your nose, you hesitate before peeling it up, revealing the collection of bruises you have earned from him. A myriad of pink, purple, and yellow skin flares up under his gaze. They have been giving you a hard time lacing your boots and tying your hair in the morning, but once you get moving, the ache becomes easier to ignore.

He has already seen your stomach and more, yet, your skin itches from the exposure. You shove the shirt back down.

His expression shifts. "You should have said something."

"They're just bruises. I'm not bleeding or anything."

"Still."

"Still what?"

He looks irritated. "You need to fucking communicate."

"I don't see why it matters. No coddling, right?"

"That doesn't mean I'm interested in breaking you."

You jerk your chin up to meet his stare. “You won't."

Blue swings down from a tree, plopping between the two of you and unintentionally—thankfully—putting an end to the subject. "I'm glad you two are finally getting along. It's good for the team." She nudges her dad. "But are you done with her yet? You can't just hog Twix all to yourself."

He clears his throat and the air between your bodies breathes wider. "If you're getting bored maybe we need to find something for you to practice."

"Nope!" she says quickly. "Not bored at all." 

He nods to a tree. "Go on. Practice your knives. You haven't done that in a while. Then, you can have her."

With a groan, she trudges away. 

The sparring continues.

Ghost's fists soften by a smidge.

"He annoys the shit out of me sometimes."

Blue rips up a tuft of grass as you inch back to admire the swipe of color on her eyelids. It was her idea to use the bold-colored flowers for makeup— just like the models in her magazines. You did your best to mash the petals and mix them with some creekwater, but the result is kind of patchy and not nearly as smooth as the stuff you used to put on years ago. 

"Hold still. I'm doing your cheeks next."

The sun highlights the splash of freckles on her cheeks and you try to recall if Ghost had them. Her nose is nothing like his. A dainty button. Another trait she must've gotten from her mom. 

"Did you used to wear makeup?" she asks curiously, eyelashes fluttering down. 

"Sometimes. Especially when I went out."

"Went out where?"

Concentration nudges between your brows. "To clubs and stuff. It's where people would... dance."

Her lips spread as she cocks her head to the side in a manner that emulates her dad. You have to remind her again to stop moving. “Oh. Sorry. You danced?"

"I mean, not good dancing. Just dancing for fun,” you murmur, shrugging at the faint memories of being sandwiched between strangers, alcohol flowing through your veins rather than fear and adrenaline. Back then, mornings were spent nursing a hangover before class rather than earning bruises from an ex-lieutenant. 

Humor dances in her eyes when they reopen. "I don't think Ghost ever went to a club. I cannot imagine him dancing."

The images in your mind morph into something utterly laughable— him standing there like an immovable tank as people try to dance around him. "No, probably not."

"He never really tells me about his life before shit happened," she says thoughtfully. 

This piques your curiosity, but you keep your voice light. "No?"

"Well, he tells me the simple stuff. Mostly about his job. But never... never the small things, you know? Like I have no idea what he used to do for fun or what his life was like when he was a kid." She pauses a moment before adding, "He had a brother. That much I know."

You glance up. "Had?"

"He died before the virus. His mom and dad, too. But every time I ask how they died, he just says," she deepens her voice, "'Doesn't matter how, kid. Dead is dead.'"

"Oh, um, yeah, that sounds like something he would say." You tap your fingers under her chin. "I can put some on your lips, too."

Her eyes close again as she puckers her lips out. When you're done, she continues. "He also never talks about my mom." Her face twists. “I think he thinks talking about her will hurt my feelings."

For a few seconds, you struggle to find a response. The rare mention of her mom always makes your heart stutter, but this time, your broken, callused hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's okay to feel hurt, you know."

Blue shrugs and looks up at the cobalt sky. "I don't think I remember her enough to feel that hurt anymore. She feels so... far away. I remember small things, like the sound of her voice and her old apartment where I lived, but sometimes I wonder if I am making up those memories, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." A terrible urge sits on your tongue to ask her more about her mom, about what exactly her relationship was like with Ghost, but Blue changes the subject before you can.

"Does the makeup look good?" A shy blush clouds her cheeks.

You stand up with a faint smile. "I think I did pretty damn good. Come on. I want you to go look in the mirror."

Music.

It pounds so hard you feel it in your chest.

Neon walls enclose you as someone touches your backside, dancing against you. There is a man's voice in your ear that you think you recognize but it's hard to hear him through all the laughing and chatter. Your hair falls in loose curls down your back, free of braids, and you swipe it from your sweaty skin before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You push through the people. The narrow hall is shrouded with different doors... so many doors. Where is the bathroom? It must be a Friday night on Oxford Street with how fucking crowded and stuffy this place is. Someone knocks into you roughly and your footsteps quicken. A sense of urgency drags you into the next door you come across, a large one made of grey oak.

The smell is horrendous but you feel relieved to see urinals and stalls. Immediately, you press into the granite counter and grip the edge as you catch your breath. The scratched, warped mirror houses a face covered in makeup. Youthful eyes. Flushed cheeks. How much have you had to drink? You need to go home. You will pee and then go home, you tell yourself. Over and over, you repeat this as you relieve yourself in one of the graffiti-doused stalls where condom and tampon wrappers crinkle beneath your heels.

When you're done, you try for the large door you came through, but it doesn't budge. The muffled music outside has faded. Panic sears your chest. You press your back against the door. The bathroom has changed. The stalls are gone. The walls feel like they are closing in, and the smell of piss turns into something even worse. You are alone. Where is the man you came with? You look down. Dead bodies. Strewn limbs. You're standing on a pile of them.

You start screaming. Banging on the door. Digging your fingers into the wood until the flesh rubs down to bone. 

It's not a room anymore, but a box. The fluorescent lights replaced by sheer darkness.

The edges of the door disappear.

A sickening silence replaces your screams.

And then—

"Twix."

You sit up, wild-eyed. You grip onto something—fabric—and a foul taste travels up your throat without warning. You heave several times, your entire body shuddering. 

When awareness settles in, you wipe your mouth and blink up. Ghost. He is... here. Hovering over you. His shirt is tightly bunched between your fingers and you have just vomited into it. The realization smacks you awake and you recoil sharply, staring at his moonlit mask with an expression that must be just short of mortified.

"I... Fuck. I am so sorry. I don't know why— I just..."

When you dare to look at the mess you've left on him, you nearly vomit again. Hands shaking, you rub at your clammy face and begin to ramble unthinkingly as his stare flickers between you and his soiled shirt.

"I've been trying so hard not to hold back like you said, but I think it is fucking me up a little and letting out some things— memories, I guess. I was pretty good about keeping it all in my box because I've been too tired to even think about it, but now I just..." You trail off, realizing your words must make little sense. 

"You've certainly let something out," he rasps.

Your hands drop against the sofa and you cringe. "I'll wash it for you. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

You inhale. "I just fucking threw up on you."

"I'm aware."

Ghost straightens. He pinches the collar of his shirt and carefully hoists it over his head. Then, you're looking at his bare chest. Slivers of moonlight caress rigid brawn and mountainous scars that capture your gaze for a few heartbeats before you tear it away. 

"I'll, um, hang it outside and... wash it in the morning." 

Your legs are unnervingly steady when you stand up and take the shirt from him, carefully grabbing it by a dry spot. You are relieved to get away from him, draping it over the porch and swallowing gulps of fresh air before you go back inside, praying he's gone back to bed.

Luckily, he has. When the empty living room greets you, you sink to the sofa and palm your eyes. Then, you notice something left on the pillow. A cigarette. You pick it up and recall the few times you smoked whenever your friends offered one. The taste never sat well with you. 

You rummage for your lighter. The first inhale burns terribly, but you cough into the pillow and try again. It starts to calm you down after a few times, and only when you've gotten to the butt of it do you go back to sleep.

"No wonder you're not getting stronger if you throw up like that every night."

Not even five minutes into training the next morning he brings it up. The rest of your sleep ended abruptly when he got you up at an unearthly time, probably to avoid having Blue as an audience. You are too winded to even scowl, your fists held tight in front of your face as you try to predict where he will aim next.

"I told you. That was the first night in a while." 

"Right. Something about a box, huh?"

"Can we just forget about it, please?"

"Hard to forget when my shirt still smells."

"I washed it the best I could."

The next dodge has your head flying down fast enough to undo one of your braids. Hair slips over your face and you huff, holding your hand up. "Hold on. Give me a minute."

As you undo the other one and opt for shoving your hair into a tight bun instead, he watches you strangely. The feel of his stare ignites a spark of irritation and you flash him a sideways glance. "Look, thank you for the cigarette and everything else you have ever done for me, but you can stop looking at me like that. Like you... pity me. I'm not going to break, I'm not going to ask you to kill me again. Everyone left in this world has nightmares and mine probably aren't the worst of them."

"I don't pity you," he says. "I am just trying to understand you."

"Why?" You finish the bun and drop your arms awkwardly at your sides. 

"It's important to understand your ally."

"Oh. Is that what we are?"

His eyes narrow. "Obviously. I wouldn't bother wasting my time with this every day if we weren't."

"Good to know you aren't doing it because you owe me."

"You know what I mean, Twix," he growls. 

"No, I don't." You throw your arms up. "I don't know what you mean and I don't know why you never killed me because you had every reason to, and I definitely don't understand you, so I guess we make terrible allies, Ghost."

"What is with you?" He cocks his head to the side, tone mild with curiosity. "So talkative all of the sudden."

"I have no problem talking when the other person isn't blatantly ignoring me."

His brows lift. "Fair enough."

A deep inhale flares your nostrils before you spread your stance. "I'm ready now."

Despite your claim of readiness, he quickly backs you into a defensive position that has you frustrated once again. You don't understand why, but your progress slips. You keep having to adjust your stance and all of your attempts to hit him fail. It's not long before he locks you against a tree with a tattooed forearm against your neck. 

"You aren't focused today," he accuses.

"Damn, you're observant," you breathe out. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. If I wanted to listen to someone mouthing off, I'd get Blue out here." He presses a bit harder and your throat twitches. "I'm not going to threaten you anymore, but clearly, you think straighter when you channel your anger, so whatever you were dreaming about last night— get it out of your head."

He's right. You breathe deep and try sorting through everything in your head, focusing on just the anger, but it's like fishing in murky water. When he releases you, more of the same happens. This time, you end up on your butt. Ghost glares down at you, circling like a vulture.

"You were doing good the past few days. What the hell is this?"

"I told you," you say through your teeth, brushing off the dirt from your jeans. "Letting out my anger means letting everything else in the box out and it is... confusing me. Making my head fuzzy, I guess."

His chest expands with a deep breath and his pointed stare turns meticulous. "Explain this box to me."

You hesitate for a moment. "It's just... where I put away all of the shit that would otherwise make me insane."

"And what is wrong with being a little insane, Twix? This world is insane. Might as well match it."

Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle for an answer and rub your temples. "I don't know. Being insane means losing myself completely. I mean, I have already changed so much in the past five years. Like I said, I was never meant to be this person."

"What person? A person who survives? A person who does what she has to?"

"A person who hurts others," you grit out. "A person who kills." 

"You've killed people, right?" he roughly asks and you nod. "Then you're a killer. You were always meant to be a killer. End of story." His words strike you, and you begin to shake your head defensively, but he continues before you can muster a reply. "The past five years haven't changed you, they have revealed who you are. Now—" he raises his fists, "—open the stupid box and turn everything you feel into anger. All of it. It is valuable fuel that will continue to keep you alive."

He swings.

A kaleidoscope of long-ignored memories flashes through your brain when he hits your sore stomach. Your family. Your friends. The life stolen from you. 

And then— you recover your footing and slam a boot into his knee. It loosens his stance just enough for you to throw yourself at him, effectively knocking him over. The ground welcomes your bodies again, but this time, you grip his shoulders and wind up on top, practically laying all of your weight on him. A few harsh breaths expel from your nose before you become fully aware of the position, the heat from his chest pressing into your breasts.

Quickly, you splay your hands flat against him and sit up straight, thighs spread over his narrow hips. Ghost could easily flip you over and pin you if he wanted. But instead, he crosses his arms behind his head. 

"Comfortable?" you ask him breathlessly, raising a brow.

"Quite. Though, if this were real, I suggest an elbow to the neck once you've got them down."

"So you admit it, then. I got you down."

"I allowed it."

"Sure." Your teeth snag on your lip and you lightly brush a finger over his masked nose, detecting a tick in the hinge of his jaw. "Then I will 'allow' you to keep this for now, but next time, I might do more than just break it."

His eyes widen imperceptibly before he quickly recovers. "Ah. So you are a person who hurts others, then. Someone was trying to tell me otherwise."

Your lips twitch at the corner on their own accord. "Shut the fuck up."

He simply stares at you for a pregnant pause before clearing his throat. "I did allow it, but that was good. You focused on the anger, didn't you?"

You nod. "Yeah, I did. Is that what you do all the time?" you ask curiously. "Just get angry and kill people?"

"Pretty much."

By the tone of his voice, a deep brass that reverberates through all the places your bodies touch, you are certain he's joking. Realizing that you are still on top of him, you push off his chest and swing a leg over, careful not to knee his face or let him see the deep flush that crawls over every inch of your skin. 

[marysfics]

Submerged in Silence

"And I scream for your name and l call for you babe, but I can't be with you."

Angst, High States of Panic, Toxic Statements, Trauma, Enochlophobia, Small Mentions of Gun Shots (in reader's mind), Fluff, Happy Ending.

Note: I've deleted the series and made one long fic of it. Might be a bit over the top.

The memory crept back into your mind like it always did-slow, unwelcome, but persistent. It had been a few months ago, but the sharp sting of that day still clung to you, heavy and unshakable. You could feel the weight of the promise you'd made, even now, pressing down on your chest like a lead weight. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, the sun casting soft, golden light through the windows, illuminating the room in a way that felt almost mocking.

You remember how peaceful the morning had seemed. Alexia had already left for training, her energy buzzing with excitement for that night's match.

She'd kissed you goodbye, a quick peck on your lips before slipping out the door with her usual calm confidence, and you had smiled, telling yourself that this time would be different. This time, you'd go. This time, you'd push past the gnawing anxiety, the fear that always seemed to take root deep inside of you, and you would sit in that stadium, cheering her on like the supportive partner you so desperately wanted to be.

In your mind, you could see it clearly-thousands of people dressed in the team's colors, the roar of the crowd, the feeling of pride swelling in your chest as Alexia stepped onto the field, her name echoing across the stadium.

You imagined sitting there, your heart full, watching her in her element, knowing she could look up and see you in the stands, finally there for her. You had wanted that, more than anything.

The days leading up to the match had been a blur of nervous energy. Every time Alexia mentioned it, her face lighting up with excitement, you'd nod and smile, doing your best to ignore the cold sweat that would break out across your back.

You didn't want to disappoint her-not again. So, you told yourself you could do it, that this time you would make it through, no matter what it took. But as the day grew closer, that sense of determination began to unravel. It always did, didn't it?

The first hints of doubt crept in during the quiet moments-while you were making coffee, brushing your teeth, or folding laundry-little flashes of panic that tightened your chest and made your pulse quicken. You pushed them down, tried to force them away, but they always came back stronger.

By the morning of the match, that flicker of doubt had turned into a full-blown storm of anxiety, swirling in your chest like a hurricane. You remember sitting there, hours before you were supposed to leave, staring at the clothes you'd laid out on the bed. They were just jeans and a t-shirt something casual, something comfortable-but the sight of them made your stomach twist.

Your hands were already trembling, the familiar tightness in your throat beginning to choke the air from your lungs.

You can do this, you told yourself, again and again, like a mantra. But each repetition sounded weaker than the last.

You had even managed to text Alexia, forcing your fingers to type out a message that you hoped sounded confident. "I'm getting ready. See you soon. I can't wait." She responded almost immediately, a string of heart emojis, a "Can't wait either, mi amor," and that radiant energy she always carried.

You had stared at your phone for a long time after that, letting the words blur as you tried to imagine yourself stepping into that stadium. But every time you pictured it, something inside you recoiled.

The thought of all those people, the noise, the claustrophobia of being trapped in a crowd of strangers, your mind unable to quiet the constant hum of fear. It wasn't just anxiety. It was a visceral, physical reaction, like your body was rejecting the very idea of it.

You knew it didn't make sense. You knew that, logically, you were safe-that nothing bad would happen to you at a football match. But the panic didn't care about logic. It never had.

As the hours passed, the pressure in your chest grew worse, your breath shortening until it felt like there wasn't enough air in the room. Your heart pounded in your ears, each beat echoing louder than the last. You tried to get up, tried to move toward the clothes you'd laid out, but your legs felt like lead. Your hands were slick with sweat, your fingers trembling as you clutched the edge of the bed, willing yourself to stand.

But every time you thought about leaving the apartment, about stepping into that massive stadium full of strangers, the world around you seemed to close in. You knew what was coming before it even hit.

You had felt it building for days-the panic attack that was now bubbling to the surface, threatening to drown you in its familiar waves. The room spun, the walls felt too close, too suffocating.

You gasped for air, your heart racing so fast that it felt like it would beat right out of your chest. You pressed your palms into your thighs, trying to ground yourself, but the feeling of spiraling out of control was already overwhelming.

And that's when the tears came. Hot, angry tears of frustration, of guilt, of shame. You were supposed to be stronger than this. You were supposed to be able to push through for her-for Alexia. But here you were, once again, frozen by the weight of your own fear. You sat there, curled up on the edge of the bed, your body shaking as you let the panic run its course, helpless to stop it.

By the time the panic had finally receded, the match had already started. You didn't even have the strength to move, let alone text Alexia to tell her you weren't coming. All you could do was sit there, staring at the empty clothes on the bed, feeling the crushing disappointment settle over you like a blanket.

Hours later, when Alexia came home, the guilt was so thick in your throat that you could hardly speak. You saw the way her face fell when she walked through the door, her usual bright smile dimming as she realized you weren't at the match. She didn't say anything at first. She just stood there in the doorway, her eyes searching yours, and in that moment, you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

"I'm sorry" you whispered, your voice barely audible, your gaze fixed on the floor. Alexia nodded, her face unreadable, though the silence between you was louder than any words could have been. She sat down beside you, her hand reaching out to rest on your knee, a quiet gesture of comfort. But you could feel the disappointment radiating off her, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

"It's okay," she said softly, but you both knew it wasn't. Not really. She didn't press you for an explanation, didn't ask why you hadn't come. She knew about your anxiety, about the way crowds could suffocate you. But knowing didn't make it easier.

Understanding didn't erase the fact that, once again, you hadn't been able to follow through on your promise. And that hurt more than anything.

Later that night, as you both lay in bed, the silence stretched between you like a chasm. You had forced yourself to smile, though it felt more like a grimace, your heart racing again as you whispered the words that had been echoing in your mind all day. "I swear be I'll be there next time, you said, the words tasting like desperation on your tongue.

Alexia had smiled, a soft, tired smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She kissed your forehead gently, her touch warm and reassuring, but there was a sadness in the way her hand lingered on your cheek, as if she didn't fully believe you. "Okay" she whispered back, her voice quiet and understanding.

But in the darkness, with the weight of your failed promise still hanging between you, you knew the truth. You weren't sure you believed it, either. Because no matter how much you loved her, no matter how badly you wanted to be there for her, the fear was always waiting.

And the next time would come, just like this time had, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be able to push through it.

Back in the present, the room is a quiet testament to the echoes of promises broken.

You sit in the living room, the silence between you and Alexia stretching out like an impenetrable barrier. The apartment, once a cozy refuge, now feels like a cage, its walls closing in with every passing moment.

The space around you is eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the apartment settling. The walls, once filled with the promise of warmth and love, now seem to close in on you, pressing against you with their silence. The apartment feels cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy it once held when Alexia was around.

You glance over at her, sitting across from you on the other end of the couch. Her eyes are glued to her phone, scrolling through something you can’t see, though you can sense the frustration in the rigid set of her shoulders and the way her fingers swipe aggressively across the screen. She’s trying to pretend that it doesn’t bother her, that she’s unaffected by the fact that you missed another one of her games, but you can feel it, heavy in the air between you.

It’s not just the matches, you think, the thought cutting through the fog of your own guilt. It’s everything. I’m losing her piece by piece.

You remember the times when the apartment was filled with laughter, where every shared moment felt like a step closer to building something lasting.

Now, the laughter is scarce, replaced by the silence that stretches endlessly between you. Each missed match, each broken promise, feels like a crack in the foundation of what you had built together. The more you miss, the more the cracks widen, and you feel yourself slipping through, unable to grasp the pieces that once made you whole.

Alexia’s silence is louder than any words she could offer. It’s the way she avoids looking at you, the way her responses are curt and measured, like she’s trying to hold back a flood of emotion. You can see it in the way she sits, rigid and unyielding, her body language speaking volumes about the hurt and disappointment she’s trying so hard to conceal.

Why do I always fail? you wonder, the question echoing in the emptiness. Why can’t I be the person she needs me to be?

You think back to the last time you made the promise—the words you had spoken with such conviction, hoping against hope that this time would be different.

But as the days turned into weeks and the matches continued, your anxiety only seemed to grow stronger. The idea of being in a crowd, of facing the roar of thousands of voices, became a mountain you couldn’t climb. And now, each time you failed to live up to your promise, the guilt grew heavier, a constant reminder of your inadequacies.

Alexia finally puts down her phone, her gaze drifting toward the window, though she’s not really seeing anything outside.

The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, and you feel the weight of it pressing down on you, suffocating. You want to reach out, to say something, to break the silence and bridge the gap that’s grown between you. But you’re paralyzed by the fear of saying the wrong thing, of making the situation worse.

The walls of the apartment seem to close in tighter, and you find yourself staring at the familiar surroundings—pictures on the wall, the cozy throw blankets, the shared books and trinkets. They’re all reminders of the life you used to share, a life that feels increasingly distant and out of reach.

I wish I could just explain, you think, feeling the tears welling up behind your eyes. I wish I could make her understand that it’s not about not supporting her. It’s about me being trapped in this fear, this suffocating panic that takes over every time I try to step out of my comfort zone.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the anxiety is still there, a constant companion.

You know Alexia is struggling, too, though she tries to hide it.

You can see it in the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, in the way she tenses when she thinks you’re not looking.

You wish you could find the right words, the right way to make her see that this isn’t a matter of not caring. It’s not about the love you have for her; it’s about the crippling fear that prevents you from showing it in the way she needs.

The silence continues, a living, breathing thing between you. You can feel it pressing against you, and the weight of it is almost too much to bear. You can see the way Alexia’s frustration is building, a quiet storm that threatens to break free. You want to reach out, to hold her, to tell her that you’re sorry, but the words catch in your throat.

Finally, the dam breaks. Alexia’s eyes blaze with a mixture of hurt and anger, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “Do you even want to be part of my life?” she asks, her voice breaking, the words cutting deeper than you expected. “Every time I look up at the stands, I just... I just want to see you there. I want you to be proud of me.”

The intensity of her question hits you like a physical blow, and you flinch, the weight of guilt pressing down on your chest. The vulnerability in her eyes makes your heart ache. “I am proud of you,” you say softly, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m proud of you every single day, but I’m scared. I’m scared of the crowds, the noise, the pressure. I don’t know how to be in your world without drowning.”

Alexia’s frustration morphs into a deep sadness, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of her emotions is too much to bear. “I don’t know how to help you if you keep pulling away,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to understand, to find a way to make this work, but every time you retreat, it feels like I’m losing you a little more. I need you to meet me halfway. I need to know you’re fighting for us, not just fighting against your fears.”

Her words are a dagger to your heart, each one a reminder of the emotional chasm that has grown between you. You can see the pain in her eyes, the strain of trying to hold everything together while you struggle with your own limitations. The realization that your fears are pushing her away is almost too much to bear.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, your voice breaking with the weight of your emotions. “I really am. I wish I could be stronger, be braver. I don’t want to keep failing you.”

