#but she's right there reminding him to focus on the here and now and that's --

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 5

Summary: After their date, Y/N takes Negan back home with her where the two of them try to get lost in one another, but have to tackle some obstacles along the way.

Characters: Negan Smith, the reader (OC), Elizabeth, Joel Miller (Mentions), Tommy Miller (mentions), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/155078377

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Oral, Angst, Uncomfortable Situations, Unprotected P in V, etc.

Notes: There is no Joel in this chapter, but he is talked about quite a bit. Thanks to those that are reading the story and also a big thank you to those that comment! It means a lot!

Walking up to the front door of her home had Y/N trembling. It was no doubt a combination of things. The revealing dress that she was wearing likely didn’t help since it had started snowing again and it was freezing. But what also added to her nervousness was the reminder that Joel was the only man she had ever slept with. Continuously that lingered in her mind.

“Careful,” she instructed Negan, her fingers hooking tighter with his knowing that the snow was incredibly slippery as they made their way up to the door. Once she moved up the steps and pulled her keys from the jacket she had on, she realized just how much she really was shaking. Getting the key in the door was hard so she had to focus herself. By the time she pushed the door open, she felt a little resistance from Negan when she headed into the house. Gazing back over her shoulder, she noticed something in Negan’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to let me know you really want me to come inside,” Negan responded, his chiseled jawline flexing when he looked to their hands.

“Is this the part where you tell me you are a vampire now and you can’t come in without me inviting you first?” she teased him, enjoying the way that his thumb swept over the back of her hand. A smirk tugged at his handsome features and she wondered if she had done something wrong.

“No, I just…” Negan paused, his thick eyebrows bouncing up when he shook his head. “I don’t want you to think that I only asked you out because I wanted to have sex with you. I don’t want you to think you have to have sex with me because you feel guilty for things either. I really did just want to spend time with you because I missed you.”

Turning to face Negan fully, she reached for his other hand and politely urged him into the house. Moving forward, she reached out to cup his face in her palms tenderly. Hushing him, she braced her weight against him when she got him to lower down to meet her in a kiss.

“I want you here. Not because I feel guilty, not because I just want a one-night stand or think you do,” she assured him with his eyelids getting heavy and his lips parting. Nuzzling his nose in against hers had her addicted to the feeling of someone so desperate to be near her. “I just want you here.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan licked his lips, stepping back to close the door for her and lock it. Turning on his heel, Negan moved slowly until he was standing before her. His beautiful hazel eyes were locked on hers with his long eyelashes fluttering. Stroking his fingers down over the side of her face had her eyes coming to a tight close and he sighed. “I should have called you. I should have been part of your life and I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You’re here now,” she whispered, reaching up to place her hand in over his, caressing over it.

Fluttering her eyes to an open, she curled her fingers loosely around his wrist and led him toward the stairs. Taking their time, she moved up the stairs heading for her bedroom. Once inside, she allowed him to follow her and she closed the door behind them. Negan stood at the center of the room, his breathing loud as he closely watched her every move. Stroking her fingers over the center of his chest had Negan’s long eyelashes fluttering. It was hard to imagine, but Negan looked incredibly vulnerable right now standing in front of her.

Pushing her fingers underneath the material of his suit jacket had it falling down his arms. The jacket got to his wrists and he had to help her get it off him. Tossing it to the floor, Negan swallowed down hard and felt her plucking apart the remaining buttons of his black, button-down shirt. Untucking the shirt from his pants, she lowered her hands down over the lower part of his abdomen allowing them to flatten against the warmth of his flesh. Negan’s body was so vastly different than Joel’s and it would take some getting used to. Sliding her palms up had her fingers teasing through the dark curls of hair over Negan’s torso. The touch had his abdomen sinking in repeatedly with his deep breaths until she reached his chest. Starting to kiss faintly at the center of his chest had a low rumble of a moan falling from his throat.

At the same time, Negan was helping her work her jacket from her body getting it to fall at their feet with his. There was a desire burning deep within him with every delicate kiss she pressed over his chest. Working with her, they managed to get his shirt off and to the ground as well. What surprised him was how she looked at him. How she took all of him in. Touching his body, learning his tattoos and cherishing him like he was a work of art.

“I feel like a teenager again,” Negan whispered lifting his hands just enough to let them settle against her hips. It had her chuckling against his flesh as she started peppering her kisses over his collarbone toward his shoulders to where his freckles were. The wet kisses against his shoulder had Negan’s eyes coming to a close while he enjoyed her pampering his body. “I’m shaking.”

“We were just out in the snow,” she found it cute that he was insisting that she was making him nervous. Tipping her head back, she looked up at him and saw him smirk. Shaking his head, he lowered down to steal a kiss from her lips.

“No, I’m not shaking because I’m cold,” Negan assured her with a snicker, nipping faintly at her bottom lip. “You fucking do this to me. You always did this to me. I’ve missed you so fucking much and the idea of us finally doing this…I’m kinda fucking nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” she found amusement in that, drawing small shapes down over his body. “You’re the celebrity. If anyone should be nervous, it’s me.”

“Right now I just feel like a boy all over again. In love with a girl that is capable of holding my whole heart in her hand,” Negan reached for one of her hands to bring it up for him to deposit a kiss over the back of it.

Hearing the way he spoke took her breath away. Tipping in, she took her time to pepper small, wet kisses over his chest. Negan wasn’t kidding when he said he was trembling. It was obvious, but she found herself drawn to it. Pressing her fingers against his lower abdomen, she put enough pressure into it to have him back stepping. The back of his knees hit the bed causing him to lower down onto the edge of it. Having his big eyes watching her with him breathing loudly sent chills down her spine. A rush flooded her veins when she brazenly reached behind her to drag the zipper down in her dress. Stepping out of her shoes, she swallowed down hard with the way that Negan had his eyes locked on her. Awe filled them with him pressing his hands at his side to help brace himself.

Doubts did fill her mind at the idea of all of this as the material parted. Afterall, Joel was really the only man she had been with her whole life. She could be terrible with sex and not really know it. Plus, she hadn’t had much practice. In the last few years she had only been with Joel a few times. So she didn’t know if she’d continue to be this brave. Lowering the material down her body had her standing before Negan in only her black panties.

A tremoring breath escaped his lips and he wiggled his finger to urge her closer to him. Hooking his arm around her waist, Negan helped her crawl in over his lap. The warmth of his chest pressed against hers with him palming his large hands up over the lengths of her back, “You take my breath away.”

Hearing that took hers away when he claimed her lips with his again. Instead of just jumping right into things, they took their time caressing over each other’s bodies. Touching each other and getting used to the other all over again. A fire ran through her veins while she stroked at Negan’s scalp with his lips kissing up and over her jawline back toward her neck.

A wet sound fell from Negan’s lips when she shakily moved from his lap to slide down to her knees before him. Keeping her eyes hooked on his, she felt his thumb sweeping over her bottom lip and she kissed at the pad of his thumb. First she took her time getting his belt undone before working open his pants. Kissing at the area right above the hemline of his pants had him sucking in a sharp breath of air. Stroking his fingers through her hair, Negan was amazed with the way she was with him. Rushing things was not something they were doing here. She was pampering his body, cherishing him like he was a gift that had been given to her.

Hooking her fingers into his pants, she used a bit of strength to get them down his hips. Helping her, Negan lifted up so she could get the material of his dark slacks and his boxer briefs down his long slender body. A smacking sound followed with his erection hitting his lower abdomen. Carefully she set his clothes beside her on the floor and he swallowed down hard.

“You are so gorgeous,” she swept her fingers down over Negan’s leg evoking a tight groan from him. Crawling closer to him had his chest rising and falling.

Anticipation flooded his veins as he licked his lips to wet them. Urging his knees apart, she rest herself between them. Palming up over his thighs had him humming out. It was like she was taking her time to learn all of him again. Sweeping her fingers in over his injured knee took his breath away. Delicately she dragged her fingers across the scarring that was done from his surgeries that he had. Usually he was pretty sensitive about that area because it was the one part of his body that he wasn’t comfortable with. Swallowing down hard, he watched as she lowered her head to press faint kisses over his scars. The tenderness in the way she touched him and kissed at his body had Negan tremoring beneath her touch. Most people he wouldn’t be comfortable with doing this, but she genuinely seemed to care for him. And it drew him to her even more.

Having her looking up at him from where she was had chills flooding throughout his body. Other than Lucille, when people were with him they typically looked at him a certain way. It was either excitement with the fact they were hooking up with a celebrity where they only cared about the moment, not him or they just looked at him like he was something to be won. But in her eyes, he saw someone who actually seemed to care. There was an empathy for him that not a lot of people had. But it wasn’t in a way that was meant to make him feel bad. She just didn’t like seeing him hurt.

Palming over the side of her face had her turning into his touch to place a loving kiss over the center of his hand. Broken breaths fell from his lips. It had been so long since someone’s touch had been genuine where the person seemed to actually care for him.

As her kisses started to press over his thighs, he felt the warmth of them growing closer to his center and he let out a tremoring breath. Brushing his thumb against her cheek, he urged her to look up at him breaking the contact of her kisses from his flesh, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” she slurred palming in over the length of Negan’s shaft triggering him to close his eyes tightly. Groaning out, he felt her kisses following the movement and it had him caressing in over her shoulders. It was very sensual with what she was doing. She wasn’t out to prove something. It was just her cherishing his body and pampering him. Dragging her tongue along the length of his shaft had his thighs flexing and a sharp breath escaping him.

A low rumble of a moan fell from his throat when she curled her fingers around the base of his erection. Getting up further on her knees, she led his cock to her lips. Gentle kisses pressed over his manhood and his hips slid in closer to her. Watching her made him breathless. Reaching the tip, her lips parted taking him in. The warmth of her mouth surrounding his sensitive flesh drew out a deep raspy moan from his throat. Hearing that was a gift in itself. It made her want to do this all the more. Caressing over her shoulders and down over the center of her back, he wanted to relax her. Show her his appreciation. At first, her motions were slow. Dropping her head down slightly, taking her time then to pull back and drag her tongue against his erection. Each movement allowed her to take more of him into her mouth. And he was loving it.

Licking his lips, Negan stroked his fingers against the back of her neck. Now he understood the whole comment about everything feeling like the first time. Because this felt exactly like that. Whispering praises to her while she pleasured him only enticed her more. Sweeping her hair from her face, Negan was desperate to watch her. It looked like she enjoyed herself with every bob her head made over his length.

Taking a breath, she pulled her lips not too far away from his cock having his hips arch up toward her. With a smile, she teased kisses at the wet tip. Her tongue slightly dragging out against the soft, velvety skin. Varying between wet kisses and sweeps of her tongue over his body had him tensing up beneath her.

“Your cock is perfect,” she slurred against the tip of it, her eyes locking with his. Teasing her tongue across the patch of skin where the shaft and tip met had him locking up. His eyes closed and he shook. “I haven’t completely forgotten what you liked.”

Sliding his hand up over the side of her neck, Negan dragged his thumb along her jawline and smiled, “So much time has passed, but it feels like fucking yesterday. You are as fucking perfect as you’ve always been.”

Gentle strokes over his body continued, but he knew that in this moment, he didn’t need her to keep pampering him. So he reached for her, being careful in the way that he helped her up from her knees. Standing up, Negan made her gasp when he picked her up in his arms. Surprised filled her eyes at how easily he did it. Showing the strength that he had when he lowered her down at the center of the bed.

Suddenly this all started to feel real again. For a while it just felt like a blast from her past, a memory she had long forgotten but as Negan reached for the hemline of her panties she felt anxious before him. For the last however many years she had been only Joel’s. Yet here she was with someone completely new, someone who knew her just as much as Joel did in the past.

“Negan,” she stopped him before he could tug at the material, having him looking to her. “I know I’m not what I used to be. I’m sure I was cuter when we were younger.”

“No,” Negan hushed her, shaking his head when he started dragging the material down her legs. Getting them from her feet, Negan dropped them beside the bed and gave her a weak smile. Caressing at her lower legs, Negan realized that she was starting to get nervous. Doing his best to calm her, he allowed his touch to raise higher up toward her thighs. Shifting his weight over her, Negan did his best to urge her legs apart. Lowering himself down, he started peppering kisses at the inside of her thigh. Lifting his eyes, he flashed another smile seeing that her pupils were dilated with lust for him. “You are perfect. You’ve always been perfect. Then. Now…”

Hooking his arms under her knees, he pulled her in closer to him allowing his kisses to grow nearer to her core. At first, it was just delicate kisses over her flesh with him still caressing over her thighs. In this position she could comfortably watch him when his tongue pressed out to drag a line down over the length of her sex. Involuntarily her hips arched up toward him and he hummed out. Each kiss over her body grew stronger with the flicks of his tongue following suit. When he started suckling at her flesh, it made her moan out. Grasping tightly to the comforter beneath her, she balled the material up and cooed. Everything felt different with Negan’s short beard against her flesh, but it was a feeling that she very much enjoyed. This was a strong contrast from what she was used to with Joel. Negan seemed so focused and delicate. Working her up to feeling good and Joel was rough and eager to get her body worked up immediately.

Lifting her head, she watched Negan as he pleasured her. It seemed like he was enjoying it with the faint moans vibrating against her flesh. Crying out his name, she felt the strong strokes of his tongue over her sensitive bundle of nerves before it was followed by a slurping sound. As Negan’s right hand found its way between her thighs, she mewled out when his fingers thrust back into her body. With his long slender digits pumping away inside of her damp heat and his mouth focusing on matching that pleasure she felt the room spinning around her.

Licking her lips, she muttered his name feeling Negan hitting that same spot that he had been doing before. Starting to shake against him had him humming out. A euphoric sensation started building at the pit of her stomach with the way he was pleasuring her.

“Negan,” she stammered his name with his moan following and his fingers pulling from her body. It had her squeezing so tightly to the comforter that her knuckles were changing color. At the rate her heart was pounding in her chest she knew that this orgasm was harder than the one she had at the restaurant. Instead of stopping, Negan just buried his head back between her thighs to continue pleasuring her and it had her rocking her hips against his movements. “Fuck Negan…”

“Just enjoy it,” Negan instructed slurring against her flesh going back to work. Dropping one of her hands down, she sank it into his hair and panted. It had been so long since someone focused on her like this and it was driving her mad with desire for Negan.

That was until she heard the sound of something that had even Negan lifting his head up from where he was between her thighs. Dragging his thumb over his bottom lip, Negan cleared his throat and turned to look at her, “Is someone here?”

“The house is just noisy,” she tried to insist only to hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Panicked, she started tugging at the comforters and sheets. Pushing at Negan’s head she had him crawling beneath the material resting his head against her lower abdomen. Just in time she managed to get the blankets to her shoulders when her door pushed open revealing Elizabeth at the door. “Elizabeth. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry mom, I just…” Elizabeth paused holding tightly to the door seeing that her mother looked different. “I was at my friend’s house, but there was a game that I wanted to grab for us to play. It’s in my room. I didn’t want you to think that someone was breaking in or anything.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N didn’t know how to react. Truthfully? She was freaking the fuck out on the inside. This was never a place she wanted to find herself in around her children.

“Mom,” Elizabeth tipped her head to the side, her dark eyes narrowing. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”  

“I’m fine,” Y/N alerted her daughter desperately wanting her to leave the room. Discomfort flooded her veins knowing that underneath the blanket and sheet was a completely naked Negan. Hiding him was hard because Negan was a big guy, but she just hoped that Elizabeth didn’t catch on. “Have a good night honey.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Elizabeth was unsure of how to respond to the way her mother was acting. Right now Y/N wished that her daughter wasn’t so perceptive.

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just…really tired,” Y/N lied knowing that by the expression over her daughter’s face that Elizabeth was suspicious. “Just call me in the morning and tell me how everything was. Okay?”

“You have someone in there with you, don’t you?” Elizabeth stepped forward immediately making things all the more awkward. Negan buried his nose in against her abdomen trying to remain still, but Elizabeth wasn’t dumb. “I don’t understand. Who are you with? I know it’s not dad because I just saw him right before I came here.”

“Honey, this isn’t really the best time to be questioning things,” Y/N attempted to stop her daughter from the upcoming lecture that she knew was coming. Elizabeth’s eyes fell to the clothes that were at the center of the room and Y/N started to panic. “I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t think you’d be home. And I just…”

“After the other night with the four of us as a family, you’re doing this?” Elizabeth snapped at her mother causing Y/N to tense up. “I thought we were working on becoming a family again. The four of us. Yet, you’re here sleeping with someone other than dad?”

“Can you give me a few minutes and then we can talk? Because this is starting to feel really inappropriate,” Y/N asked of her daughter who simply folder her arms out in front of her chest with her chocolate brown eyes giving Y/N what looked like a death glare. “I don’t feel like that’s fair Elizabeth. Your dad dated someone else for years and you didn’t act like this. Just because your dad is single right now doesn’t mean…”

“You’re not dad,” Elizabeth interrupted her mother and it had a warmth flooding throughout Y/N’s veins. It was both demeaning that her daughter was lecturing her about having a life outside of Joel and embarrassing that Negan was in here to hear it all. “I know how you’ve felt about dad for a very long time. After everything with dad trying, inviting you over to the event…you’re doing this to him? To us?”

“I’m not cheating on your father Elizabeth,” Y/N pled with her daughter not understanding why it was leading to this. “We’ve been divorced for three years and separated for four. Your father had plenty of time to make a move and he didn’t. We’re not together Elizabeth and me finding comfort with someone else isn’t me trying to hurt you. Or anyone for that matter.”

“Who is it?” Elizabeth seemed furious eyeballing the bed to look over the shape that was beneath the blankets. “Is it Uncle Tommy? He’s been acting really weird and it would explain why he is running away at all hours of the night.”

“I adopted your Uncle Tommy when I was eighteen. Do you know how weird that would be?” Y/N scoffed, pulling the comforter in closer to her body feeling even more uneasy with Elizabeth stepping toward the bed. “Please honey, just give me a minute to get dressed and come out to talk to you.”

“I’m not a baby mom. I’m seventeen. Come on Uncle Tommy,” Elizabeth demanded who she assumed to be with her mom to come out. “Show yourself.”

“It’s not your Uncle Tommy! And I don’t even understand why you would begin to think that I have anything going on with him,” Y/N was disgusted at the idea of just seeing Tommy in that way because to her he was almost like her own child.

“Who else do you know that’s a man,” Elizabeth was furious in the way that she was talking. “Tommy, show your face before I start hitting.”

“Please don’t start hitting,” a rumble of a voice muttered from beneath the blankets and it shocked Elizabeth who stumbled back realizing that the voice was in fact not Uncle Tommy. “I’ll show my face if you promise not to start hitting.”

Carefully adjusting his body, Negan pulled the blankets and the sheets down far enough to reveal his head and his shoulders to Y/N’s daughter after he crawled up beside Y/N on the bed. Negan’s hair was a mess with a flush of color in his face. Curling his fingers tighter around the comforter, Negan cleared his throat and nodded his head. Looking to Y/N, Negan knew that there was fear in her eyes when Elizabeth saw what she did.

“Hello,” Negan broke the silence feigning a smile, his dimples big when the color drained completely from Elizabeth’s face seeing her celebrity crush there before her in her mother’s bed. “It’s nice to meet you Elizabeth, I heard a lot about you. All good things. Your mother loves you very much.”

“You’re fucking Negan Smith? How is Negan Smith even here right now?” Elizabeth snapped noticing the lost expression flooding into her mother’s features. It made things weird because Elizabeth wasn’t even acknowledging what Negan had said to her. “I have to be dreaming. This can’t be real because there is no logical explanation that explains why Negan Smith is in your bedroom right now.”

“I can answer a few of those,” Negan somewhat waved his hand about drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to him. “We’re not necessarily…fucking.”