Alexia’s frustration is palpable, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I need you to try,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “I need you to find a way to be part of my world. It’s not just about the games; it’s about being present, being there for me. I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

The desperation in her voice, the ache of her words, cuts through your defenses. You realize that this isn’t just about you anymore—it’s about both of you, and the future you’re struggling to hold onto. The frustration and sadness are mingling in the air, a storm of emotions that neither of you know how to navigate.

But as the argument spirals, the rawness of the emotions takes over, and both of you start hurling words that can’t be taken back.

“You don’t understand what it’s like!” you shout, your voice trembling with the weight of your own fear and frustration. “You think I’m just not trying hard enough, but you have no idea how paralyzing it is. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning every time you try to step out.”

“And you don’t see how your inability to even attempt it makes me feel like I’m fighting this battle alone!” Alexia retorts, her voice rising with anger. “I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to show up, to be a part of my life, and every time you back out, it’s like you’re telling me that I’m not worth fighting for.”

The emotional gap between you feels like an ocean, wide and uncrossable. Each accusation, each defense, only widens the chasm. The words you exchange are sharp, and the air between you is heavy with the weight of what’s been said and left unsaid.

“Maybe we’re just too different,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, a resignation in your voice that reflects the depth of the chasm growing between you.

The silence that follows is deafening. The rain outside intensifies, the sound of it hitting the windows echoing the heavy beating of your heart. The rhythmic patter of the rain becomes a backdrop to the quiet storm inside, a harsh reminder of the distance that seems to be expanding with each passing second.

Alexia stands there, her face a mix of anger and despair, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in time.

The rain continues to drum against the windows, a relentless, unyielding force, mirroring the tumultuous emotions inside you both.

In the midst of this emotional hurricane, you finally find the words, though they come out strained and hesitant. “I’ll come to the match tomorrow,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll be there to sit with you. I know you’re hurt, and I don’t want to make things worse. I’ll come, even if it’s hard for me.”

Alexia’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hope mingling with the pain. “You’d better come,” she says, her voice resolute though it still trembles. “Because if you don’t, I don’t know if our relationship can survive this. I need to know you’re willing to fight for us, even if it’s hard.”

You nod, tears stinging your eyes. “I’ll be there,” you promise, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll come for you. I’ll try, even if it’s tough.”

As you both stand there, the rain outside continues to fall, a steady, soothing backdrop to the fractured silence between you. The storm may have raged, but there’s a small, fragile hope that with each step you take towards each other, the distance can start to close. For now, all you can do is hold onto that promise and hope that it will be enough to bridge the gap that has grown between you.

The evening wears on, and neither of you knows how to fix the damage.

Alexia goes to bed without saying another word, leaving you alone in the living room, staring at the raindrops streaking down the glass. Each drop seems to trace the contours of your guilt and sadness, mapping out a path that leads deeper into the abyss of your own making. The silence that fills the apartment feels like an impenetrable wall, a barrier between you and the understanding you both desperately need.

You feel like you’re drowning in your own emotions, sinking deeper and deeper into a place where reaching Alexia seems increasingly impossible. The weight of your failure, the depth of your anxiety, and the magnitude of the rift between you make it hard to see a way out.

The next morning arrives with a heavy sense of dread. The apartment is still and quiet, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Alexia gets up, her movements mechanical and distant. She goes through her morning routine with a cold efficiency that only amplifies the silence. When it’s time for her to leave, she doesn’t kiss you goodbye. Instead, she simply puts on her coat and heads for the door, the finality of her departure a bitter reminder of the fracture in your relationship.

You watch her go, feeling a surge of panic that makes your hands tremble. You know you have to push through the overwhelming fear that has been building up inside you. It’s like trying to swim against a relentless current, but you force yourself to take each step, determined to follow through on your promise.

Your hands shake as you try to get dressed, struggling to button your shirt and tie your shoelaces. Every movement feels like an immense effort, as though you’re moving through thick molasses. You try to calm your racing heart, but the fear is relentless, making it difficult to focus.

When you finally make it to the car, your hands are slick with sweat as you fumble with the keys. Opening the door feels like a victory, a small but significant step towards facing your anxiety. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and slip into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life, a powerful, comforting sound amidst the storm of emotions.

The drive to the stadium feels surreal, as if you’re moving through a dream. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, as the world outside blurs by. When you pull into the stadium garage, the sight of the vast, looming structure fills you with a mixture of trepidation and resolve.

You park and take a moment to collect yourself before stepping out of the car. Your legs feel shaky beneath you, and your hands remain clammy as you grab your belongings. The distant roar of the crowd, already vibrant and loud even in the parking lot, seeps into the car and intensifies your anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to open the door and step out. The air in the garage is cool, a stark contrast to the heat of your nervous energy. As you close the door behind you, you spot Alexia standing by the elevator, her attention focused on her phone. The weight of the argument still lingers, an unspoken heaviness between you that neither of you has fully addressed.

You approach her, each step feeling like an enormous effort. Alexia looks up from her phone as you draw near, and for a moment, her eyes meet yours, a mix of relief and something else you can’t quite place. Her gaze lingers on your hands, which are still visibly trembling. Without saying a word, she reaches out and takes one of your hands in her own.

As you and Alexia make your way through the bustling corridors of the stadium, the roar of the crowd grows louder with each step. The noise is almost deafening, a cacophony of cheers, chants, and the rhythmic thumping of thousands of feet. Every sound feels like a physical blow, a relentless assault on your senses.

You try to keep yourself together, forcing yourself not to flinch when the crowd’s collective excitement erupts into a wave of sound. The intensity of it makes your heart race faster, each shout and cheer echoing in your chest. Moving past the sea of passionate supporters, you find yourself clutching Alexia’s hand tightly, as if it were a lifeline pulling you through the storm of sound and motion.

When you finally reach your seats, you collapse into them with a mix of relief and exhaustion. The crowd's roar continues unabated, a relentless wave of sound that seems to pulse through your body. Alexia leans in, her voice soft and soothing as she tries to offer reassurance, but the noise is so overwhelming that her words are lost in the din.

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly. You try to anchor yourself to the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath, hoping it will help calm the storm inside. For a moment, it feels like the breathing exercise is working, and the edge of your panic starts to dull.

Suddenly, you hear Alexia's voice again, cutting through the noise with a note of genuine pride and happiness. “I’m so proud of you for coming,” she says, her words filled with warmth and affection. “I know this is really hard, but I’m so grateful you’re here.”

You manage a smile, the effort of it feeling almost like a victory. It’s a small, fragile smile, but it’s genuine. You’re grateful for her presence, for her understanding, even if your anxiety still lingers at the edges of your consciousness. Alexia doesn’t notice that the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes; she’s too focused on her own feelings of pride and happiness.

The game begins, and for a while, the atmosphere, though intense, is manageable. You keep your focus on Alexia’s comforting presence beside you, drawing strength from her closeness. The match unfolds, and despite the roars of the crowd, you manage to keep yourself together, finding solace in the fact that you’re here, supporting her.

But when Barcelona scores, the stadium erupts into an explosion of sound. The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wave of noise that seems to crash over you and pull you under. Your heart races, and the intensity of the celebration sends your anxiety spiraling out of control. The cheers and shouts blur into a chaotic din, and for a moment, the world around you feels like it’s closing in.

In the midst of the crowd’s jubilation, your senses become overwhelmed. The noise, the movement, and the sheer volume create a disorienting storm. Suddenly, you hear what you think are gunshots—sharp, jarring sounds that make your blood run cold. They’re not real, of course, but to your panicked mind, they’re all too vivid. Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as tears stream down your face, and you feel hyper-alert, every nerve ending on edge.

Alexia notices the sudden shift in you, her gaze darting to your tear-streaked face. She can see the fear and panic in your eyes, and her own shock and guilt mirror the turmoil inside you. Her hand grips your thigh, trying to ground you, but the touch makes you flinch uncontrollably. The action catches her off guard, and she quickly realizes just how severe your distress has become.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Alexia says urgently, her voice filled with concern. She gently but firmly holds your face in her hands, trying to bring you back to the present. Her eyes search yours, filled with worry. “It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re going to go home. It’s alright.”

You can’t speak, only nod weakly as the tears continue to fall. The crowd's noise fades into the background as Alexia’s presence becomes your sole focus. She helps you to your feet, guiding you carefully through the throngs of people, her own emotions a tumultuous mix of regret and concern.

When you finally reach the parking garage, the air feels different, more contained and quieter. Alexia helps you into her car, her movements deliberate and gentle as she opens the passenger door for you. She takes a deep breath, her own anxiety evident in the tight lines of her face, but she masks it with a determined calmness.

You slip into the seat, still trembling, and Alexia quickly moves to the driver’s side. She starts the engine, the purr of the car offering a brief, comforting reprieve from the overwhelming noise of the stadium. The gentle hum of the car’s interior is a soothing contrast to the chaos of the game.

As she pulls out of the parking garage, she glances over at you, her eyes soft with concern. “We’re going home,” she says, her voice steady but filled with empathy. “Just focus on your breathing, okay? We’ll get through this.”

As the car glides smoothly out of the parking garage, the city lights begin to blur past the windows. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft glow of the dashboard create a cocoon of calm in contrast to the chaos you just left behind. Alexia’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white with the tension she’s trying to control.

You close your eyes, focusing on the slow, deep breaths Alexia encouraged you to take. The steady rise and fall of your chest, paired with the gentle motion of the car, helps you regain a sliver of composure. Every breath feels like a small victory, a way to push back against the overwhelming tide of panic.

The drive feels longer than usual, every minute stretching out in a haze of relief and residual fear. Alexia occasionally glances over at you, her gaze filled with a mix of worry and determination. Her silence speaks volumes, conveying the depth of her feelings without needing to utter a single word.

As you approach your apartment, the familiar surroundings offer a glimmer of comfort. Alexia pulls into the parking space and puts the car in park, her movements deliberate and careful. She turns off the engine and reaches over to take your hand, her touch gentle and reassuring.

“We’re here,” she says softly, her voice a soothing balm against the raw edges of your anxiety. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? You did so well coming here tonight, and we’ll work through this together.”

Alexia helps you inside, her hand steadying you as you move through the apartment. You feel the weight of the evening’s events pressing down on you, each step a reminder of the intense panic you experienced just hours before. You offer a small, grateful smile, though it feels shaky and incomplete.

She guides you to the bedroom, where you sink onto the bed with a sigh of relief. The familiarity of your room, the soft bedding, and the quiet atmosphere offer a small respite from the overwhelming sensations you’ve been battling. As you lay back, trying to calm your breathing, you notice Alexia moving about the apartment with a determined efficiency. She heads to the kitchen, her movements focused as she prepares to make tea.

The sound of the kettle whistling is a distant hum, almost comforting in its normalcy. Alexia’s footsteps are soft and deliberate as she moves around the kitchen, and you can hear the occasional clink of mugs and the rustle of tea bags being opened. Despite the calmness in the apartment, you can’t shake the feeling of embarrassment that lingers, a heavy weight that’s hard to ignore.

You pull the blanket around you tighter, trying to stave off the tremors that still shake your body. The evening’s events replay in your mind, each flash of panic and each tear that fell feeling like a stark reminder of your own vulnerability. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing, but it’s a challenge with the remnants of your anxiety still coursing through you.

After what feels like an eternity, Alexia enters the bedroom with a steaming mug in hand. She sits beside you on the bed, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and tenderness. She places the mug on the nightstand and carefully helps you sit up, her touch gentle and reassuring. The tea’s warmth offers a small, comforting distraction from the turmoil within you.

“I made us some tea,” she says softly, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos of your thoughts. “It’s just chamomile—hopefully, it’ll help you relax a bit.”

You manage a small, grateful smile, though it feels like an effort. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. The vulnerability of the moment, combined with the lingering embarrassment, makes it hard to meet her eyes.

Alexia hands you the mug, her fingers brushing against yours with a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine. “Take your time,” she says, her gaze tender as she watches you take a cautious sip. “I’m here for you.”

The warmth of the tea soothes your trembling hands, and you close your eyes, letting the calming effects of the chamomile slowly seep into your system. Each sip helps ground you a little more, easing the last remnants of panic.

As you drink, Alexia sits beside you, her presence a steady anchor. She reaches out and strokes your hair softly, the gentle motion a quiet affirmation of her support. The silence between you is filled with an understanding that doesn’t need words—she’s here, and she’s not going anywhere.

You feel a wave of gratitude for her patience and care, despite the turmoil you’ve brought into the evening. “I’m sorry,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “For everything. I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

Alexia shakes her head, her expression resolute. “It’s okay,” she says, her voice firm yet gentle. “We’re going to get through this together. I just want you to know that you’re not alone.”

As the evening wears on, the trembling subsides, replaced by a deeper sense of calm as you and Alexia sit together in the quiet of your bedroom. The remnants of the night’s chaos slowly give way to a fragile but hopeful peace, and you allow yourself to sink into the comfort of Alexia’s presence, finding solace in the quiet support she offers.

The room is quiet the next morning, the sunlight filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow over the bedroom. You’re still in bed, the remnants of last night’s anxiety slowly receding, replaced by a tentative calm. Alexia has already been up for a while, you can tell by the faint sounds coming from the kitchen—clinking dishes, the soft murmur of the radio.

When she finally enters the room, she carries a tray with breakfast—simple, but thoughtful. A steaming cup of coffee, a slice of toast, and a bowl of fruit. She places it gently on the nightstand and sits down beside you on the bed, her face reflecting a mix of fatigue and determination.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says quietly, her voice carrying a heaviness that hints at the weight of her words. She meets your gaze with a vulnerability that you haven’t seen before, her eyes searching for yours as if seeking forgiveness.

“I know last night was really hard,” she begins, her voice trembling slightly. “And I know I said things that were hurtful. I was frustrated and scared, and I let that frustration come out in a way that wasn’t fair to you.”

You sit up slowly, taking in her words as your heart tightens with a mix of relief and sadness. The sincerity in her voice, the raw emotion in her eyes, it all makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I didn’t understand,” Alexia continues, her voice breaking a little. “I didn’t see how deep your fear was, and I pushed you too hard. I’m so sorry for that. I said things I’ll always regret. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

Her eyes well up with tears, and she reaches out to gently take your hand in hers, her touch tender and apologetic. “I know now that I should have been more patient, more understanding. I thought I was helping, but instead, I only made things worse. I want you to know that I regret every harsh word I spoke. I wish I could take it all back.”

You squeeze her hand, feeling the weight of her apology settle in your heart. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “I understand that it was just frustration and fear on both our parts.”

Alexia nods, her tears falling freely now. “I never wanted our arguments to hurt you, and I’m so sorry for not being there for you in the way you needed. I promise to work on understanding your fears better and to be more patient. I want us to be able to face these challenges together, without adding to each other’s pain.”

The sincerity of her apology, combined with the raw emotion she’s displaying, helps to heal some of the wounds from last night. You can see the depth of her regret and the genuine desire to make things right, and it offers a glimmer of hope for moving forward.

“I appreciate that,” you say softly, your voice trembling as you try to keep your emotions in check. “I know it’s not easy for either of us, and I don’t expect everything to be perfect. But I do believe that we can work through this together.”

Alexia nods, her face reflecting a mixture of relief and gratitude. “Thank you for understanding,” she says, her voice filled with warmth. “I love you, and I want to be here for you, no matter how difficult it gets.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, holding each other’s gaze and finding comfort in the unspoken connection between you. The air in the room feels lighter, the tension of last night giving way to a more hopeful sense of reconciliation.

As the morning unfolds, you and Alexia take small, careful steps towards mending the fractures in your relationship. You share breakfast together, the simple act of being present and supportive a testament to the strength of your bond. The road ahead may still be challenging, but the commitment to understanding and patience offers a foundation for healing and growth.

In the quiet moments that follow, you hold on to the promise of better days ahead, knowing that with love, effort, and empathy, you can navigate the complexities of your relationship and emerge stronger together.

-

Note: I'm aware that this isn't my best piece, but I wanted to get it out anyway. As a process to grow with new writing styles.

[nuemanfilms]

BAD HUNT

CW smutsmutsmut, against the sink, bar sex, semi-public sex, unprotected piv, fingering, getting caught kink, brief size difference mention, Dean pulls a gun on some guy trying to fuck with his girl, pet names, stinky guy, female bartender flirts with dean, reader can SING, praise, degradation, brief aftercare(??).

Rating 16+

Summary after a bad hunt, you and dean settle at a bar in the middle of no where, multiple things occur..

A/N i didn’t think i could write this much help?? it’s 1k

You both had enough of the night.

Instead of Dean driving you two home, he stopped in the middle of nowhere at some bar. And he had to say, he had the best time of his life with you.

God, your karaoke, your voice was just pure angelic, he couldn’t turn away, not even to see the blonde waitress that was flirting with him (who eventually walked away in frustration).

Dean settled on whiskey. Taking shot after shot as he watched you sing on the cheap stage. You were mesmerizing him and you didn’t even know. And sure, there were a couple guys in the bar who tried to get with you. But you always turned them down.

You had one person in mind. And he was staring you down like you were the prettiest eye candy ever.

Your hips swayed as you walked over to Dean with a precious smile. And you sat down beside him.

“Who’s got you whipped?” You said in a teasing manner. Dean snapped out of his trance and then responded with a gruff, “Shut up.” The man started smiling. You flashed him a smile as well.

“I’m gonna order more shots.” You spoke, getting out of your seat and walking up to the bar stand.

While you were waiting for the female bartender, some guy approached you with a big smirk. God, he reeked of alcohol. Worse than Dean going without a shower for a day.

“Hey, wanna get out of here, Beautiful?” He attempted to smile charmingly. “No thanks.” You responded, moving away from him before he grabbed your arm. “You really wanna leave with me, huh?” You struggled to get off before Dean spoke up, setting the shot glass down with a small slam.

“You heard her,” The guy turned to face him, He obviously was still under the influence. “What’s your problem, man?” Dean chuckled, forcefully pushing the older man away from you. Before Dean could gently grab your hand, the guy threw a punch. And that was when you knew to back out.

Dean groaned, before getting an annoyed look on his face. and before the guy could speak, dean pulled a gun out of his jeans.

“My problem? The fact you’re raising hell in a bar because a girl said no.” The gun was pointed and the guy genuinely had a scared look on his face. His smirk faded instantly.

“Look, my bad, man.” The guy scrambled off. Pushing open the door of the bar. And then he was gone.

Dean put his gun away and immediately went to your aid.

“Are you good?” He asked, and you nodded. “Words, Sweetheart.” He said in that voice of his. The one that every girl fell for. And this time, you were falling for it too.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm okay.” You replied, you noticed the mark on his face. “There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom, C’mon.” Without waiting for a response, you grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom. The bar was mostly empty, and only god knew where that blonde bartender went.

You leaned against the sink as you cleaned Dean up. His eye contact was intense, and the tension was high. You felt as if you couldn’t even slice it with a knife.

“Thank you, by the way.” You spoke up, hoping to break some of the tension. Dean smiled before wincing in pain at the slight sting.

“It’s alright, don’t worry. I wanted to help you. Trust me, it’s okay.” Dean said, and there it was. The flutter in your stomach.

Something you always felt around Dean. You and Dean weren’t established, sure there was thick tension, but none of you dared to do anything about it. But right now, you felt as if you needed to break it. So, you kissed him.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate to melt into the kiss. his hands wrapped around your waist as you curled your fingers into his short locks.

The first aid kit was long forgotten.

The kiss escalated, and Dean eventually pulled away to speak, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” He chuckled, you smiled. “Yeah? What else have you been wanting to do?” Your teasing always got to him.

“This,”

He kissed you hard. Such a ferocity that you’d never seen from him before. His tongue probed at your bottom lip, demanding entry. Which you gladly granted him. You moaned into his mouth. His hands slipping down to tug your jeans down. Your damp panties being exposed to the cool air.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” Dean groaned, there was a clear wet spot in the center of your underwear. And Dean had no problem finding your clit. You cried out in ecstasy. He then quickly shoved his hand to your mouth, attempting to drown out your not to mention ethereal sounds.

“Shh, don’t want anyone to find you like this, hm? Or do you want that? For people to see that I've got you leaning against a bathroom sink, ruining your pretty little pussy with just the touch of my finger?” His eyes darkened, lust covering his irises.

You nodded against his hand.

Your hair was tousled along with your lips swollen from his bruising kisses. And it was such a beautiful sight for him.

When you nodded your head, Dean felt his cock throb in his jeans. “Fuck, you want that? Dirty fucking girl.” You whined. His finger slipped from your clit down to your slit. Pushing in slowly. You let out a strangled moan against his palm.

“I got you, I've got you.. It’s okay, relax for me, Sweetheart.” He cooed, kissing your neck softly. Gently and slowly moving his fingers against your gummy walls. You adjusted to his digit as it moved in a rhythm. As if he was playing a musical tune.

“Y’ think you’re ready? To take me?” Dean spoke, adding a second finger. Scissoring them in and out of your cunt. You moaned, nodding your head. And he let out a strangled moan as well.

He gently pulled his fingers out, removing his hand from your mouth so he could undo his jeans. You could tell by the bulge in his pants, he was big. And there was definitely a clear size difference between you two. But he didn’t seem to care.

Once he shoved his jeans and boxers down, he stood in his full glory. You wanted to feel him on your tongue so bad, and the way you were eyeing him. He knew you did.

“Later, need to be inside of you first, ‘kay?” He lined up with your entrance. Waiting for your nod of consent. He didn’t even bother to cover your mouth. As if it was all part of a plan. You didn’t care though.

“Please,”

He pushed in slowly, the agonizing stretch of his cock filling your insides was delicious. And your mouth dropped open in a silent moan. Fingertips gripping his back. He stayed still for a minute. Giving you time to adjust (what a gentleman).

After a few minutes, he began to move.

“Hell- baby.. you’re so tight.” He hissed between gritted teeth. You couldn’t help but spew out moans of his name, your nails scratching down his back.

“H-Harder.. I— I can take it..” Dean laughed, a rumble going through his chest. He sped up his pace, skin on skin filled the small bathroom. The sound of your wet pussy squeezing him was well heard. You moaned out, and you almost seemed to have got increasingly tighter, which signaled him you were about to cum.

“Come for me, baby.. you can do it, i’m right here.” Dean then grunted, “You’re such a good girl, taking my dick so well in that tight little pussy, hm? Such a fuckin’ good girl..” He praised you over and over again, leading you to a climax you never experienced before.

“Dean!” You cried, and he groaned as he stilled, emptying himself inside of you. Your vision went white, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You were in pure bliss.

When Dean pulled out, you let out a whine at the emptiness. “Tomorrow, Sweetheart. Gotta get you cleaned up first.” He smiled, tucking himself back into his jeans.

After he grabbed a cloth from the bathroom shelf and dampened it, he gently applied pressure to clean up your shared juices. Kissing your thigh as you whimpered at the ache.

You then eventually spoke up, “I think the bar’s closed now.”

[mymelx]

Ghost coming home from a long mission only to find out that his wife has been abused in his absence

TW: mentions of SA (reader is the victim), vomiting, please tell me if I'v missed anything

「No usage of y/n, not proofread cause I need to sleep 🥹」

He's fucking exhausted, desperate to hold his little lovely wife in his strong arms, to nuzzle into her neck, to take her scent in, and to fuck her tight little pretty cunt after 2 months of mission.

He hurriedly opens the door, not even thinking that he can simply knock. He's this desperate and dumb right now.

It's strange. Even though it's correct that the house is always dark at midnight since you're asleep, this time, it feels different. He senses something wrong. He throws his equipment on the floor and rushes to your shared bedroom, only to find it empty. His head is spinning. He misses you. He has endured the fucking mission only to be back to his soft, precious wife. Where the fuck was she now? Did something happen to her? Did she leave him?

He hears familiar whimpers from the bathroom, which he follows.

There you are. In your short, white sleep dress, looking up to see your husband, who's still wearing his soldier uniform and his skull balaclava.

Before you can react, you feel another rumble in your chest that leads to vomiting.

You've been vomiting into the toilet for the past few minutes.

You've lost weight. He notices. You're trembling, looking helpless and vulnerable.

He rushes to you the second he sees you vomiting, and you try to crawl back from him.

From who? From him?

He can't believe his fucking eyes. He doesn't come closer since he doesn't want to scare you. He thinks maybe you've had a nightmare that made you vomit, now you're sleepy, and you can't recognize your husband of 4 years.

"Love? It's me. Simon. I'm back." He says softly.

You pant, scared, crawling back, standing up and stepping back.

"Don't fucking come closer to me!" You say with a weak, trembling voice.

"Doll? What happened? It's me, Simon. Did you have a nightmare?" He speaks softly with a worried voice.

"Shut up! Get away from me! Try touching me again, and I'll kill you!"

Touching? Again?

He freezes. "Who touched you? Dolly, it's me. Your husband."

You're not listening, trying to find something to attack him with.

He's talking to you, asking you what has happened, and your mind is occupied with the potential weapons you can use against him.

You grab a bar of soap and throw it at him. He obviously doesn't even flinch. He's a tall, muscular man. What can a bar of soap do to him?

He watches you in shock and worry. He walks to you, trapping you in a corner, receiving your harmless, scared punches.

He holds your wrists. "I'm so sorry, doll. I had to stop you somehow to talk to you. What happened? Don't you know me?"

You recognize him now. It's his eyes. His eyes always speak to you. It's your husband, your safe person, your everything.

You pant, staring at him. Your vision gets blurry with tears stinging your pretty eyes. You feel guilty for what you did to your husband, who's back from a mission.

"Now you know me, love? It's me. Talk to me. What happened? You know I'd kill for you. Tell me everything." He says softly.

You burst into tears and hug him tightly, crying loudly and hiding your face in his broad chest.

He's so worried, but he tries to remain calm so that you can lean on him.

After minutes of you crying and him gently asking you "what happened? Tell me? Dolly? Honey? Baby, please tell me what happened I'll kill anyone who's hurt you."

You finally calm down, still leaning on him. You want to talk, but you've vomited and cried so much that you have no energy.

He gently picks you up with you straddling him with your trembling legs. He first brings you to the kitchen, pouring water for you with one hand while holding you up with another, taking his balaclava off to kiss your temples and your hair every three seconds.

Then he brings you to the bed, carefully placing you and covering you with blankets.

"Can you tell me what happened, doll?"

You're still trembling, ashamed, tired, confused, and angry. He leans down and hugs you.

"I... when you were gone... something happened. 3 weeks ago, someone knocked on our door, and I thought it was you. I fucking thought it was you. I was so damn stupid!"

Your crying starts again. You feel so much pressure on your heart. He's so worried now that you told him those sentences. He caresses you, forcing himself not to rush you just so that he can quickly find out about who has hurt you and shoot them in their head after beating them to death.

"Shsh.. love. Tell me the rest, baby."

"I opened the door, and he... then, he pushed me, and I... I, I fell on the ground."

You try hard to talk between your cries:

"He then tried to rip my clothes. He was so heavy that I couldn't push him away."

Ghost is fisting his hand so hard that his knuckles are white, his eyes are wide open, he's full of rage, and he's going crazy.

You don't continue, needing a moment to breath.

He leans down, caressing your hair, trying his best not to beg you to continue, and just giving you time.

You tell him the man wanted to r you, but you screamed so much that the neighbors kicked into the house. The man was arrested, but you still have nightmares, and you tremble a lot.

"I really wished you were by my side." You say so innocently, while crying.

He's so mad. He has so much rage now.

"What's his name?"

"Si,-"

He holds your chin gently, asking with the rage and the harsh voice that he can't hide anymore: "What's his name, doll?"

You sleep that night in his embrace, clinging on him, and telling him how much you love and need him. How much he's safe to you. How much you only want to stay in his arms.

He constantly kisses your hair and caresses your face, apologizing to you for not having been there where you needed his protection.

Weeks pass by, and he doesn't go to another mission. He's by your side all the time, and he's now more protective and a bit controlling of you. Not that you want him to leave you for even a second, at least for a while.

He finds a way to kill the man who assaulted you, and he does it. He doesn't tell you about it, and you find out about it later when he thought you wouldn't tremble and vomit at the memory again.

•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•

◇ it's midnight, and I'm writing this shit 💀 wanted to sleep, but I had the idea of coming back from a long mission that i had to write, and it turned this way...

[slxtarchive]

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬. ᥫ᭡ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. you and chris have been best friends since you were younger but one night changes everything…

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. would you be down to write about chris and the reader are best friends who hookup and he confessed that he wants them to be more? — anon

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 soft smut, loss of virginity, mentions of blood. 18+ mdni !

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. this is part one of the request! the reason it took a while is because i wanted to get both parts out at the same time! hope you enjoy :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 2.2k+

PART 1. PART 2.

“you stayin’ the night tonight?” chris asked with a glimmer of hope in his voice. the nights where you stayed were his favorite because you’d both stay up for hours just talking and messing around. reminiscing and watching movies. your favorite thing to do together was binge-watch movies and shows.

“i gotta see because i have class in the morning.” you huffed. “he did say something about possibly canceling but he hadn’t said anything yet.”

“well, maybe you can still stay and if he doesn’t end up canceling then you can go and we can go out for lunch afterward. most of your stuff is here anyway.” he gestured to his closet. he was right. you practically had half of your wardrobe in his closet so there wasn’t a need to go back home and get anything. you even had your own toothbrush and shit.

“i mean, yeah sure. who knows maybe i can skip.” you said mischievously earning a laugh from him.

“yeah… like you’d skip.” he went to turn off his room like before lay down on his bed and turned on his bedside lamp.

“i would.” you stated, jumping onto his bed and falling down onto your back right next to him.

“you hardly ever skipped in high school! miss all straight a’s.” he rolled his eyes. “hardly ever did anything.. how do you say. bad girlish.”

“oh and you did so much?” you propped yourself up in your elbow to look toward him.

“i mean, i would skip and shit.” he shrugged. “but i also took care of my shit like grades n’lacrosse.”

“the only reason you skipped was because you were hooking up with that one girl. i forgot her name but she was so mean!” you scoffed at the mention of her.

“we never hooked up! we just made out in her car.” he defensively said.

“oh really? what about homecoming when she practically shouted to the whole world that you two had sex.” you raised your brows. “she’d even mimic how she sounded too. blech; she disgusted me.”

he furrowed his brows. “we never did anything. she tried to but i turned her away.” he stated.

“wait so you’re still a virgin? you didn’t even hook up with that other girl you were close with?” you looked down at your nails.

“nah.. i'm serious they kind of all creeped me out.” he shook his head. the news did sort of come as a shock to you considering all the talk you had heard in high school but in reality, deep down you knew that chris wasn’t like that.

“what about you though? you talked to that one guy..what was his name? caleb or something.” his nostrils flared.

“oh fuck that guy. he tried to do shit with me but he was so fucking weird i was like no thank you.” you waved off. “i always felt that he carried at least five fucking diseases on him.” you laughed earning one from chris too.

“wow, so we're both virgins. learn something new every day huh.” he said, his voice getting quieter.

you looked at chris with a smile on your lips feeling somewhat happy that no one’s gotten that part of him yet. when thinking about if they did or not you felt a jealous sting — like usual.

“yep.” you pursed your lips.

chris licked his bottom lip shamelessly staring at yours. he blinked slowly. “i’m glad no one got that part of you.. yet.”

“yet?” you asked, confusion laced in your tone. you studied his eyes, the only thing illuminating the room was the lamp on the table by his bed. the lighting highlights certain features of his face.

“do you want it to happen with someone you trust, y/n?” his breathing picked up. you could audibly hear it as the room was silent.

“i mean… id definitely hope so.” you said quietly. you hadn’t noticed how close chris got until his hand moved some hair out of your face. he wanted to be able to see your beautiful eyes and pink lips.

“yeah?” was all he said. the heat of his body was making its way toward yours. your stomach was twisting and turning. it was doing jumping jacks and was inhabited by butterflies.

“chris?” your voice pierced the silence; barely below a whisper.

“mm?” he responded, as he studied your face and the way your eyes glanced at his lips. that was all he needed to see before he leaned forward and connected your lips in a small kiss.

he started off slowly, not wanting to scare you. he wanted you to kiss him back. you were in shock. you let him kiss you for a few seconds before you started moving your lips along with his.

he pulled away once you started to kiss him back. you leaned forward trying to reconnect your lips but he pulled back with a grin. he then leaned forward, your lips connecting just slightly before he pressed them onto yours once again.

his hand came up to the back of your neck pulling you closer to him allowing him to deepen the kiss and fortunately for you — to take control.

the further he pressed, the more you were inclined to lean back causing you both to settle into a comfortable position where you were on your back and chris was on top of you.

you were addicted to the way he tasted. the way he sensually moved his lips with yours. the way when you both ran out of breath and had to pause chris couldn’t for long and was practically gripping your waist showing he wanted more.

this went on for minutes before he made the move to trail his soft kisses down your neck. your eyes fluttered open as if to try to differentiate whether you were dreaming or not — you weren’t. chris was 100% kissing down your neck, sucking lightly on your skin to mark you. his marks were closer to your collarbone but still not to where they won’t be visible.

chris was worried when he thought about how you might feel if he marked you up for people to see. in his dream world you wouldn’t mind it because they were from him but it was something you two would need to talk about; or at least he hoped.

the sweatshirt that you were wearing was getting in the way of his lips making a trail down further so he paused to ask, “can i take this off?” he said breathlessly — sounding like a total dream.

“mhm.” you responded, just as breathless as he was. you were so needy you took the action into your own hands as you sat up. he moved back to give you space before helping you with your sweatshirt.

you both took it off before you threw it aside. he stared down at you admiring your beauty. he got a weird feeling in his stomach. he didn’t know what it meant in the moment but he’d find out.

you wanted him to kiss you already so you pulled him by his shirt to connect your lips again. he moaned at the contact, starting to feel uncomfortable in his clothes around his lower area.

“you’re so beautiful.” he thought out loud against your lips.

you blushed resting your hands in his fluffy hair. “chris.” you whimpered very needy. you were fiddling with his shirt.

“yeah baby?” he let the name slip out. you liked it.

“need you.” you felt your arousal more than ever — it made wearing underwear uncomfortable.

“yeah?” he grinned lifting up your shirt. you took the gesture as a sign so you quickly took it off leaving you in your black bra. “how bad?” his voice was so soft and sexy. you wanted to hear it all the time.

“so bad.” you took your turn lifting up his shirt. he looked down watching you struggle. “cmon, please.” you begged lifting this shirt up more.

“okay okay.” he gave in and took his shirt off throwing it to the side. he then combed your hair back with both hands before grabbing your face pulling it toward him placing kisses all over your face. “always thought you were so pretty.” he murmured. he was drunk on you. on your taste.

“show me how pretty i am.” you trailed your hands up and down his chest. you stared at each other longingly before he connected your lips once more.

you both had another make-out session before you were on your back with him on top. he put on a condom he had pulled out from the depths of his closet and you both were ready.

“tell me if it hurts okay?” he wanted to make sure you both communicated. he wanted to make this memorable for you without hurting you too much. “i don’t know how long i’ll last, baby.”

“it’s okay it’s okay.” you murmured. “i’ll tell you if i need a break okay?”

he nodded kissing you once more before lining himself up. he gently pushed into you slowly groaning at how tight but smooth at the same time your pussy was. “fuck” he groaned at the same time you did.

“shit — ” you winced, the burn was like a kick to the stomach. “slow slow.” you repeated almost out of air.

“okay, baby im sorry. fuck.” chris hated seeing you in pain.

“just let me get used to it.” you breathed in and out. it was going to be okay. you would get used to him. is what you told yourself. well, you had hoped. he was a bit big.

time past and you and chris communicated until he bottomed out.

you had tears in your eyes as the stinging slowly went away. you felt so full. you couldn’t believe that your best friend's dick was inside you. he was full on inside you.

you opened your eyes that had been clenched shut to see chris holding back moans. he was biting his lip stopping himself from trying to move.

“okay, i think im ready.” you spoke up. he looked down at you and then at your bodies together.

“you sure?” he wanted to make sure that you weren’t accommodating to him.

“yes, im sure.” you nodded before connecting your lips again.

“m’gonna go slow,” he muttered against your lips earning a nod from you. he slowly started pulling out of you then pushing back in earning a loud whine from you. the sting was still there.

chris on the other hand was in a state of euphoria. he couldn’t believe this was happening. his sleek hair fell over his forehead as he was thrusting in and out of you slowly.

after a few times, he repeated his actions, and your pain started to form into pleasure. your mouth fell agape as you felt the first wave of pleasure make its way up your body. you felt chris hit a spot in you that had you going feral.

“h-holy fuck chris.” you gasped as one of his thrusts were particularly strong. he looked down at you with a concerned look on his face.

“mm — m’sorry sorry. just feels so good.” he whimpered, the noise sending you butterflies and chills throughout your body.

“faster.” was all you said as your hand was trailing over his back. you tried not to dig your nails in as he picked up his pace with a cheeky smile on his face but each thrust caused your nails to drag up his spine — knowingly giving him red marks. “so good. so good.” you repeated.

“god, i’m gonna fucking cum.” chris moaned, combing his hair back to allow you to see his expression for a split second. the picture was burned into your brain. chris was sweaty with his eyebrows furrowed. his lips red and irritated from the amount of times he’s bit them to hold back his moans. his eyes clenched shut because of the pleasure he was receiving.

the sight alone had the rubber band in your stomach on the brim of snapping. “chris… fuck chris. im gonna cum.” you cried as his thrusts got rougher by the second as he chased after his orgasm.

“go on, baby. let go for me, yeah? please, i need it.” he puffed out, winded. what really drove you to the edge was when chris reached a hand down toward your center and ghosted over your clit. he then brought his middle finger and ring finger to where you both were connected and collected the arousal from you both combined before slathering it on your clit and stimulating you at a rapid pace. your legs started shaking as you immediately felt yourself about to give in.

your eyes clenched as your hands grasped the sheets below you before arching your back — your orgasm hit you like a wave of intense euphoria. you let out a spurt of whimpers and moans. your own orgasm had chris’s following shortly.

“shit! oh my fucking god.” his hips stuttered as he tried to ride out his orgasm as best as he could which was tough because of how tight you were clenching him.

your chest ended up pressed against each other as he was laid on you, breathless and unable to move for a split second. there was only one thought that ran through chris’s mind when he came to his senses and that was ‘i’m in love with y/n.’

he had to find a way to tell you.

© slxtarchive

[muchosbesitos]

RUNNIN’ OUT OF TIME!— miguel o’hara x fem reader

after countless missed dates and hundreds of text messages gone unanswered, you’d grown okay with the negligence from miguel towards your marriage. only coming to your breaking point after he missed your daughter’s birthday.

contents: angst (lol), mentions of divorce, smut, oral (f receiving), ‘just the tip’, unprotected p in v (wrap it 🫵🏼), doggy, ass spanking (like once), orgasm denial, use of toy (m receiving), switch reader + miguel

author’s note: so i know i said i wasn’t gonna write for him (and the atsv fandom’s pretty dead) but the fic’s my baby so i wanted to repost it 🥹

word count: 11k

There wasn't a big A-Ha! moment when you came to the realization that you loved Miguel O'Hara. The words just slipped out naturally the moment he'd said them to you, like they belonged to him alone. Because in all actuality, they only did belong to him. There was no one else you could see yourself waking up to next in the morning. No one else you wanted to spend time with for the foreseeable future. Maybe it was the memories between the two of you that helped you come to the conclusion that you loved him.

From the time that he carried you back to your shared apartment

Your legs wobbled with every step you took on the concrete, the heels you had on digging into the back of your ankle and the sides of your toes. You didn't have to take the heels off to know that you were mostly likely bleeding. "Wait, Miguel. Just wait up a bit," you were trying to catch up to his long strides, failing miserably with each new sting of pain that shot up your foot. You made a mental note not to wear heels whenever Miguel suggested a 'brisk walk' as a date idea.

He looked back to see you leaning against a pole, taking off your heels for some kind of temporary relief before you continued the rest of the walk. Not that you looked too enthusiastic about that either. Though he couldn't have his pretty girlfriend standing on a dirty sidewalk, could he? With what seemed to be no effort, he took you in his arms and resumed the walk. "How bad's the pain?" He looked down at you once he was sure he wouldn't bump into anyone in a three block radius.

You opened up your mouth to speak, about to tell him that it was bearable enough to the point you could still walk, but he interrupted you by saying, "Don't lie to me because you think you're inconveniencing me. Just tell me the truth." The truth was that you were debating on staying on that sidewalk and calling an Uber at this time of night. Not that he needed to know that, though. "It's not so bad now that you're carrying me," you reluctantly admitted, looking away from him.

If at any point during the night he struggled with the task, he didn't seem to show it. He hadn't even cracked a sweat. Somehow he'd managed to maneuver the front door open, setting you down on the couch with the utmost care necessary. "I'm gonna go get you the first aid kit. Is there something else you need?" You shook your head, laying back onto the couch cushion while you waited for him to come back.

He came back, raising your feet before taking a seat down next to you. He put your feet down on his lap, getting an ointment from the box. You wondered just how many things he had in there for these types of occasions. Throughout the couple months of dating, you'd seen him pull out an ointment for ant bites, scratches, and now blisters. "Try to stay still for me, will you?" He murmured, starting to rub the ointment over the exposed skin. His touch was the gentlest you'd ever felt, barely feeling the subtle brush of his fingers.

"Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana," he hummed as he finished applying the bandages, making sure that they were well wrapped before standing up. You made no attempt to stand up from your spot on the couch just yet, letting your feet recover from wearing those heels for five hours straight. "You need some help getting into the bedroom?" He questioned, scooping you into his arms with that same ease as before when you nodded.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, my lady."

To the time that he begrudgingly agreed to dance with you in the rain

"Come on, just indulge me a bit," you stood in the middle of the empty road, extending your hand out to him while the rain poured down relentlessly. "I'll indulge you inside where we don't have any chance of catching a cold," he grumbled from his spot on the sidewalk, trying to appear menacing. He really did just look like a sopping wet cat, especially with the way that his brows furrowed slightly. "Mami, let's go. I'll let you dance with me inside, please. Any song you want, too."

You kept your arm extended to him, waiting. You knew that he was bound to fall for your whims any second. He let out a small groan, pushing himself off the sidewalk before walking over to where you were standing. "If you get sick, I won't hesitate to tell you that I told you so," he intertwined his hand with yours, the warmth from his body a nice contrast to the chill air surrounding the two of you. "Do you know how rare it is for Nueva York streets to be this empty?"

Usually, there was at least a mad man that would be running around the streets. Even in these conditions. But the two of you were alone, streetlights illuminating your 'dance floor.' His reluctance seemed to fade away as the two of you swayed on the street, with seemingly no rhythm whatsoever. "If you wanted to sway with me, we could've done that inside," he pointed out, letting out a small snort. "Just because I said I wanted to dance didn't mean that I promised to be good at it."

He guided you through a slow rhythm, his coordination slightly better than what you would've given him credit for. His feet moving to a silent melody in his head. "I was a chambelán at this quince, they had us practice the routine until we ended up crying or collapsing from exhaustion," he spoke up before you had the chance to ask, "But at least it's given me some pretty gnarly dance moves."

"Hey, Miguel?"

"¿Qué paso?"

"Never say 'gnarly' again. You sound older than what you are," you burst out into little giggles at the scoff that left his lips. "I'll let you know that all the scientific studies I've participated on have shown that gnarly's making a comeback."

"Hey, Miguel?" You were debating on if this was the right time to admit what had been threatening to escape your lips for a while now. All you could do was hope that he didn't think that this admission was too soon.

"If you're gonna ask me about the resources that I have for those studies, I don't have them on me now. I'll get them later, though," you could only roll your eyes at his persistence, a laugh bubbling from your chest. Even as the laugh echoed through the empty street, you weren't exactly too concerned with how loud you were being. It wasn't like it compared to the way your heart was beating against your rib cage, your hands starting to clam up in his grasp.

"No, it's not about that. Not that gnarly's making a comeback either way."

"Mark my words. Gnarly. Will. Be. Making. A. Comeback," he accentuated his words carefully, giving you a mock glare before he continued to speak, "But if it's not about that, then what's up?"

The moment of truth. Maybe this was a mistake. You could feel your throat close up, your movements starting to get a little sloppy. Just tell him. His reaction can't be that bad, right? You knew he had no reason to react negatively but every single worst-case scenario started to run through your head relentlessly. "I love you."

"I love you too," while it was the response that you were expecting, it still caught you off-guard. He held your gaze, showing no signs of regret or hesitation as he whispered those words to you. "I don't think that I've loved someone the same way that I love you," and even now, he had to top off your admission. You weren't sure how much time had passed by while the two of you danced away, all that you knew was that the cold tomorrow was probably worth it. If only to say that you got the chance at this experience.

He didn't say anything the next morning when you woke up with a cough, your skin on your nose starting to get raw from how many times you'd gotten up to wipe it. Even though you could tell that he was itching to tell you, the words practically on the top of his tongue if you had to guess. "I got you some chicken soup," he spoke up after you woke up from what seemed to be your 50th nap on the day, the faint aroma from the soup wafting up your stuffy nose.

Definitely worth it.

And even the time that he'd gone up to receive his award with your lipstick all over his face

"I need my good luck kiss, c'mon," he gently pinched your side, a small laugh escaping from your lips as you attempted to push his hand away. "You'll get my lipstick all over you," you pointed out, remembering that the Chanel lipstick you had on was in fact, not transfer-proof. Miguel didn't seem to care too much though, a grin on his face as he leaned in to kiss you. "At least they'll know that my lady loves me."

You'd imprinted the mark of your lips on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, satisfied by the work you'd done when you looked at it. Perhaps you'd gotten a little carried away. Not that he looked bad covered in your red lipstick, by any means. He was no longer Miguel O'Hara, the world-renowned geneticist with more awards under his belt than he could count. He was simply just a love struck idiot with a grin on his face. A love struck idiot for you.

"What time do the awards start again?" You wiped away the lipstick on the side of your mouth and under your lips, grabbing the tube from your purse to fix it. The last thing that the two of you needed was to hear Aaron's snide remarks about how Miguel was incompetent. You went to hand him a clean makeup wipe, but he rejected the advance. "I believe they started about five minutes ago," he responded, pulling his jacket sleeve to look at the watch adorning his wrist.

"Why are you not freaking out about this more?" You questioned him, panic evident on your voice as you pushed everything inside your purse and moved to get out the car. He put his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing it through the material of the silk dress you'd worn for tonight. "Why are you freaking so much about it?" For someone who valued punctuality, he seemed to be oddly calm in this situation. Well, you supposed there was nothing you could do now that you both were late. You took a couple deep breaths, grabbing the stuff you'd missed when you were in a rush.

While you were busy gathering your bearings, he went around the car and opened the door for you. Extending a hand out to you. He grasped your fingers in between his own, helping you with getting out of the car before he even thought of stepping into the building. "They're about to announce your name, O'Hara. Get in there," Delgato hissed as the two of you walked past him, his head craning up to look up at Miguel. "Maybe if you stopped standing in my way, I might be able to."

You could practically see the sheer anger in Delgato's face as he muttered to himself, moving out of the way nonetheless. "Now I know why you end up so stressed," you muttered, making your way down the stairs to take a seat. The room was a bit packed but the two of you managed to find some good seats in the middle. A couple people turned to look at the two of you but their attention was captured once more by the person speaking up on stage. Something about a drug slowing the speed in which some disease grew.

"And now for our next award of the night, please give a hand to Dr. Miguel O'Hara from Alchemax."

The cameras started clicking immediately as soon as he stepped onto the stage, a couple whispers of how unprofessional he was being being shared around in the audience. A couple thank you's were shared, to his lab colleagues and assistants who all simply just nodded upon being acknowledged, before he delved into what the topic of his research had been about. Well, just enough to keep the audience and you entertained. Even though only a couple of the words coming out his mouth actually managed to stick, you couldn't help but listen intently.