Negan looked to see that Y/N buried herself under the covers to hide her embarrassment from her daughter and it had her groaning out, “I’m in this bedroom because I came home to visit my mother for the holidays. I ran into your mother the other day and we agreed to have dinner. You’re not dreaming and I’m very sorry this is the way that we met. I wanted to meet you at some point soon, but this really wasn’t the way that I was expecting.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Elizabeth was embarrassed with having her meltdown in front of the town celebrity who was attempting to be exceedingly kind to her. “You slept with Negan Smith knowing how I felt about things? Do you know how weird that’s going to be telling people considering all my friends know that I have the biggest crush on him? You never even acted like you felt a certain way toward him mom.”

“Again, I hate to speak for your mother,” Negan began, his hazel eyes empathetic drawing Elizabeth to look to him “But your mother and I dated long before her and your father did. Kind of. So I don’t think she did this to make you feel bad. It’s just we had something between us when we were younger. And she probably didn’t want to tell you about it because she was married to your father and didn’t want to make things weird. I’m also very honored that I’m your celebrity crush, but you are…kind of too young for me honey. And considering how I feel about your mother…”

“How do you feel about my mother?” Elizabeth blurt out and Negan’s hazel eyes got wide. Looking to Y/N who lowered the blankets slightly to him, Negan simply shrugged and cleared his throat.

“I don’t really know yet. I just know that I spent most of my early life in love with your mother. I went a lot of years without her in my life and now that I’m here for the holiday I’d like to spend as much time as I can with her,” Negan was honest with Elizabeth who seemed to be between the stages of shocked, embarrassed and angry all at the same time. “I’d also like to continue to be in your mother’s life somehow because I missed her.”

“How? You’re a famous baseball player,” Elizabeth reminded Negan who gave a simple nod and then tipped his head from side to side.

“Yes and no. I have one more season left,” Negan declared, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. “I’m really sorry if finding us here like this upset you, but I promise you this wasn’t anything negative or of ill intent. I care about your mother and I’d like to be able to talk to you in better situations so we can get to know one another better.”

“Elizabeth!” someone was calling out from downstairs and Y/N assumed that it was her friend that she had come with. Hopefully that friend didn’t follow her upstairs.

“I’ll be right down,” Elizabeth called out, a rush of heat flooding into her tanned flesh. It looked like there was so much she wanted to say but didn’t know what to say. Swallowing down hard, Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders and took a step back. “Whatever this is, I’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk about it. Preferably with you two dressed.”

“I don’t know if he will still be here tomorrow morning,” Y/N reasoned with her daughter, but Negan held his hand out and nodded.

“I’ll stay,” Negan agreed to the talk that Elizabeth asked for. “We can talk about whatever you want tomorrow. I promise.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth looked between both her mother and Negan, her eyes forcing themselves to look down at the ground. “I’m sorry for barging in. If I would have known you were with someone, I would have never done that.”

And with that, Elizabeth backstepped out of the bedroom and quickly took off down the stairs. When they heard the door open and shut, Y/N dropped her head back. An overwhelmed sound followed and she looked to Negan with pure embarrassment flooding her features.

“I am so sorry,” she apologized to Negan who laid in beside her looking up at the ceiling. “That had to be so weird and I would completely understand if you wanted to leave right now. I will come up with a good excuse for things tomorrow and…”

“I don’t want to leave,” Negan interrupted her, the lines in his forehead growing as he spoke. “Unless you want me to leave?”

“God no,” she shook her head, sliding in beside Negan with their heads touching. Her breathing was loud and she thought about the things that her daughter said. “Am I a bad mom for not telling her about us when we were younger?”

“Why would that make you a bad mom?” Negan’s nose wrinkled. “Mothers and fathers don’t tell their children about the people that they screwed around with before…or after their parents. She’ll be jealous and maybe embarrassed for a while, but she will understand it eventually.”

“You didn’t sign up for this,” she pointed out to Negan who simply shrugged. This was the last way she would have liked Elizabeth and Negan to meet.

“Life is always throwing surprises at you,” Negan suggested reaching for her to allow her to rest her head over the center of his chest to get comfortable. “I can tell that she’s daddy’s little girl by the way that she talks.”

“Yeah. The children both love him,” she stated with a long sigh cuddling her face in against Negan’s chest. “And I don’t mind that they love him. It’s better that they do. Joel is a good father. He always was. He loved them a lot. I let them have that. They just got really mad at me when we got separated. When Joel started dating someone they didn’t put up much of a fight. Kind of just dealt with it. Yet the moment I might be with someone else…”

“Explosion of emotions,” Negan teased releasing a long exhale with his fingers caressing over her shoulders. “Who was Joel dating?”

“Tess Servopoulos,” she stated hearing Negan choke out at her answer. “You remember her?”

“Scary Tess?” Negan’s eyebrows were arched as he looked toward Y/N. “Ball busting Tess? The girl that was a year or two older than us that had no problem kicking a guy in the balls if he looked at her the wrong way?”

“Might have been before my time,” she was amused at Negan’s reaction to who Joel was dating. “You didn’t like her?”

“I never pissed her off, so she was fine with me,” Negan informed her with a dramatic expression and he shook his head. “Joel still has his balls after they broke up? That woman had some serious rage issues when we were younger. If I was putting together a hit team, I think I would have gotten her on my team.”

“She didn’t seem that bad,” Y/N laughed at how dramatic Negan was being with the way he was talking. “Joel really liked her. At least I thought they did when they were together.”

“That is so hard to picture because Joel hated her when we were in high school,” Negan thought back realizing that Y/N was younger than him and Joel. “Fuck. I can’t believe that Joel dated scary Tess. I almost want to ask him about it.”

“I’m going to be getting an earful eventually about what Elizabeth saw here tonight from him. So maybe if you are still around you can talk to him then,” she was being sarcastic as her fingers played with the dark curls of hair over Negan’s chest. “If I were you, I’d probably run right now. I have so much baggage and you’ve already seen parts of it.”

“I like your parts,” Negan spoke softly, letting out a boisterous laugh when she poked him in the side. “But it’s a good thing you aren’t me because I don’t wanna run away. I’m willing to deal with what I have to in order to be around you again.”

“You are something else,” she found herself in awe of him, bracing her hand over his chest so she could balance herself enough to lean in over Negan to meet him in a lingering kiss between the two of them. “Well now that the moment we were building up to is over, I have some pie that I made earlier. Would you like to have some?”

“I was just eating some pie,” Negan snickered only to have her playfully hit him in the stomach again. His raspy laugh grew louder this time and he shook his head. “Yes, I would love some of the pie that you made.”

Carefully getting up from the bed, Negan watched her head over toward her dresser to grab a t-shirt and some pajama pants. Pulling on his black boxer briefs, Negan then reached for his dress shirt to pull it over his arms. Leaving it unbuttoned, he stopped at the bottom of the bed hearing her huff when she turned to face him.

“It’s not fair, how are you still so fucking hot like that?” she questioned getting another laugh from Negan who reached for her to wrap her up in his arms. “It’s like, you’re even more fuckable like that.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Negan hummed kissing her multiple times. Leaning back, his eyes locked with hers and he made an overwhelmed expression. “I think your daughter walking in on us might have been worse than my father walking in on us that one time. I was scared she was about to start beating the shit outta me.”

“I could honestly see it,” she agreed with Negan, patting him at the center of his chest. Leading him down to the kitchen, she watched as he walked over toward the corner of the cabinets where Joel had been earlier bracing his hands on the counter. “What kind of pie would you like? I have eggnog pumpkin, pecan, chocolate silk and cinnamon apple.”

“Why don’t you get a piece of each and we will share them all?” Negan suggested with her giving him an impressed expression. Doing what he asked, she warmed the ones that were necessary and laid them out across the island in her kitchen. Grabbing both of them some milk and forks, she moved in beside Negan and saw him eyeing over the pies. “I love that you still bake. We started that together.”

“I know,” she saw him take some of the cinnamon apple pie, humming out when he swallowed it down and gave a thumbs up. “Do you still bake?”

“Fuck yeah I do. I’m an amazing cook and baker,” Negan didn’t shy from showing off when he went for the eggnog pumpkin pie next. “We should bake something together. The two of us. Not that you need any more sweets with all that you have, but I think that would be fun.”

“If you want to,” she wasn’t going to deny him the opportunity to cook something with her. She liked spending time with him and she wasn’t ready to stop yet. Grabbing some of the pumpkin for herself, she saw Negan take a bite of the pecan. “What do you like best so far?”

Considering his answer, Negan went for a larger bite of the chocolate silk. Holding it up to her lips, he allowed her to take the bite. A surprised sound fell from her lips when Negan’s lips covered hers, his tongue forcefully brushing out against hers.

“Wow,” she snickered watching him wipe his thumb across his bottom lip to collect the remainder of the pie from his lips. “That was different.”

“Chocolate silk,” Negan pointed to the piece of pie that was before her and it had her face flushing over with warmth. Nudging her playfully with his hip, Negan gave her a wink and then went for another bite of the chocolate silk. “You’re cute. You know that?”

“It’s been a long time since someone called me cute,” she retorted with Negan taking a sip of his milk. “But thank you. You’re pretty cute too.”

“I know,” Negan snorted after it made her laugh. Things were much more relaxed with Negan than she was used to. Here he was standing almost completely shirtless at the center of her kitchen in his boxer briefs and they were just eating sweets together. “This has been an interesting night. It went a way I didn’t think it would, but I’ve enjoyed it.”

“I feel like you’re just trying to be nice,” she suggested assuming things had to be awkward from the start. “You started the night off with my angry ex-husband and then ended it with my daughter. If anything, this night has been awkward at best.”

“I can handle Joel. I always could. And I could also handle your daughter who has a crush on me,” Negan stressed, placing his hand in over the center of his chest after setting his milk back down on the counter. “I have had lots of fun tonight. And not just because we fucked around. The night is still young though and I did promise your daughter that I would be here tomorrow. So, we have a lot of the night left together.”

“I’m just waiting for my son to make an appearance now,” she joked, poking at the pie that was in front of her.

“And if that happens, I’ll happily meet your son,” Negan snickered, moving forward to nuzzle his nose in against the side of her neck before playfully pressing kisses against her flesh. “I like kids. I always wanted kids. Life just didn’t work out for me the way I planned.”

Turning toward Negan after setting her fork down, she felt his hands settling in over her hips. Stroking her fingers over his exposed chest had her questioning things. This was all really too good to be true. Everything just felt…relaxed and nice. It wasn’t something that she was used to. At least not for a very long time.

“Let’s clean this up and make some cupcakes?” Negan suggested with a huff, tipping down to deposit another kiss over her forehead. Sliding his hands up her body, he cupped her face in his rough palms and led her to stare into his hazel eyes. “I need you to loosen up and relax. We’re here. I’m happy to be here. So let’s keep taking a trip down memory fucking lane. Let’s bake some cupcakes. And talk.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” she wasn’t going to fight him on this whole thing. Spending time with him sounded nice. It was the most laid back things had been in her life for a long time. And one thing she wasn’t feeling was lonely. Which was a nice thing. After giving her a wink, Negan collected the dishes that they had and headed over toward the sink. Without having to be asked, Negan was doing the dishes. Cleaning them and then putting them into the dishwasher. That alone was a huge difference between Negan and Joel. In all her years being with Joel, Joel was never the type to immediately clean up and if he did the dishes, it was only because she nagged him long enough to do it. “What kind of cupcakes do you want?”

“You have me in a chocolate mood,” Negan responded with a pondering expression when he looked over his shoulder at her. Turning on his heel, he braced his hands against the counter stretching out his lengthy abdomen leaving her a nice view of the v-line that led to the top of his boxer briefs. “Do you have candy canes?”

“Of course,” she moved around the kitchen to pull out the box of candy canes that she had bought not long before. Extending his hand out, Negan grabbed the box and gave her a thumbs up. “Chocolate cupcakes with a peppermint frosting?”

“Right up my alley,” Negan gave her a wink, setting the box down. Amusement flooded her veins seeing Negan opening the cabinets to see what was where. Instead of just asking, he was getting comfortable with her kitchen and it charmed her. As he set out what they needed with utensils and bowls, she went for the ingredients that they would need from the pantry and refrigerator. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” she looked over her shoulder to see that Negan was looking down at the gingerbread family that she had done with Joel and the children. “Oh, we did that the other day when I made fresh gingerbread cookies. Elizabeth wanted us to keep it. So it’s being displayed in the kitchen.”

“The sad thing is that I immediately knew this was Joel. His style hasn’t changed much since high school,” Negan snickered, waving his finger about at the gingerbread cookie that Joel had made. Stealing one final glance, Negan went back to preparing things. When they both returned to the island in her kitchen, she gave him a once over and smirked. “What?”

“I’m just not used to this whole thing. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this with someone,” she mused working with Negan to grab what they would need for the cupcakes first. Heading over to the stove, she turned it on and came back to see Negan was already preparing the ingredients. “My children like to help with the decorating, but never the baking process. Well, they did when they were children. But that’s it really.”

“Tell me about them,” Negan directed her to talk about her family and he saw her take a moment to think about things.

“Well, you met Elizabeth tonight. Daddy’s little girl to the core. Joel has called her Ellie her whole life, but she has gotten to the age where she wants to be called Liz. She plays softball at her school. She’s got a hell of a throw on her. She likes the girly things, but she’s also into sports and video games,” she rambled on about her daughter and Negan would glance over at her every so often to show that he was listening while they worked together. “She’s also incredibly smart. Way smarter than me and her father ever were. I see her going places. I worry sometimes about her since she’s so close to the age I was when I got pregnant, but she’s really not like that. She has crushes, but no boyfriend or anything. I think her future means more to her. And she’s a really good sister to her little brother. Peter is a typical teenage boy. Loves video games, sports, being silly. He plays baseball too. I think it’s more so to get his father’s attention, but he’s trying. And he’s attempting to learn the guitar too like Joel.”

“So Ellie is Joel’s favorite,” Negan commented which had her shaking her head. “It sounds like it.”

“I don’t know if she’s Joel’s favorite. I think she just has a strong bond with him since she was his first,” she thought aloud hating to think that Joel had a favorite. “Peter is just desperate for something to cling onto with his dad. We split when Peter was nine and he misses the family aspect of things. Joel is always so busy with things that Peter doesn’t really get the attention that he wants.”

“And why did the two of you get divorced?” Negan was curious throwing caution to the wind since she might get upset with that question. “You don’t have to answer that question.”

“Uh, you’re fine,” she felt heat flooding into her face. There was the thought that she shouldn’t focus so much on Joel, but Negan seemed to be genuinely curious. “I’d love to blame one thing, but I don’t know if I can. Joel’s parents died right after graduation for him. Immediately Tommy was the thing that he worried about. He made the decision to stay home and take care of Tommy instead of letting him go into foster care. Which meant he had to give up his full ride to school on that scholarship. It meant he gave up focusing on football and music. Which you know how much those two things meant to him.”

“I think everyone did,” Negan agreed with her from what he remembered when they were younger. Joel was so good at football that many of the people in town thought he would become a big football player. “I think he always planned to get famous with football so he could become a singer. Which I think was his real passion. Unless I was wrong.”

“I think he loved them both,” Y/N didn’t know if he loved one or the other more. The music just stuck with him more. “I think he was happy he had two things he was good at. That way he always had a fallback.”

Talking about Joel would have probably pissed Joel off. Especially since he seemed so irritated about her spending time with Negan.

“Joel adopted Tommy. Took on his father’s company and started working immediately. And then Elizabeth happened. It wasn’t on purpose. I was taking the pill, but it just happened. My parents wanted me to get an abortion because they expected more from me, but I couldn’t. They kicked me out and wanted nothing to do with me. So that was another person that Joel had to take into his home. I think he figured once Tommy was eighteen, he would be able to have the chance to finally make something of himself. I just don’t think he thought he would be a father by then. Everything was really good. I adopted Tommy too. We were a family. It was rough, but we were doing it. By the time Tommy turned eighteen, I was pregnant with Peter and I think life just got so busy. Tommy wanted to go off into the army because he wanted to change the world. It was a lot of stress. Joel tried to go to a community college, but it just didn’t work. So he kept being a contractor running his father’s business.”

Biting down on her bottom lip, she paused and noticed that Negan looked to her wondering if she was okay, “I think I was just the only one that realized life wasn’t going to be what I wanted it to be. I gave up the things I wanted, he did the same, but I adjusted to it and he didn’t. I got a degree, accepted the first job that would take me. Money was money. Joel was miserable. He knew what he was capable of having and life didn’t allow him that. So we fought. A lot. I was happy. He wasn’t in the last few years. And it wore pretty heavy on me. I think the more he let it linger, the more he realized what he lost. I think he was really happy for a while. It’s just toward the end of our marriage that he started showing signs of being miserable. At least, I think that’s what it was.”

“You had big dreams too though,” Negan reminded her of what she wanted when she was younger noticing that she didn’t seem to focus on herself as much as she did Joel. “You wanted to travel. I remember you always had your camera out and you wanted to be a journalist. More than anything you wanted out of here. So if anyone understood what he was going through, it was you.”

“I suppose so,” she didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong. More than anything she dreamt of getting away from here when she was younger. She wanted to be more than what she was, but once she was a mother she had to change her way of thinking. “Joel was a really good father throughout though. He kept that he was miserable from the children really good.”

“Hmm…” Negan breathed out loudly, reaching for the mixer once they had put all the ingredients together to make the chocolate cupcakes. “I take it sex wasn’t very good with Joel?”

“Negan,” she laughed with him tipping his head to the side.

“I’m just saying. You seemed really shocked by the way I could make you orgasm tonight which tells me that you’ve never orgasmed like that before,” Negan recalled back to the two previous moments earlier tonight. “It’s okay if Joel wasn’t good at sex.”

“Joel was good at sex,” she corrected Negan who smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “The orgasms were good, but that…”

“You didn’t know you were a squirter,” Negan blurt out having her chuckle at his outwardness. “It takes time and dedication. Focus to make a girl squirt and not all of them do. Some of them are scared to do it because they think it’s something bad, but it’s not.”

“I can see the ego never left you,” she smacked Negan on the ass when he turned on the mixer. Moving around him, she got what they needed for the frosting and started to prepare what she could now. Once he was done, Negan helped her lay out the cupcake wrappers before she poured in the mixture. “What about your life? You’ve gotten to see the world. What was it like? As exciting as we pictured when we were kids?”

“It depends,” Negan answered with a sigh. “If Lucille was with me, it was nice. If I was alone, it was lonely. And it’s not really like I could enjoy it. I was working when I was travelling. So a lot of the world that I saw was hotels and flying.”

“Yeah, but I saw from the stuff Elizabeth would pull up that you got that car that you dreamt of having since we were kids. Lots of cars. A big house and everything you could ever dream of,” she elbowed him playfully thinking that those were things he would be proud of. Instead, Negan swallowed hard and looked down at her with sadness in his eyes. “All the money in the world can’t be too bad.”

“All the money in the world and I still couldn’t save my wife from dying of cancer,” Negan countered having the color drain from her face realizing what she said was incredibly awful when he put it that way. “I’m not trying to be a dick with that answer. I’m sorry if it came out that way, I just…what good is money if you lose the love of your life anyways? I have all the money I could ever want, but no one to spend it with. You can’t imagine the kind of loneliness…” Negan paused, his thick eyebrows furrowing with a shake of his head. “Never mind. You understand the loneliness just fine. Just a different kind. I’m sorry for that.”

“Broken recognizes broken I guess,” she breathed out, grabbing the cupcakes to put them in the oven. Setting the timer, she turned to him and could see that he was going through so many emotions just considering what to say next. “I’m sorry I said that Negan. It’s just when you’re one of the little people, the idea of having lots of money and getting to do anything sounds really good.”

“I understand that. I’m sorry,” Negan cleared his throat and nodded his head. His lips parted and he shrugged his shoulders. “Just from where I’m standing, I think Joel is a moron. Because more than anything, Lucille and I would have loved to have children. We tried, but she was sick for a long time. And we never had any. So it’s crazy to me. I would have loved having his life. He has everything I don’t.”

“Had. Not has,” she corrected his statement feeling a sense of sadness behind it. “I wasn’t what he wanted.”

“He’s an idiot,” Negan noted, stepping forward to palm in over the side of her face. “He had everything I wanted when I was younger and he let it slip through his fingers.”

A tremoring exhale fell from her lips when Negan lowered down again to bring their lips together in what was a fervent kiss. His thumb swept over her jawline when they parted and he looked to the timer that she had set.

“Do you still have a camera?” Negan’s question surprised her and made her smile. “You do, don’t you?”

“I have one. It’s not the best considering my situation, but I take it with me to special events with the children. I just haven’t really played with it too much,” she responded with a shrug of her shoulders knowing that she used to carry a camera with her everywhere. “Why?”

“Go get it,” Negan instructed, moving over toward the other bowl that he had grabbed. “I’ll start the frosting. You go get the camera and come back down.”

“Fine,” she did as he told her, heading up the stairs and leaving him alone in the kitchen. Going to her room in search of her camera, she hoped that it was charged. When she found her camera bag, she pulled out the camera and headed downstairs with it. Turning it on, she was thankful when she saw that there was power to it and that she had a memory card. “Here it is.”

“Not too shabby,” Negan reached out for the camera to look it over. Adjusting a few things, Negan lifted the camera and took a photo of her causing her to groan out. “What?”

“I look like shit,” she frowned and he immediately shook his head. It felt strange having Negan taking photos of her. “I do.”

“You could never look like shit,” Negan avowed with a huff, allowing her to take the camera away from him. Wrinkling his nose, Negan gave a wink before going back to work on the frosting. Hearing the sound of the camera made him smile. Stealing a quick look at her, he could tell that she seemed happy while she started snapping photos of him. Stopping what he was doing, he turned toward her and rubbed his hands together. “I want you to start using that again. Whenever you can, take that camera out and take photos. That was the thing that made you so happy when we were younger. Writing and taking photos. Start doing the things that make you happy.”

“Smile for me,” she ordered of him, lifting her camera up. Expectantly waiting for him Negan flashed her one of the biggest, cheesiest smiles that he could give. Taking the photo had her giggling, but she immediately shook her head afterwards. “A real smile.”

“What? That wasn’t real enough for you,” Negan snickered, stepping forward to loosely hook his arm around her waist to pull her in against him. “I thought you liked me as I was. Cute. Charming. Silly. That was a genuine smile.”

“You’re right, you are cute all the time,” she agreed with him, keeping a tight hold of her camera in one hand. With the other she dragged her thumb across Negan’s bottom lip. Kissing at the pad of her finger had her breathing loudly. “I think you know what your smile is capable of though.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re capable of,” Negan slurred with a long sigh, his eyes narrowing when he stepped back. Doing as she asked of him originally, he allowed her to take a photo, but then he got serious. And even though he wasn’t smiling, she seemed to enjoy getting a few close up photos of him. Resting at the corner of the kitchen cabinets, Negan stretched his hands out and placed them on the counter. Modeling for her was no big deal. He was used to people taking photos of him. “I know you had to change your life and alter what your childhood dreams were. But that didn’t mean you had to give up the things that made you happy. You should have kept writing and taking photos.”

“I wish it was that easy,” she stammered, lowering the camera down. Sure, it sounded good, but life never really gave her that chance.

“It is that easy,” Negan contended, biting down on his bottom lip. The lines in his forehead grew with him shaking his head. “Someone in your life should have been here telling you all along that you needed to have things that made you happy. They should have been cheering you on to do these things. Telling you to make time for yourself as well as others.”

“You know,” she began, stuttering back on her words when she lowered the camera down completely. Guilt started eating away at her with a lump growing in her throat. “You really shouldn’t be as nice to me as you are being Negan. I don’t deserve it. You know that, right?”

“Says who?” Negan tipped his head to the side, waiting on her answer.

“You don’t have to keep acting like this. I fucked up when I did what I did. I ruined our friendship all those years ago. I broke your heart,” she recollected provoking a long sigh from him. Setting her camera aside, she realized her thoughts were eating away at her. After everything he said to her at the sports bar, she couldn’t help but think she was a piece of shit for how things went down. “You shouldn’t be this good to me with what I did to you.”

“Apparently I missed the rulebook I guess,” Negan shrugged, pushing forward to move before her. Looking up at him with big eyes, she felt sad. Sad to know that he carried all those negative and hurt feelings with him for so long. Shuddering, she looked down to see that Negan’s fingers were hooking with hers when he reached out for them. “Here’s the thing. You feel fucking guilty. And I understand that. But I wouldn’t give up the life that I was given with Lucille. I loved her, very fucking much.”

“I know,” she breathed, squeezing her fingers firmly around his. Closing the distance between them, Negan wanted her to keep her eyes on his.

“You can’t blame yourself for something that was meant to happen. I loved my wife. I wish I could have had more time with her, but the world didn’t allow me that. And I know that you would never give up the life that you had with your children,” Negan emphasized his words showing her that he understood that their lives went in different ways. “What was meant to happen, did. I can’t be mad at that.”

“But I should have talked to you. You were the biggest part of my life and I just…” she started, but Negan hushed her, lowering his head down to press his forehead against hers.

“Listen. I don’t care about the past. We both made mistakes,” Negan admitted, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. “I just know how miserable I was without you in my life. I know I should have been here for you every step of the way. You were part of what made me whole. Part of what made me, me. What happened between us was just as much my fault as it was yours. But what I know? I don’t want to lose you from my life again.”

Everything he said took her breath away. In only a few hours, it felt like they were back to what they were when they were younger. And she still didn’t think she deserved that, but Negan didn’t seem to care. Hovering his lips over hers, it felt like he was about to kiss her again but was interrupted by the sound of the timer going off for the cupcakes.

“Fuck,” Negan hummed, looking toward the stove. Motioning him to wait, she grabbed something to get the cupcakes out of the oven. Setting them out to cool, she turned the oven off and returned back to Negan.

Grabbing the sides of his opened button down, she tugged slightly at them getting a smile over his handsome lips. And there were those gorgeous dimples that got her every time. Using her strength, she lowered him down to her to bring his lips to hers. Shivers ran down her spine with Negan laughing against her lips. Maybe she should have stopped things. Hell, this was just their first day back to spending time together, but it didn’t matter. Right now, everything felt right in the world with him kissing her. It had been a long time since she felt this good.

“Follow me,” Negan instructed, moving around her keeping his fingers linked with hers. Heading for the stairs had a breath catching in her throat.

“What about the cupcakes?” she knew that they were right in the middle of making them. Her heart skipped a beat when Negan looked back at her with an amused smirk.

 “They need time to cool anyways,” Negan hushed her taking her into her bedroom. Closing the door, Negan locked it behind him this time while she stood waiting. Turning on his heel, Negan started to shimmy out of the shirt that he was wearing. “Just so no one can surprise us this time.”

Breathing loudly, she watched as the material dropped to Negan’s wrists. Unhurriedly, he got the shirt off and dropped it to the ground. Stepping forward, Negan reached for the bottom of the t-shirt she was wearing. Noticing the way she grew nervous made him smile.

“Everything will be okay,” Negan promised her, starting to lift the material. Once it got right under her breasts, she shakily lifted her arms to let him pull it from her. Dropping her t-shirt beside them on the floor, Negan dragged his tongue out across his bottom lip. Stealing another glance at her naked form took his breath away. “I think you’re perfect.”

Words were hard to form. The warmth of Negan’s fingertips started at her lower abdomen. His caress was slow, building up the sensation as they traced up over her ribs. Just the way Negan looked at her made her feel like the only person in the world. It was obvious what he was doing to her. There was no hiding it from him.

“Now you’re the one shaking,” Negan pointed out, closing the distance between them. Warmth radiated from his body before hers. Curling his arm around her, Negan’s fingers settled at the small of her back tracing over her skin. With how close they were she felt the curls of hair over his chest tickling at her flesh.

Caressing up over her back, between her shoulders and down again, Negan let his fingers hook into her panties. Pushing them down, he let them drop to her ankles. Covering her bottom with the warmth of his hands, he tested the flesh in his palms and hummed out. It had her eyelashes fluttering to a close, her lips parting and a soft sight escaped them.

Using his strength, Negan picked her up in his arms and carried her over toward the center of the bed. Laying her down, he was careful in the way he moved her. Watching his every movement, her pupils dilated with desire with him pushing his fingers into the hemline of his boxer briefs. Getting the material down his body had her lips parting. Even though she knew his body from when they were younger, it was so much different now. Crawling in over her, Negan heard the nervous sound that fell from her parted lips.

“You don’t have to be nervous with me,” Negan assured her, resting himself comfortably between her thighs. Tracing his rough fingertips over her shoulders had a smile tugging at his handsome features. Following his finger’s movements, Negan deposited soft, gentle kisses over her shoulder toward her collar bone. The sound of her breathing grew louder with his kisses sliding in over her neck and then over her jawline. Right now his aim was to make her feel comfortable. Meeting her bottom lip, Negan pressed delicate kisses over it. It had her eyes slamming shut with a whimper falling from her throat. Bracing himself on his arms as they rest at her sides, Negan’s kisses were passionate and focused. Meticulous in the way he was comforting her. “I would never hurt you.”

“Negan,” she pressed her hand in over the center of his chest suddenly feeling very self-conscious about herself. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so honest, but she felt like this needed to be put out there. “I’ve only been with Joel. I might not be any good at this because he’s the only man I’ve been with.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” he interrupted with another charming smile, trying to calm her instead of having her panic. “I don’t care how many people you’ve been with. I know how I feel about you. All I need to know is that you want this.”

“I do,” she whispered without second guessing things. More than anything she knew in that moment that she wanted to be with him. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Nothing with you could disappoint me,” Negan professed, once again taking her breath away. Just with his words alone he had her hooked. Starting to press kisses over her jawline, Negan knew that he wanted to focus on her. Relax her enough so she could stop worrying about things. Gradually his kisses led to her lips. Each caress of his lips over hers was filled with so much passion behind it that it had her pulse leaping in her throat. Soft bucking motions of his hips against hers had her tremoring beneath him. “I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember.”

Stroking her hand down over the side of Negan’s face had his long eyelashes fluttering to a close. Just having her touch him with that tenderness could affect him that much. Nibbling at her bottom lip, Negan balanced his weight on his left arm. Dropping his right hand, he palmed in over her warmth triggering a moan to fall from her. Caressing at her body, Negan wanted to make sure that she was still okay with this before reaching between them.

Whimpering out, she felt the tip of his manhood at her entrance. Instead of rushing it, Negan got comfortable again over her. Hooking his fingers with hers, Negan pressed her left hand down against the bed. Locking their eyes, he wanted to watch everything when he pushed his hips forward. Tipping her head back, she purred out but didn’t close her eyes. She wanted to be connected with Negan in this moment. The expression he gave her as he slowly sank into her was unlike anything she had seen from him. They both moaned in unison with just that small amount of him entering her. Bracing himself, Negan knew that he was going to be a mess if he didn’t hold himself together.

Allowing her to get comfortable, Negan curled his hands under her shoulders bringing them closer. Starting to kiss her as he began to roll his hips, Negan took his time with her. Not wanting to rush this. This was a moment he waited most of his life for. He wanted it to last. He wanted to remember it. The way she looked. The way she felt. How she panted his name softly with every move he made.

This was all very romantic. Something she wouldn’t have imagined with Negan’s personality or the kind of man that he was, but she liked it. It was close contact. His chest pressed against hers. The base of his erection grinding against her clitoris adding to the friction of his thrusts. It was a full, stretching sensation that she enjoyed very much. Sinking her fingers into his damp hair, she loved the way he praised her and said exactly what she wanted to hear in a moment of being made love to.

Kissing him took away all the worries and the fears she had in that moment. What he was doing not only made her body feel good, but it made her mind feel that way too. Scratching lightly over his shoulders and down his back led to her fingers squeezing at his bottom. Having the muscles flexing and relaxing beneath her touch with every roll forward of his hips turned her on more than it should of.

“This is everything I’ve wanted for so fucking long,” Negan whispered, his lips hovering over hers. Muted moans were escaping him causing her to tremor beneath him. There was a fire building up inside of her with his steady movements. “You are so beautiful.”

Crying out, she kissed at Negan’s collarbone, nipping faintly at the skin with her hips arching up toward him. It surprised her how easily her body was reacting to this. Everything felt so good. Even before he started this she was sensitive from their earlier moments, so when her first orgasm hit her it didn’t surprise her how much it affected her body. Burying his head against the side of her neck, Negan moaned enjoying the way that she felt. Pressing her hand to his lower abdomen had him waiting for her, his breathing uneven.

“Are you okay?” Negan confirmed with her when she opened her eyes and caressed her palms up his long abdomen toward his chest.

“More than okay,” she alerted him, getting a weak smile from him. Every part of her was enjoying this. It was both physically and mentally rewarding.

Rolling onto his side, Negan brought her with him hooking her leg over his hip. Having him spooning her like this was so much more intimate than she thought tonight would be but she wasn’t complaining. This way she could kiss him and focus on him. Touch him and cherish the moment.

This time she reached between them to grab his rigid length in her grasp. Lifting her hips in closer to his, she led his body to hers. Sinking her hips down had her warmth taking him in. His lips parted, his hazel eyes dropping to look down to watch their bodies connecting.

Thrust after thrust felt incredible. Their breathing matched each other. Their hands caressing and touching each other’s bodies. This was about learning each other all over again. This time more than they had when they were younger.

“Negan,” she purred his name, pressing her forehead to his. Muted moans vibrated against her lips. It was a thrilling sensation with his fingers digging into her hips helping their movements. Kisses were pressed against her lips while Negan praised her again and again. It was everything someone would want for their first time with someone.

Pushing her hand slightly into Negan’s chest had him rolling onto his back with the pressure. With his body pulling from hers, it had her whimpering out with the aching emptiness that followed. Licking his lips, Negan watched her close as she crawled in over him. First her hands started at his hips, caressing up over them toward the center of his chest.

“You have no idea how many nights I dreamt about this when we were younger,” Negan slurred, wincing when her warmth hovered over his aching erection. “I feel like a teenage boy all over again.”

“Everything about you is perfect,” she assured him, lowering in closer to him with her mouth just hanging in over his. Leading his hand between them, she helped him lead his cock back to her body. Lowering her hips down had her sinking down over his length. Clutching tightly to Negan, her eyes slammed close and she tremored with the moan that followed from him. Pulling her hips forward and then dropping them back again had her cries growing louder and more frequent. More than anything she wanted this close contact with him. Negan’s mouth was peppering her neck with kisses, his hands caressing her body in awe. It was obvious that Negan cherished her body and it made her feel good in so many ways.

“Fuck,” Negan lifted his head watching her movements over him with the small amount of room that was left between their bodies.

“You feel so good inside of me,” she purred against his lips having him moan. Unlike Joel, Negan was a very verbal lover. His moans could be heard, he praised her with everything that she did. His hands caressed at her sides, over her bottom and up her back.

Hovering her lips over his, she enjoyed taking in the facial expressions he was making while she worked her hips over his length. Everything about this made her feel good and it wasn’t just about the sex. It was feeling seen. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Grunting out, Negan pulled himself up into a seated position, wrapping his arms around her waist to help bring her hips over him. His mouth pressed kisses at her jawline, nipping slightly at her skin. Moaning out, Negan enjoyed how her nails bit at his back not trying to hurt him, but to show how much she enjoyed what was happening.

“I’m going to come,” his groan vibrated against her lips leading her to use the strength she had to start riding him harder.

There was something in the way that Negan tipped his head back to look at her that absolutely took her breath away. Palming in over the side of her face, Negan brought her to kiss him. Her body was tremoring over him with her leading herself to another orgasm. Crying out against his lips, she felt him tensing beneath her, his moans letting her know his orgasm was approaching. Hearing Negan slur out her name had her eyes slamming shut. Winces escaped his throat with the throbbing of his cock inside of her, the twitching alerting her that his release followed soon after. Their movements continued through his orgasm, their eyes locked. Her body was weak, aching in the best of ways. By the grumble of his raspy moan and his head falling in against the side of her neck she knew that she had milked him completely of his orgasm. In his arms she stayed, liking the way it felt with Negan pressing kisses at the side of her neck. Cuddling her head in against his shoulder, she wrapped her arms tighter around him with their breathing still loud and uneven.

“You were worth every minute of the wait it took for us to get here,” Negan hummed, his head tipping back while she stroked her fingers through his damp, dark hair. It made her smile and they kissed a few times.

“That was a lot of minutes,” she pointed out tipping her head back to stare down at Negan who shook his head and smiled. “I’m not sure I was worth that.”

“You were,” Negan assured her, nipping at her bottom lip and dragging his tongue faintly against her flesh. “You’re perfect.”

Perfect was not something she would have used to describe herself, but she liked hearing it. For a while they laid in bed with her tracing out shapes over his chest and lower abdomen. Talking about things they still hadn’t caught up on. Something inside of her reminded her that so many people would have killed to be in the position she was in. Laying in the arms of Negan Smith. The big-time baseball player that so many people knew. But to her? This was the man that was her childhood best friend. The man that saw all of her and still remembered the little details. Things that people in her life now didn’t even know.

Everything about this was flawless. And she knew that. Negan made love to her. He made her feel special. And this was the most comfortable she had been with anyone in a very long time. The only problem was knowing that she was having these feelings about Negan while still having the feelings that she did for Joel. Then again, she felt pretty crazy thinking about Joel in a moment like this. Joel and Negan were so vastly different. Both perfect in their own ways. But she shouldn’t have been thinking about Joel right now. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from making comparisons between the two and that worried her.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis

[meazalykov]

let me in

giulia gwinn x anxiety!reader

part one - part two

summary: you try to hide it, but she already knows

warnings: diagnosed anxiety, fear, zoloft mentions, angst, split into two parts because of the word count

the second half starts, and somehow, you manage to push through. you make an assist to sydney. for a fleeting moment, there’s a spark of joy. you’re happy for her, you really are. 

then you start to think that you’ve realized something. the acknowledgment you’re used to isn’t coming. no one is rushing to congratulate you for the assist, like they normally do for anyone else who makes a great play. 

you know it’s not because they don’t care, but your mind betrays you. it starts spinning with doubt, with fear. did they notice the mistake you made earlier? do they think you’re not good enough? why is no one congratulating you?

your heart beats faster now, the panic rising again. you try to push the thoughts aside, to focus on the game, but the fear is too strong. it’s all you can think about. 

then, a familiar voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. pernille is next to you, her arms around you in a tight hug. 

“you did great,” she says, her voice warm and reassuring. 

tuva follows, giving you a pat on the back, and for a brief moment, the fog lifts. you’ve made a mistake, but they don’t hate you. they don’t blame you. they still believe in you.

your heart is still racing, too fast, too loud, pounding against your chest like it's trying to break free. calm down, calm down, you tell yourself, but it doesn’t help. 

nothing helps. it’s like a constant hum of anxiety buzzing in your ears, drowning out everything else.

when the coach calls for the substitution, you barely register it at first. you’re already so deep in your head that the words don't hit until he’s looking directly at you, a hint of concern in his eyes. you blink, startled, as he gives a quick nod towards the sideline. 

linda comes on for you, and you give her a light hug before the coach reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder.