To the way that he described his work, with such passion and dedication. The way that he visibly lightened up whenever he got to speak about something that was fascinating to him. Even with all the talk circulating through the audience, you just couldn't help but be so proud of him. His eyes met yours through the sea of people, a smile on his face as he finished with the summary he'd gone over time and time again in front of the bathroom mirror. "Are there any questions?"

He was starting to get agitated, even you could tell from a distance. Well, it's not like you could exactly blame either parties here. The audience wanted to know why he'd shown up with lipstick adorning almost every corner of his face and he wanted to get asked questions about his research. "Any questions that aren't related to my current appearance?" He decided to ask, and it was almost comical how many hands went down. He answered the questions of those who remained, about five. But all he seemed to care about was having your attention in the audience as he spoke.

And while you'd expected him to win tonight, you hadn't expected this. Having him on one knee while you two were supposed to be celebrating his achievement. "So I didn't really prepare a speech before this or anything. But I was just wondering if you'd give me the second win of the night and agree to marry me," As corny as it was, you found yourself nodding to his proposal. "You mean to tell me that worked?" He asked, hesitatingly reaching over to grab your hand to slide the ring on.

"Yes, you idiot. You're acting like I expected anything more from you," you answered, watching as he slid the band on. It was fairly simple, a small stone perched on the middle of it. Your birth stone. "I promise to make you the happiest woman alive," he murmured against your lips, gently tilting your chin so you'd be looking at him. "You already are," it was your turn to be smooth. He let out a small chuckle, his lips gently pressing against yours.

So how did it get to this point?

To the point of having dozens of your calls and messages ignored, and if there was a response, it'd be a simple one-worded response. Enough for you to want to drop the subject all together. Dates between the two of you were a common occurrence, or at least often enough to the point where you didn't have to spend five minutes wondering when the last one had been. Promises left unfulfilled, accumulating only to be left discarded in the dust.

As much as you tried to resist it at first, you started to grow.. okay with it. It felt almost selfish to ask more of him, knowing how much effort he put into making sure that the three of you had a roof over your head. You were able to get a part-time job, giving you more time to spend with Gabriella. A nagging thought kept bugging you though. You married him for the purpose of having him as a husband, not solely a provider. Maybe you weren't as okay with it as you thought.

Your eye twitched when the last balloon was being filled up. How was it that almost every member of his family was capable of showing up and he wasn't? Even some of them came from Mexico for the week. For all the events that he'd missed, you at least would've thought that he would make some attempt to show up for Gabriella's party. You could see her looking around, with the hope of catching a glimpse of her father. It wouldn't hurt to call his work to see what was so important that he couldn't get off, right?

"Alchemax Industries. What can I help you with today?" The receptionist's bored tone came through the other end of the line after spending a couple minutes on hold, your foot irritably tapping against the hardwood floor. All you could do was hope that they wouldn't send you to another line like the previous five times.

"Hi, I'm calling about one of your employees. Miguel O'Hara. I was wondering until what time he was scheduled to work today," you answered quietly, in attempts that no one would overhear. The last thing you needed were any additional comments from his family about how you couldn't keep him around. You listened as the receptionist on the other side started typing out on their computer, silently thanking them.

"¡Te voy agarrar!" You heard yelling behind you, moving to the side before you ended up getting trampled by a bunch of five year olds. "Okay, sorry about taking a while. So about the employee that you're calling, there's a mistake. Miguel hasn't-" The rest of it fell onto deaf ears, your grip on the phone tightening as you struggled to keep up your composure. "Ma'am?" You heard the receptionist ask after a couple moments of silence. The fact that the call had ended hadn't even registered until a while later.

The words kept sounding through your head as the party continued, despite how much you'd tried to drown them out. With water balloon fights in the backyard with some of the kids, karaoke with Gabriella, and the breaking of the piñata. But you couldn't. Your eyes kept darting over to the door, almost expecting to find Miguel walking in at any given moment now. Though you weren't exactly surprised when it remained shut after the first five times that you'd checked. Everyone was having a good time and all you could do was miss him.

Chatter and laughter filled the atmosphere as you made your way through the penthouse, trying to find Gabriella. She'd disappeared right after the cake was cut with the pretense that she needed to use the bathroom about half an hour ago. And while she did spend up to that in the bathroom, it was only really whenever you gave her your cellphone to play around with. And you knew that none of the kids were playing hide and seek. "Gabi!" You called out, searching for her in the guest room.

The last time you'd seen her, she was busy talking with her tías. Nice women, really. Just too involved in finding out whatever chisme they could get out of Gabriella without any regards towards her feelings or the setting they were currently in. You wouldn't be surprised if they brought up the topic of separation to the poor girl. "Hey, have you seen Gabi around?" You didn't even question why Gabriel was exiting one of the rooms with one of your friends, too concerned about Gabi.

Gabriel wiped some spit from the corner of his mouth, shaking his head. "I'll let you know if we find her," he assured you, trying to hide your friend with his body. Like that'd erase the suspicion. Though you guessed it wasn't the right time to go over the whole 'don't hurt them' spiel. You'd do that when you knew your daughter was safe. "Okay, thank you," you told him, going to look for her in the secret spots you knew she liked to hide. In the laundry room. The library. Out in the balcony.

You stepped inside your shared closet with Miguel, not expecting to find her inside. You only really bothered to check as a last resort. But there she was. Her knees pulled up to her chest with her head buried deep in them, sniffling that was almost enough to bring you down to your knees. You walked over to her, sitting down in front of her before gently pulling her hands away from her face.

Only then could you see the extent of her pain. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her nose was starting to turn pink at the tip from how much she'd been rubbing at it. "What's wrong, mija?" You wiped away the tears that brimmed at the edge of her waterline with your thumb, drying it on your jeans. All you'd been trying to do was make sure she was having a good time at the party and your efforts had all but flopped.

"Why didn't he show up?" With every little crack of her voice, you could feel a piece of your heart shatter. You knew perfectly well who she was referring to her. Just like you'd been waiting for him to arrive, you caught small glimpses of Gabriella searching hopelessly around for her father. "I don't know. I wish I knew what could've been so important but I don't," you whispered, holding her close to your chest. There wasn't any use lying to her, not when you knew she'd look through it.

"Mami, me duele la cabeza," Gabriella spoke up after a couple seconds, looking up at you. You could only guess. From what you could gather, you figured that she must've been crying at least for the previous half hour. "I can't give you any pills.. but I'll read you a story once you lay down for bed," you told her, helping her stand up from her spot on the floor. Gabriella left the closet to go brush her teeth and get ready for bed, leaving you in the deafening silence of the closet.

"Party's over," you announced on your way downstairs, already imagining the flurry of complaints that would come your way. You knew that if it was up to everyone else, they would find a way to keep the party going until two in the morning. After thanking everyone for coming and sending them home with leftovers that would last them through the weekend, you cleaned up the house a bit. Picking up a couple candy wrappers from the floor and sweeping off the multitude of streamers on the floor.

You'd spent the next hour tidying up the house, cleaning up juice stains from your once pristine white floors. Well, at least Gabriella managed to have a good time. Mostly. You'd almost expected her to fall asleep by the time you went back upstairs, but you saw her peering over at you when you opened up the door. "Alright, what story did you want me to read?" You questioned, stepping over to the library she had in the corner of her room. Naming off the first suggestions that appeared in your field of vision. "Can we do The Little Prince?"

Gabriella scooted over on the bed to let you sit down next to her, listening intently as you begin to read the story. Almost like she hadn't been listening to this story for the previous two weeks. At some point, she'd learned some of the passages from memory and began to recite them from the top of her head. You finished the book, half expecting her to still be awake and wanting another book. But no. Her eyes were shut, her arms tightly wrapped around one of her plushies while her breathing slowed down.

"Que sueñes con los angelitos," you whispered, pushing a couple loose strands of her hair back before kissing her forehead. She stirred in her sleep, her grip on the blankets tightening slightly. You moved when she finally managed to still, putting the book back on the shelf where it belonged. Prepping it for tomorrow. You made your way out the room, making sure to leave her night lamp on before shutting the door behind you. At least her headache hadn't bothered her too badly.

You poured yourself a glass of wine from a trip you'd taken with Miguel to Italy, swirling the burgundy liquid around. Much how your own thoughts were currently swirling around without any clear direction. Not your usual drink of choice, you had to admit. But it was a nice distraction. The subtle glow from the moonlight illuminated the otherwise empty room, the quietness almost too much to bear. There was nothing to distract you from the thoughts running rampant inside your head, each one of them leading to what seemed to be the same conclusion.

A divorce.

Even thinking about it felt wrong, though. You and Miguel made a pact upon getting married—stating that no matter how mad the two of you got at one another, that word would never be mentioned. Not even as a joke. But you supposed that was made during a different time. A time where Miguel wouldn't put his family on the back burner simply because of work affairs. A time where you didn't have to come up with excuses for his behavior.

It wasn't just for yourself that you were considering this solution. But also for Gabriella. His absence was starting to affect her in more ways than you could possibly fathom. Not just today for her birthday, but also throughout the last couple months. You could see the different attempts that Gabriella had made to talk to her dad, most of them ending up unsuccessful. Only leaving her more and more confused. Leaving her wondering what she'd done wrong.

"¡Mami!" Gabriella called out from the other room while you were busy finishing up dinner in the kitchen, setting a separate plate for Miguel to put in the microwave. A nudging feeling that you would find the plate the same way you'd left it running through your head. You walked over to Gabi, spotting her in the kitchen table with a coloring book set in front of her. You were almost impressed by how precise she was at such a young age.

She'd managed to color in the photos without going through the lines once. She was always a bit of a perfectionist though, much like her father. It felt like staring at a reflection of a mini Miguel at times. If only he would try to maintain that relationship you knew Gabriella needed in her life.

"Yeah, what's up?" You wiped your hands on a napkin before taking a seat next to her. Looking over at the design on her book, you decided to commit the sight to memory. It wouldn't hurt to search it up later and use it as a form of gift inspiration for her birthday party coming up. "There's this parent career day tomorrow and I was hoping that you could come."

You wouldn't have expected her to ask you for help first. Given that your job mostly consisted of logistics and paperwork most of the day. The last interesting thing that had happened in the office was an affair between one of the CEO's and an intern. "You sure you don't want your dad to go instead?" Even if it wasn't by much, you figured that genetics would be more interesting than how graph analysis works. Gabriella played with her pens, avoiding looking at you.

"What's the point of asking if he's not gonna show up?" She spoke up after a couple moments, a small sigh escaping from your lips. You couldn't lie to her any better than you could lie to yourself, you knew that much. But you at least had to try. If only to stop that frown from forming on her face. "How about I present what your dad does for work? So it's almost like he's there," Except he wouldn't be. You figured it was a good enough compromise for her though. "But why can't he show up? Do we not matter to him anymore?"

The same question that clouded your thoughts while you laid in bed, arms wrapped around one of his pillows so it wouldn't feel so empty. So you wouldn't be reminded that the stupid California King was too big just for you to lay on it. "We do matter, he's just busy with work. It's how we're able to live the way we do," you answered, trying to keep your answer simple without dumbing it down. She was smart enough to understand. Smarter than you sometimes gave her credit for. "Okay. Your option sounds good."

You'd stayed up well past midnight that night, reading through a couple of Miguel's research papers in some attempt to figure out what you needed to describe. So far, all you had was talking about flasks and the basics of chemistry that you'd learned. Adorning a poster board with glitter also proved to be more work than you would've imagined, the clean-up taking longer than you would've expected. At least it didn't look too bad. Well, just enough to impress a classroom full of ten year olds.

Just the fact that Gabriella wasn't even making the effort anymore was enough to reassure the decision that maybe a divorce was necessary. Even if the thought was still painful to think about. At some level, you still loved Miguel just as much as the first day that you'd uttered those words to him. Just as much as the day you showed up on the aisle to officially intertwine your life with his. But you knew that neither you or Gabriella could be content just expecting the minimum from him.

The front door swung open, a loud groan escaping from Miguel's lips as he stepped into the threshold. His work shoes squeaked against the floors you'd just cleaned as he trudged over to the living room. "Hey, where's Gabi?" His lips barely grazed your cheek when he bent down to greet you, his voice riddled with exhaustion. He took a seat on the couch, his back slouched against the cushions. "She's asleep. Given that it's currently midnight."

You heard shuffling from his side, the bright phone screen illuminating his face. From this angle, you could see the dark circles underneath his eyes. It almost made you regret wanting to even bring this topic up. He squinted, tapping at the screen with his pointer finger to turn down the brightness. "Ah shock, you're right. I missed her birthday," Normally you would've been okay with the fact that he'd even bothered to remember the event he'd missed.

"Where were you?" You questioned, reaching over to turn on the lamp. You felt like one of those detectives in the old movies you'd watched with Miguel, the light dim enough to create an ominous shadow over yourself. "What do you mean? I was at work all day," he responded, rubbing a hand through his face. He was committed to making the lie work, you had to give him that. He even had the Alchemax lab coat and badge on. And under normal circumstances, you might've just let that slide. Like all the other previous instances.

You calmly took a sip from your drink, letting the suspense marinate for just a little while longer. "I called Alchemax. It's funny that you say that, given that their system shows that you quit months ago. So, I'll give you one more chance to tell me the truth," you told him, his eyes widening almost comedically. The silence was enough of a tell for you to realize that you had him cornered now. He managed to meet your gaze after a couple seconds, speaking almost begrudgingly, "You called my job?"

You gave him a dirty look, almost surprised that it was what he was choosing to focus on. "Right, right. Not the point," he muttered, rubbing his temples. The silence was almost deafening, the two of you trying to keep things quiet for the sake of keeping some normalcy in front of Gabriella. "She kept asking about you, you know?" You started off, setting the wine glass with a thump before speaking again, "I kept lying to her. Telling her that something at work was more important than you being able to show up to her party."

"I want a divorce." It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, and you could almost see the different wheels in his head work. The wedding ring around your finger suddenly felt too heavy, the life that the two of you built together threatening to crash down in a mere matter of seconds just by that single sentence. "The least that you could do now is tell me the truth. Because what I'm imagining right now is that you have some kind of secret family on the down low."

In your defense, what more were you supposed to think? Especially when he's made no effort to tell you anything up to this point? You picked up the wine glass, glancing over at him to see what he'd do now. You'd be lying if you said that you fully expected him to start telling you the truth. But you hoped he did. If only to make you reconsider the idea of getting a divorce. If only to let you sleep better at night.

"Okay. Fine, I'll tell you. Just please.. consider the divorce one more time. Please. And believe me when I say there is no other family," he stood up from his spot, his hands clasped together as he stood in front of you. This was starting to sound dangerously similar to the number of excuses that he'd given you before but you decided on giving him the benefit of the doubt. You stayed silent and he took that as a cue to continue, "I haven't been around because... I'm Spider-Man."

The wine in your mouth poured down your nose, the liquid have gone down the wrong pipe. You coughed, attempting to clear your throat as the words settled in. There was no way that he was being serious. But the way that he was looking at you made it seem like he was. "And I know that it doesn't justify putting the two of you on the back burner but there's a lot of crime in Nueva York and throughout the universes in case you haven't realized." Universes?

Now you were certain he'd either lost it or he was just pulling excuses out of his ass. Probably a combination of both if you had to guess. "You're kidding," you deadpanned, waiting for some kind of indication that this was all just a joke. He flicked his wrist, a string of what seemed to be a web sticking onto the lamp next to you. You reached over, tentatively scooping the substance onto your pointer finger to examine what it was. It was indeed.. a web. You were starting to wonder if you'd drunk too much wine.

Nope. Still half a glass left. You punched the side of your arm, waiting for some kind of indication that you were dreaming. All you received was a sharp shot of pain though. Now all you had left to do was actually acknowledge the situation. Accept the fact that your husband was the self-proclaimed vigilante of Nueva York.

"Why didn't you tell me in the first place?" You managed to ask after the initial shock had died down, clearing your throat. He shifted his feet awkwardly, sitting down next to you once more. "Because I've seen too many instances of this play out. I didn't want any danger to come to you after you found out," he responded, his hands reaching out to hold your own. "But please, trust me. I only have eyes for you. Every single of my absences has been for the better of Nueva York."

It all started to make sense, though. The amount of files scattered on his desk, information on previous villains. A couple comic books from the previous Spider-Man on his bedside table. The awkward disappearances when the two of you were out on the street.

"Please say something," he urged after a couple seconds of your silence, his calloused thumb rubbing small circles on your hand. What could you really say, though? It felt wrong to still be pissed off at him while he went off to save the city, and yet.. you still couldn't find it in yourself to forgive him just yet. "I know that the city of Nueva York needs you. But so does Gabriella. She doesn't deserve to be questioning what she's doing wrong as a child."

He was about to speak up but you quickly interrupted him, "She thinks she's not doing enough. That all those trophies in her room aren't enough for you to be proud of her. I beg of you to find some kind of balance before you end up losing the both of us for good." With that, you downed the rest of your wine before retreating to the kitchen to clean up the glass. You expected him to come back to bed, though you hadn't heard him come in after half an hour of tossing and turning. All you heard was the guest room door being opened.

You were awoken to the sweet scent of buttermilk, all kinds of different alarms going off in your head. The thought of Gabriella burning herself in the kitchen was starting to imprint itself in your brain. It certainly wasn't Miguel. Despite how groggy you were, you quickly rubbed your eyes and made your way over to the kitchen. Niña Bonita welcomed you as soon as you stepped inside, noticing Miguel stirring some batter with Gabriella by his side. At least she wasn't too close to the stove.

"Mi niña bonita, my dulce princesa," he hummed along to the song, gently ruffling Gabriella's hair. You stood at the doorway in silence, a small smile making itself known on your face despite how mad you were at Miguel. Gabriella attempted to push off his hands, but even she couldn't hide how much she was enjoying this time with him. "Mami, you finally got up!" Gabriella called you over once she noticed you.

"When'd you take the time to learn how to make these?" Usually it was you that took care of the cooking. "I'm not completely useless in the kitchen, I'll have you know," Miguel retorted, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. Though you knew better. You could see a couple pancake pieces sticking up to the ceiling. Just how long had he been up to try to perfect this skill for Gabriella? "Take a seat, they'll almost be done. The sous chef's been doing an excellent job helping."

"Papi promised we'd go to the aquarium today, to make up for missing my birthday," Gabriella announced as you were in the middle of pouring syrup onto your pancakes. You had to forcibly stop yourself from reacting, trying to ensure that you wouldn't be having syrup with a side of pancakes. "You sure you can handle it?" You gritted under your teeth when Gabriella went to retrieve her tablet in the living room. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I couldn't. Haven't given you any reason to but have some faith in me."

You raised your brows, waiting for him to realize just how contradictory that statement was. Not that it ever came, though. "Can I stay the night over at my friend's house?" Gabriella piped once she finished her pancakes, all too eager to grab your plate along with Miguel's. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing the resistance on his expression. "Which friend is it?" You questioned, trying to rack your brain if it was something that she mentioned before. "The one from soccer practice, Candice."

After making some calls to Candice's mom to make sure that sleepover was actually something that she was aware of, you gave Gabriella the go-ahead. She practically rushed into her bedroom after the three of you had finished with breakfast, picking out a pair of pajamas and clothes before stuffing them into her backpack. Triple checking it so there would be no reason for room to doubt her preparation. While she was in the shower, you snuck in her stuffed animal. Just as a safety precaution.

The trip to the aquarium was honestly more trouble than it was worth, in your opinion. Parking was nearly impossible, the vein on Miguel's forehead threatening to pop with each turn that he made around the lot. Waiting patiently for whatever spot would open up for half an hour before realizing that no one was leaving. Even Gabriella had started to get fidgety in the back seat, asking Miguel if you all were there yet over and over again. "Just get the valet, I'm sure it won't be that expensive," you suggested, hoping that it wouldn't add on to the frustration Miguel was feeling.

"Wait, hold on," like a beacon of hope, one of the spots opened up just as soon as you said that. Before he had the chance to park the car though, one of the newly arriving guests immediately seized the opportunity and took it before he had the chance. With one slam to the steering wheel, he relented and went over to get in line for the valet parking. "Here, you can watch a documentary on turtles," you pulled it up on your phone before leaving, not that you thought you would have to use it. And just like that, Gabriella immersed herself on what was on the screen.

Seeing the price of valet parking almost made you want to regret ever suggesting at all. Seriously, who charged $50 just for a parking spot? Gabriella let her grip on your phone slip when she was handing it to you, your brows furrowing as you already started to imagine the crack on screen just from the sound it made hitting the concrete. You quickly picked up, pocketing it up before Gabriella started to feel guilty. "Don't worry about it. I was due for a new one anyways," you assured her, holding to her hand while Miguel held her other one.

The three of you were visibly annoyed as soon as you stepped foot into the aquarium, the excitement towards this trip dying down with every single thing that kept going wrong. Not only had it taken half an hour and $50 to even enter, but now, none of the shows were even available? Even the dolphins had gone down with some kind of fish flu. Why it was even so full was beyond you. "Come on, we'll still have a good time," Miguel sounded like he was trying to collectively convince all three of you, offering Gabriella a piggy back ride as compensation.

Gabriella didn't seem to mind it too much, her head raised like she was royalty while perched on Miguel's shoulders. His grip on her legs was tight, assuring she wouldn't fall down. Given that she had a tendency to test herself and lean as forward as she could when one of the fish approached. You'd never seen her this excited about a trip before. You quickly realized the reason for her excitement. Miguel kept giving her subtle facts about each of the different species that you approached, whether from his own brain or the information board put up.

And she held on to every single word that escaped from his mouth, listening to him like he was the most interesting man in the world.

After seeing how full the gift shop was at the end of the tour, you decided to wait outside with a couple other guests. All you could hope was that Miguel would talk to her while the two of them were inside, give her some of that connection that she longed for. She came back bouncing back with a shark plushie— one identical to the one Miguel had gotten you on a prior date. Just the sight make your resolve melt a bit. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing him give you a shrug. "It's what the princess wanted."

Exiting the aquarium was almost as troublesome as entering, a line of cars parked at the exit. Gabriella didn't seem to mind it as much, plotting a story line with her as a mermaid with the shark. It'd been a while since you got the chance to see her be so animated. Throughout the car ride, she couldn't stop talking about how the trip at the aquarium and explaining the exhibits to you in explicit detail. Well, that was until you got to Candice's house. She was quick to leave as soon as she saw her friend waiting outside, her two feet almost too slow to match her energy.

The tension in the air was thick from the moment Gabriella had departed the car but it was much more obvious now that the two of you were stuck in a room together. After making a beeline to go change into a pair of shorts and a shirt—calling it a night, you were surprised to find Miguel still laying on the bed. Idly tapping at his phone with one finger, the faint sound of a Candy Crush! reaching your ears. You figured that he would've left to go monitor the city after spending the day with Gabriella. Maybe he was determined to make it work this time around.

No.

You couldn't start thinking that way just because he bothered to stick around for one evening.

He settled in between your legs, continuing to tap away at the screen. As much as you wanted to protest, you decided not to. From this angle, you could see him struggling with solving level 3976. How much time had he seriously dedicated to this game? Time that he hadn't spent dedicating towards you. Great. Just the thought was enough to piss you off once more. You grabbed your own phone from the bed stand, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes every time one of those stupid family channels showed up. If you had to bet, you'd guess their marriage wasn't that good either.

Miguel looked up at you from his spot in between your legs, with furrowed brows and brown irises practically boring into you. He looked so needy.. so desperate. "Please mamita, I need you. I need to touch you again," he pleaded, his lips leaving a searing sensation as he kissed up your leg. It'd been too long since you'd received any form of intimacy from anything other than your fingers and your vibrator. And while they did get the job done, they didn't exactly offer this kind of foreplay.

He moved the flimsy material of your pajama shorts to the side, kissing the innermost part of your thighs. Your fingers tugged at the strands, trying to pull him to your cunt. With every single teasing breath against the thin material, you could feel yourself clenching around nothing and dripping onto your panties. "Not yet," and the bastard had the nerve to laugh. It was the last sound you heard before you felt a small sting on your thigh, your eyes almost popping out of your skull. When he said he was Spider-Man, you'd been expecting the whole swinging around.

What you hadn't been expecting, however, was a pair of fangs that were almost the same length as your head. Just how far did the extent of these spider powers go? You were thinking of every possibility, unaware that you'd even spaced out. He regained your attention by pulling the waistband of your shorts, the elastic snapping against your skin. "Only thing you have to be focused is on me," he spoke up before you had the chance to say anything, moving to take off your shorts off. You raised your hips, your panties and shorts falling off in one swift motion.

He'd been nothing but desperate earlier, but his touch almost seemed reverent this time around. Kissing up your legs as if you were something to worship, drinking up your gasps as if they were the finest tunes he'd ever listened to. His hands pried your thighs open, leaving you completely exposed to him. Only before he got the chance to lean in was that you got the chance to see just how desperate for this he truly was. His pointer finger ran through your folds, collecting whatever slick had started to accumulate.

"You say you want a divorce but this pretty cunt's telling me a different thing," almost like he was timing it—which he was, he pulled his fingers out of your cunt. A loud squelch echoed through the otherwise silent room, a small groan escaping from your lips. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him hear your moans. "Let me hear you mamita. Let me hear good I'm making you feel," he prodded, his fingers moving in a scissoring motions. You bit on your bottom lip, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

"Eso, no me nieges. Te lo ruego."

Miguel pulled his fingers out of your cunt, his eyes boring into yours as he licked the glistening slick off them. Practically feining to get every single drop. He leaned in to be face-level with your cunt, licking a stripe up your folds before parting them apart with his tongue. "Oh fuck," the moan slipped out of your lips before you had a chance to think better of it, the small chuckle he let out against your cunt vibrating throughout your body. His head moved from side to side, practically engulfing himself in between your legs with his nose pressing against your clit.

Your legs trembled in his grasp, struggling to keep them open when all you wanted to do was close them around his head. You wanted him to stop. You wanted him to keep going. The constant whiplash was enough to make you into a whining mess underneath him, despite your better judgement. "Please," you didn't even make sense to yourself. You weren't exactly sure what it is that you were even begging for. "Shh, it's okay. I'll give you what you need," and yet, he seemed to understand your pleas perfectly.

His mouth closed around your clit, his eyes boring into yours as he sucked on the neglected nub. Your nails dug into his scalp, a groan escaping from his lips. Like a domino effect, that small groan vibrated against your clit which caused you to only tighten your grip on his hair. You bucked your hips to meet his lips, his grip on your legs tightening. "I got you mamita, just let me take my time pleasing you," he murmured, kissing a trail from your inner thigh to your folds once more. His tongue fell flat, licking a stripe up your glistening folds.

The tip of his tongue prodded at your entrance before the wet muscle pushed inside, your juices leaking down to his mouth almost instantaneously. If anything, he didn't seem to mind it. He almost looked like he was in complete bliss. Miguel made no attempt to continue the ploy he'd started with the eye contact earlier, his eyes shut as he got lost in the taste of your essence. "Oh, Mig, Mig, Mig-" Broken fragments of his name escaped from your lips as his pointer finger rubbed small circles on your clit, the dual stimulation enough to have your toes curling.

You reached down to play with your erect nipples, rolling them in between your fingers. The orgasm you were chasing was so close, so attainable. "Gonna cum, gonna cum," every single word from your vocabulary seemed limited. All you could do was repeat yourself and hope that he would get the picture. "That's it, you got it," he coaxed you into an orgasm, your toes curling and your grip on his hair tightening. If anything, he seemed to revel in how you were gripping him.

Every word at the tip of your tongue failed you as you came with a shudder, your release coating his mouth and chin in the process. Miguel eagerly took every drop that you had to give, even going back into your cunt to get anything that he might've missed. You practically had to push him off before he started to eat you out again. While you knew that he could handle it, you weren't too sure that you could. You let your back hit the mattress, basking in the afterglow from your orgasm.

Before Miguel had the chance to finish with unbuttoning his pants, you took the chance to clear your throat. His hands halted their movements, his eyes shooting up to you like a deer caught in headlights. "With the way you've been acting, do you seriously think you've earned the right to fuck me?" You questioned, seeing his expression visibly deflate as he removed his hands from the buttons. "Please. I'll do anything, mi vida. Es tortura tenerte tan cerca y no poder tocarte," it was a rare sight to see.

Miguel prided himself in being above begging. And yet, here he was.

"Go on and lay on the bed for me," your tone offered no room for protests, his steps quick as he went to lay down on the bed. You trailed your hand from his knee to his crotch, cupping his heavy balls in your palm. "Look at me and tell me you have the right to fuck me, if that's the case," you spoke up, looking over at him as your hand switched from one ball to the other. Giving each the same amount of attention. You watched as he opened his mouth, closed it back up again, and repeated the process until he eventually gave up.

"I can't," he huffed out, almost in a whisper. You reached over in your bedside table, pulling out your trusty vibrator. "And why's that?" You asked him, your touch featherlight when you rubbed the vibrator against the outline of his cock. Just enough to give him a taste of what he could have. "Because I don't deserve to fuck you. I know. But I'm still selfish," he admitted after a while, his words barely above a whisper. Good enough of an answer for now.

A shaky groan escaped from his lips when you turned the vibrator on, the lowest intensity almost too painful to bear. Shudders ran across his body as you rubbed the vibrator on the tip of his cock, sliding it down to his frenulum. "Ngh, don't stop," his voice was practically a whimper by this point, his hips bucking to meet your touch. Not that you allowed for that continue for long though. You pushed your thighs down with one hand, his muscles flexing underneath your grasp.

You moved the vibrator to rest against the tip of his cock, precum leaking onto the tip of it. You tentatively brought it up to your lips, swirling your tongue around it as the familiar salty taste overwhelmed your senses. His eyes were locked on yours, his hips bucking up in some miserable attempt to gain some friction. You set the vibrator back on the tip of his cock, a hiss escaping from his lips. "Turn it up."

"What's the magic word?" You shifted to grab the remote, lowering the intensity despite the groans that escaped from his lips. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, if you had to be honest. Well, the closest he could get to that point anyways. "Pl.." he couldn't finish his sentence, a choked groan escaping from his lips. He looked over at you, like he was expecting you to understand. And while you did, you also wanted him to use his words. Hear how pretty he sounded begging.

"P-Ple-nghh."

“Plea-shockk."

"P-Ay mierda."

It was a cruel game you were playing, you were aware. You kept the vibrator at the same speed, raising a brow as you looked at him. "Sounds like you don't really want it," you taunted, deciding to put the vibrator to the highest level possible. Only for a fraction of a second, though. Just as quickly as relief had come for him, it was gone. He let out a groan, trying to will the word to slip out of his mouth. Just one word.

"Please," it seemed like your little show of motivation had finally paid off. You turned the intensity of the vibrator gradually this time around, allowing him to get used to the sensation. "See what you get when you ask nicely," you decided to taunt him even further despite knowing better. You knew your cunt would be paying the consequences for your relentless teasing later in the night. Not like the thought mattered now, though. Not when you had Miguel begging and at the verge of tears just for your touch.

His balls felt heavy to the touch, almost like he was at the point of cumming. You gave both of them equal attention, rolling them in your hand. Miguel's eyes could only clamp shut, his mouth parted. "Please let me cum, so close," he begged so nicely, a couple drops of precum leaking down to your thigh. You could always be generous and let him cum. Then again, the idea of prolonging his orgasm was just too enticing to resist. Each buck of his hips became more erratic, more needy. Before he got to that point of climax, you pulled the vibrator away from his cock.

"I asked nicely," he pointed out, his voice cracking slightly. He scrambled to sit up, almost searching your expression to see if he'd done something wrong. "I'm aware," you simply responded, wiping your vibrator before placing it on the nightstand to clean it throughly later. "I just didn't feel like letting you," you added, waiting to see if he'd offer more resistance. You could see he wanted to say something, but he was holding himself from saying anything. Smart man.

Miguel set a pillow underneath your stomach, your back set in a mean arch as you laid on it. He stepped behind you, his thumb rubbing against your folds before he dipped it inside. Your wetness immediately engulfed his finger, your walls stretching out as he pushed it deeper inside. "What happened to the attitude you had earlier, hm?" He used the same taunting tone that you had, mocking you. A protest died in your throat as the tip of his cock went inside your folds, your head craning back to look at him.

"Just the t-"

"Yes, yes, just the tip. I promise," he cut you off before you had the chance to finish speaking, rolling his eyes. You were already testing his patience by allowing just the tip. He retracted, the tip of his cock an angry shade of red as precum dripped down his shaft. Your walls clenched and unclenched rhythmically, your own body betraying your resolve. He pushed the tip inside once more, keeping it inside your wet cunt. "Please, let me fuck you properly. You're punishing both of us, not just me."

And here you would've figured that his negotiations were reserved just for the state of Nueva York. You shook your head, determined to see this through. "If it's not enough for you, we can just stop here," And how you wished your voice would've come out with more bite. Now you sounded just as needy as he did. Maybe even more. "No, no, it's fine," he was quick to respond, retracting. It was almost painful how slow he was going, almost making you want to give up on this whole argument. Getting stubborn wasn't getting you anywhere.

"Please let me fuck you properly," he pleaded after a couple thrusts, his hands on your hips. Well. At least you didn't have to give in first. "Fine," you tried to sound annoyed, though you weren't convincing him any better than you were yourself. A strangled gasp left your mouth as he bottomed out, your cunt stretched out to the brim. Your walls clenched against his shaft rhythmically, trying to get used to the intrusion. Your hands reached over for the pillow above you, your grip on it tightening as he pulled out.

His skin slapped against your own with each thrust that he made, his grip on your hips tightening. "Don't stop, Mig! So, so good," he'd turned you into a babbling mess within a matter of seconds. "Wasn't planning on it," he responded quickly, each word punctuated with a harsh thrust. You craned your head to look at him, the sight having a new wave of arousal coat his cock. His head was lolled back, his face contorted into one of pure pleasure. You rocked your hips to match his rhythm to the best of his ability, your ass smacking against his hips with every movement.

"Oh shock, slow down," he was mesmerized by the sight of your ass rippling with each move that you made, one of his hands reaching down to cup the flesh. "Not gonna last long if you keep at it," he added, raising his hand before giving your ass a slap. The mixture of pain and pleasure mixed together, your own release starting to approach. "Fill me up, Mig!" You could only whine that out, a groan escaping from his lips at your words. The hand on your ass moved down to your clit, his thumb rubbing on the nub in circles. Fervent circles to match the pace of his sloppy thrusts.

You clamped tightly around his cock, your arousal coming out of you in waves. Your stomach hit the pillow underneath you, your body giving out on you. As soon as you clamped around him, Miguel knew his own orgasm wasn't too far off. With one final thrust, he shot his cum up your cunt. Filling you up like you'd asked. He pulled his flaccid cock out of you a couple moments later, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His fingers pushed back the cum threatening to drip down before he went over to get a wet towel to clean you up.

"It shouldn't take me threatening to divorce you for you to get your act together," you spoke up once you managed to catch your breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Not exactly the topic that you would've imagined talking about after sex. But you figured it was important for him to know that just a good lay wouldn't be enough to resolve this issue. He swiped his arm over his forehead, wiping away at nonexistent sweat beads. Something to do while he tried to figure out what to say.

"I know. And I'm sorry that it ever got to this point, I promise that I'll spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you how worthy I am to be next to you," he spoke up after a few moments, turning to face you. His hands itched to be wrapped around you, for some semblance of that intimacy that he'd neglected for so long. But he didn't make any effort to touch you. He knew it'd take a while for you to get to that point. The conflicted expression on your face was enough to tell him that you didn't believe him.

And it's not like you were looking forward to starting any issues between the two of you. But with the amount of empty promises and "I'm sorry's", you figured that you'd earned the right to doubt him. You got up, putting up your pajamas in an attempt to divert the conversation. You didn't want to voice that you were worried about him failing to fulfill his promise. "I know you don't believe me, but I promise I'll do my best to prove it to you," he whispered, pulling the blanket over the two of you before exhaustion overtook your body.

Instead of the usual emptiness that you'd grown used to waking up to, you found Miguel laying by your side with his arms tightly wrapped around your body. Like he didn't want to let you go. "I can feel you staring," he mumbled, half asleep as he begun to stir. He kept one arm wrapped around you, bringing the other hand up to his face to rub his eyes. "Just surprised you're not at work yet," you responded, pushing a couple stray hairs away from his forehead. "Well, I'm trying to prioritize my family a bit more."

His promises didn't feel as empty as the ones he'd spoken about before. He seemed determined to bring them into fruition this time around. Or at least you hoped that he would. For you and Gabriella. "I know it doesn't amount to much with how many times I've said it, but I really am sorry for neglecting you for so long. I got so carried away into maintaining the safety of Nueva York that I forgot to maintain my own marriage."

"I know you can't be everywhere at once. Me and Gabriella are aware you have responsibilities but still.. I don't want to have to feel like I'm being selfish for asking for some time with my husband," you spoke up after a couple seconds, looking over at him. Neither of you made any attempt to leave your bed just yet, too engulfed in the temporary state of bliss. "And you won't have to feel that way anymore, I promise."

Maybe things would work out for the better this time around.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 3

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of sex, non-sexual nudity

series masterlist │my masterlist

logan sleeps in your bed now. night after night you found him on the hard floor, until you couldn’t deal with the thought of him being so uncomfortable just because he wanted to be near you. so you forced him into your bed, though you’re not sure if forced is the right word to use given how willingly he slipped in next to you - as if he’d done it a million times before, as if it was normal.

he’s a walking heater - you swear there’s a fire burning under his skin, working through his veins to spread throughout his body. you naturally run cold, you always have, so cuddling up to his warmth is a luxury. even in the beginning, when you didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms for fear of what it would mean for your relationship, you would wake bundled up in his arms, safe and protected and wanted in a way that made you never want to leave the bed.

it’s nice, really nice.

and it simultaneously sucks, because you’ve started having dreams of logan, of kissing him, calling him your husband, watching him rock a baby. and you’ve had other dreams too, the ones you’re sure logan can smell on you, with his advanced senses. he’s always awake watching you when you wake up from those dreams, his body still curled against yours, hard dick pressed against you. but he never does anything.

it’s horribly endearing. he’s obviously affected but won’t leave you, knows how much comfort you’ve found in his arms. so he grits his teeth and bears it. despite being half-animal, he’s more of a gentleman than most of the men you’ve met.

and you love knowing that you affect him, knowing that your feelings for him are not completely one-sided, even if you can only be sure of the physical component. when you leave the room to start on your morning routine, he stays behind.

you can’t be certain, but you imagine him taking his dick in his hand, stroking himself to completion, hard and desperate and quick, muffling the sound of his groans with a hand pressed to his mouth.

you’re not used to being woken up like this, however. logan hovers over you, face twisted into a snarl so full of hatred it brings tears to your eyes. his claws are out and have ripped holes in the sheets and the mattress, locking you in a makeshift cage.

his eyes are glazed over, like he’s not quite present in the moment. he’s somewhere else right now, lost somewhere in his mind where you can’t reach him.

this isn’t a slow awakening where you can take time to blink the sleep from your eyes, letting them flutter shut for two more minutes to enjoy the bliss of being not-quite awake. the adrenaline hits you hard and fast, your heartbeat pounding loud in your ears.

you’re trembling, can feel it with every breath you take, shaky exhales and sharp inhales. you’re careful not to make any sudden moves, worried about what logan may do to you.

you know him, know he wouldn’t hurt you. but he doesn’t see you right now, you don’t know who or what he’s seeing in your place. but he’s never looked at you with these eyes, with this level of anger - in fact, you can’t remember a time when he’s truly been angry at you. scared, cautious, tense, maybe. but not fury like this.

“logan,” you whisper.

the sound has barely left your throat when he pulls one clawed hand away from the mattress, tearing more of it in the process, before punching his claws towards your chest. you cry out, instinctually, and that snaps him out of it.

you feel the sharp sting of his metal claws dragging over your skin as he pulls away. it’s only a scratch, and not a terribly deep one at that. you’re used to small injuries, pricking yourself in the garden or accidentally cutting your thumb while cooking or any other stupid way to draw blood to the surface of your skin.

but it’s not the pain that matters, it’s the thought that if it took him a second longer to break out of his nightmare he could have pierced your heart, killed you. 

“logan,” you ask, shaky, “are you okay?”

he’s staring at you, eyes wide and frightened, but the hatred that was there is gone. his claws retract back into his skin. he nods, slow, never breaking eye contact with you.

and then you burst into tears.

you can’t stop, your cries hysterical. logan sits on the bed, moving away from you with every cry that rakes your body, but you grab at his arms desperately, needing him. somehow, despite logan being the reason for your fear, he’s the only thing you want, your mind calling out his name like a prayer.

he hesitates to touch you at first, but you beg him with a broken “please”, and then he’s all over you, pulling you into his lap, nuzzling his face into your neck. he kisses you softly on the skin there, a habit he’s taken up that you don’t mind. you probably should mind, but you’re unable to care about that when it feels so right.

you fall asleep crying in his arms, the exhaustion pulling you under. you wake up again with the sun, logan looking haggard and pale, still holding you. it seems he didn’t fall back asleep when you had.

your throat feels raw from crying, and you can feel the tear tracks where they dried on your skin.

“what was the nightmare about?” you try to ask him.

he shakes his head, every line around his face pulled taunt, “no.”

you’d expected such an answer, something short and succinct where he refuses to lay his problems on you. still, you’d hoped he might share some information, even a sliver of his story that could help you help him.

you’re still worried about logan, but there’s not much you can do if he won’t speak to you, so you leave the bed to wash the dried tears from your face. you go on with your routine as usual, keeping a closer eye on logan, waiting for possible signs to help you uncover the mystery of whatever the fuck is happening with him.

there are none, of course - he’s very difficult to read when he wants to be.

he doesn’t touch you as much, a step further behind you than usual. but otherwise his behaviour doesn’t change too greatly. he’s still sweet and grumpy and lovely.

you teach him how to cook your favourite breakfast foods, and to your surprise, it comes naturally to him. he works by your side like he’s always been there, listening to your instructions perfectly every time. the cuts on your chest still burn slightly, but simply feeling his presence by your side makes everything better.

you’re reading a book on the couch when logan returns from hunting. he never brings anything from his hunt into the house, for which you’re grateful, but he does drag in a lot of dirt. 

you have a routine by now, or at least the bones of one. he likes it when you help him clean up after a hunt or a run in the forest, and so do you. it’s the kind of moment you imagine you’d find in a book, with a couple so deeply in love that they can hardly stand to be apart for a second.

you’re still not completely comfortable with the idea of stripping naked in front of him, but logan has no such qualms. in the bathroom, he pushes his pants and boxers down in one motion.

you blush as he steps into the shower, so unashamed of his body. there’s a wild edge to him that you notice more in moments like these, where you realise the impact of not having those human memories, the socialisation that teaches you to dislike yourself, teaches you that confidence is a negative thing, makes you vain and egotistical.

the water soaks him in an instant, flattening his cute hair tufts against his scalp and you giggle at the way he looks like a wet kitten, though less disgruntled.

he tilts his head expectantly, waiting for you. his gaze is dark and heady, intense as you pull off your shirt, leaving you in only a bra. your face warms as you take off your skirt next, watching logan’s face the entire time, the way his eyes linger on your panties for a long, long moment.

it’s not the first time you’ve undressed in front of him, but every time the effect is the same. warmth pools in your stomach, a mix of arousal and nerves. he’s intoxicating, and that’s terrifying to you.

you don’t take off your bra and panties. they feel like armour, protecting you from being fully defenceless in front of him. it’s not like he couldn’t see the full shape of you, every curve of your body, the parts that you love about yourself, that make you smile at the mirror, and those you hate. 

still, it makes you feel like the one in control - he’s completely naked and you’re not - though you know that he’s larger and stronger than you, that really he’s letting you be in control of the situation, not moving too much as you wash the blood and grime from his body. 

he cares so much about your comfort. sometimes it makes you want to cry. 

“you, now,” he grunts.

“what?”

you’re taken aback at the break in the quiet. it always shocks you a little when he speaks, his voice rough from disuse. 

“i will clean you, now,” he gestures at you and you laugh nervously, taking a step back, as far as you can until you hit the tiled wall. it’s not a very large shower, there’s not really anywhere to go.

“logan,” you whisper, heart in your throat, “no. not right now, okay? finish up your shower, i think- yeah i’m going to go now.”

you practically run out of the steam-filled bathroom, feeling like you’re going to collapse at any second. the thought of him stripping you out of your remaining clothes, unclasping your bra, pulling your panties down your legs and tossing them aside, his hands running over your body, even for something as innocent as washing you, something you’ve done with him a dozen or so times.

you’re having enough sex fantasies about him as it is, you don’t need to add more fuel to the fire. and the thing is, you want it. you want him. you want those fantasies to come to life. but you can’t help but fear that logan’s only clinging to you because you’re the one who found him when he was at his most vulnerable.

when he goes out into the world, whether that’s sometime soon or if it takes years, will he start to resent you? will he find someone better? will the soft intimacy that’s been growing between you collapse like a house of cards?

you’re in your bedroom, laying on top of the sheets, staring up at the ceiling when logan enters.

“you’re upset?” he asks, and at the tone of his voice, the pain that you hear reflected in each syllable, your head turns his way. he looks devastated, like the idea that you might be upset at him is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him in his life. you’re very certain that’s incorrect.

he looks so innocent like this, not a wild animal with claws that rip through flesh like butter, but a man, anxious and unsure and pleading. you can’t help the smile that rises to your lips. you shake your head as much as you can against the mattress and reach your arms out towards him, a wordless beckoning.

“never,” you say.

within moments he’s in your arms, hugging you tight, his face pressed into your chest. it’s nice, the solid weight of him, like a very heavy weighted blanket. minutes pass, and then logan shifts his body just enough to look up at you.

he makes eye contact with you, and in his eyes you see a raging storm. his face is blank as it often is, a mask that you can’t read, but you can feel his muscles tense as if preparing for a fight, can catch a glimpse of several different emotions in the hazel staring back at you.

he leans up, until his face is barely a centimetre away from yours, and your breath catches. you’re scared to hope, terrified, even if all signs point in one direction, so you don’t move closer but you don’t move away, eyes fluttering shut as if it’ll all become easier, as if the butterflies in your stomach will recede, if you’re not looking directly at him.

he closes the distance between you, mouth meeting yours in a chaste, soft kiss. it’s nothing like you expected from logan, feral and intense in everything he does. but he’s waiting for a response from you, scared in the way you’ve only ever seen him once, when you’d first found him in the barn.

he pulls away and you grab onto him desperately, forcing him to crash back into you. you share open-mouthed kisses, hot and urgent yet so loving. it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed about, perfect in the way little else can be, and you feel tears prickling in your eyes, a sob catching in your throat.

you’re absolutely fucked, your heart stolen by him, and you can only hope logan meets you where you are and doesn’t hurt you.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[niyunnie]

how they react to seeing that you got hurt on an expedition ──❅ cryo edition

❆ · ※ ─── CHARACTERS; all cryo characters !! (minus aloy, diona, and qiqi) ❆ · ※ ─── romantic content, very brief and undescriptive injury mention, gender neutral

𓆩⟡𓆪 CHARLOTTE

࿐ "Oh, dear.." She'd mumble upon seeing all the scratches and bruises that litter your body. ࿐ She'd immediately grab a med kit, using adhesive wipes to clean your wounds. It'd sting, but she'd assure you while she does so. ࿐ She bandages them up, giving your body a final examination before letting you off. ࿐ She leaves a small kiss on your forehead before asking, "..You don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to, but.. Was it a scoop?"