"y/n, rest. you did great. go ahead and sit the last twenty minutes out."

it feels like the earth shifts beneath your feet. the pressure mounting in your chest. as you walk toward the benches , all you can feel is this deep sense of failure. 

I didn’t do well. I wasn’t good enough. that’s why he’s subbing me off. 

your pulse doesn’t slow down as you sit on the bench, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. you try to still it, but your body doesn’t listen. it’s as if the constant movement is the only thing you can do to release the built-up energy inside of you. 

I wasn’t good enough, you repeat, the thoughts relentless, pushing through the cracks in your mind. 

sam kerr sits beside you, and without a word, she leans her head on your shoulder. it’s a small gesture, but it’s enough. the weight of her support, her presence, pulls you out of the storm in your head, if only for a moment. 

“great job love,” you hear her say silently, and you want to believe her, want to feel proud of what you’ve done, but it’s so hard to shake the feeling of not being enough. 

you glance back at the field, watching the play unfold, but your focus isn’t there. your body feels heavy, and your mind is racing. 

I don’t belong here. I can’t even finish a game. I’m not enough for this team. 

the rest of the game moves in a blur as you try to calm your breathing, to remind yourself that it’s okay, that you’re doing your best. 

the anxiety has a grip on you, pulling you deeper. your leg keeps bouncing, faster now, each movement a desperate attempt to release the tension building inside you. it’s exhausting, and the fear is suffocating. 

when the coach comes over after the game, his words are meant to comfort you. 

“y/n, you did great out there. you’re doing everything right. you just needed a break—take it easy.” but they don’t sink in, not right away. you nod and give him a quick smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

I didn’t do great, you think. I was subbed out. I couldn’t finish the match.

ten minutes after the ending of the game, you’re surrounded by teammates celebrating the 5-2 victory over arsenal. it should feel like a triumph, and in some ways, it does. 

when you’re talking to lea about the win, lena—still recovering from her ACL injury—suddenly picks you up from behind, lifting you off your feet in an enthusiastic embrace.

“you did so good!!!” she shouts, her voice filled with joy.

for a split second, panic courses through you. you freeze, body rigid, terrified that somehow you’re going to hurt her. you don’t want to be the reason she gets injured again. you pull away quickly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you explain, 

“i don’t want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

lena laughs, shaking her head. “you’re so light. you couldn’t hurt me,” she reassures you, and for the first time all day, you feel a little bit lighter. 

the fear begins to lift, and you let out a shaky breath, finally starting to believe that maybe you’re being ridiculous, you’re not as bad as your anxiety makes you think.

lea picks you up next, and for a fleeting moment, you feel the weight of your worries start to fade. the team loves you. they don’t hate you. they’re not disappointed in you. you are enough.

later that night, when you and giulia arrive home, the house feels different. quieter. more intimate. the adrenaline of the match still buzzes in your veins, but now you’re alone with giulia. 

she sits next to you on the couch, her strong arms around you as you both begin to unwind. you talk about the game. your assist, the plays you both loved from giuli, the moments that didn’t go as planned. 

then giulia’s tone shifts. she’s quieter now, her hand resting on your knee as she watches you carefully.

“how’s therapy going?” she asks, her voice gentle but probing.

the question catches you off guard, and suddenly, you’re paralyzed with fear. you’ve been hiding the truth from her for so long. the medication. the diagnosis. the fact that things haven’t gotten better, despite what you’ve been telling everyone, including her. your chest tightens as the words struggle to leave your mouth. 

(throwback) you sit in the small, sterile office at bayern’s campus, your fingers anxiously tapping against the arms of the chair. the white walls seem to close in on you as you try to focus on the woman sitting across from you. 

the psychiatrist. 

she’s kind and patient, but everything about this situation feels foreign and uncomfortable. you’re not used to talking about your feelings. you’ve spent your whole life pushing them down, burying them behind a smile, behind the constant drive to be better, to be strong. 

today, everything feels too much. too heavy.

“y/n, you’ve been dealing with a lot of pressure lately,” she says, her voice soft but steady. 

“and it’s okay to admit that you’re struggling with it. it’s more common than you might think.”

you want to argue. i’m fine, you want to say. i don’t need help. however, the words stick in your throat. you can’t lie, not anymore. not when it feels like your entire body is suffocating under the weight of everything. 

you nod, even though a part of you still wants to shut it all down. it’s too much now. the fear. the racing thoughts. the panic attacks. it’s been months, and it’s only getting worse. so you listen as the psychiatrist continues, explaining how anxiety can feel like an endless cycle that’s hard to escape, how sometimes your mind just needs help. 

medication, she suggests, can ease the constant tension, help you regain some control. 

she mentions zoloft, a small pill to take each morning. at first, the idea of it makes you cringe. medication? you’ve never been the type to rely on pills, but deep down, you know something has to change. 

you’re tired of feeling like your chest is going to explode every time you step onto the pitch. tired of the constant weight of guilt and fear that follows you everywhere.

“it might take some time to work,” she says, as if reading your mind. “it can help. we can monitor it together with the rest of the doctors here.”

you nod again, though it feels like a distant part of you is screaming to stop. you don’t want to admit that something’s wrong, that you’re not strong enough to handle it all. but here you are, agreeing to try something new, agreeing to take that pill. 

you want to believe it’ll work, but you’re also afraid it won’t. if it doesn’t, what will that say about you?

the psychiatrist hands you the prescription, and you take it, your hands shaking slightly. the weight of the small bottle feels overwhelming, like it holds all your fears inside. this is it, you think. this is the fix. this is how it’s going to get better. the thought doesn’t make you feel better. it only makes the weight heavier. what if it doesn’t work?

that night, when you get home, you find yourself standing in front of the dresser, staring at the small, nondescript bottle in your hand. 

you want to hide it. you don’t want anyone—especially giulia—to know. you can’t let her see this side of you, not when you’ve worked so hard to keep up the facade. 

without thinking, you open the drawer of your underwear dresser. it feels like the safest place, the one place where no one would look. you tuck the bottle inside, burying it underneath your things, as if hiding it will somehow make it less real. less of a reflection of what’s wrong with you.

the next morning, you take the pill as if it’s just another routine. but the guilt hangs over you, a shadow that doesn’t leave. 

you try not to think about it, but the more you take the pill each day, the worse it feels. it doesn’t help. it doesn’t change anything.you think that you’re still broken. it only makes you feel like you’re drifting farther away from yourself like you’re numbing your emotions, but not in a good way. 

it’s like you’re fading into someone else’s skin, and you don’t know how to stop it.

you feel like you’re suffocating in your own mind, and you don’t know how to explain it to giulia. 

what if she thinks I’m not good enough for her? what if she sees me as weak? she’s always been your anchor, the one person you never want to disappoint, but telling her about this... it feels like the ultimate failure.

and so, you keep it to yourself. the pill bottle stays hidden, tucked away in that drawer. the anxious thoughts continue to spiral, unchecked, but you don’t want anyone to know. not even giulia. not even her.

back to the present– giulia’s quiet, but you can feel the weight of her gaze on you. she’s waiting, and you know she’s already figured out that something’s wrong. it’s been weeks, and the cracks in your facade are starting to show.

“therapy has been fine.” you smile, pulling a loose piece of blonde hair behind giulia’s ear. her hair wasn’t in her signature ponytail braid from the game, but in loose curls over her shoulders that the braid gave her. 

you try to focus on something, anything—anything to avoid her eyes—but it’s useless. your hands are shaking, and every thought feels like it’s running away from you. the anxiety from the match still lingers in your chest, but now it’s compounded by guilt. 

guilt for not telling her sooner. guilt for hiding the truth. you feel trapped in your own head, like you’re suffocating under the weight of your own emotions.

giulia watches you carefully, her brow furrowed. she doesn’t need to ask anymore. she knows. and that’s what scares you most.

“y/n,” giulia finally says, her voice calm but firm. 

“you know we need to talk, right?”

you swallow hard. your throat feels tight, the words stuck there. you try to smile, but it feels forced, like it won’t reach your eyes. 

“about what?”

she leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes never leaving yours. 

“about you. about everything you’ve been hiding.”

the words hit like a punch to the stomach, and you flinch. hiding—the word stings. because it’s true. you’ve been hiding everything. everything that’s been eating at you for months now. 

the anxiety, the fear, the constant worry that you’re not good enough—that you’ll fail again and let everyone down. especially her. the person who’s always had your back for the last five years. the person who’s seen you at your best, at your worst, and still loved you unconditionally. 

now, you’re afraid to admit that you’ve been struggling.

“giulia, I don’t—” you begin, but she interrupts, her tone sharper now, like she’s not going to let you brush it off again.

“don’t, y/n. don’t shut me out again!” giulia’s voice is soft but serious, and her eyes search yours with a piercing intensity. 

“i’ve seen the way you’ve been. I’ve seen how you’ve been withdrawing, how you’re not talking to me or anyone else about it. I know you’re not okay. I know you’re not just tired or stressed from the game. this is something else. I want to help.”

you feel your chest tighten at her words. you want to tell her everything, want to explain what’s been going on inside your head, but the fear grips you tight. 

what if she thinks you’re weak? what if she thinks she can’t handle this part of you? what if she doesn’t understand? you thought.

giulia’s expression softens, her tone gentler now, but she doesn’t back down. 

“y/n, I know you better than anyone. and I can see it. I know what’s been going on. I know you’re struggling with anxiety. and I know you’ve been taking medication for it. you don’t have to hide it from me anymore.”

the room goes quiet. your heart skips a beat, and the blood rushes to your ears. 

how does she know? you didn’t tell her. you didn’t want to burden her with it, didn’t want her to look at you differently. 

somehow, giulia knows. she’s known all along.

“giulia, I—” you start, but she cuts you off, her voice gentle but firm.

“why didn’t you tell me, y/n?” giulia asks, her voice laced with a mix of concern and hurt. 

“why didn’t you come to me? why have you been hiding this from me?”

the words hit you like a slap, and you blink back the tears that threaten to fall. 

“i didn’t want you to think I was... weak,” you admit, your voice trembling.

 i didn’t want you to think I was... broken.”

giulia leans in, her hand reaching for yours, gently taking it in hers. her grip is steady, warm, and you feel a little bit of the weight on your chest lift. 

“y/n, you’re not broken,” she says softly. 

“you’re human. and being human means you have struggles. you have fears, and you have moments where you need help. that doesn’t make you weak. it makes you real. I’m not going anywhere. I want to help you, but you have to let me in.”

you feel the tears that you’ve been holding back finally spill over, hot and unrelenting. the sobs wrack your body as giulia pulls you into her arms, holding you close. you’ve been so terrified of letting her see you like this—vulnerable, broken, messy. 

you realize that she’s not looking at you with disappointment. she’s not seeing your anxiety as a flaw or a weakness. she’s seeing you. all of you.

“i’m sorry,” you choke out, your voice muffled against her shoulder. 

“i didn’t mean to shut you out. i thought... i thought you’d think i wasn’t strong enough to be your partner anymore.”

giulia shakes her head, her fingers soothing through your hair. 

“y/n, I never thought that. I never would. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. and right now, that means letting me be here for you.”

“we’ll get through this together, okay?” giulia whispers into your hair, her voice filled with unwavering support. 

“you don’t have to face this alone.”

you nod against her, the sobs slowing, the tightness in your chest loosening. for the first time in months, you finally feel like you can breathe.

the morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft beams across the bedroom. the air is calm, the silence between you and giulia comfortable for once, free of the tension you’ve been carrying for weeks. luckily, you guys have the day off from anything football related so you can stay in bed for longer. 

you sit on the edge of the bed, your fingers still trembling slightly, but you’re more at ease than you’ve been in a long time. last night, you opened up to her in ways you didn’t think you could. and though your heart had pounded in your chest and the fear of being judged had nearly consumed you, giulia hadn’t wavered. 

you glance over at her, the way she’s lounging on the bed, her legs propped up under the covers, her eyes half-lidded as she smiles faintly in your direction. 

the bottle of zoloft sits on the nightstand, so small, so innocent-looking. it feels heavier than it should, but the weight is different now. 

it’s no longer just a symbol of everything that’s wrong with you. it’s a step forward. and you’re ready to take it. 

without hesitation, you pick up the bottle, twisting the cap off, feeling giulia’s gaze on you. her eyes are soft, not judgmental, just... waiting. you feel a small sense of reassurance, as if her presence alone is all you need. 

there’s no longer that nagging voice telling you to hide, to keep it to yourself. you can’t change your past, but you can change how you move forward, and you want to move forward, especially with giu. 

you take the pill, the cool surface of the tablet smooth in your fingers, and swallow it down with a sip of water. it’s such a small act, but it feels monumental.

“good morning,” giulia says, her voice light, laced with affection. her eyes soften, and she shifts slightly to make space for you on the bed. 

you settle down next to her, the pillow cool against your skin, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. giulia’s hand brushes your waist, and you lace your fingers around hers. 

“i’m proud of you, you know,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. she turns her head to look at you, her eyes warm, filled with love. there’s no judgment, just acceptance. 

you nod, trying not to let the lump in your throat get the best of you. it’s hard to believe sometimes, that she’s always going to be there, in moments like these, it feels real. it feels like you can finally breathe.

“thank you,” you reply softly, feeling a quiet sense of peace settle over you. 

“for being patient. for being so loving my love.”

giulia smiles, the softest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“you’re perfect just the way you are.” 

she brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, her touch gentle. 

life is not easy, and you’re not perfect. you don’t have to be. you have giulia, and that’s enough.

baby steps. it’s enough.

masterlist

[decentwritings]

Chapter 1

Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.

previous part <- -> next part

The man's voice echoes as you make your way to your truck. You're too focused on his words, the smirk on his lips as he says it.

"Like father, like daughter..."

You grip the car door handle, pulling it only to find it locked. You swore you unlocked it. You shake your head at yourself and unlock it this time, hopping in with the words still echoing.

The truck's interior feels suffocating, the familiar scent of worn leather and saltwater suddenly heavy. You slam the door shut, trying to drown out the memory of the man's mocking tone. He didn't know anything about you—just like everyone else in this town, he only saw the shadows of your father's choices lurking behind you.

You lean your forehead against the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. Your heart races, the weight of the night settling onto your chest. "Get a grip," you mutter to yourself, but the words offer little comfort.

You glance in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see him lingering behind, smirking like he just won some twisted game. But the street is empty, illuminated only by the flickering streetlights.

You start the engine, its rumble cutting through the silence. As you shift into gear, a sense of urgency drives you to leave this place behind. But then a flash of Mabel's smile crosses your mind, a light that momentarily pierces through the darkness that seems to follow you.

You grip the steering wheel tighter, torn between wanting to escape and wanting to stay. What if she finds out? What if she looks at you the same way he did?

What about your mother? Your sister? Your nephew? You have so many people relying on you—and the weight of their expectations feels heavier than ever. You can't afford to let them down, to bring them into the chaos that has consumed your family. You can't let them see you falter or break, not when they've already lost so much.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to focus on the road ahead, the dim glow of streetlights flickering past your window. The familiar sights of the town blur together, each one a reminder of what you're fighting to keep safe. You push the thought of Mabel aside, reminding yourself that friendships can't thrive in darkness.

You're in need of a swim. The last five days have been filled with work that you haven't had time to go for a swim in the ocean. You also have been avoiding it because you're afraid Mabel may be there.

It's been five days though. No one goes to the beach recurrently like you. You should be in the clear.

Your duffel bag hits the sand when you find the right spot. The sun is beginning its descent behind the horizon and you can't believe how beautiful it looks. It never ceases to amaze you how the sun setting looks. Especially when it tucks behind the horizon.

The swim is long but not long enough. The only reason you swim back to shore is to rest your arms, the ache in them stronger than your need to do another lap. You return back to your spot and plop down on your towel, eyeing the shimmering sand on your wet legs and feet. You're slightly out of breath and tired, but you needed that more than you care to admit. You know you can't spend too much time here. You have a feeling Rudy will come out here in search for you after your last run in.

"You've been avoiding me."

Ahh damn, you think, your head dropping the instant you hear her voice.

You pick at the sand on your legs, attempting to brush it off. "I'm not avoiding anyone," you say back, glancing over your shoulder to get a look at her. You let out a soft sigh, knowing you can't hide from her now. Mabel stands a few feet away, her silhouette framed by the fading light, the glow of the sunset casting a warm hue over her features. You can feel your heart racing despite the chill of the evening breeze.

"Your uncle says you come by here everyday," Mabel says as she makes her way over to you.

You glance up at her, feeling a mix of embarrassment and longing. "He tends to exaggerate. It's not like I have a set schedule or anything."

Mabel laughs softly, her eyes sparkling in the waning light. "Well, it seems like he knows you better than you think. It's kind of sweet, actually. He worries about you."

It is sweet. What is also sweet is she's checking in on you. Mabel, who you have only known for a few hours, is checking in on you. You haven't had anyone other than family check in on you. You lost touch with your military buddies the minute they returned to base. They didn't like you leaving in the middle of a rough time in America. You argued that the hard time in this country will never cease, but the hard time in your family can with your help. Conversations between you and them ended since then.

You swallow hard, the weight of her concern settling in your chest. "I appreciate that, really," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "But it's complicated."

Mabel takes a seat on the sand next to you, her presence warm and inviting. "Complicated how? You can talk to me, you know. I'm a good listener," she smiles, like there's more to her words that you are failing to understand.

You glance sideways at her, searching for any signs of insincerity, but all you find is genuine curiosity and kindness. It's disarming. "I guess... I haven't been in the best place lately. Things have been rough at home," you reach for the end of the towel you're sat on, using it to dry your feet.

Mabel nods, her expression softening. "I can relate. Everyone has their own battles, right? I mean, it's not like my life is perfect either."

"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious. That and to avoid the conversation from being all about you.

"I'm in town for summer break," Mabel begins, scooping some sand into her hand. She carefully pours it between her hands back and forth. "I have my own place–I've had my own place since I was eighteen to get away from my mom but when I'm in town, she tries to reel me back into her shit."

You watch her, intrigued by the way she opens up, revealing pieces of herself like a puzzle you're eager to solve. "That sounds tough. What kind of stuff? If you don't mind me asking."

Mabel pauses, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sun is slowly dipping into the ocean. "Just...stupid stuff." She answers, and you decide not to ask for elaboration. If she wanted to share, she would have. "She has this way of making everything about her. I love her, but it's draining, you know? It feels like I'm always trying to help her when I really need to focus on myself."

You nod, understanding all too well the pressure that comes from familial obligations. "Yeah, I get that. It's hard to balance everything."

"Exactly," she says, turning to you with a spark of understanding in her eyes. "And then there's school, and trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I mean, it took a while for me to even make the decision to apply to college. It can feel overwhelming."

You nod, remaining quiet, feeling the connection deepening.

Mabel sighs, running her fingers through the sand as if it could somehow sift away her thoughts. "I guess I just feel stuck sometimes, like no matter how far I go or what I accomplish, I'm still tethered to this place. To her. To the people."

You lean back on your hands, looking up at the sky as it shifts into twilight, stars beginning to peek through. You look at her, really look at her. You hadn't noticed it before, but she has more freckles than you previously thought. The denim shorts she has on and the soft, oversized sweater she's wearing make her seem even more at ease in this moment, despite the heaviness of her words. There's something about the way the fading light catches her freckles, her hair slightly tousled by the breeze, that makes you realize just how much she's been carrying. She looks...ethereal.

And you've never even used that word before.

"Where do you go?" You ask her, and she looks at you in silent question. "College, I mean. You said you're in town for summer break so that must mean you go to college out of state."

Mabel nods. "UMass. I used to go to Dartmouth but then I decided to aim for Amherst–and I got in." She answers, picking at a loose fabric on her shorts. Like she's embarrassed with what she says next. "Don't ask what I'm studying, though because I don't even know yet."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "I wasn't going to ask. Honestly, when I first went, I had no idea what I wanted to study," you admit it, sitting up, dusting the sand off your hands. "Dropped out my second semester, though," you lift your hand to graze the necklace around your neck.

Mabel raises a brow. "Dropped out? What happened?"

"Got my heart broken, for starters," you begin, sighing as you remember the months before you joined the army. You miss the frown on Mabel's lips at your words, continuing. "And it was...all too easy. The classes and the homework, I mean. So, my grandfather, who had told me stories of his time in the Navy, said if education wasn't what I wanted to pursue, then to use the knowledge I had for something else."

Mabel remains quiet, allowing you to continue.

"I have a photographic memory," you confess, rubbing the pendant around your neck, feeling its familiar weight. You never shared that with anyone. Not even your ex. "It's been helpful in some ways, in high school when I learned how to really use it to my advantage," you finish, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability wash over you. "But after a while, it didn't feel like enough. Nothing really did."

Mabel tilts her head slightly, her eyes full of curiosity and something else—something softer. "That's a lot to carry," she says gently. "And I'm guessing the army helped distract you from all of that."

"Until it didn't," you shrug, recalling the times you returned home during leave, only to be greeted with indifference. No welcome party, no one even at the airport. You took a cab, and when you walked through the front door, your parents barely acknowledged your presence—like you hadn't just been in a war zone. Your sister, she wasn't any different.

"My parents didn't want me to join," you continue, sifting through the sand with your left hand. "Even shut out my grandpa because he managed to convince me. I had to hear from my captain that my grandfather passed–not from my family."

Mabel's expression hardens, a flicker of anger crossing her face. "That's fucked up," you glance at her at her firm tone, now aware of her demeanor. "I can't imagine how that felt; to find out like that."

You shrug, trying to downplay the weight of it. "I mean, it was what it was. I didn't expect much from them by that point anyway." The words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth, but it's easier to say that than to dwell on the hurt.

Mabel shakes her head, disbelief clear on her face. "Still... that's not something you should've had to go through alone. Your family's supposed to be there for you, especially with something like that."

You glance at her, surprised by the fire in her voice. There's a toughness in Mabel that matches the soft vulnerability she's shown tonight, and it intrigues you. She's been through her own battles, you can tell, and that makes her empathy feel real, not just empty words.

"Family's complicated," you murmur. "Sometimes, they're the ones who mess you up the most."

Mabel clenches her jaw, as if biting back a reply that hits too close to home. She exhales, shaking her head. "Yeah. But that doesn't make it okay. People think they can just push you around, try to control your life, and when you break away, they punish you for it."

Her words hang heavy between you two, the unspoken experiences she's not ready to share yet clear in her eyes. You look out at the horizon, the sky now dark, with only the faintest hint of twilight left.

The sun has fully hidden behind the horizon, the moon up in the sky with its toenail shape. You feel like a kid staring at it because with the discussion of your family, you vividly remember having trips to the beach with them and sitting here until the moon is in the sky.

That was when times were easy. You were innocent to everything going on in the world, in your family.

"I feel like this town only has pain," you find yourself saying, a flash of the dented "Welcome to Newbedford" sign coming to mind, the one you always passed when returning home. It seemed fitting, like the town itself was as broken as the people in it.

Mabel's gaze shifts to the moon, her expression softening just slightly. "Yeah." Her voice is low, almost a whisper. "Sometimes it feels like no matter where you go, the weight of this place follows you."

You glance at her, wondering just how much of herself she's trying to escape. She's resilient, strong-willed, but you can see now that there's a part of her tethered to this place just like you.

"It's like we're both trying to run from something," you say, not fully expecting her to respond.

Mabel nods slowly, as if she's been thinking the same thing. "But maybe... maybe we don't have to do it alone."

Her words hit you harder than you expected. For the first time in a long while, you feel understood, and in this small, fleeting moment, it's enough.

You hum, wiggling your toes and watch the dry sand fall off. You look at her and see it in her eyes, the pity in her eyes. She spoke with Rudy about more than just your trips to the beach and you know it.

"I'm a bad influence, Mabel," you say, shrugging to hide the hurt of how true the words are. "I'm a bad sister, bad daughter and I'll be a bad friend. Your best bet is to stay away. You look like you have it all figured out, or doing a good job of having it figured out. You shouldn't...waste your time on me. I'd just drag you into my mess, which is...dirty, for a lack of better word."

Mabel's expression shifts, a mix of surprise and concern. She leans closer, her voice firm yet gentle. "You don't get to decide how I handle my life or who I spend my time with. I see you trying, even if you don't."

You're stunned by how harsh her tone is. It's like this is a revelation for her—a breaking point where she's finally willing to stand her ground. You can't remember the last time someone pushed back against your self-deprecation like this, and it catches you off guard.

You look away, the weight of her words pressing against you. "I don't want to ruin your summer or make things worse for you. You deserve better than what I can offer."

"Maybe I don't want 'better,'" she shoots back, her tone almost teasing, though her eyes remain serious. You crack a small smile, the hint of a smile on her lips making you crack slightly. "Maybe I want real, and real is messy. We all have our battles. It doesn't make you a bad person; it makes you human."

You shake your head, feeling the ache of her honesty. "You don't know what you're getting into. I'm tangled up in things I can't just walk away from."

Or rather, don't want to, because you're scared of the consequences.

You want to tell her about your dad, how he ruined your family with his death. But it's not in you; because he may have been a stupid dumbass but he still raised you, taught you things you find valuable.

"I can't just let you in on all of that. It feels unfair to unload it on you when you have your own life to navigate," you admit, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the truth you're holding back.

Mabel watches you intently, her expression softening. "You think I haven't been where you are? I've dealt with my share of darkness. I get it. I really do."

There's a silence that envelopes you both, and you notice her scoot over to brush her shoulder against yours.

"People deserve a chance to prove they are capable of more than what they are expected of," she whispers.

You shake your head, still defiant to this.

"Mabel, you don't even know me," you whisper, a whisk of wind blowing the silence away with your words.

Her gaze doesn't waver. "That's true, but I want to," she says, sighing quietly. "I've been in college for two semesters now and I feel like I've learned a thing or two about people. How to read them and how to understand the layers beneath the surface." She shifts closer, her shoulder brushing against yours once again as she continues, "You're not just a collection of mistakes or past choices. You're a person with history and dreams and everything in between."

You look at her, surprised by the depth of her insight. "Psychology," you say, raising a brow. She arches one back at you. "I remember reading something like that in my intro to psych class."

Mabel hums. "Photographic memory," she remembers and you can only nod. "Look, you're the girl who jumped into the ocean for some stranger's bag," she continues, her tone lightening with a hint of amusement. "That says something about your character."

You chuckle softly, brushing off her compliment. "It was just a bag. I couldn't let it drown."

"But it wasn't just a bag to me," Mabel insists, her voice firm yet playful. "It was my favorite bag! You saved it, and that speaks volumes. You're willing to go out of your way for others, even when you're struggling yourself."

You take a moment to absorb her words, the weight of them sinking in. You wrap your arms around your knees, the feeling to go back for a swim surfacing. You eye the waves, the darkness over them with the shimmer of the moon on the surface.

"Charlie didn't even jump in," Mabel says, bringing you out of your stupor. "And he's been trying to nonchalantly get us back together."

You whip your head to look at her. By your look, she laughs, nodding as she understands your silence.

"We used to date," Mabel shrugs, and you can't help but wonder what the idiot did to lose her. "We tried the long distance thing while he was here and I was in UMass–didn't work. I was too focused on wanting to get out, leave to never come back and he–well, he gave up a scholarship to stay in town with his brother to fish."

You quirk a brow, both impressed and bewildered by Charlie's decision. You didn't take the guy for someone to give up a scholarship. You actually saw him more as a fisherman than an Ivy League guy. Looks can be deceiving, you think.

"Wow, that's a big sacrifice," you say, trying to wrap your head around it. "I guess that explains why he's still here."

Mabel nods, her expression shifting slightly. "Yeah, he's a good guy, but... sometimes good isn't enough, you know? We just weren't on the same page. I needed to chase my dreams, and he was stuck here–or rather, choose this place over..."

You can hear it in her voice, see it on her face. He hurt her. He chose this place over her. The breakup may appear amicable but it hurt Mabel more than she cares to admit.

"I don't know," she admits, looking out at the ocean. "It's complicated. Part of me wants to see what's out there, but another part of me feels rooted here. It's a tug-of-war."

"Sounds familiar," you murmur, thinking about your own life and the choices you've made.

You feel sticky, icky even. The need for a swim is strong again, so you stand, surprising the girl beside you.

"I have a spare change of clothes," you start, stretching your back and cracking your neck. You're too lazy to stretch anymore so you extend your hand, the corner of your mouth tilting up into a small half smile. "Wanna go for a swim?"

Mabel stares up at you, her gaze flicking between your hand and your face, weighing the invitation. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, but there's also a spark of excitement.

"Are you serious?" she asks, her tone a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "You actually want to swim at night?"

"Why not?" you reply, a teasing grin spreading across your face. "The ocean is right there, and it's just us. Plus, it'll help wash away all the heavy stuff we've been talking about."

Mabel bites her lip, considering. You can tell she's torn between the comfort of staying on the beach and the thrill of diving into the unknown. Finally, she glances at the dark water, the moonlight dancing on its surface, and takes a deep breath.

She says something under her breath, you strain to hear it. You shake your head and kneel to ask her to repeat herself.

"I don't know how to swim."

You purse your lips, a laugh threatening to escape your lips. But the tint of color on her cheeks is noticeable thanks to the moon's light. So you inhale a breath and shrug.

A wave of empathy washes over you. "That's okay. We can just splash around in the shallow part, or I can help you if you want to go deeper."

She looks at you, like she's trying to read more into what you're saying or offering. You aren't sure how long it is you two just stare at each other; you do know you can spend however long she wants like this, because it feels right.

But then,

"Okay," she says, her voice steady now, determination shining through. She takes your hand, her grip surprisingly firm as she stands up beside you.

You turn your gaze back to the ocean, pretending to focus on the gentle lapping of the waves, though your heart races at the sight of her shedding layers. The cool night air contrasts with the warmth radiating from her skin, and you can't help but steal glances at her as she rolls her sweater up and over her head, revealing a simple tank top beneath.

As you reach the water's edge, the coolness envelops your feet, sending a shiver up your spine. You turn to Mabel, who's already stepping in, her laughter mingling with the sound of the crashing waves.

"How far out have you gone?" Mabel asks as you guys continue into the water, the waves hitting your thighs now.

You shrug, unsure of the furthest distance you've gone out. You never measure or pay attention. You usually pick your head up from under the water when you're out of breath, once you've caught your breath you go back to the shore then repeat the process. You once caught yourself floating on your back, you fell asleep and somehow wound up on the other end of the shoreline.

"Far enough to lose track of time," you reply with a grin, recalling that day you ended up at the other end of the beach. "I actually fell asleep once, just floating. Woke up way down the shoreline. Scared the hell out of me when I realized where I was."

Mabel's eyes widen in surprise. "You fell asleep? While floating in the ocean?"

You nod, feeling the cool waves brush against your legs. "It's peaceful out there, especially when you're alone with the water. Everything just... fades away."

She seems intrigued by your story, a curious gleam in her eyes. "That sounds terrifying and relaxing at the same time."

You laugh softly. "Yeah, it kinda is. But it's also freeing. It's like the ocean holds you up, lets you forget about everything weighing you down."

Mabel's gaze shifts to the dark horizon, her expression thoughtful. "I guess I could use a little of that," she murmurs, the weight of her own thoughts evident in her voice.

You watch her, as she dares to wander just a few inches ahead without you. She puts her hands in the water and lets a wave hit her arms. It's this scene before you, seeing her like this, that makes you decide.

"I can teach you," you speak up, earning her attention. "How to swim. I can teach you," you clarify.

Mabel nods, appearing grateful for the offer. "I'd like that," she laughs gently, a slightly bigger wave hitting her square in the face. She spits water out and stands straight, frowning at your chuckle. "Why didn't you warn me?"

You grin, unable to suppress your laughter as you watch her wipe the water from her face. "Hey, I thought you saw it coming!" you tease, shrugging innocently. "Besides, it's all part of the experience, right?"

Mabel rolls her eyes, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Sure, if getting slapped in the face by a wave is part of the lesson."

"Lesson one," you say, wading closer to her, "the ocean's unpredictable. You gotta stay on your toes. Literally."

She mimics you, lifting her toes just above the sand, her playful energy returning. "Got it. Stay on my toes and avoid surprise attacks from waves."

You nod in approval. "Exactly. Now, come on. Let's start with floating. It's the easiest way to feel like you're one with the water."

Mabel looks at you, unsure, but the trust is there. "Alright," she says, "show me how it's done."

You guide her a bit further into the water, positioning yourself beside her. The moonlight reflects off the waves, and for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you in the world. "Just lean back," you tell her softly. "I'll hold you up at first. Let the water do the rest."

She hesitates but then leans back into your hands, her body tense as she tries to relax. "You got me?" she asks, her voice a little shaky.

"I've got you," you assure her, your grip steady. "Now just...relax."

She struggles to actually relax. You laugh and grab her hands, softly calling her name.

"Mabel, you gotta relax," you say, and she sighs, the tension in her body more obvious than before. "Trust me. You trust me, right?"

There's no moment of hesitation.

Mabel takes a deep breath, her eyes searching yours in the moonlight. "I do," she says quietly, the sincerity of her words cutting through the gentle crash of the waves. She exhales, and you feel her start to let go, her body slowly surrendering to the water.

As she floats, the tension fades, leaving only the sound of the ocean and the steady rhythm of your breath. You release her gently, your hands hovering just beneath, ready to catch her if she falters. But she doesn't.

For a moment, it's perfect—just the two of you, suspended in the vastness of the ocean, under the stars.

You smile to yourself, feeling the weight of the past few days lift ever so slightly, as if the sea itself is helping to carry it.

And maybe, just maybe, you think, this is what it feels like to let someone in.

Once the first lesson is done, you both return to your towel. You may have had extra clothes but you didn't have an extra towel. So you bundle up together, wrapping the towel over your shoulders, squishing together under it.

"You're not such a bad influence after all," Mabel says, her head falling onto your shoulder. You can't control the smile that forms on your lips, looking down at her in silence.