𓆩⟡𓆪 CHONGYUN

࿐ He's immediately worried. "What happened? Did someone do this to you? Do you need to go to Bubu Pharmacy?" ࿐ His hands shake as he lets his hands trail your wounds, just to see how bad they are. You hiss at the pressure, and he immediately pulls away with small apologies. ࿐ He'd patch you up, and then treat you extra well. He'd make you something good to eat, massage your sore muscles from the expedition, and although he isn't too keen on being affectionate because of his condition, he does it anyway to make you feel better ࿐ "Is... Is this okay? I'm not being too much, am I..?"

𓆩⟡𓆪 EULA

࿐ "The Adventures Guild needs to stop giving you more than you can handle.." She'd mumble menacing words about them as she patches you up. ࿐ She seems mad, and it makes you worry she's mad at you, (when she's really just mad at the Guild). ࿐ When you ask, she sighs tiredly and shakes her head, playing with your hair soothingly. "Of course not, darling.. But you need to learn to say no more." ࿐ She very much believes you're being taken advantage of, but it's okay. She loves you regardless.

𓆩⟡𓆪 FREMINET

࿐ Internally he's very panicked, but he tries not to show it. He knows what it feels like to have other people panic about you and to feel selfish about that, and he doesn't want you to experience that. ࿐ He doesn't know this is just a him problem, but his consideration is appreciated nonetheless. Instead, he trails soft kisses onto your bandaged wounds, wanting to help you feel better somehow. ࿐ Movie night!! He definitely snuggles up against you, which is unusual but he just wants to give you some boyfriend time <3 ࿐ "I love you.." Is the last thing he mumbles before he accidentally falls asleep. It seems the situation comforted him more than you! ࿐ Apologies IMMEDIATELY the next morning

𓆩⟡𓆪 GANYU

࿐ Her stress increases tenfold, seeing your wounds. ࿐ You understand that her stress is very bad, trying to assure her that it's okay, that you're fine. But she's persistent in seeing and treating every wound. ࿐ When you tell her she's going to have a lot to catch up on because of this, she assures you that "Anytime with you is not a waste, dear.." ࿐ You make sure she has an extra good sleep that night.

𓆩⟡𓆪 KAEYA

࿐ Immediately has a serious talk with you about how you have to be more careful and watch out for yourself more, especially if you're on an expedition. ࿐ He sees your dejected look, and softens his attitude with a sigh. He becomes more gentle instantly. ࿐ "It's okay, sweetheart.. Just.. Be careful next time, okay?" ࿐ Is very careful with you after that, and gives you everything you ask for. And if you ask for nothing, he gets you your favorite stuff <3

𓆩⟡𓆪 LAYLA

࿐ Very tired but still manages to notice your wounds. ࿐ She's very slow at bandaging them, sometimes spacing off while she does but she truly wants to show she cares. ࿐ However, she's neglecting a very important research paper for the Akademiya for this. ࿐ You urge her to work on it, but she responds, "You're more important."

𓆩⟡𓆪 MIKA

࿐ You tell him it's fine, but he's insistent on helping you. ࿐ He patches up your wounds, making sure not a bit of the scratches are peaking, lest you get an infection ࿐ Mika's hands are gentle and soft, and he asks for small permissions to do certain things for you. ࿐ "Please be more careful next time, I don't know what I'd do with myself if you were in a worse condition.."

𓆩⟡𓆪 ROSARIA

࿐ Watches from afar as you limp over to a chair, seeming to be observing how bad your injury truly is. ࿐ She finally approaches with a small sigh, her hands going to bandage you up. ࿐ "Idiot.." She mumbles, her hands roughly pulling at the gauze she wraps around your arms. ࿐ You whimper a bit, and she stops sympathetically. ࿐ "Just.. Be more careful next time." She gives a gentle kiss to your forehead

𓆩⟡𓆪 SHENHE

࿐ Immediately assumes someone or something did this to you. "Tell me right now, who did this?" ࿐ After much assurance, she cools down a bit and gently tends to your wounds, still mumbling about how if someone did this to you, she'll kill them. ࿐ She's sure to be extra protective of you for the remainder of the day, brushing your hair back and being attentive to all your small needs. ࿐ "Just sit here, and be all pretty, darling. I'll take care of you now~"

𓆩⟡𓆪 WRIOTHESLEY

࿐ "Awe, sweetheart.. A wound?" He's very teasing on this matter, laughing at how you, of all people, have gotten this beat up. ࿐ He teases that you're so upset over small scratches, but when you tear up, he bites his tongue. ࿐ "I'm sorry, dear. That was inconsiderate of me." ࿐ He makes it up to you by kissing the wounds gently, cuddling with you, spooning you up like you deserve. ࿐ He even feeds you your favorite snacks, so you won this time.

[qrrieterisunnq]

Eight stages of pregnancy – Dawson Mercer

dawson!mercer x pregnant!reader Summary: the journey y/n’s and Dawson’s pregnancy during the hockey season, the most important milestones in every pregnancy Requested: yes/no A/N: This is the longest fic I have ever written so I hope you'll like it! Especially the one who requested it! Everything I write is a figment of my imagination! likes are good, reblogs are better <3 gif, not mine word count: 9,0K warning(s): pregnancy, moody y/n, birth-giving, mentions of suicide (not in a bad way but just in a soft, cute? way I think), soft and sweet Dawson, pure content, gender reveal

masterlist | wip's

1. FINDING OUT YOU’RE PREGNANT – SEPTEMBER

“Please, be negative,” you mumble to yourself. You’re sitting on the bed in your shared bedroom with a plastic stick in your hands. You’ve been having morning sickness for a few days now, and with the fact that you and Daws sometimes forgot about condoms, you decided to do the test. “Please.” You whimper, tears stinging in your eyes.

You take in deep breath as you look down at the stick. Pregnant. You let out a shaky breath as the tears start falling down your cheeks. You don’t really know if the tears are happy or sad.

You and Dawson never really talked about this stuff. Yeah, you asked him If he want kids in the future, but with his third season in nhl only, you both agreed that you want to wait at least a few years.

“Oh my god!” you choke on your sob, trying to hold it in you. Dawson was down the hall with the boys playing games. They probably won't hear you, but you can't take the risk.

You crawl into the bed under the blanket, holding the stick in your hand, while the other is in your mouth trying to silence your sobs.

When you calm down a little, you let your mouth free and place the hand on your stomach, caressing it slightly.

“Hi there,” you whisper a quiet sob leaving your mouth. “I'm you, mommy.” You lightly caress your still-flat belly.

Watching your hand moving over your belly you completely forgot about the time and the fact that the boys are still over at your place. The sound of the door opening snaps you out of your thoughts. You hold your breath in waiting for someone to start speaking or something to happen.

“Baby, are you okay?” Daws’ voice sounds next to you and the bed dipped down under his weight as he sits behind you.

You let out a shaky breath, swallowing the sob. “Yeah!” you say in a shaky voice, trying to sound convincingly.

He lets out a sigh. “Can I see your face, my love?” he asks softly, his hand running down my back over the blanket.

You close your eyes, you wish you could say no, but you have to tell him, and the best opportunity to tell him is probably now.

You pull the planet off your head and sit up, clinging the plastic stick in your hand.

“Why are you crying my love?” he whispered, turning to face me, his hands making their way to your face wiping the tears away.

You look down at your hands before you take a deep breath in look into his eyes.

“I...uhm...I know we said we want to wait a while...but a...uhm,” you let out a shaky breath before you place the stick on his lap. In the corner of my eye, you can see his shocked expression as his shaky hands take the test in them.

You let out a sob, as you watch him tilt his head back, eyes screwed shut and the test firmly clenched in his left hand. You watch him as he takes in a deep breath before he looks your way with teary eyes. You want to say something, but the only sound that comes out is your sob.

“We are having a baby?” his voice croaked as a quiet sob left his throat. I nod wiping away the tears. He looks down at the test and then back at me. “We are having a baby!” he says, this time with a smile on his lips as he pulls me in him, lying on top of me. You let out a laugh, wrapping your hands around his neck as his lips press on your neck, peppering it with kisses.

“Yes, we are!” still laughing, he turns you around, so you’re lying atop him. “Wait,” you stop laughing, pushing your hands against his chest to get some distance between you two. “You aren’t mad?”

“Why should I be?” he looks at you with a confused look, brows arched.

“Because I-I thought you didn’t want a baby.” You whisper with a sad look. He sits up with you on his lap as he cups your cheeks.

“Yeah, I probably didn’t want it a few years ago, but I want to have a family with you.” He smiles pressing a small kiss on your lips.

“Okay,” you nod, a smile lingering on your lips. “I want a family with you too.” His smile grows wider as he leans in to kiss your lips this time with more passion.

“I love you so much, love!”  

“I love you too!” I smile at him my lips grazing over his as I speak.

Just at that moment, his lips are pressed to yours, your bedroom doors open Jack and Luke standing in them bickering over something, but they stop as soon as they see you in this position.

“Oh sorry, we wanted to know, if you’ll come down, but as we see, I think we’ll probably leave,” Jack says scratching his neck in nervosity just like Luke.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” Dawson says sarcastically, his hands resting on your ass cheeks.

“Yeah, bye!” Luke shouts, shutting the door behind him. In a few minutes, the front door shuts too. You look at Dawson, letting out a laugh at the two of them.

2. DAWSON’S FIRST DOCTOR APPOINTMENT – OCTOBER

“Baby, come on. We’ll be late!” Dawson whines watching you put on some makeup while he’s lying in your bed, dressed in a simple black tee and suit pants.

You’re sitting behind your makeup table applying your red lipstick, watching him lay on the bed, his hands under his head making him flex his arm muscles.

“Jesus, Daws, we have like an hour before we have to be here, and the way here took us only ten minutes so calm down.” You groan at his eagerness. You continue to apply your makeup this time mascara trying not to get it on your eyelids.

“Sorry, I’m just looking forward to it so fucking much! We’ll see our baby, maybe hear his heartbeat. Oh man, I want to see him so bad!” he smiles at you happily, your lips quirking up at his expression.

“Him?” you let out when you realized what he actually said.

“Yeah, I have this feeling it’ll be a boy.” He nods, his gaze glutted on you through the mirror.

“If you say so!” you surged your shoulders looking at him through the mirror with a smile.

“You look beautiful,” he says after a while looking at you through the mirror. “I’m so lucky to have you!”

“I am so lucky to have you,” you smile at him through the mirror. “Okay, I’m ready, we can go.”

“Finally,” he groans getting up from the bed, almost tripping over his foot as he gets to you. You let out a small laugh earning a glare from him. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I am not laughing at you,” you say through your laughs. His hands make their way to your waist tickling you. “I’m not!” you squeal hitting Dawson in the ribs accidentally.

“Oh,” he groans letting go of you. “What was that for?” he looks at you, rubbing his ribs.

“I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean to.” You say through laughs hand resting on your bell.

“Yeah, sure.” He says in a sarcastic tone moving away from me.

“Where are you going?” your laugh stops as you see him approach the door.  

He turns at you, his lips in pout making you laugh. “Away from your aggressiveness,” he says like a baby. You stand up, and walk toward him, making grabby hands at him, knowing he won’t resist you.  “Jesus woman.” He groans, pulling you in his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“Okay dad, you wanna hear the baby's heartbeat?” the doctor asks while he’s doing something on the monitor.

“Yeah, hundred percent. Please.” He let out avidly. The biggest smile you’ve ever seen is now dancing on his lips while his hand is holding yours in a tight grip.

“Okay, here we go.” The doctor fastens a belt over my belly so we can hear the heartbeat, and then he clicks something on the screen. A while later, the room is filled with the sound of our baby's heartbeat. “Shit,” Dawson lets out, bringing your hands to his mouth. You look up at him, tears in your eyes just like in his. He’s looking at the monitor with adoration in his teary eyes.

“Sorry,” he chuckles when the doctor looks him in the eyes. The doctor just shakes his head laughing at his reaction.

“That’s okay, I heard worst.” You laugh with the doctor looking at the monitor where is your little baby.

His little fingers are clenched in fists, in front of his face and his little legs are raised up. You look back at Dawson, melting at the sight. His eyes are glutted to the screen as he’s listening to the heartbeat. Your interlocked hands are still at his mouth, kissing your knuckles, tears running down his cheeks.

“Don’t cry, baby,” you coo, your thumb running along his knuckles.

“I’m not crying,” he whispers his voice croaking in the middle.

“Yeah, you are.” You chuckle bringing your hands to your mouth this time, kissing his knuckles. He bends down, kissing the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a while.

“Okay, if you are done with the listening, I can print you the photos and that would be all for today.” The doctor looks at us, a questioning gaze on his face.

You both just nod your heads, his lips still pressed against my forehead. The doctor looks away from you with a smile on his face and clicks something on the monitor then turns at us again.

“Two are enough?” you nod your head but Dawson's hand in the air stops us.

“No, twelve, please, and if it's possible in digital form too.” He yelps, covering his mouth with giggles.

“Yeah sure, I can send it to Miss y/l/n's email if that’s okay.” he looks your way cocking his brows.

“Yeah, that’s completely fine.” You nod your head, taking the tissue the doctor hands you to wipe your belly from the gell.

“Thank you.” You mumble cleaning your belly. When you’re done, Dawson helps sit up and cover your belly.

“Okay, here you go.” The doctor hands you the photos with paper with the date of another control. You shove it in your handbag standing from the bed.

“Thank you so much, doctor, really appreciate it,” Dawson says almost bowing down for him.

“It’s alright, that’s why I’m doing this job.” He smiles at us as he shakes our hands saying goodbye to us.

With interlocked hands, you make your way out of the ordination to your car. The walk is quiet which is weird for you because he’s never quiet, he always has something to say.  

“You, okay?” you tug at his hand your brows furrowed, but you don’t get your answer. You look at him his gaze at the floor as you’re walking towards your car. “Dawson?” you tug at his hand again this time harder for him to get out of the trans.

“Yeah...uhm, sorry love. I got lost in my mind.” He lets out a sigh turning your hands around your neck, so his hand is resting on your shoulder and yours is still interlocked with his in the air next to your head.

“Yeah, I saw,” You chuckle kissing his hand. “Everything’s alright?”

“Yeah, I’m totally fine. I just still hear the sound of the heartbeat in my ears. I-I know you heard it before but…” he trails off, the sparkle in his eyes as he talks about your baby making the butterflies in your belly go crazy.

“I know that feeling, hon, I felt the same.” Smiling up at him, you earn a cheeky grin from him and a kiss on the tip of your nose.

He nods his head and stops in front of your car. He opens the door for you helping to get in.

“I love you so much. I’m so grateful you are the woman who is carrying my child.” He leans down pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. You smile at him softly leaning in for another kiss.

3. TELLING THE DEVILS – DECEMBER

Three months. For three months you were listening to Dawson’s complaints about why you can’t tell the devils and family about the baby.

Of course, you told him, that the first three months are risky, and no one should know about it, but he’s been so excited about it, that he wanted to tell the world.

You get that, you wanted to tell the world too, but not now. Everything could happen in the last three months. You have a week till the end of the third month so then you can finally tell everyone.

“Baby!” you shout in from the kitchen as you are making snacks for yourself.

“Comin’,” you can hear some shuffling coming from the living room, the sound of bare feet hitting the floor following. “I’m here. What’s going on?” his voice is full of concern, his hands resting on your hips probably to support you from stumbling. Even though you're in the third month you have quite a big bump. The doctor, even if you think that you might have twins, you won’t be able to find out until your control in two days.

“Uhm, nothing really, just wanna tell you that maybe next week we can tell the devils and family if you want?” you smile at him over your shoulder, pressing a quick peck on the corner of his mouth.

“For real?” his eyes wide just like his smile. Quickly he turns you around a knife still in your hand as you look up at his eyes. You just nod your head smiling up at him. His eyes fill up with love and happiness. He bends down, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. “I love you, jeez I love you so fucking much y/n,” he mumbles in your lips, causing a laugh to escape your lips.

“I love you too,” mumbling in your lips you carefully press the tip of your knife to his chest, making him shiver. “But if you ever leave me, I’ll kill you and you know I will.” You whisper in his earth, tongue running over his earlobe.

He groans at the feeling of your warm tongue on his skin, stepping close, the knife pressing more into his chest. “I’d rather kill myself than ever leave you.” His hands travel up your hips as they land on the sides of your breasts.

You smile up at him, the hand with the knife slowly sliding down his torso and stomach ‘till it’s by your side. “Well, then,” you turn back to the food, you were cutting, with a smirk on your face when you catch a glimpse of his dropped jaw.

“Oh, you little teaser,” he lets out a chuckle tickling your sides and making you shriek with laughter as you drop the knife down. “I’m gonna tickle you until you say you love me and that you  know I would never leave you.” He laughs in your ear his hands not stopping in their job.

“Okay!” you manage to get out between laughs. “Okay, I LOVE YOU!” you scream out laughing as he doesn’t seem to stop. "I LOVE YOU." you laugh nudging Daws in his ribs. “And I know you won’t leave me!” you say out of breath from the laughing. This makes him stop his tickling. He turns you around pulling you into a tight hug rocking both of you side to side as he’s pressing kisses to the top of your head.

„I love you too, my pretty girl.“

“What’s going on with you, y/n?” Jack’s girlfriend asks you nudging your shoulder with hers, as you’re standing behind the glass watching the Devils having later morning practice.

“Oh, nothing just tired.” You look at her from under your lashes trying to resist the urge to yawn. At night you couldn’t sleep. Your back has been hurting for a while now and the only comfortable position to sleep is on the back. Dawson somehow managed you to fall asleep, but sleeping only five hours isn’t something you’re familiar with.

“Busy night?” she wiggles her brows giggling. You just shake your head chuckling. The whole team is still wondering how someone like her is with Jack. She’s the most innocent person you met, yet she’s with the dirtiest man on this planet.

“No, but you seem glowing, what’s up with you?” you nudge her arm this time smiling at her.

“I’m feeling so happy. Like I never did in a few years. Jack and I are doing amazing, And I think I’m starting to find my way to Luke which is awesome because I want his family to like me, which I know is kinda hard with my personality.” She chuckles the biggest smile sitting on her lips. You’ve never seen her this happy, and you have what to talk about. You knew her even before she started dating Jack and she never smiled like this.

“I’m so happy for you, love!”

“Okay, guys! Practice is over, you can go now, take a shower, and then you can leave.” Nico shouts just when you stop talking, making you both turn your heads at the ice. Dawson is already looking at you, a nervous smile lingering on his lips. “But before that, Dawson here would like to tell us something.” Nico turns at him, nodding at him as he skates over to other guys.

“Okay, can everyone, you girls too, come on the ice, please?” he asks nervously shuffling his skates over the ice.

“What’s going on?” Jack’s girl asks you, with furrowed brows, you just shake your head ushering her to get on the ice.

“You’ll see.” You smile at her as soon as you step on the ice. Jack hands, both of you, hands so you won’t slip on the ice. As soon as you’re on the ice, Dawson skates toward you helping you walk over the place he was standing earlier. His hands wrap around your waist, making sure you won't slip.

“Okay, if everyone’s here, I and y/n have something big to tell-” However, before he has a chance to finish his sentence, Jack interrupts him.

“You proposed?” he shouts, eyes wide.

“No,” Dawson shakes his head chuckling. “But that might happen soon.” he smiles down at you squeezing your hip.

“So, what is the big news?” Luke asks this time, confusion written all over his face.

“I and Dawson,” I look up at him with a smile, making sure I can speak. “We’re having a baby.” You shout together raising your hand in the air with a big smile on your face. Within a second, everyone skates towards you pulling you in hugs as they scream in happiness for you both.

“Oh my god, I am so happy for you, y/n.” Nicole, Jesper’s girlfriend, pulls you in a hug, jumping carefully with you.

“Y/n! You bitch!” Jack’s girlfriend shouts at you when Nicole lets you go.

“Sorry?” you laugh tightening your grip on her.

“I am so happy for you, my love!” she smiles at you pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh my god, I feel your bump!” She giggles, her hand wants to touch your belly, but she hesitates, knowing damn well that pregnant women don’t like it when someone touches their belly.

“It’s okay, you can,” you smile at her nodding her head.

“Oh, my goddess,” she whispers caressing it slightly. “You must be at least in the sixth month, right?” she smiles up at you.

“Uhm, no, I’m at the beginning of the fourth.” You laugh when you see her shocked expression.

“You know, our boy is a little bit bigger.” Dawson’s voice echoes next to your ear, his hands wrapping around you.

“I bet he is.” She laughs, and Jack appears behind her hugging her from behind just like Jesper do to Nicole.

“Congratulations, y/n, I’m so happy for you.” Jack smiles reaching his fist to you. You let out a laugh fist bumping him and then Jesper.

After everyone congratulates you on the pregnancy, they leave the ice, leaving you, Daws, Nicole, Jesper, Jack, and his girl, Luke, and Nico on the ice alone.

For the next ten or so minutes you talk about your pregnancy, and everything connected with that. The girls enthusiastically suggest that when you know the gender, they will organize a gender reveal for you.

“Thank you, my love,” Dawson whispered in your ear kissing your neck. “For keeping up with me these past three months.”

“Well, I have to keep up with you, right?” you laugh at him, kissing his cheek.

4. TELLING THE FAMILY – DECEMBER

Five years, that’s how long you know Dawson’s family. Five long years, yet you are afraid to tell them about the baby. The same fear you have of your family. Your mother is a strict one, she was against you and Dawson from the beginning of your relationship.

It’s December now, Christmas Day is tomorrow to be exact. This means your families are here, in your house for a week, during the whole Christmas.

They wanted to stay till the new year, but you told them that you and the guys would be celebrating together.

Now, you, your mom, and Dawson’s mom Charlotte are in the kitchen finishing the food you will have for dinner today. You are in your fourth month, so your belly is visible now. You’re wearing, a pink fuzzy dress with long sleeves which ends below your knees.

“Can I help you somehow?” Jennifer, Dawson’s sister, appears in a kitchen, fiddling with her fingers.

“Sure honey, can you stir the soap, please?” you look at her over your shoulder with a big smile. You love his family so much, but the feeling of telling them, you’re having their son's child.

“Okay.” She nods her head, walking over the stove.

“How’s hockey, Jess?” you ask with concern. Jess is like your sister you never had, growing up like an only child, you always wanted a sibling, but your mom was glad to have you, yet another kid. She was lucky to make it through your birth.

“Oh, I think I’m doing great, I’m a captain assistant, now, since the one left for another college.” Her voice is full of happiness, and you can hear the love for the sport in her voice. This is the thing that she shares with her siblings.

“That’s cool! And how’s college?” you smile at her as you walk over to the table, to set it up for dinner.

“Great, my GPA is 3.9. I messed up one of the tests.” She sighs shaking her head, disappointed.

“Hey, that’s amazing! I never had this GPA; I was always around 3.7 as I was a nerd.” You chuckle, hoping this makes her feel better.

“Really? I thought you always had 4.0.” she looks at you surprised.

“Never,” you chuckle shaking your head while you’re setting the table. “I was always so nervous during the exam.”

“Wanna help?” Dawson asks as he stands in the doorframe. You look up at him with a soft smile on your red lips.

“No, that’s okay,” smiling up at him, you squeeze his biceps, leaning over the table to place here plates. “We’ll call you when the food is ready.”

“Okay,” he kisses your forehead, a smile lingering on his lips. “Don’t be nervous my love.” He whispers, looking down into your eyes.

“The dinner was perfect, ladies,” Dawson’s dad, Craig, smiles at us, as he’s wiping his mouth with napkin. “Delicious.”

“Yeah, it was so delicious, I’d eat more, but I’m so full, I’m afraid my stomach will explode.” Dawson chuckles, caressing his belly. You pat his tight leaving your hand there. Dawson looks at you with a smile, patting your tight in return, taking his hand away and resting it on his belly.

“Y/n, your dress looks so cozy, where is it from?” Your mom asks, looking at you from head to toe.

“Oh, I don’t, know, I bought it on the internet, I’ll send you a link!” your free hand grasps the glass with water. You sip from it, resting it back on the table.

“So, if you’re done, we can move to the living room, to watch some movie or something?” you suggest watching everyone’s reaction. They share looks as they nod their heads in yes.