The waves lap, and you're grateful for your photographic memory; having this moment etched into your brain forever.

~~~~

taglist: @nwestra

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 18: Wiping Away the Rust

Hey Vander fans...how we doin'...

Guess who's back from hiatus, Loves? I've missed you all so much.

Masterlist

Benzo stared down at the books in front of him, filled with numbers and notes about expenses, loans, pay rates. But this morning, the numbers were all meaningless to the businessman. His eyes frustratingly refused to focus on a single line of calculations. His mind discarded every number as soon as he glanced at it. Still, he sat there, at the dining table of his childhood home, absently fiddling with a simple green box. Every so often, a soft note played from the music box as he moved it too quickly. 

The item reminded him of the young girl who had repaired it all those years ago; her dorky accent, overly friendly demeanor, and habit for stalking him through the markets. 

“Working hard or hardly working?” A gravelly voice broke through the silence as Mikael’s entrance announced itself with the creak of floorboards. The strain of his wheelchair wheels against the wood signaled his approach. Mikael’s older, kinder eyes met Benzo’s tired ones, instantly recognizing that his adopted son had gotten little to no sleep.

“Pa!” Benzo exclaimed, startled by the sudden presence. “I thought you wouldn’t be awake for a while yet.” 

“Couldn’t sleep with all the excitement earlier.” Mikael sniffed, rolling himself toward the kitchen. He opened the old icebox. “Not every night you get woken in the middle of the night to hear your daughter’s been arrested for... what was it again?”

 “Almost killing an Enforcer.” Benzo replied. Mikael hummed, eyes scanning over their modest food contents. 

“Ah, right. That.” He paused. “You want any of this leftover stew?” Just as he finished speaking, a loud, wet cough racked his body.

“You shouldn’t be cooking by yourself, Dad,” Benzo reminded him, standing to help, but Mikael stubbornly waved him off.

“I’m warming up leftovers, that’s barely cooking. I’m not that useless.”  Mikael shrugged, grabbing the stew and wheeling himself over to the hot plate. With his back to Benzo, he shifted the conversation. “Any news?”

Benzo sighed, rubbing a tired hand through his short brown hair. “Nah. Not yet.”

“And the boys?”

“They went to calm the crowds.” Benzo rubbed his nose.

Mikael hummed. “Anyone seriously hurt?”

Benzo shook his head. “A couple of scrapes and bruises. Just a lot of scared people hellbent on storming the bridge.”

Mikael’s cough interrupted the moment. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Why aren’t you with them?”

Benzo stared at the music box in his hands, and the toothy grin of the young girl flashed in his mind again. “Someone has to be here when she gets back.”

Mikael’s old, knowing eyes watched his adopted son silently, before emitting a simple ‘hmph’. 

The silence stretched between them until the door creaked open. You walked in, worn down, clearly sleep-deprived since before the fight. Your hair was a mess, dark circles under your eyes, and a bruised, possibly broken nose. Benzo didn’t waste a second. He slammed the music box on the table and rushed forward, enveloping you in his stocky arms. You stumbled slightly from the force of the hug, but quickly found your place in his embrace.

“You look like shit right now.” He mumbled into your shoulder as he clung into the embrace.

You snorted in laughter, wincing in pain at the motion. “As opposed to you, who always looks like shit.” 

Behind you, your mother walked in, still in her coat and sleeping garments, followed by a tired-looking Niya. As you parted from Benzo, he turned his attention to the young journalist and you made your way over to Mikael.

“Thank you, pet,” he said earnestly. “Seriously.”

Niya ran a hand through her coral-colored hair and sighed. “Anytime... though I’ll say, I’m not sure how much leverage I have if this keeps up. A full riot squad for one arrest? What the hell, Benz?”

“That’s what I’ve been sayin’ this whole time, girly! Happens when y’go about makin’ trouble for y’eself,” your mother chimed in, clearly unimpressed. She threw her coat onto a nearby chair. “What were you thinkin’, Minerva? Killin’ a copper?” 

You, still clinging to Mikael, leaned down to wrap your arms around him. His hand, thin and shaky, gently pet your hair. “I didn’t kill him, Mom,” you sighed, pulling away from the embrace. “He got too close during a trader job, so I stabbed him and knocked him out. Basic protocol, I just... got a little sloppy.”

“How’d they pin you?” Benzo asked, eyebrow raised..

“My damn bandana,” you groaned. “Left it with the body to stop him from bleeding out, like an idiot.”

Mikael, finally speaking up, let out a wheezy laugh. “Yeah Min, next time just leave the topsider for dead.” 

“That’s not funny, Mik!” Your mother exclaimed, voice shrill. 

“Wasn’t joking,” Mikael mumbled, clearly too soft for your mom to hear.

Benzo, sighing, turned back to Niya and pulled out his coin purse, handing over a handful of coins. “For the trouble.” But Niya just shook her head, smiling slightly.

“Keep your money.” She jabbed a painted nail into his chest. “You definitely owe me dinner, though. Somewhere nice.”

Benzo smiled back. “You got it, Pet.” With a wink and a perky smile, she wished you and your mother goodnight before leaving. Benzo shut the thick wooden door behind her, then turned back to face you. You were still with Mikael, your hand resting on his shoulder as his covered yours. He spoke softly to you, his gaze sweeping over your injuries, but the words were too quiet to overhear. Finally, you met Benzo’s eyes.

“Where’s Vander and Silco?”

“Out, they should be back soon.” He explains, then motions to your injuries. “Need help with those?”

You nodded, grateful, and made your way to the table as Benzo grabbed a first aid kit. “That, and a stiff drink. Immediately,” you muttered, and your brother was happy to oblige. Your mother kissed your forehead before heading back upstairs, giving you one last, strict talking-to before retreating to her room. Mikael stayed behind, finishing his stew as he chatted with you and Benzo while he patched you up. The worst of your injuries was your nose, already crooked and now more bent than ever, the skin torn open. Another scar to add to the collection.

Benzo was just finishing with the plaster on your nose when the door suddenly burst open. Vander and Silco stumbled inside, panting heavily.

“Minnie!” Vander exclaimed, rushing over to you and pulling you into a crushing hug. You flinched, feeling the pain in your bones, but melted into his warmth. His scent overwhelmed you, and you finally allowed yourself to relax. Amongst all of this, the panic and the uncertainty, you hadn’t even considered crying, too worried about putting on a brave face. But there, in his arms, you were surprised to feel tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. You buried your face in his chest, pressing your nails into his jacket as you clung to him.

“Are you okay?” Silco’s voice cut through the moment, and you felt his familiar bony hand gently on your back.

You nodded, unwilling to let go of Vander. “A little banged up, but I’ll recover.”

Benzo spoke up. “Looks to me like Sevika did more to her than Grayson did.”

Vander pulled back, bending down to meet your eye level, hands cupping your face as he looked you over. You held his hands, brushing your thumb over his knuckles, trying to blink back the tears that were still threatening to fall. His expression was full of worry—creased brow, cloudy eyes tracing over every inch of you. You squeezed his hands gently.

Vander shook his head, scowling. “Next time I see one of those Goddamned bucket-heads…”

“I’m fine, really,” you reassured him, trying to pull yourself together. “They barely laid a hand on me. Just locked me up and tried to interrogate me.”

“What did you tell them?” Silco asked, his brow furrowed.

You shook your head. “You think I’m that easy to crack? They don’t know shit.”

“Well, clearly they know something, if they’re willing to make that big of a spectacle over one arrest,” Silco motions, and you rehash the bandana situation.

Mikael sighs, shaking his head as he spoons another bite of soup. “Not your brightest moment, Sweetheart.”

You throw your hands in the air. “How was I supposed to know they’d be able to tie a damned bit of fabric back to me?”

“Clearly, they’re getting smarter.” Silco nodded, tightening his ponytail. “They even knew to tie your hands up so you couldn’t use your magic.”

“Speaking of which,” Benzo cut back in front of you, holding out a hand towards yours, “your wrists looked pretty gnarled up there, hand ‘em here.” 

Vander seems stubborn to not let go of you, but after looking to see the damage that the restraints had done to your wrists, he relented. He took your hands gently, pressing a kiss to each wrist. Benzo rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, you love each other very much. Now let’s make sure she doesn’t get infected!”

Vander moved aside, sliding in behind you and placing a protective hand on your back. “Well, we were right about them knowing about the fighting ring.” You huff, flinching as Benzo begins applying vodka to your bloodied wrists.

Benzo nods, eyes focused on the first aid care. “Probably best to shut things down, right? At least till things blow over?”

“What?” Vander cried, appalled by the suggestion. “No way! It’s our best source of money, and we need it now more than ever.”

“Not to mention the emotional factor.” Silco hums, clearly pondering. “In my experience, if you take away people’s emotional release, they get…antsy.”

You shake your head. “No way, it’s way too dangerous! If they know where to monitor people, our schedules, what’s stopping what happened tonight, happening again?” 

“...Nope, I don’t like it.” Silco snarls, his voice hardening. “Feels too much like letting them win. Why should we bend down to them, let them change our way of life?” He looks to Vander for support.

“Exactly!” Vander says, pointing to Silco. “Fights stay open, we’ll just…increase security, or something!” 

You and Benzo exchange a glance, but decide to let the topic pass. They were the bosses, after all.

"So, what’s the plan then?" You ask, trying to shift the focus. “I can’t imagine people are happy right now, what did you tell ‘em?”

Silco sighs, leaning against a nearby wall, his hands casually slipping into his pockets. “Primarily just to go home for the night and lock their doors. But you’re right. People are out for blood.”

“As they should be!” Vander exclaims, making you flinch at the volume. “You ask me, if people are itching to cross that bridge, I say why not let them?”

"As I’ve already said, that’s idiotic," Silco mutters, pulling out a small notebook from his blazer pocket. "Even with every firearm and able body we have, we’ll still be outgunned by an army of Enforcers. But if we ramp up covert ops, implement more spy channels..."

“Takes too long!” Vander scoffs. “Any Zaunite is worth ten of them. We could win!”

"If we're not smart about it, we’ll lose. And I’m not risking that kind of humiliation." Silco’s tone is sharp, his resolve clear.

"People are looking to us, Silco!" Vander counters, his frustration growing. "What are we supposed to do, just sit back and do nothing? They came onto our turf and made it personal, so why not even the score?"

A heavy silence fills the room, thick with tension. Silco and Vander stand opposite each other, seething with unspoken anger. You and Benzo watch, heads shifting from Vander to Silco and back again. You can feel Vander’s hand on your back tensing, itching to ball into a fist, and Silco’s jaw tightening. Then, Mikael speaks up.

“Well, one thing is for sure,” he says as he turns to put his bowl in the sink. "None of you can do anything before you present yourselves as a united front. If people are looking to you, they need to know they’re being led by a capable team—one that knows what they’re doing. Not a bunch of stubborn teenagers running out to get people killed at the first call for violence."

“Pa-”

“Yes, I know. This is your rebellion, and I’m just a broken old man, what do I know?” Mikael begins to roll his wheelchair around you all and towards the door. "But you need to think about the real implications of your actions. Say this goes well, and your ‘Zaun’ becomes a reality. What kind of nation do you want to run? What kind of leaders do you want to be? If these people are willing to follow you into battle, it seems to me like you should be prepared and have a solid plan of attack."

Before exiting, he turns, looking at each of you over his shoulder. "Goodnight, my children.” And then he’s gone, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

After a long moment, Silco and Vander finally meet each other's gaze again.

"Spread the word to lay low until we come up with something?" Silco asks, his voice quieter, more contemplative.

"Get your spies together and work out potential battlefield strategies?" Vander adds, and Silco nods in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan. Benzo, would you mind seeing what you can do about additional firearm shipments?"

“I’ll get right on it.” Benzo nods, finishing placing bandages around your wrists. 

"Min, any knowledge from that big fancy factory you’re working at could come in real handy right about now," Vander adds, and you nod, testing your wrist movements carefully.

“If I’ve still got that job after tonight, you’ve got it.” You nod, giving a small smile. “And I’ll look into upgrading whatever weapons we’ve got on hand. What do we do about patrols?”

“Double people up whenever they’re out late. Nobody should be doing patrols alone right now.” Silco nods, putting his notebook back into his pocket.

“You’ve got it.”

Benzo tidies up the first aid supplies, before rubbing his face in exhaustion. “I’ll be honest, boys. Benzo begins tidying up the first aid supplies, rubbing his face in exhaustion. "I’ll be honest, boys, I’m not making it home without passing out on the street. Think I’ll sleep here for whatever is left of tonight.”

“Not the worst idea you’ve had," Silco sighs, blinking hard. The dark bags under his eyes are more pronounced than usual, his appearance showing signs of wear. "I’ll take the couch if you’re okay with taking our old room.”

“I am in desperate need of a shower.” You hop off the table, gesturing to the fact that you were still clothed in nothing but your fighting gear. “I’m heading home. See you guys in the morning?”

Vander takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. It’s large enough to probably fit two of you. "I’ll go with you. Like Silco said, nobody should be out alone at night." 

“Oh yeah, that’s the only reason.” Benzo chuckles, heading towards the stairs. “You guys get home safe. How abouts we all meet at the pub tomorrow after work?”

“Sounds amazing.” You agree. “Sleep well, guys.”

“You too.” Silco nods. “And Min?”

“Yeah?”

“...We’re happy you’re okay.”

A smile breaks out on your tired face as Silco opens his arms towards you. You happily accept the hug, sliding your arms around his slender frame and giving him a good squeeze.

“Thanks, brother.”

[deermestid]

i hope this is okay to put here lmk if not:) [600~ words]

The worst thing about all of this is that it’s happening in a group conversation.

Sure, Gon touching him at all is embarrassing, even when they’re alone, but he’s gotten a little better at not pushing him away in the time since they’ve reunited. Even though it sometimes feels like Gon is intentionally fucking with him — like when he scoots a little closer while they’re talking so their knees brush, just enough to make him lose all train of thought but not nearly enough to comment on, or when he pushes Killua’s bangs out of his eyes, reminding him that they’re overgrown. That his hair in general is overgrown, really, which everyone — and this really means Gon, Alluka, and Aunt Mito — has been commenting on, and which Gon seems to have some sort of fascination with as of late, considering he keeps touching it.

It started out simple. The bangs out of his eyes thing, ruffling his hair to tease him, which he thinks Gon picked up from Leorio, sitting cross-legged behind him to brush knots out of his hair while Killua did the same to Alluka — none of it bothered him much more than all the other touches did, which is to say it all bothered him quite a bit because everything Gon does nowadays does, but it wasn’t uniquely embarrassing. Then Gon got into the habit of combing his fingers through Killua’s hair, tugging at knots, and just that was bad enough. This is the worst thing yet.

They’re sitting across from Alluka and Aunt Mito on the floor of the latter’s bedroom, and Alluka’s rambling about something; he would be listening if he could focus on anything but this. Gon’s arm is behind him, elbow nudged in the spot between his shoulder and his neck, and his fingertips are drifting over Killua’s scalp in a mindless back and forth motion, and Killua can’t think of anything but the feeling. He tries to nod, to at least play it off like he’s listening to what Alluka has to say, but Gon shifts when he does, his short nails scratching at Killua’s scalp, and warmth thrums through Killua’s whole body.

Gon leans against Killua’s side a little, half behind him, chest nudging Killua’s stiff shoulder, his hand pausing in Killua’s hair but not leaving it. His mind half reenters the conversation when Alluka asks, tilting her head a little, “Do you remember that, Killua?”

“Of course I remember,” Killua fumbles to reply, shifting a little ’cause he probably looks like an idiot right now, huh? He’s sure his face is red, and probably his whole body is red at this point.

This isn’t helped by Gon asking sheepishly, “Wait, what are we talking about? I kinda zoned out,” his voice taking on this half-embarrassed, very cute tone it gets sometimes.

Alluka doesn’t say a word. In fact, her and Aunt Mito both just look at the two of them, at Killua, expectantly.

“Idiot, we’re talking about when — you know, that time...”

Alluka giggles. She turns her head to look at Gon, explaining, “The last time Aunt Mito cut Killua’s hair, and she asked if you guys were a couple and Killua spilled his soda all over himself.”

Gon pauses for a second, then laughs, tilting his head forward and scratching at Killua’s hair again. “I never heard about this.”

“He was so red, kinda like he is now—”

Killua lets his head fall forward, pressing the spot on his hand between his thumb and his pointer finger to his forehead. This has the consequence of Gon’s hand falling to his neck, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin, and, and,

“And Aunt Mito asked if that meant yes, and it just made everything worse,”

and he’s pretty sure he’s going to die right here and now.

Maybe he should just shave his head.

huuuuge believer in the hc of killua absolutely loving head scratches and massages like a cat, but being super embarrassed by it and denying it.

like, i can totally imagine gon gently playing w his hair, but it eventually develops into thorough scratches and massages, and before he knows it, killua is literally melting and falling asleep in his lap (just like a house cat). 😭

only for killua to eventually wake up, get super embarrassed when he realizes/remembers, denying everything and then even blaming gon for what happened lmao.

(gon thinks it’s absolutely fucking adorable and he’s definitely going to do it again w/o hesitation.)

[zekescherries]

﹒ LEFT BEHIND! ﹔ ft ＃ zeke yeager ﹐ 🍒 ﹒　　 ׅ 　

CONSPECTUS﹕a living reminder of what he sacrificed, of what he left behind in pursuit of a "saving" opportunity for the eldian people.

PAIRING﹕zeke yeager × female!reader ﹒ post-rumbling

CHAPTER(S)﹕next

CONTENT WARNING﹕pregnancy & childbirth (mentioned) + grieving + single-parenthood + slight ptsd + dead!zeke + dark themes + pet names (zeke calls you peach) (i know not everyone is for pet names) + intentional lowercase & more as the story progresses

"what's your name, little one?"

"veil."

"ah. . ." mrs. annelie's gentle hand reaches out, her slim fingers weaving through the soft waves of veil's blond strands. the girl almost looks like a doll, the older woman can't help but admire her.

"you look just like your father, with those. . ." she falters. "pretty eyes." as the woman speaks veil blinks, her words come as a confusing mishmash of speech to her.

annelie remembers that gaze all too well, first belonging to that man.

this time, it's softer. curious and innocent.

the wooden floorboards creak, announcing your presence before you can verbally. "mrs. . .annelie," a sigh escapes your lips. seeing her familiar face lifts a weight off your shoulders, weight you didn't even know you were holding onto. she steps forward, bringing you into a hug. one that reminds you of your late mother.

"how are you, dear?" she asks.

you chuckle, glancing down at veil who returns your numerous tired look. "i'm doing better." you answer truthfully.

grieving while being a single mother was a challenge, nothing could've prepared you for that.

"oh, sweetheart. . ." mrs. annelie's hand grifts over to your face, cupping your cheek in her hand. "you have people who will support you." you know she's right. "don't be afraid to ask for any help."

you didn't even know you needed that reassurance until now.

"thank you, i really do appreciate everything." you give her a slow nod.

the evening has passed and as you wave mrs. annelie goodbye veil stays by your side. now that you think of it, it's nearing her bedtime.

"ready for a bath, peach?" you ask, the nickname rolling off your tongue.

veil nods, watching you close the door. her clothes are a stained mess from the food she ate earlier. you scoop your little girl up, her hair brushing up against your chin.

stepping over toys and pieces of paper you make it to the bathroom. hopefully the water runs properly this time around, house appliance complications weren't rare; especially with how the world looked.

but for right now, you focus on the little gremlin whom you've grown to adore. even while she was still inside the womb.

.

.

.

his lighter finally flashes, trying to catch a small flame. it's clicking is one of the only sounds in the room. when the cigarette is finally lit he brings it up to his lips.

maybe he should kick this habit, but not now.

his shoulders rise, then they fall and ease into a relaxed position while he exhales a cloud of smoke. "zeke," he turns around, the dim lamp providing you with light. enough light that his hair shines gold in your eyes.

you pat your lap, a gesture that tells him to lay his head in your lap. "making room for me, peach?" zeke crawls across his bed, the mattress dipping at his weight.

you smile, welcoming him with open arms. "of course. . ."

.

.

.

.

the sun's warm ray shines on your back, you adjust, sitting up in your bed only to look over and see veil sleeping next to you. her bed is only a few steps away in the other room yet she finds comfort in sleeping in your bed.

"another one of those dreams. . ." you ponder for a moment, stretching your arms above your head. reoccurring dreams of the past haunt you. reminding you of what used to be.

what you could've still had if things had been different.

". . .mama," veil calls out to you, her voice a bit gruff, laced with tiredness. "i'm right here." you lay a hand on her head, petting her hair and bringing her close.

you feel yourself on the brink of tears, yet you shake the feeling off. not wanting veil to witness her mother in such a state. it's been so long since you've let yourself grieve, veil will never know her father. she'll never experience what it feels like to have her father at her side. your heart breaks for her.

"how about we visit uncle levi?"

veil nods, her head tucked into your shoulder.

"okay, mama."

© zekescherries , 🍒

[lisbonsteresa]

oh god

[rafey-baby]

clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

18+ mdni!

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.  

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?  

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.   

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.  

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.  

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head. 

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.  

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.  

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.  

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.  

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.  

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.  

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with. 

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.  

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.  

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms. 

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.  

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.  

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.  

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.  

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him. 

“You, uh, you got one?”  

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion. 

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.  

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives. 

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.  

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class. 

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.   

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.  

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.  

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.  

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff. 

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.  

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.  

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).  

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.  

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes. 

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.  

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.  

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can. 

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.  

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.  

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.  

Her head is spinning.  

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.  

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats (Pt. 3)

Aegon ii x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

Part 1 | Part 2

“With free reign of King’s Landing, Aemond will focus his attention on the occupation of bast-” Aegon’s face flushes bright red. “Harrenhal.” He corrects himself, “and the extermination of house Strong.”

“What did you call it?” Daemon arches a brow.

“Harrenhal,” Aegon repeats.

“Before that,” Daemon prods.

Aegon sighs, looking to his wife.

“Bastardhal.” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“My brother’s term of endearment.” He explains, “a slip of the tongue.”

“Mmm,” Daemon hums. “Perhaps allegiance to your brother runs deeper than you let on.”

“I have left my siblings and abandoned my post to be here. I remain loyal to Rhaenyra’s claim and her line of succession. What else would you have me do?” Aegon scoffs.

“There are a number of things.”

“If you refuse to believe that Aegon is loyal to our queen, believe that he is loyal to me and I am loyal to my mother.” Y/N takes a protective step in front of her husband.

Daemon’s jaw ticks, frustrated and teetering near sanity’s edge. “You then, are responsible for his indiscretions.”

“I take full responsibility.” Y/N agrees, “he is here for me.”

“Perhaps he might further demonstrate his loyalty.”

“And how, do you suggest, I do that?” Aegon wonders.

“Deliver us your brother’s head on a platter.” Daemon sneers.

“Mother!”

“Am I wrong, Rhaenyra?” Daemon scoffs.

“That is enough!” The Queen slams her fist against the table. “Thank you, Aegon for the information you provided. We will coordinate with our army and send reinforcements to Harrenhal. We will send word to Cregan Stark-”

“By raven?”

“However I see fit, Daemon. Stay your hand.” Rhaenyra snaps. “You are all excused.”

Aegon is out the door just as swiftly.

Y/N flinches as it slams behind him.

Jacaerys remains stoic in the corner, saying nothing for a long while as his mother and step father begin bickering. “Sister,” he nods toward the hallway.

Y/N returns the gesture, following him out past the royal guards. “The nerve of him.” She is fuming as they begin strolling the grounds.

“That is Daemon.” Jacaerys breathes. “Pay him no mind.”

“It’s not as if I don’t want Aemond’s head. Luce is our brother, for the gods’ sake.”

Jace swallows, mouth set in a firm line. “He was our brother.”

Was…is he not anymore?

“In these dealings with Aemond, you must remember that killing him will not bring Luce back.”

“It would be even.”

“A son for a son was also even.” Her brother reminds her. “Your grievance with it hath brought you here.”

“I should have allowed the murder of a child?”

“I did not say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“What is even is not always right, I expect you know that by now.”

“Indeed.”

“Ravens will take too long.” Jacaerys laments, “but mother will not let us deliver messages anymore. It is a shame that our safety comes at the expense of other’s.”

Y/N draws in a steadying breath. “Pity.” She turns away, in the direction of her chambers. Aegon is waiting for her there, sipping from a pitcher of wine. “Did they not give you a cup, my darling?”

“Hmm,” Aegon hums into the container, “of course.” He lowers the pitcher from his mouth, “but this is faster.”

The princess puts a hand to her head.

“I am not a dog that’s been kicked, do not look at me that way. As if I am weak.”

“I love you and you are hurting.” Y/N sighs, “I do not know how else to look at you.”

Aegon mulls this over for a moment. “I did not mean to call it bastardhal.”

“I know that.”

“You are not a bastard.” He presses on, “I am sorry for ever calling you one.”

“You are forgiven.” It is nothing more than a word. It cannot harm her anymore.

“If no house would claim you, then I would.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile, “thank you, Aegon.”

“You think I jest? Or does it simply mean nothing coming from me?”

“It means everything coming from you,” Y/N takes a step toward him. “Forgive me if I have made it seem-”

“No,” Aegon shakes his head, “forgive me. I am lost in this. I mustn’t take my frustration out on you.”

Y/N cups his face in her hands. “If you are loved by no one, know you are loved by me.“

“Without you I have nothing.” He reaches a shaky hand out, stroking her hair, reverently. “I am nothing.”

She draws back, searching his eyes. “That is not true.”

“If you ask me to slay my brother, I will do it.” Aegon breathes.

Y/N presses her lips together. She had not asked, Daemon did. But Aegon does not bend to Daemon’s will, only hers.

“Please do not ask.” He murmurs with wide, sad eyes.

Y/N cannot stand to see him cry. It tears at the depths of her soul. She wraps her arms around him, “I will not ask.”

Aegon clings to her. “I would do it.”

“I know, my love.” Y/N presses kisses to the side of his face. She knows his sadness, the burden of being least loved by everyone else. Some part of him will always seek to win her approval, her affection… her love.

He is pawing at her then, at the laces of her dress. He does not know how to comfort her, nor himself. He knows how to bring pleasure so blinding it nearly drowns out the pain.

Y/N helps him remove his clothes, wrapping him up in her arms. “I love you.”

“As I love you.” He’s stumbling backwards then, hovering over her on the bed. Easing his cock into her.

She sighs, losing herself in the gentle rocking of his hips. There is no haste to reach their peak, taking what little comfort they can from each other.

It is not until his thumbs skate over her cheeks that Y/N realizes she is crying. Even here, on their marriage bed, there is no end to suffering. Only an end to loneliness.

————————————————————————

Y/N waits until Aegon is sleeping soundly to clamber from the warmth of his arms and dawn her riding gear. Dragonstone is quiet as she makes her way down to the dragon pit. Stormborn is nestled in beside Sunfyre, her light blue scales complement the golden hue of her companion.

“Where are you off to at this hour, your grace?” One of the keepers asks.

“I’m going to take Stormborn out for a bit of fresh air. The moon is beautiful this evening, don’t you agree?” Y/N smiles, tucking a bit of loose hair behind her ear.

“Indeed, Princess.” He eyes the sword, sheathed at her back.

“This is only a precaution,” Y/N lies, “we can never be too careful in these times.”

He nods, “I will saddle her.”

“Thank you, Marcelo.” Y/N nods, tugging on her riding gloves as she waits. Tapping at her wedding band, beneath the cool fabric.

“She is ready, your grace.”

“Thank you, again.” She says, climbing up onto Stormborn’s saddle.

“It is my great honor.” The man smiles, watching in wonder as the princess sets off across the sea.

Only a few torches are lit at the entrance of Harrenhal.

Y/N lands near the stone walkway, striding up to the tall hooded figure and ripping back his cloak.

Aemond turns to his assailant. “Y/N?”

“Take out your sword.” She demands.

“Lucerys death was a tragic mistake, a lapse in judgment I do not care to repeat.”

“I will not kill you with your back to me, I am no coward. You will face me, take out your sword.”

“For the sake of the gods, Y/N,” Aemond growls. “Do you aim so desperately to break my brother’s heart?”

“I will not allow the slaughter of innocent people. This ends here.”

“A brother for a brother it will be then, not a son for a son.” Aemond reluctantly withdraws his weapon.

Y/N charges him, in a blind rage, their blades meet, clanking together.

“You make a better sparring partner than most.” He draws his sword away, narrowly dodging her next attack.

“This is not a children’s game, I want your head!”

Aemond purrs, “you must earn it then.”

She sees red, swinging at him again, until his blade slices across her side and she has cut deep into the flesh of his leg. Bringing the Prince to his knees, with her sword at his neck.

“Do it,” Aemond insists, “you will not get another chance.” He stares up at her blade, dripping with his blood. The fear etched into her eyes, tresses of dark hair clinging to her sweat damp skin.

In this light, each of them resemble their brother.

The end Y/N desires is so near she can taste it, rising like bile in her throat. She chokes on it. “No.” She drops her blade from his neck, covering her aching side instead. “No.”

Aemond hangs his head. “I am sorry for that business with Luce. I lost my temper that day.”

“And I lost my…” No, she cannot say it, the pain is too great.

“Let me see your wound.” Aemond insists.

In her shock, Y/N obeys.

He tears across the bottom of his cloak, knotting the material firmly around her torso. Unbothered by her hissing protest. “This will hold until you reach Dragonstone. Go to Aegon, he will tend you.”

“You must leave this place.”

“You have my word.”

“And you must leave King’s Landing.”

Aemond smirks, “where would I go?”

“Anywhere.” Y/N suggests, “take Helaena and your children. We both know, she is too kind to bear the weight of the crown and our blood. Take her away so she might be happy…and free.”

“Do you not wish to be free from the weight of the crown?”

Y/N hesitates for a long moment. “I am the crown. I am my mother’s heir, her only daughter. I cannot abandon her, she has lost too much.”

Aemond swallows, “very well. Helaena will write you. You and my brother might visit, once we’re settled.”

“Perhaps we will.” She will never forgive him for Lucerys. They will never be as they were before Storm’s End. “You are my husband’s brother and husband of my dearest friend.”

“I am also your brother’s murderer. A title that trumps all, despite your best intentions. You are good, and kind, but human all the same.”

————————————————————————

“Aegon.”

“Hmm?” He reaches for his wife, blindly, stroking a hand over her dark waves. “What have you done to your hair, darling girl?” He grumbles, “it is awfully coarse.”

Jace bats Aegon’s hands away. “My sister is gone, you buffoon. Get your clothes on.”

“Jacaerys?” Aegon springs up, covering himself with the top sheet. “What are you doing?”

“Y/N is missing. The dragon handlers informed me that she left on Stormborn nearly two hours ago. Sunfyre has been yowling ever since.”

“Alert your mother,” Aegon demands, “raise the guard. Who on earth let the heir to the throne take a dragon from the pit in the middle of the night?”

“She is a princess, not a prisoner.” Jace reminds him, “I have a hunch as to where she went.”

“Harrenhal.” Aegon begins tugging on his clothes. The little brat bedded him and snuck off; again. “She will be a prisoner upon her return. I tire of these games.”

“You mustn’t be so harsh, my sister would go to the ends of the earth for you.”

“Yet she will not stay with me.” Aegon steps into his boots. “Surely she loves me so dearly that she flees at every opportunity.”

“Do not see it that way.” Jace sighs.

“I have no other way to see it.” Their chamber door swings open, revealing the woman in question.

“Aegon,” Y/N chokes. The blinding rush of battle is gone, leaving only her pain.

“Leave us,” Aegon waves a dismissive hand at his nephew.

“Y/N,” Jacaerys looks to his sister instead.

“I am well, brother.”

“You are bleeding.”

Y/N glances down at her wound, “perhaps you might go quietly to the maester and request milk of the poppy?”

“The maester should tend you,” he argues.

“Aegon will tend me, tis but a scrape.” Y/N insists.

Her brother squares his shoulders. “Very well, I will be back.”

“Thank you, brother.” Y/N forces a smile as Jace exits the door.

“What happened?” Aegon demands, squinting into the dim light as his wife stands before him, in her riding gear.

“I could not do it.” Y/N curses her own weakness. “I went to Aemond, I stopped him from taking Harrenhal and I let him go.”

Aegon shifts her garments aside to reveal the damage. A long bleeding gash, beneath her ribs. “Aemond did this to you?” He sits her down on the foot stool, pacing in the small space before it.

“We dueled,” Y/N admits. “I made my mark on him as well.”

“Gods be good.” Aegon breathes.

“If Daemon catches word of this-”

“You are injured. That is where my interests lie, not in the folly of men.” Aegon seethes.

“He has already condoned the murder of children. Helaena’s children, of all people. What will he do if he hears of this?”

Aegon passes a hand over his face. “Surely we cannot leave the wound open like that, it will fester.”

“I know,” Y/N nods. “We must seal it up, with a heated blade. We can do it here, no one need know.” She reaches for his cup on the dresser, chugging the foul liquid down for some relief.

“You’re asking me to…” his eyes dart to his dagger, abandoned near his boots. “No.”

“Aegon.”

“I can’t.”

“It will be quick,” she reasons. “It will scar, but it is on my side, you will not look upon it often.”

“That is what you’re concerned with,” Aegon snaps, “of all things, you think I care about the scar it will leave? That I might frown upon an imperfection?”

“I-”

“You are maddening.”

“I am sorry. I do not wish to fight.”

“It is unavoidable from what I’ve heard. Marriage causes strife and disagreements.”

“Not ours,” Y/N insists, “you are the only person who understands me.”

“I do not understand why you would put yourself in danger.”

“For you.” Y/N tells him. “So you would not have to choose between your wife and your brother.”

“I would choose you, imbecile.”

Y/N bares her teeth. “I couldn’t let you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are mine, Aegon! I protect what is mine.”

In the way of the dragon. And that, Aegon understands very well.

“Here it is,” Jace returns with milk of the poppy.

“Thank you,” Aegon takes the gauntlet, bringing it to his wife’s lips. “Drink all of it.” He demands.

“Is there anything more I can do?” The other man asks.

“Rest the blade of my dagger over the fire until it glows red, then bring it to me.”

Jace nods.

“First, might you find something for her to bite down on. Leather works best.” Aegon purses his lips, “bring me my belt.” One of them is still etched with her teeth markings from Laenor’s birth. He’s delivered two of their children, surely he can do this.

Jacaerys rushes to the armchair beside the bed, tugging Aegon’s belt free and placing it on the foot stool beside his sister.

Y/N curls her fingers around the harsh material. Her vision has doubled, swaying from side to side.

“Are you going to faint?” Aegon catches her face between his hands.

“I feel fine,” Y/N slurs.

Aegon taps her chin. “That is good, my dearest love. I am going to remove your shirt.” He eases the material over her head, leaving only the bindings to cover her breasts.

“The blade is ready,” Jacaerys calls, from the fire place.

“Open.” Aegon tugs at her bottom lip with his thumb until her jaw goes slack, taking the leather belt from her clenched fist and placing the strap between her teeth. “Bite.”

Y/N clamps her teeth around it.

“Good girl.”

Jacaerys approaches, handling the instrument with care.

“You will hold me around the waist, you are not to let go until I say.” Aegon instructs, waiting until she is wrapped around him in an awkward sort of hug. “There you go.” He pats her head before taking the dagger from her brother. He offers no additional warning before lying the blade flat across the expanse of her wound. The cut is a clean one, without jagged edges.

Y/N lets out a muffled cry.

“Shh,” he hushes her, holding the heat to her skin for just a moment more before tossing the dagger away. Gingerly withdrawing the belt from her teeth. Resting his forehead against hers as whimpers settle to deep breathing. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nods.

“If you dare leave me again, Gods help me, I will shackle you to my side.”

Y/N strokes a hand over the side of his face. “Yes, Aegon.”

“I do not jest.”

Part 4

Taglist: @minttea07 @callsignwidow @fallout-girl219 @syraxnyra @vickynephilim @jeondeluxe111 @geeksareunique @arya-brooke @7minutes-tomidnight @ninastyless @aleemendoza2425-blog @livingdead-reilly @whenmypartysover @darlingisntit @nayaniasworld @uniquecroissant @spacexdrago

[ellecdc]

Do you think you’d ever be interested in doing a poly!jily x reader fic? I love your work and think you could come up with a lot of fun things with it. Like maybe where lily is acting how James did with her but towards the reader and James is ever so amused with it

this was such a cute prompt! thanks for your patience as I waited for the right idea for it! xx

poly!Jily x fem!reader who is the latest victim of Potter level affections [884 words]

CW: fluff, reader is maybe a little feisty? but we love her for it

“What in Merlin’s name?” Sirius whispered in disbelief as he approached Lily and James in the library; the table they were currently occupying was nearly overflowing with pink poster board, glitter, and an array of charmed flowers clearly pilfered from the greenhouses.

“What are you two up to now?” Remus asked as he cautiously pulled a chair that was free of ribbon and lace.

“Preparing for my N.E.W.T’s, can’t you tell?” Lily retorted, the small quirk of her lips was the only proof Remus got that her words were in jest before her tongue stuck out between her teeth again as she tried to tie a difficult bow.

“Jamie, can I borrow your finger, please?” She asked around an exasperated sigh; James appeared all too eager and willing to oblige. 

“It’d be my honour, m’lady.” He offered with a saccharine smile. 

Lily shook her head at him but smiled nonetheless as she completed her bow.

“Right, so, back to my earlier sentiments; what in the buggering fuck is going on here?” Sirius spat, not nearly as careful as Remus had been as he dumped various craft supplies onto the ground to free up a chair for himself. 

“Yeah, who are you trying to woo now, Prongs?” Remus taunted, earning him a snort and a head shake from James who never removed his lovesick gaze from Lily. 

“This is all her.”

“Evans!?” Sirius beseeched. “Who are you trying to woo!?” 

“We’re both” Lily corrected as she offered James a half-hearted glare “pursuing Y/N.” 

“Y/N? Didn’t an owl deliver her a box of chocolates just yesterday?” Remus asked.

“Those were from us.” Lily replied, her focus steady on the craft in front of her.

“And a bouquet of flowers the day before that?”

“Yup.” 

“And the howler that simply played ABBA’s Take a Chance on Me?”

“What is your point, Sirius?” Lily harrumphed as she stepped back to admire her creation.

A mischievous look took over Sirius’ face that Lily didn’t notice on account of her attention being solely dedicated on her current task of wooing you, but had Remus bracing for impact.

“Say, Prongsie, what was the first box of chocolates you sent to Evans in your attempts to pursue her?”

“The toffee flavoured truffles that I saw her eyeing at Honeydukes!” He responded quickly, and Remus watched as Lily’s brows furrowed. 

“Right, and how many bouquets of lilies did you send her?” 

“Forty-two.” 

“Uh huh.” Sirius drawled. “And, remind me, what song did you send Lily via howler?”

“Lay All Your Love on Me!”

“And tell me, Evans, where’d you get all this?” He asked as he pulled a string of lacy ribbon between his fingers only for Lily to rip it away from him.

“From James’ trunk. Stop touching it!” 

“Oh gods, you’re just as bad as he was!” Sirius cackled, and Lily turned to look at James who was simply smiling at her.

“I…I am not as bad as he was. I- …he was such a toerag!” 

Sirius snorted. “Then that makes you a toerag-ess.” 

Lily looked like she was reaching for her wand to hex Sirius for his shite, but James grabbed her wrist and brought her knuckles to his lips for a kiss before she could manage to. “Don’t worry, Lils. You came around eventually.”

“Six years later.” Remus chuckled under his breath, though he immediately regretted it when Lily’s horrified face whipped towards him.

“Six years later!? It took me six years!?” She nearly shrilled. “We don’t have six years! We have months!”

“No one can deny you, my beautiful Lily flower.” James cooed as he rubbed his thumb over Lily’s knuckles.

It looked like his attempt at placation had almost worked before Lily noticed you walking by.

“Wait! Y/N!” She shouted, nearly tripping over various ribbons and boxes of craft supplies as she hurried after you. “Did you get the chocolates we sent you yesterday!?” 

“You guys are so hopeless.” Sirius muttered, earning him a small chuckle from James, though he never got a chance to respond.

“Potter!” You hissed as Lily forcibly led you towards their table with her arm around your shoulder. “This goes against every feminist urge in my body, but would you control your woman!?”

James simply rested his chin on his hand as he gazed at the two of you. “I wouldn’t dream of it, angel.” 

Realisation seemed to dawn on you as a group of fifth years walked past whispering “oh Merlin. It’s happening again.” 

“You’re kidding me.” You deadpanned as Lily smiled and pressed her nose into your cheek.

“There’s nothing funny about our feelings for you.” James responded earnestly.

“Well,” Sirius cut in, “it’s kind of funny.” He countered, nodding his head towards the table that looked as though cupid himself had thrown up on it. 

“Oh, like you haven’t sent Lupin a howler or two of your own, Black.” You sneered, causing Remus to choke on the sip of water he’d been taking and Sirius to gawk at you in surprise. 

“Where do you find these birds, James?!”

James simply let out a dreamy sigh as he beamed at you. “Heaven.” 

And by Lily’s effervescent smile pointed directly at the side of your face, Remus could tell she more than agreed with that sentiment.

[rinhaler]

Not me being an absolute slut for step dad Gojo and Uncle Nanami!?!? 😩 sharing is caring!

-Very Much Embarrassed Anon🫂

PERHAPS i got carried away but i hope u enjoy this !! luxe write something under 1k challenge: impossible x

warnings: 18+ MDNI, step/incest, fem!reader, step dad!gojo, uncle!nanamin, implied virgin!reader, threesome, vaginal sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, tit sucking, possessive!gojo, daddy kink, praise, pull out method, orgasm denial, noncon photo taking, slight oral fixation, hair pulling, face fucking.

words: 2.7k

“You know you’re too young for boys, right?” your step-father reminds you, like it’s a mantra he’s told you again and again for years. It isn’t a suggestion or a thought he’s choosing to share. It’s an instruction. “I don’t want you to think because you’re all grown up and going to college now that you can be reckless.”

“I- I know, Satoru.” you smile at him.

Both of your attention is stolen as you hear your uncle, Kento, laugh out a scoff. He tries to conceal it as he ruffles his newspaper and drinks his coffee. You see your step-dad’s brows furrow in annoyance. Or, anger. He looks at you, again, and his expression softens.

“I know you’re a good girl, sweetheart.” he tells you, wrapping his arms around your form and placing a kiss atop your head. Nanami’s eyes peer over his newspaper, locking with yours. A knowing glance to each other before a smirk finds his features. He raises his newspaper, shielding his face completely as he tries to focus on reading.

He lets you go, reluctantly, as you pick up your college bag and grab your phone.

His expression sours as he sees you reach for your phone, smiling at a text message you received. He shouldn’t pry. He knows he shouldn’t pry. But he can’t seem to stop himself as he finds himself leaning across the kitchen island and snatching your phone from your hands. And now he scoffs, scrolling through your messages and looking at the name at the top.