“Okay, you can go, I’ll make some popcorn and take chips,” standing from your seat, Dawson follows you right behind, his hand on your lower back. You look at him, smiling, but you stop as soon as you see your mom's and Charlotte’s faces.

“We’ll help you.” They say at the same time, your brows pulled together in confusion.

“That’s, okay, Dawson will help me, I need to talk to him for a while.” You give them a tight smile, dragging him to the kitchen as soon as they leave.

“What’s wrong, love?” Dawson asks you, stopping your hands from opening the chips.

“They know,” you whisper, looking over to the living room, watching your moms gossip about something, probably your pregnancy. “They know I’m having your baby.” You look at him, tears threaten to spring out.

“Hey, ‘s okay, we wanted to tell them anyway,” he shushed you, his hands making their way to your cheeks. “And if they know, they look excited, so you don’t have to worry, okay.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” You wipe the tears away, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his lips.

When you’re done opening the chips, and popping the popcorn, you make your way to the living room, placing it on the coffee table.

“Okay, everybody, listen up!” Daws claps his hands together and draws all the attention to himself. “Me and y/n have something important to tell you.” His hand wraps around your waist pulling you closer to him.

Your mom looks up at you, a wide grin on her lips just like on Charlottes.

“So?” your dad looks at you his brows cocked. “Speak?”

“I and Daws, uhm,” you breathe out grasping onto Dawson’s biceps. “We’re having a baby.” You let out, a soft smile on your lips.

“Oh, my god! Congratulations!” Jessica shouts, jumping at both of you and pulling you in a hug.

“Thank you!” you smile at her, tightening your grip on him.

“I’m going to be an uncle!” Riley, Dawson’s brother yells, pulling Dawson in a hug and spinning him around, making all of us laugh.

“I’m so happy for you, my babygirl.” Your mom pulls you in a hug, kissing the side of your head. Dad comes up to you, pulling you both in his embrace.

“So proud of you, y/n,” he whispers in your ear when mom leaves to hug Dawson. “I’ll try my best to be the grandpa he or she won’t forget.”

“You will, dad. You already are.” You smile up at him, kissing his cheek. You pull away from him, only to be pulled in another warm embrace this time by Craig and Charlotte.

“Thank you, honey,” Charlotte choked out, tears running down her cheeks. “Thank you, for giving me a grandchild.”

“Thank you, for giving me your son.” You smile at both of them. Soon you’re, pulled out of their embrace, and spun around by Riley.

“Oh my god! Riley! Stop!” you shirk out a laugh as you grip hard his shoulders.

“Asshole, putt her down!” Daws laughs. He pulls you in himself as soon as your feet touch the ground kissing the top of your head. “It wasn’t that bad right?” he whispers in your ear chuckling.

“Oh, shut up.”

5. GENDER REVEAL – JANUARY

It’s here. Today is the day we got to know our baby's gender. You and Dawson are sitting in the locker room of Prudential Center, your hands interlocked as he draws small patterns of heart on your skin.

Your leg is bouncing with anticipation. You’re so excited about the gender reveal. You knew this was going to be big when Nico and Jack were the ones to organize it.

“Y/n! Dawson!” Jack’s shouting comes closer with each second until he shows up in the room. “Come with me.” He says with a big smile urging you two to come.

“Not so fast, Jack! I’m pregnant!” Jack is at least two meters ahead of you when you call after him. He turns around waiting for you impatiently as you and Dawson slowly approach him. “Thank you.” You smile at him and hook your arm around his.

“No, ‘s okay!” he looks down at you grinning. Soon he stops both of you, holding two bandanas in his hands. “Put it on, I and Nico will get you on the ice.”

Quickly you look at Dawson, his eyes are already on you as he’s chuckling and shaking his head. “Okay. But be careful with y/n.”

“Don’t worry, Daws, I’ll be the one to lead her.” Nico laughs walking over to us, dressed in sweatpants and a shirt, skates on his feet, just like on Jack’s and Dawson’s.

“Thanks, at least the more responsible one.” He teases, watching Jack’s face turn into a shocked expression.

“Okay, put it on, we don’t have all day for this.” Jack urges us, slowly jumping in one place.

“Okay, grab my hands tightly, I’ll make sure you won’t fall.” Nico squeezes your hands, pulling you lightly to him. You stumble over your feet, but Nico catches you, his hands squeezing your hips.

“Sorry.” You mumble stepping away from him with a small laugh.

“No worries. Now slowly okay, step by step, I’ll tell you when we approach the ice.” He says slowly and distinctly, slowly starting to move towards the ice.

“Okay,” you let out a deep breath slowly walking towards the ice. You can hear Dawson swearing, as he crashes in the bench.

“Shit!” he lets out again. “Jack, where the fuck are you!” he yells.

“In front of you!” his laugh carried through the rink.

“Son of a bitch!”

You and Nico let out laughs at them, knowing damn well, Jack is probably on the ice, laughing his ass off. You squeeze his hands when you stumble again, this time, you don’t fall on him, continuing in your walk. Soon you’re on the ice, Nico leading you carefully somewhere, probably to the net.

“Okay, you can take off the bandanas,” Jack shouts at you. You pull it off of your eyes, adjusting to the light. “Now, Dawson, in front of you are seven pucks. In the net is a plastic glass. The pucks are filled with colors. Black for boy, red for girl. The puck is not as hard as a normal puck, so it will be easy to break as soon as it hits the glass. The color that will be in four pucks is the winning one!” a proud smile lingering on Jack’s lips. Nico skates over to us, handing Dawson his stick and gloves.

“To make it not so fast, we have two more attractions here,” Nico announces, skating in the middle of the rink. “Here we have tic-tac-toe, You Daws, you’ll be shooting the puck where y/n tells you.” The circles are colored on one side only, so now they are all turned with the wood side on us. But the first color that has three in a row, that’s the winning one. If the first winner is a boy and the second is a girl, then we have the last, but that later.”  He skates back to us. Other guys and family members are sitting on the bench or the boards or just standing on the ice watching you two.

“Okay, you start whenever you want!” Luke shouts this time, his voice full of excitement.

Dawson skates over to you kiss your lips. “I’m so excited!” he whispers excitement in his voice.

“Me, too.” You smile up at him, your hands around his chest as you slowly walk to the pucks.

“Okay, you choose the pucks, okay?”

“Sure,” you nod your head, looking down at the pucks. Your hands shot to your belly resting there, a smile spread on your lips.

Dawson can’t take his eyes off of you. You look so stunning in black leggings and his jersey, his name written on your back, the jersey loose on you, but your belly still visible.

“Okay, this one!” you skate to him, pointing at one of the pucks. He uses his stick to take the puck and skates far from the net so he can shoot. You smile at him and nod your head, that's a signal for Daws to swing his stick and shoot the puck into the glass. The puck breaks, and red powder flies through the air.

A sound of cheers is carried through the rink as Dawson skates over to you wrapping one arm around your waist and leaning down to your ear. “See, girl.” He laughs kissing your temple. You just shake your head, pushing him slightly away from you, so he can shoot another puck.

You point at another puck, hoping, this time it’ll be black powder. You have talked about this before all the time. Everyone was surprised when they found out that you were the one who wanted a boy. On the other side, there is Daws who wants a girl so he can spoil her.

Dawson swings his stick, hitting the puck. This time black color. You shout in excitement doing a little dance, causing laughs to escape guys’ lips. You skate over to him, chest to chest. “See, boy!” you grin at him pointing your finger to his chest.

“Fine 1:1 we'll see who’ll be next.” This time he picked up the puck and shot it in the net. Another black. You look up at him wide grin on your lips. You pick him another puck, this time red. Two other pucks are shot, and the score is 3:3.

“Okay, last puck, then we get on the other part of the gender reveal.” Jack’s voice sounds through the rink, his face shines with happiness and joy that his friend is happy.

“And the winner of the first round is,” Nico clapped at his tights as drums, waiting for Dawson to shoot the last puck in. “GIRL!” he shouts just like all guys and Dawson too.

“Okay, before the last round, our score is tied. 1:1 for both, girls, and boys. For the last, we need you, to change into these white shirts,” Nico holds the shirts above his head motioning to us to skate over to him. “Go to the locker rooms, change then come back, the last one will be quick, so you won’t freeze.” He smiles when he sees your expression.

You make your way into the locker room, with Dawson hot on your tail. You both changed in the shirts, glad that Nico bought you a XXL.

“You look amazing!”

“Thank you, love.” You smile at him, tucking the shirt in your leggings on the back.

“Ready to find out, the gender of our baby, dove?” he walks over you, hooking his arms around your waist.

“Yeah, I can’t wait. I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, I just want them to be healthy.” You sigh looking him in the eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” He nods kissing the top of your head. “I just wish it’ll be girl, so I can call her my little princess and treat her like one, so let’s go find out what we have, okay?” interlocking your fingers, he leads you out of the locker room.

You squeeze his hand, as thoughts about what type of gender reveal is going to be this. You are so excited to find out the gender of your baby. You can’t wait to hold your baby in your arms. Just the thought of it makes you cling more to Dawson and makes your heart melt.

“Okay, for this you have to be blindfolded the whole time,” Luke says with a smile on his face, tying the bandanas around both your heads. “Now, we placed a rug on the ice, where you’ll sit the whole time,” he clears his throat. “The point in this reveal is following. You’ll be sitting across from each other the whole time. We put painton your hands. The color is the color of your baby's gender. All you’ll have to do is put the color on each other's shirt and maybe skin. Here is our photograph, he will take pictures of you two, then when we say, you’ll take off the bandana finding out what your baby is!” he ends his speech leaving you speechless. This was the most sensitive and emotional gender reveal you heard about.

You were surprised they were able to come up with this idea. You’re sure the wags had to help them come up with the idea because this is so emotional and the cutest gender reveal you’ve ever heard of.

The guys slowly take you on the ice, sitting you down on the rug. You’re glad you took warm leggings today because the ice is really cold.

“Okay, now, we’ll squeeze some paint on your hands, then you can start putting it on each other,” Luke says as he squeezes cold and wet paint on your palm. You spread the paint on your other hand and slowly stretch your arms out in front of you to place your hands on Dawson’s chest. He shivers under your touch, causing a laugh to escape your lips. His hands find their way to your boobs, squeezing them. You just shake your head laughing together with the guys, who whistle and shout.

“Like college boy!” you shake your head, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

“Okay, do some cute poses, so our photographer can take pictures of you!” you hear Nico say, his voice somewhere in your close presence.

After a few minutes, of touching yourself and laughing, Luke allows you to take the bandanas off. You look into his eyes, catching a glimpse of bright red color, staining Dawson's shirt, and your hands. Your eyes well up with tears, sob escaping your lips. Dawson’s eyes are wide, just like his smile. “We are having a baby girl!” he shouts, pulling you into him. He stands up with you, spinning you around, a laugh coming from your mouth. When he puts you down on the ground, his hands cup your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You look in his red eyes as he tries to hold the tears in. “I love you.” He sniffles, tears finally rolling down his cheek.

“I love you too, Dawson!” you sniffle, pulling his face closer you place your lips on his. The kiss is salty from the tears of joy. “We’re having a girl.” You say between kisses.

“Okay! Enough!” you look in the direction from where Jack’s voice comes. “There are kids!” Jack shouts, covering Luke’s eyes, and causing John and the other guys to snicker.

6. FIRST KICKS – FEBRUARY

Laying on your couch just in Dawson’s shirt and black shorts, an ice cream pack sitting on your belly as you watch Full House. Dawson is in the kitchen with John, Nico, and Jack talking about hockey, while Luke is sitting next to you, eating ice cream with you, and laughing at Michelle's quotes.

It's five weeks later after the gender reveal, you’re in six month, and your belly looks like watermelon. The baby should start kicking any day, which is why Dawson is by your side at every free moment he has. The only reason he’s not next to you right now is that boys are here with him, and you are really glad.

“Sup? You’re quiet today,” Luke nudges your shoulder, causing a drop of ice cream to drop on your shirt. You glare at him, wiping the white substance away.

“Nothing, just my back hurts like bitch.” You complain, groaning when you try to sit up.

“Wait, let me help you.” He puts his ice cream on the coffee table just like yours, helping you up in a sitting position.

“Thanks,” you send him a grateful smile, reaching for your ice cream. There is silence for a while between the two of you, but suddenly you remember how he talked about this girl a few weeks earlier. “Did you ask the girl out?” you probably caught him off guard by the question, because the ice cream he was eating got stuck in his throat, causing him to cough.

“Ugh… no, uhm. No, I didn’t. I was too afraid to ask her and when I wanted, two days ago, she was out with some guy, so…” he shrugs his shoulder, taking a full spoon of ice cream in his mouth.

“And who was the guy?” you cock your brow at him, taking a full spoon of ice cream in your mouth, immediately regretting it because of the freezing feeling in your brain.

“Have no idea, probably her da-“ he didn’t even finish the answer, when you grasped his hand, putting it on your belly. He’s confused for a while, but he smiles as soon as he feels the movements. “Oh my god!”

“DAWSON!” you shout, making Luke flinch.

“What's wrong!” you hear his voice before he even gets in the living room, just like Nico, John, and Jack. They stop in front of you, confusion and horror written in their eyes.

“Gimme your hand.” You wave your hand in the air, signaling him, to reach his hand towards you. You pull him towards you, shoving Luke’s hand away, and you place Dawson’s shaky hand there, waiting for his reaction.

“Oh, my-“ he choked on his words and let out a chuckle as he pressed the other hand there too, crouching in front of you. “Is that?” he looks up at you, tears in his eyes and a big wide smile on his lips.

“Yeah, she’s kicking,” You smile at him, a single tear running down his cheek when your baby girl kicks him again. With a laugh he sits next to you, pulling you to his side. You look at the boys, urging them to come closer, they kneel in front of you, their eyes glutted to yours. “Here,” you place Nico’s hand on the right side of your belly, waiting for the baby to kick again. He lets out a chuckle when the girl kicks him in the hand. In a moment, he’s shoved away by Jack, whose hands are already on both sides of your belly waiting for her to greet him.

“Hi, baby girl! I’m your uncle Jack, the coolest one!” he says slightly caressing your belly when the baby kicks him.

Nico shakes his head shoving Jack away, talking to the belly. “No, I’m the coolest one!” John looks between the two of them, shaking his head as he shoves both of them away, his hand carefully pressing on your belly. “Hi there, pretty girl! I’m your uncle, John, I’m pretty sure we’ll be best buddies when you’ll be there with us.” His thumbs caress your skin over your shirt, a smile on his face just like on yours and Daw’s.

“Okay, none one of you is right,” Luke sighs rolling his eyes. “I’ll be the coolest uncle for her, so…” he shrugs, causing a laugh escaping your lips.

You move your attention to Dawson, his eyes already on you. You cock your brow at him, your head tilted to the side.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispers, kissing the side of your head. “Thank you, for carrying my baby.”

“Thank you, for being the best boyfriend-slash-bestfriend-slash-daddy in my life.” You smirk up at him, placing a soft kiss on his jaw.

You rest your head on his shoulder, enjoying the atmosphere here. The sound of boys bickering in the background as you listen to Dawson's heartbeat and concentrate on his hand on your belly.

These moments are rare, but you enjoy them so much. Being able to spend time with Dawson’s friends are the best days and nights of your life.

7. THE BABY'S NAME – MARCH & APRIL

“No!” you shook your head, pushing Dawson’s hand away from your tight so you could stand up. "I won't name our baby girl Junpiter, mom." you sigh squeezing the bridge of your nose.

“Come one, y/n! It's a beautiful name. You know, you were supposed to be named like that?” you can lively imagine the smile she's wearing now.

“Yeah, and I'm glad I don't. Can you imagine the bullying she'll get if I named her Junpiter? So no, mom, thank you for your tip, but I think I and Dawson can come up with a name that would suit our girl.” you say quickly, so she doesn't have a chance to interrupt you.

You stay on the call for a few minutes before you bid her goodbye ending the call.

“Junpiter, huh?” Dawson's hands sneak around your waist, his lips brushing on your neck as he speaks.

“Shut up!” you groan, tossing the phone on the couch. Dawson pulls you more into his chest, his hands making their way under your big belly, lifting it slightly, to relieve you from the weight. You let out a breath, your head falling on Dawson’s shoulder. “Thank you.” You whisper, kissing his neck.

“For you anything, my love,” a smile tugged at his lips when he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “But we really should come up with a name for her.”

“I already have one, but I don’t know if you'll like it.” You say quietly waiting for his reaction. Gently, he lets go of your belly, disapproving whimper leaves your mouth. He turns you around so you’re looking at him and walks you over to the couch to sit you down on his lap.

“Tell me.”

“Okay, I have a few names, but I like this the best,” you start, moving on his lap, to find the best position for your sitting. “Avery Charlotte Dawson.” You let out, biting your lower lip.

“You want to give our girl, a name after my mom?” he looks at you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

“Yeah, I like your mom a lot, and when we have another baby, she’ll have a name after my mom.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“Another baby?” he chokes on his saliva, coughing.

“Yeah, but not like right after this is out, maybe three or four years later, so they have some age gap, you know.” You grin up at him. He shakes his head, his hands playing with the hem of the shirt you’re wearing.

“I like the name,” he smiles after a while of silence. “A lot, thank you.” He leans in kissing the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, and the last kiss is finally on your lips. ”Our Aver Charlotte Dawson.” He presses his hand on your belly caressing it slightly.

“I love you,” you say dreamily, looking at him with a smile full of gratitude.

“Love you too.” He leans down, his forehead on yours smile painted across his lips. You tilt his head, meeting his lips in a quick, but delicate kiss.

8. THE BIRTH GIVING – MAY

“Where are my keys!” Dawson hurried into the kitchen looking for his car keys as you were standing at the door to your apartment, holding onto the wall to support your weak legs.

“Where you dropped them last night!” you snap at him, taking deep breaths in. It’s game day tonight, the devils made it to the playoffs and are playing the Panthers in the semifinal, but your baby girl decides that today is the day, she has to come to the world.

“Got them!” he yelps out, running to you. He takes your bag from the ground, tossing it over his shoulder. He wraps his hand around your waist, guiding you out of the apartment. “you’re doing amazing, my love.” He praised you when you got in the elevator. He pressed the button impatiently, waiting for it to move.

Your breathing quickens as soon as another contraction comes. You grip Dawson's hand, trying to control your breathing and the pain in your abdomen.

“Come on!” Dawson whines, watching the numbers on the elevator change, announcing you are finally on the last floor. “Okay, here we go.” He pulls you out, carefully as if you were some kind of porcelain doll.

“I’m not friangle Dawson! Get me in that car, or I’ll give birth here and you’ll be the one, getting the baby out!” you warn him, glare on your face. You know this is his biggest fear. He told you multiple times, that he’s afraid, that he’d be the one who’ll have to give birth to your girl with you. That you won’t make it to the hospital in time.

“Okay! I'm sorry!” he says in horror as he drags you down in the garage to get in a car and then in the hospital.

The ride to the hospital felt like hours for you, but it was only fifteen minutes. Dawson parks his car in the hospital parking lot, gets out, jogs to your side of the car, and helps you out of the car. Slowly you make your way into the hospital, your hand clutching your belly, when another contraction comes through you.

“My girlfriend is giving birth!” Dawson says to the nurse behind the reception, his breaths are heavy. You are sitting on the chair, your hands on your belly as you try to keep your breaths steady. “We need a room. VIP room!”

“Sir, we can’t give you a VIP room just like that.” The nurse shook her head, looking at him.

“I’m Dawson Mercer, the Devils hockey player!”

“Oh, yeah, sorry Mr. Mercer,” she swallows and starts typing something on the computer. “The room is ready, I send two nurses with you, they’ll help you with everything!”

“Come on mommy,” the doctor says from between your legs. “I already see the head. A few pushes and she’s out!” your breaths are heavy, sweat dripping down your forehead. Dawson is standing next to you, gripping your hand tightly, pressing kisses on your head.

“You’re doing amazing, love, just a few more minutes! You can do it!” he whispers in your hair, hissing when your grip on his hand tightness. You take in a deep breath and start to push.

“Here we go, momma! Keep pushing!” the doctor says. You can feel your pussy outstretch, pain shooting through your body. You let out a whimper, not wanting to scream.

“Last one push, mom! You can do it!” the doctor says, looking at you to make sure, you’re okay. You just nod pushing for the last time. The moment, the baby’s crying fills the room, you let out a sob, closing your eyes. You can feel Dawson’s lips on your forehead, while his tears drop down on your forehead.

“I’m so proud of you, my love!” he whispers in your ear, kissing your lips. “So fucking proud of you, baby.” His voice is shaky from the sobs he’s holding inside him.

“I love you!” your voice is trembling, from the exhaustion, and the pain that is shooting up your body.

“Here you go mom, the girl is healthy, she’s 19 inches tall, and she has a beautiful 7 pounds,” The nurse says as she places the baby girl on your bare chest. “You can try to give your breast if she wants your milk. If not, it’s completely okay!” you just nod, taking your breast in your hand, and moving your nipple to the baby's mouth. She’s lying calmly on your chest, her big brown eyes, are looking curiously at you, a small smile resting on your lips. The baby immediately sucks on your nipple, focusing on getting the milk.

“You did amazing, Mrs. y/l/n. One of the most quick and amazing patients I had. We’ll get you your room when we clean you and run some tests on the baby, to make sure the baby is really healthy,” he smiles at you, and then at Dawson, who’s eyes are focused on your baby. “Your family can visit you in a few hours, and by the way, congratulations, on the devil's win tonight.” The doctor directs his voice at Dawson who snaps his head toward him, a surprised look on his face.

“They won?” A smile is resting on his lips, just like on your lips.

“Yeah, 5:2. The boys said, the goals were scored for your daughter.” That makes tears well up in your eyes. You love the devils so much; they are your family.

“Oh my god, I have to text them as soon, as we’re in the room.” Dawson looks back at you, a big smile on his face.

“We have to take a picture,” you say, a hoarse voice coming from your throat, because of the last few hours without water. “And send it to them.”

“Here, drink it up.” The doctor hands you a glass of water. You drink the whole glass, laying your head back on the pillow.

“Thank you.” You mumble, a small smile on your lips when you look down on your girl.  

“Okay, now, we run the tests and clean you, then you can go to your room and your family can visit you, but I encourage you to be quieter because the baby will probably sleep, just like you.” The doctor says the last thing he wants and makes his way to do his job again.

[neouture]

Senses

Pairing: Haechan x Reader

Words: 4,146

Genre: Smut (18+), angst if you squint

Includes: Fem!Reader, established relationship. Haechan is jealous and somewhat possesive bc of a silly little hug drunk Renjun gave you. Arguing, silent treatment, make up sex. Smut warnings under the cut !

Author's note: Possesive Haechan lives in my mind rent free. This story might not be for everyone because it includes very specific kinks that not everyone is into, but I had a lot of fun with this. If you like it, please leave a comment/ask. I also now have a ko-fi account, the link it's in my pinned post, in case anyone is interested in leaving a tip ! That's totally up to you tho, my stories are free for everyone. It's just another way to support (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) I'm reposting this bc I posted it yesterday but it wasn't showing up in the tags so hopefully they work now!

Smut warnings: I feel like this is the time to reveal I have an impregnation kink so bear with it. Dirty talk, teasing, you're somewhat turned on by Haechan's possesiveness in all honesty. Oral sex (f. receiving), mentions and fantasies of impregnation, impregnation kink, unprotected sex (stay safe ! ), creampie.

If looks could kill, Renjun would've had a fatal ending.

Way more fatal than the fate you are transiting right now, sitting in the passenger seat while Haechan's gaze shoots darts into the road as if it’s a target, surrounded by an overwhelming silence that not even the street sounds and the city’s bustling can ease.

If looks could kill, Renjun would’ve collapsed next to you the second he decided to wrap one of his arms around you in a warm, brotherly hug. One that, seemingly so innocent, was misinterpreted by your boyfriend from afar.

“Haechan,” you sigh, but it’s useless yet again. No matter how many times you’ve said his name on the way back home, it seems as though you're speaking to a wall. A stubborn wall that doesn't listen, in which your words bounce back and are interiorized with shame and embarrassment when you realize that all you’re left with is the palpable tension inside his car.

You can see said tension in the prominent veins of his arms, his clenched jaw and the way he is just staring at the horizon, not daring to look at you. You can feel it every time you call out his name and his body stiffens a little. You can hear it in his heavy heartbeats and rapid breathing. You can smell it on your clothes, impregnated with alcohol and cigarette smoke.

But you can’t taste it. You can’t taste the tension when your mouth is dry, and your throat is aching with words gathered at the lump in your throat, threatening to spill out at any moment in an attempt to know what's going on in his mind.

“Look he didn’t mean it that way,” you murmur, trying to ignore the stinging tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. “He just- he just put his arm around me. It wasn’t- it didn’t mean anything”.

“Of course it didn’t,” it’s the only response you get, right when his car takes the street of the complex you two live in.

Whether it's because of the sound of his voice, or the fact that you're really close to knowing your true fate tonight, you feel somewhat relieved.

“He was tipsy,” you continue, resting your head against the cold, glass window.

“You weren’t,” Haechan cuts you short right when he enters the underground parking lot. The car becomes illuminated by a dim, warm light, just enough to catch a better glimpse of your boyfriend, but he still doesn’t look at you. “And you still let him put his hands on you”.

“Come on, Haechan!” you groan, frustrated.

His jealousy always gets the best out of you, but somehow it also manages for the worst of you to show through. It's a complicated situation you always find yourself in, when something like such happens. You don't really like that side of him, the jealous and possessive one, the one that feels entitled to you as a person. But at the same time, you really can't begin to hate it either.

It’s enticing.

“Get out,” he says while unbuckling his seat belt. He does so with a swift movement, only to turn around the car just to open the door for you.

He is upset, and pissed, and really angry, but he can’t get himself to stop being a gentleman to you. What happened tonight it's not your fault, anyways, but he secretly wishes you'd pushed Renjun away.

In a way, Haechan thinks it’s your fault. Even when it isn’t.

But you still follow his orders to a t, getting out of the vehicle while he holds the door for you, closing it right behind you with a loud sound that makes you feel startled for a bit.

You know Haechan would never hurt you, but this side of him it's such a scary contrast to his usual personality. It’s somewhat unsettling, to say the least, but it is never frightening.

“You’re going to give me the silent treatment?”

After a minute or two, the lack of response gives you a one. You follow him defeated through the elevator doors that take you to the lobby complex, and lose all hope in getting him to talk.

Plus, it’s getting late, and you’re tired, so if Haechan doesn’t want to talk now, you’re not going to push him further anymore —it’s probably best to deal with all this tomorrow morning, after a good night of sleep.

You stop trying to get his attention when the doors of the lobby's elevator close, and just opt to stand right beside him in silence —you've said so much already, from the minute he dragged you out of the bar you and your friends were attending to celebrate Jaemin's birthday, to the final moments in his car; if he didn’t say anything then, he is probably not going to say anything now.

So you accept the silent treatment, walking alongside with him to your apartment door. He pulls out his keys, opens it for you and gets inside without even sending a look your way. You close the door behind you and watch as he throws his jacket to the living room couch, standing awkwardly while he figures out exactly what to say.

“Why did you-”.

“I’m tired,” you cut him short, passing by him through the living room and into your bedroom. “I’m going to bed”.

Like him, you pass by without sparing him a glance. Without even acknowledging his presence there, like you’re just announcing another part of your routine to no one in particular.

“You’re not,” it’s when you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist, and stopping you from leaving the scene, that you turn around to face him —you can still see the tension, in his knitted eyebrows and that gaze of regret he holds. “Let’s talk”.

“I wanted to talk,” you murmur, getting yourself out of his grip. “I spent all the ride back home trying to talk, but you weren’t even looking at me”.

“I was just trying to find the right ti-”.

“What even is the right time?” there’s annoyance in your voice, and a part of you wishes your emotions hadn't escalated too quickly. But if there's one thing that pisses you off, is how things are always done the way he wants them, when he wants them. “When you feel like talking?”

“Listen to me-”.

“No, Haechan, you listen to me,” you sigh, leaving your purse on the couch, right next to his jacket. “Renjun just put his arm around me, he wasn’t- it wasn’t even an actual hug. And yeah- he was tipsy, but he just- he wasn’t hitting on me or anything, God!”

The more you speak, the more stressed you become. Now that the words are falling from your lips, and you’re revisiting the facts, you realize how unprovoked Haechan’s anger truly is.

“You say he's one of your best friends, but you can't even trust him,” your hands travel all the way to your hair, pushing it back and away from your face. The despair is making your body feel warm, and you can even feel a thin layer of sweat gathering on your forehead and nape. “You say you love me, but you can’t even trust me”.

“I trust him,” Haechan murmurs, “and I trust you”.

“Then what is your problem?”

“I am the fucking problem,” the black-haired groans, imitating your previous actions by pushing his hair away from his face. It’s not usual for him to raise his voice, let alone sound this frustrated —the unexpected loud tone makes you swallow thickly. “I know it’s not your fault but I can’t help it”.

“It is not my fault,” you repeat in a whisper, trying to give some echo to his own words. “If it’s not my fault, then why are you acting like it is?”

Haechan goes quiet. Not because he wants to give you the silent treatment again, but because he doesn't know what to say.

Is there anything to say, anyway? You're right, and he feels like an asshole.

“Because,” he begins, all worked up because he believes the answer is rather obvious. Isn’t it? He’s acting like this because you’re his. Because no other man has the right to touch you, or even look your way. You’re his, and he doesn’t like to share. “Because you’re only mine”.

The sudden response makes your heart skip a beat or two. Is it wrong to feel something just by seeing him this angry? Is it wrong to feel proud of hearing him say something so possessive like that?

You feel conflicted —you’re enjoying this when you’re not supposed to.

“Yours?” you ask, with an eyebrow slightly cocked.

“Yes, mine,” you're not quite sure when it happened, but your bodies are now facing each other. You can smell the tension in his cologne, along with the remains of cigarette smoke and the alcoholic beverage Renjun threw Haechan’s way at the club.

“You’re so entitled,” you let out a soft scoff, one that does nothing to ease Haechan's sharp gestures. “Yes, you’re my boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I belong to you”.

It's, perhaps, the frustration talking. You know what he means, but it's your anger the one to make the first move.

However, you're not expecting him to laugh.

You expected him to counter attack, to get even angrier.

You expected him to raise his voice, or be silent at all.

But you weren't expecting to see the corners of his lips rising in a half smile, one as mischievous at the comment you just made.

“What?”

“Do I need to remind you how mouthy you get when I'm fucking you?”

You stare at him for what feels like ages, not daring to blink or break eye contact. He is also staring at you, but far from looking angry or frustrated, he looks amused. It's like the roles have been reversed, and it's you now who doesn't know what to say.

“What- does that have to do with this?”

“You say you don’t belong to me,” Haechan sighs, the tip of his tongue poking just slightly through his cheek. “But you never seemed reluctant about me owning you when we're in our bed”.

You can feel your cheeks getting warmer, and a weird tension in your lower abdomen you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past years. It’s probably not the greatest time to get aroused, but you can’t control yourself when it comes to him.

Just like he can’t control himself when it’s about you.

“That’s- it’s different,” you weakly attack.

“Is it?”

Haechan can tell you're getting nervous. By the way your shoulders are moving at a faster rate, and you seem to be struggling to look at him, he knows he has hit a nail. Perhaps this is a way to make a point —the one he has been wanting to make all night long.

“How so?”

The words get caught up in your throat again, and the fact that you don't have an actual response makes you feel uneasy.

“If it's any different, then that means you're a liar,” he says, guiding one of his hands to your chin whilst lifting it up. You can hear the tension in the nuances of his voice, those who seem mocking and provocative. Those looking to make you lose a game you didn't even know you were playing, “so when are you lying?”.

His hand strokes the sides of your face, and then places a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is enough to make you gulp, but it’s a nice contrast to his harsh and filthy words.

“Are you lying to me when you say you belong to me, and that you’re mine?” Haechan asks, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “Or are you lying to me right now, just to rile me up and get what you want?”.

That wasn't precisely a conscious plan, but now that he says so it seems that all your efforts to get him all worked up were to end up just like this.

“I just- Haechan”.

“What?” he asks you. The hand that was caressing your cheek is now placed at your waist, pulling him closer to his body.

You can feel the tension when his bulge brushes against your abdomen, hard and throbbing, pressing against you. It’s too tempting to stop, too inviting to know what he has to say without using no words.

So you allow him to touch you, to press his body against yours to make you feel how much he needs you. There is really no point in resisting, because you’ve wanted this all night long.

“Pervert,” you whisper, panting when you feel his rough grip on your ass. “I bet you were thinking about this on the way back home”.

“And you weren’t?” Haechan scoffs, quietly. “I could see your thighs squeezing together every time you looked at me”.

Embarrassingly enough, he is not that far from the truth.

“I can’t help it,” you wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to be closer to him. “I’m sorry”.

“Save your apologies for later,” his lips are dangerously close to yours, and you squirm between his arms when you feel his breath caressing your chin and jaw. “You’re going to need them for being such a liar”.

And, finally, you can taste the tension —it tastes like alcohol, cherries, and rage. Like mint and something else.

“Fuck,” you whisper in between kisses when you feel his teeth sinking on your lower lip, “Haechan”.

It doesn’t take him long to guide you to the bedroom, managing to walk the small, dark hallway with his hands all over your body and his eyes closed.

“Haechan,” you voice once again when he lays you down in the mattress, his skillful hands looking for the hems of your jeans and underwear to pull them off in one go. Truth be told, you’ve never seen him this desperate; his lips are all over your thighs and legs, kissing them sloppy while he caresses the sides of them. He’s sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh, marking you every now and then in places he knows he’s the only one entitled to see.

Everything is happening too fast, but you don’t want him to slow down —you’re just as desperate as he is.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Haechan groans when he catches a glimpse of your sticky folds, all glistening with your arousal, “shit”.

He doesn’t hesitate before hooking both of his arms under and around your thighs, keeping you still in place while his lips approach your throbbing cunt.

“You think Renjun could get you this wet?” Haechan hums against your thigh, his intimidating gaze looking up at you while you struggle to support your upper body weight with your arms. For an unknown reason, you feel your body melting and going numb at such comments.

“N-no,” you shake your head.

“Do you think your body would react to him like it does with me?” The soft and teasing kisses are killing you; his lips are licking and sucking everywhere but where you want them.

“No, Haechan!” The cries in your voice makes him grind his hips against the mattress, hoping to get even the slightest friction.

He wishes he could keep on teasing you, drive you insane just like you did to him back there at the club. But, truth be told, he can't spend another minute without feeling you, in all the sense of the word.

“Apologize, then,” Haechan says, brushing the tip of his nose against your throbbing clit. That single touch is enough to earn a whimper from you, and it is also enough to make you lose all logic and rationality within you —not that you have any whenever you're underneath him in your bed to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, clenching around thin air every time the word falls from your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry Haechan. I’m sorry”.

“Sorry for what?” the dark-haired asks again, acting oblivious to the situation. “What are you apologizing for?”

Whether it's mercy or pure neediness, his tongue unexpectedly laps at your wetness. He licks your slit and toys with your clit, just enough to provide you with some pleasure but without distracting you from your task.

“For- shit, for letting him touch me,” you sigh, kicking your head back. You’re not quite sure what exactly you’re sorry for, but you’re willing to say anything just to feel him. “For letting him- put his arm around me, fuck”.

Haechan smiles against your pussy. A genuine smile, one that can only indicate he’s feeling proud.

“See how easy it is?” he coos, continuing his ministrations on your clit, “you tell me what I want to hear, and I give you anything you want”.

Despite Haechan’s early accusations of you being a liar, you mean everything you say when you’re in bed. In fact, you're only brutally honest when he's deep inside you. When you've lost all your senses and sanity, and when all you are left with is pure bliss.

“I’m sorry,” you keep on chanting, latching your fingers against his dark locks in an attempt to bring him closer to you.

You know you're seconds away from coming, and he knows this too, so he allows you to manhandle him against you as much as you want. He hisses when you grip his hair particularly harsher, but he doesn’t stop; instead, he licks you ardently, looking forward to your orgasm.

“Show me how sorry you are, then,” he murmurs against you, his nose and chin shining with your own wetness. “Come”.

It’s the sight of him between your legs, along with his crude words and pretty eyes that pushes you to the edge. Your hands clasp the bed sheets beneath you, and your thighs threaten to close around him but he is quick to keep them apart with his hands.

“You’re getting shy now?” he teases you while you overcome your high, writhing underneath his hold. “Keep them open for me pretty, I want to lick you clean”.

Much against your body’s will, Haechan manages to keep you in place while he helps you through your orgasm, causing waves of overstimulation to wreak havoc inside you from your head to the tip of your toes.

“Haechan!,” you gasp when you feel him pulling away from your body, the sudden loss of contact making you feel somewhat relieved after the pinches of pain caused by the overstimulation.

His lips are bright peachy and swollen, all covered in your own orgasm.

“Too much?” Haechan asks, unbuckling his belt while getting rid of his clothes. You imitate him and do the same, discarding your blouse and bra somewhere along the room.

“No,” you shake your head, inviting him between your legs.

He positions himself in the middle, and the sight makes you clench around thin air yet again. His cock is hard and reddened, throbbing almost visibly in front of your eyes.

“You still think you can take me?” he asks yet again, trying to make sure you’re not sore from how aggressive his early ministrations were.

“I’ve been wanting you all night long, Haechan,” you murmur, wrapping your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “Don’t care about anything, I just want you to fuck me”.

He kisses your forehead, and then your chin. The tip of his cock is pressing against your clit and, at times, against your entrance, but he is still nowhere near being inside you.

“See,” Haechan whispers with his lips against your jaw. “I know you’ve apologized, but I still need to make sure everyone knows you’re mine”.

His words make you let out a quiet scoff.

“How come, exactly?”

“What if I came inside you?” Even the idea makes you gasp —half a gasp, that ends up sounding more like a moan, “hm?”

For this, he needs to feel you. So he loses no time pushing himself inside you until he bottoms out. You dig your fingernails into his biceps when you feel the tip of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot inside you, and it’s only then when he continues to tell you, perhaps, his filthiest fantasy.

“What if I got you pregnant?” It’s crazy, the rational part of you acknowledges. But the aroused one, the one that lacks logic, only gets even more turned on at his words. “That way, everyone will know what we do when we’re alone”.

“Shit,” you cry, clenching around his cock.

He smiles when he feels it.

“You’d like that, don’t you?” After a couple of slow, delicate thrusts, he begins to acquire a faster pace when you get used to having him inside you. “You're squeezing my cock so hard”.

“You want to- get me pregnant?”

Even the words falling from your lips make you clench around him yet again, and it takes him a lot of effort not to come just by those gestures alone.

“That way everyone would know you’re mine,” Haechan sighs, pistoning deeper inside you. “Everyone would know that I’m the one who fucks you good, the one you allow to come inside that pretty pussy of yours”.

You whimper at his words, nibbling on your lower lip while trying to contain every lewd sound that threatens to escape your lips.

“I bet you’d- look so pretty like that,” the more aroused he gets, the less he cares about what he says —it seems as though he’s not having any inhibitions, and you love it. “Fuck”.

It's a wild fantasy, but you two seem to share it. You’d be lying if you say that the mere thought of carrying his child is not appealing to you, because it is.

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling him losing all pace and rhythm of his hips. “Why don’t you get me pregnant, then?”

The dirty talk does wonders to him, because the minute you start voicing his thoughts it’s the minute his movements become sloppier, rushed, and faster. He wants to come, he desperately needs it.

But he wants you to come first.

“I will,” he groans through gritted teeth. “If that’s what you want, then I will”.

Your heart feels fuzzy, and the tension on your lower abdomen starts increasing with each thrust. It’s not going to be long before you come around him, for the second time in a row, and as much as you’d like to savor this moment, you’re too desperate to take your time.

“Fuck,” Haechan curses under his breath, feeling his arms going numb —the pleasure is too overwhelming for him to maintain a steady pace, but he makes an effort. “Make me come, baby. Squeeze my cock until I come inside you”.

The dirty talk, combined with his gaze and the future promise of offering you that something only he can give it to you, makes you reach your orgasm again.

“Coming,” you cry quietly, wrapping your legs even tighter around his hips. You arch your back against him, and he hugs you tightly in place while he continues fucking your pussy, just as much as your grip allows him too.

“That’s it,” he praises, leaving wet kisses on your forehead and cheeks while you overcome your high. “Are you going to let me come inside you tonight? Fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes!” it’s all you manage to say in the midst of such a devastating arousal. “Yes, yes, Haechan”.

He buries his face on the crook of your neck, and keeps on fucking your swollen pussy until he achieves his orgasm too.

A hot, sticky feeling is quick to flood your tummy, as well as your inner thighs. He continues fucking you slowly and gently, even after coming, to prevent his arousal to leak out of you.

“Shit,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his neck so that he plops down on top of your body, “I can feel you”.

He hugs you into his embrace, while still inside you, and attempts to stabilize himself before leaving the bed to provide you with some wet towels and water. Truth be told, he wishes to stay like this forever, with your naked body underneath him, and his leaking cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, leaving a quick kiss on your lips. “I know it’s-”

“Hey,” you cut him short, cooing softly. “We can talk about it tomorrow morning”.

He gets the sense that you're comfortable right now, despite the early fight, so he follows your plea compliantly.

“I’m an asshole,” Haechan jokes.

“Sometimes,” you scoff softly, finding his hazy gaze in the midst of the dim lights. “I’m glad you can acknowledge it”.

“And I’m glad you still keep up with it”.

[oneforthemunny]

🧸🥣🌀

modern!eddie, angst, proposal/wedding. i feel like i might get attacked for this one sorry.

"Hey," Eddie's voice came from behind you, still in his grey suit but the jacket and the tie had been shed, the boutonniere upside down and smushed from the reception.

"Lost you in there." Eddie grinned, eyes a little red rimmed from the beer he'd been downing at the open bar.

You didn't respond, fingers drumming against your champagne flute, looking out at the venue strung in lights. "You alright?" Eddie's brows pinched, moving beside you.

"Yeah," Your voice was tighter than you liked, swallowing a lump that seemed to only grow, choking you more and more. "Just... needed some air."

"Yeah, it is a little hot in there. The smoke machine is a killer. Feels like I'm at prom again." Eddie snorted lightly. "My hair's gonna look like Hagrid's by the end of the night."

Normally you would've smiled, grinned with narrowed eyes and retorted with something that teetered on playful and snarky. Instead, your gaze was held, distant as you looked over the rolling hills.

"Hey, okay," Eddie leaned against the railing, looking up at you. "What's going on?"

"Nothing-"

"-Nah, don't give me that." Eddie shook his head. "What's going on? You were fine earlier, and then you left."

Your nose burned, fiery with emotion that threatened to bubble out, to spill over. "Baby," Eddie cooed, his hand brushing over yours. "What's wrong?"

You hesitated, contemplating shaking him off and going back inside, back to the table where he couldn't confront you. Back to the table that was the same reason you had left.

"I just... You know, everyone kept asking if we were next." You muttered, refusing to look at him, eyes trained on your glass. "When we'd finally get married."

Eddie paused, lips twitching the way they did when he was uncomfortable. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," You looked at him.

"Did you tell them we didn't want to get married?" Eddie pressed lightly, his own fingers beginning to drum on the concrete of the balcony.

"No," You bit, a raging burst of fury shooting through your system. "I told them you didn't want to get married."

"Baby," Eddie's face fell, a sigh accompanying his words. "Can we- Can we not do this here? Please?"

We've already talked about this.

You know how I feel.

It's just a piece of paper. We're already basically married. Why does it matter?

I don't want to get married. Never wanted it, and I'm not changing my mind. Doesn't mean I don't love you.

All the words he didn't say now but still lingered from times before. The rejection, the bitter sting of your dreams shattered. You thought someone as affectionate as Eddie was would jump at the first mention of marriage.

Here, watching Jeff and his bride dance, laugh and cry at the alter, pouring out promises and oaths to the other, it was hard not to feel bitter. The widened glances that came your way with the dreaded question, the twitching of lips when you'd reply. Every Facebook post you'd see of another classmate from high school getting married, engaged, honeymooning. It made you rage with jealous frustration.

"C'mon, let's just go back in and have fun. Please? I don't want to fight about this right now." Eddie pleaded, eyes rounding sweetly enough that it made your heart pang with affection, maybe with aching hurt.

You didn't respond, jaw clenched in what you hoped was a neutral expression- one that would pass for the resting bitch face you were known for, and not a tear filled one.

[estcaligo]

Ace's Jealousy

*Ace x Reader but with subtle Sebek x Reader I love Ace - Reader - Sebek dynamic :) * a short drabble. Open ending. *cw: swearing

"Well, that should be it for today." you sighed, gathering your notes and papers from across the table.

"That's it? You're done already? What about the Magic Analysis project? You always struggle with that, and you haven't even opened it today."

A slight autumn breeze swirled leaves outside the library window as you and Ace occupied a table, working through your homework. Without Deuce around, it was just the two of you. These study sessions were always half work, half chat. Ace never seemed too interested in studying, but he never missed your time together. You understood why, and you found it cute in a way. No matter how much Ace joked around, sometimes his interest in you was a little too obvious.

Lately, though, your sessions had been growing shorter. Mostly because of you.

"Ah, it's okay. I asked Sebek to help me with the project, so…"

"Sebek? Why? Magic Analysis is literally my best subject. And I'm right here" irritation creeping into his tone.

You smiled apologetically. "I know, I know. But… Seb and I already arranged to meet…"

Ace's expression soured. "Right… speaking of meetings, we're still on for this weekend, yeah?"

"Ah, about that…" You bit your lip, hesitating. "I'm really sorry. I was just about to tell you…"

"Tell me what?"

Ace's frustration was now plain on his face.

"Um… Sebek mentioned there's a book fair in town. So… I won't make it this weekend."

"You're kidding me." His voice turned cold, and even Ace seemed surprised by it.

"I'm really sorry. It's just that Sebek-"

"Sebek this, Sebek that." Ace spat the words out harshly, gathering his things with sharp movements. "Whatever. Do what you want."

"Ace, come on, don't be like that."

"Like what?" His eyes flashed. "Don't you like it harsh? Or should I yell too, like your precious Sebek?"

Your stomach twisted from where this conversation was going.

"What's gotten into you? Are… are you jealous?"

Ace scoffed, but the edge of his voice gave him away. "Yeah, so what if I am? That's something Sebek will never feel for you."

"Excuse me?" Your voice cracked. "That's too far, even for you."

"Too far?" Ace leaned forward, his voice rising. "He doesn't even want you! All he thinks about is his YoUnG LoRd and you know it!"

This sudden outburst made your eyes sting. "You're such an asshole, Ace."

"If you think I'm the asshole, then you're just dumb" he got only stingier. "The way he treats you - do you really not see it?"

"It's none of your business! Why do you even care?"

"Why?!" Ace's voice broke. "You know why! Or should I say it? Do you want me to say it?!"

You were silent, doing your best not to burst into tears. You liked Ace, really, but as a friend. You never wanted to have this conversation.

"I'm the one who's always there for you" Ace continued, his voice trembling with anger and hurt. "I'm the one who saves your ass all the time. I went into damn caves, I crossed a fucking desert, I fought the Charons to protect you - I lose my mind every time I don't know where you are because I think you might be in danger! Me! Not Sebek!"

The air between you both crackled with tension. You couldn't even look at him because you knew everything he said was true.

"Whatever." His voice had dropped to a quiet rasp. "I'm done with this. Just don't come running to me when he leaves you behind."

The howling outside intensified. It had gotten dark by this moment, and a cold evening wrapped the library in gloomy shadows.

"…you know I will anyway" you whispered, your voice broken, tears already spilling over.

Ace exhaled sharply. "Shit, I hate you."