“What did I just say?” he speaks, only an octave away from yelling at you. Your lip wobbles, and he keeps your phone at arm’s length as you try to grab for it. He tosses it towards the kitchen table so Kento can look for himself.

“He was just asking if I needed picking up for my classes, Satoru! You don’t need to worry…” you tell him. Of course this would happen. He’s always been stupidly over protective.

“Well you don’t, do you? That’s what I’m here for. Hell, I’m sure even Nanami would be happy to take you since he came all of this way to spend his off time visiting you.” Gojo reminds you. And you feel a slight pang of guilt at that. You know how hard your poor uncle Nanamin works. He could be on vacation, somewhere tropical, unwinding from the humdrum of his boring office job. But here he is, sitting reading the newspaper and listening to you two argue with each other. “In fact, you’re grounded. I’m keeping your phone and you can forget about going to class today.”

“But—!”

“Don’t whine, I’ll write you a note.” he adds, walking around the counterspace to collect your phone from Nanami. He finishes scrolling, locking it, though he keeps hold of it. “Go upstairs.”

You huff, but grab your bag and do as you’re told. It’s not like he can stop you from being online. You can talk to people on your laptop, after all. Though given the mood he’s in you suppose you’ll have to be stealthy about it.

“You’re too harsh on her.” Kento tells Satoru, earning another disgruntled glance from him. He closes his newspaper and rests an ankle over his knee as he leans back and drinks the remainder of his coffee. “She’s curious, you can’t do anything about that. It’s not like she’ll stay a virgin forever.”

“Tch. Spare me.” he laughs lightly. “You think I don’t know why you’re here? I hear you, you know, when you sneak into her room at night.”

And Gojo revels in how the colour drains from Nanami’s face. He sits upright, his back stiffened straight and he starts to loosen his tie. He should have known, really, it was too good to be true. He should have known he’d always get caught eventually. But by Satoru Gojo of all people?

“I haven’t…” he clears his throat. “It’s not what you think.”

“Sure.” Satoru rolls his eyes. “If I’m bein’ honest… I don’t really care. Who am I to stop you? I’m not blood… like you. Sick fuck.” he laughs, sitting down at the table and looking into Nanami’s panic-stricken eyes.

Your uncle rests his elbows on the table and holds his head in his hands. What is Gojo plotting? Blackmail of some kind, maybe. It’s not like he’s concealed his disapproval for his sisters relationship with him. He’s tolerated him, sure, but he’s a nuisance he thinks his family would be better off without.

“I don’t like this either.” he throws your phone towards the white-haired man and sighs. “But she doesn’t respect you, Satoru. She doesn’t even call you dad. I think she sees you as temporary, so of course she isn’t going to listen to you. Not really.”

“But…” he leans over the table with a smug grin. “She respects you, doesn’t she? Her favourite uncle. I don’t like college guys, I remember what we were like in college, I don’t want her around that.”

“No… maybe she won’t go searching for it if she’s better educated.”

Gojo’s brow quirks in intrigue, a sadistic smile soon follows.

“Who knew a corporate goon could be such a sick fuck, hah?” Gojo laughs, picking up Nanami’s coffee mug for him and walking it to the sink to clean. Nanami rolls his eyes, burying his reddening face in his newspaper again.

You feel a surge of fear stab through you as you hear footsteps climb up the stairs. You hide your laptop back into your bag and turn on your TV, hurrying to find something to watch as a cover. But when you hear a knock, you relax, Satoru never knocks.

“Come in!” you speak, happily, welcoming your favourite and only uncle Nanamin into your room. Though your heart sinks as your step-father follows, crossing your arms across your chest as you huff and pout petulantly.

“Don’t be like that…” Nanami speaks softly, sitting on the edge of your bed and resting his hand on your thigh. “We need to talk to you. And we want to ask you something.” he continues. Your pout fades, then, a slight feeling of anxiety creeps into you as you wonder if something serious has happened.

And Satoru sits on the edge of the bed, too, his beaming blue eyes almost pierce through your heart as he begins to explain. How he’s just worried about you because he knows from experience how college guys can be. How he’s your dad no matter what and he just wants the best for you. And he thinks you need a little help in the right direction on your journey of self-discovery.

“I know you’re a woman now, sweetheart, but you’re still daddy’s little girl. Yeah? So, let daddy help.”

“He- with what?” you blink at him, dumbly, and the delighted snarl on his face almost chills you to the bone. He doesn’t speak right away, so you look at Nanami. But it’s like he can’t bear to look at you as he sinks his head low with shame. “With what?” you ask again.

 “Well, Nanami said you’re curious. So he’s been fucking you, right?”

“No!” you and your uncle yell simultaneously. Did he really tell your insufferable step-father something so personal?

“I told you, I haven’t slept with her. Don’t tease her or you’ll make things worse.” Nanami clarifies before he focuses his attention on you. “But you are curious, aren’t you? You’re getting attention from boys and you’re enjoying it, clearly. They aren’t good for you though, princess. They don’t know how to treat girls right.”

You hum, softly, as he pushes your legs apart, revealing your pink cotton panties to the two of them as they continue to talk you through their thought process. And the touch of your uncle Nanamin is your ultimate weakness. They both get a live response to his action as your pretty pussy starts to gift your panties with a dark, sticky patch between your dewy folds.

“Boys that age, sweetheart, they don’t know what they’re doing. Do you touch yourself? ‘m sure you do, I’m not naïve enough to think otherwise. But that means you like to cum, yeah? These college guys don’t care about that. They just want a little hole to cum in and defile. And we think you deserve better than that.” Satoru explains, his inquisitive fingers begin to prod at your puffy cunt, though you trap his hand between your plush thighs.

“Satoru…” you respond, bashfully.

“No.” he speaks, grabbing your thighs and pulling you down the bed and towards himself. He looks mad, but there’s no real malice behind it. Still your heart is pounding. “I’m your dad like he is your uncle. I’m not Satoru. Who am I?” he asks, reaching under your skirt to pull down your panties.

“D-Daddy… you’re daddy. ‘m sorry.” you whimper. Your eyes flutter as his long fingers invade your pretty, virgin walls. “Hng—!”

“Gooood girl.” he smiles as he begins to curl them upwards. “I slipped right on in, has uncle Kento gotten you used to taking his fingers?”

“Mhmm…” you blush. The man in question bends down to kiss you.

It’s sweet, though you find yourself grabby and desperate as you follow his lead. He pulls away to undress you, unbuttoning your shirt and then his own after throwing away his tie. He helps you out of your bra, and you instinctively go to cover your nipples as you remember who you’re actually in the company of. But Nanami doesn’t want that. He locks his fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head as he begins to suckle on them until they’re both puckered and raw.

“Sit her up, and sit behind her.” Satoru tells his brother-in-law. And of course he acquiesces. You’re moved like you’re weightless as your uncle sits behind you, his clothed cock pressing angrily into the curve of your spine as he continues to torment your tits. Satoru pulls his fingers out of your cunt and sucks them clean, smiling at how your eyes begin to sparkle with wonder as he puts on such a display. “Do not tell your mother about this, understand?”

You nod, obediently. You wouldn’t dream of telling her something so scandalous. Though it does fill you with a slight sense of pride as your Satoru makes it abundantly clear how desperately he’d longed to be the first person to explore your untouched core. He pulls down his trousers and you moan at his smooth, pink cockhead. Though right now it’s closer to an angry shade of red.

He really is desperate.

You wince, slightly, as he pushes his tip inside. Though he retracts it, coating his head in your wetness.

“Fuuuuck, you weren’t lyin’. You really never fucked her, huh Nanami?” Gojo chuckles as he pushes in deeper and deeper. Nanami slots his fingers into your mouth to suck on as you accommodate to the length. “Relax, baby. Clampin’ so much you’re gonna push me out.” he laughs shallowly, his thrusts matching as he begins to work you open.

“D-Daddy!” you gasp, back arching against Nanami’s chest before he pulls you back towards him.

“We’re so proud of you, princess.” Nanami shushes you, placing a kiss to your temple. You look at him with wide, trusting eyes, though he can’t really concentrate as his own fixate on the way your tits bounce with each thrust Gojo inflicts onto you. “Why don’t you show your dad how I taught you to suck cock, hm?”

“Oh? Now that I’d like to see.” Gojo smiles, pulling out of you briefly. The sound of your sticky walls echoes through the room as he pulls out. The men help you onto all fours, and your daddy slots himself right back into your tight heat. The adjusted angle makes you fall forward, your head lolling as he finds a nice little trigger inside of you. “Oh… there, huh? Okay, baby. I’ll fuck you right there.” Satoru tells you as he begins to fuck into you before slowing down.

Nanami takes his cock out of his briefs, tapping the tip against your swollen lips. They open, obediently, and you lick the precum he’s spilling directly from the source. Your hole flutters as he hisses, enamoured by the sensation.

“Perfect, princess. Such a good little girl for me.” Kento comments, and your heart beats harder. You’re almost robbed of all sense as Gojo pistons his hips into you, and he leans forward to grab your hair and wrap it into a makeshift ponytail.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, Kento, maybe we should teach her how college boys fuck. Since she wanted that experience so badly.” Satoru proposes, and Nanami considers it. He really considers it. And Gojo chuckles at that. “Go on… show her.”

Nanami nods, grabbing the sides of your head and fucking your face like you’re his own personal cocksleeve.

It’s relentless and dizzying and you don’t know how to settle. You can’t possibly as you’re ruined from both ends. There’s no reprieve, there’s no way to relax. You’re trembling and moaning and fuck you never knew sex could be so intense. Nanami is always calm and patient with you. But this isn’t that.

They’ve ran out of patience with you.

It doesn’t matter which way you try to retreat, you’re only encouraging the other one. More of Nanami’s cock down your throat and more of Gojo’s hitting your g-spot.

“W-We’ll have to get you on the pill, sweetheart.” Gojo tells you, but it’s more like he’s telling himself. He knows he can’t cum inside. He can’t, but fuck, he wants to. He fucking needs to. “College guys, they like- leaving their- mark.” he thrusts again and again until he’s on the very brink of blowing his load. But his life won’t be worth living if he knocks his cute little daughter up. His marriage will be over. He’ll lose everything.

And with that, he pulls out and coats your pussy lips with his sperm. The loss of feeling from inside makes you cry out around Nanami’s length, though you still can’t pull away from him as he continues to use your mouth as his own personal toy. You never knew your uncle Nanamin had this side to him.

He’s usually so sweet and patient.

He pulls out, too, depriving you of the taste of his cum and the chance to prove what a good girl you are. Though you take his load beautifully as he shoots soupy ropes across your pretty face. His heart skips a beat as your false lashes flutter and he realises a heavy glob stuck to them.

“College guys, sweetheart, might take pictures of you like this.” Satoru pulls his phone from his back pocket and takes a few photos of your quivering cunt. You’ve been neglected in the worst way, and it’s dawning on you now what he had meant by giving you the college experience. He tosses his phone to Nanami, encouraging him to do the same. Your innocent and betrayed face is captured so perfectly through the lens of the phone, Nanami’s pearly seed is the perfect colour for your complexion.

“College guys would send these around to their friends too, you know.” Nanami warns you.

“But we’ll just keep these between ourselves.” Satoru promises you. “I think it’s only fair we didn’t let you cum this time since you were so intent on disobeying your daddy.”

“I think she’s learnt her lesson, though, Satoru.” Nanami speaks, pulling your hair so that you can look up at him and he can identify if you dare to lie to him. “Fucking college boys doesn’t sound that fun anymore, does it? Say sorry, princess. Your dad might let you cum next time if you’re a good girl.”

You sniff, and hiccup, unsure of where to look.

“’m s-sorry, daddy.” you sniffle, Nanami releases your hair and allows you to look back at Gojo, a wild grin on his face.

“Awe… sweet.” Gojo smiles, circling the bed so he’s standing beside Nanami, both of their eyes bore down at you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. “I think we’re owed a thank you, we took the time to teach you such an important lesson, after all.”

“T-Thank you,” you sniff, again, “Thank you, d-daddy. Thank you, uncle Nanamin.”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[girlgenius1111]

take care

engen!reader - solstråle ingrid gets injured during a match. sol is overwhelmed with worry. ingrid hates being worried about, and mapi tries to keep her two engens sane. more angst + fluff with my favorite little family.

The knock looked bad from the stands. You were sitting by yourself, your usual game-watching partner unable to attend today. You stood up without thinking about it, craning your neck to see the crumpled heap on the ground that was your sister. Mapi was crouched over her, motioning towards the sidelines in a way that made your stomach clench. As the medics ran out, you looked around, realizing there was no one here to take charge. Somehow, the injured list was empty, so you were sitting without even the quiet company of some of your sister’s teammates. 

You were supposed to wait here until after the game, and then head down to the tunnel to meet Mapi and Ingrid. The security personnel knew you, knew to let you in, especially after the time they didn’t let you into the tunnel, and you kind of freaked out being surrounded by the large crowds flowing from the stadium. Mapi had given the security guards an earful and since then you’d had no issue. It was different now, though, because the match wasn’t over, but Ingrid was still laying on the pitch, and you’d never been so worried in your life. 

Mapi was hovering by the medics, who were crouched around your sister, obstructing your view of her. The Spaniard looked worried, and she never looked worried when Ingrid went down. She’d check on her girlfriend, like a teammate would do. But the concern on María’s face was far from professional, and you swore under your breath, hurrying towards the cement steps of the stadium without another thought. 

You raced through the halls of the stadium, quickly exiting the fan area and nearing the team only area. Your focus was on finding a security guard you knew, on trying to remember where the medical rooms were in here. You didn’t think about Ingrid laying motionless on the pitch, the smack of her head you hadn’t heard but could imagine had been made as she hit the ground. There wasn’t room for you to pause and think and worry, because if you did that, you’d probably crumple up into a ball on the ground and never move again. 

Ingrid wasn’t prone to injuries. Ingrid didn’t stay down longer than absolutely necessary. 

Ingrid was fine. 

Mapi normally went and got water when there was an injury break, normally gave Ingrid space if she was being treated on the pitch. 

You were being absurd. It was just a knock to the head, but your body was reacting like you’d seen Ingrid get hit by a truck, and by the time you made it to the doorway you knew would lead you towards the changing room, you were out of breath for a reason that had nothing to do with the sprint you’d just done. 

Luckily, the security guard stationed there was familiar, looking confusedly at your sudden appearance. 

“Ms. Engen. Everything okay?” 

“I... no, Ingrid got hurt, and I need to-”

The confusion on the man’s face cleared, and he nodded quickly, stepping aside to let you by. Haphazardly thanking him, you zoomed by, coming to a slow stop only a few seconds later as you realized you didn’t really know where you were going. 

You knew the inside of Johan pretty well, but you’d never been to one of the medical rooms, didn’t even know where one would be. You were just about to turn around and ask the security guard for help when you heard a call of your name coming from down the hall. 

“Over here, chica!” Marta called, waving you towards a doorway just across from the changing room hall. You hurried towards her, feeling somewhat better at the sight of Marta’s easy smile. The captain didn’t seem worried at all. 

Reminding yourself to breathe again, you regarded Marta. “Is she okay?”

The brunette nodded. “Maybe a concussion, but she’s alright. She’s finishing up with the physio right now, then you can go in.” 

Relaxing just slightly, you exhaled. “How did you know I-?”

“Ingrid told me to look out for you. As did Mapi, Caro, and Frido.” Marta grinned. 

That made sense, at least. Of course Mapi had thought of you up in the stands right away, knew to make sure someone was looking for you to appear. Frido and Caro, too, though that was more unexpected and made your stomach twist with something between discomfort and appreciation. That they’d thought of you, too… well, you weren’t used to that. Being thought of, especially by so many people. 

You stepped forward, your hand on the door knob before pausing. What if Ingrid didn’t want you in there? You knew that when you got hurt, it was a 50/50 shot whether you wanted your sister or wanted to be left alone. 

“Go on. She wants to see you.” Marta encouraged, gently nudging your back. With her prompting, you opened the door and stepped inside. Ingrid was sitting on the exam table, one of the physios standing in front of her shining one of those pen lights in her eyes. 

“– a concussion for sure,” he was saying. “Probably a few weeks out.”

Ingrid swore, only catching sight of you when the physios stepped away. She gave you a half smile as the physio kept talking, gesturing you closer. 

“You know the drill. Rest, sleep, keep an eye on your symptoms. I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of.” He nodded towards you before walking out of the room. 

You hadn’t moved closer when Ingrid had tried to get you to, your eyes still flitting over your sister, as if you had to constantly reassure yourself that she was fine, standing right in front of you. 

“Hi there.” Ingrid greeted calmly, her heart melting at the concerned expression on your face. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, surging forward and wrapping Ingrid in a tight hug. She huffed as your body collided with hers, a small smile on her face. 

“I’m fine, Sol.” She assured you. “Really, just a bit of a headache.” 

You pulled away, skeptically looking at your sister. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good.” 

It was true; her forehead was already bruising and her eyes squinted as she looked at you, the light bothering her head. It had been a long match, too, and this was clear in the exhausted slump of her shoulders. Still, Ingrid rolled her eyes, lightly shoving at your shoulder. 

“Thanks. I love to hear that.” She got a half smile at that, which she took to be a win. “Alright, come on. You can come with me to get my bag and we can wait for María.” 

Ingrid stood, and even though she seemed pretty steady on her feet, you hovered behind her worriedly, one hand gripping onto the back of her shirt. 

“Sol. I can walk, it’s just a concussion.” Ingrid chuckled, patting your cheek affectionately as you both began to walk together down the long hall. 

You realized that you didn’t know very much about concussions, but you figured there was no such thing as being overcautious, so you stuck close to your sister, even as she slung her arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. Ingrid was like you in the sense that she didn’t like people worrying about her, and she hoped that when Mapi got off the field, the older Spaniard would be able to take charge and make you feel a bit better about the situation, because it was obvious you were stressing. 

And stressing, you would continue to be.

—

“Oh, Sol, can you grab my phone from my bag?” Ingrid requested, taking a bite of her pasta and giving you an innocent smile. You looked at her doubtfully, crossing your arms across your chest as you leaned against the counter. Did she think you were stupid?

Mapi chuckled, rolling her eyes as she did so. “Sí, go get it Sol. And bring it back to me, so I can make sure she doesn’t go on it.”

You smirked, walking out of the room very happy to have something to do. Ingrid deflated, sighing dramatically as took another bite of her dinner. 

“I hate this.” She said grumpily, and Mapi laughed again. The stubborn frown on her girlfriend's face reminded Mapi vividly of you. Ingrid was less obvious about her stubbornness, but you’d picked that trait up from somewhere. 

—

It didn’t matter how much time passed, apparently. It still hurt when you thought of your Mamma, especially when you weren’t expecting to think about her. But you should have been expecting it, because you knew your parents watched all of Ingrid’s matches, would have seen her get hurt. 

Still, when you pulled the phone out of her bag, and the display on Ingrid’s phone showed five missed calls, and ten texts from your Mamma, and a few more of each from your Pappa, it physically ached. 

Your parents were worried about Ingrid, clearly. After a minute, you pulled out your own phone, dropping Ingrid’s bag back onto the bench by the front door, looking at it for the first time since Ingrid had gotten hurt. 

One missed call and three texts from your Mamma. The first time she’d tried to contact you in months. 

Is your sister alright? I saw you in the stands on TV. 

She isn’t answering her phone. 

Just let me know she’s alright when you have a chance. I hope you’re doing okay, kjære. I love you. 

You inhaled deeply, the tornado of emotions inside of you quickly becoming overwhelming. You willed them to quiet down, at least for now. Ingrid was the priority. She always took care of you, and now it was your turn to take care of her. After only a second of hesitation, you quickly replied to your mother, before heading back into the kitchen. 

She’s okay. Just a mild concussion. I’ll tell her to call you when she’s feeling better. 

You knew you were doing the right thing, responding to your Mamma. It was responsible, it was mature. 

That didn’t make it any easier. 

Your Mamma seemed prepared to fly across the continent to get to Ingrid. That was fine, really. That made sense. It was just… why wasn’t she that worried when you got hurt, before? With each passing day, Ingrid and Mapi chipped away at the hold your self hatred had on you. And as each piece crumbled away, something replaced it; a deep confusion. Why? If you were deserving of love, why hadn’t you gotten it? If you weren’t a bad person, why did your Mamma always resent you? It didn’t make sense, and it was this mystery that kept you convinced, even still, that Ingrid was wrong. You weren’t worth much at all. 

You were pretty sure a part of you would always feel like that 16 year old that had finally given up getting her parent’s approval. You thought giving up on that would allow you to stop caring, but you never did. You always felt the gut punch whenever your Mamma would shout at you or ignore you or be disappointed in you. It never stopped hurting, and a part of you would always feel that worthless. 

When you walked back into the kitchen, it seemed as though someone had sucked all the life out of you. There was something disconnected about the way you moved, as though you weren’t really there. It piqued Ingrid and Mapi’s concern instantly, as you handed the Spaniard your sister’s phone. 

Mapi’s confusion faded as she clicked it open, understanding and sadness flickering across her face. 

“Sol? You okay?” Ingrid asked. You jolted out of your stupor, a very fake smile plastering itself onto your face. Ingrid was squinting at you with her face scrunched in pain a bit, and your insistence on being strong only strengthened. 

“Fine! I’m fine.” You assured her, voice cheery and fake. Ingrid looked skeptical, but Scout chose that moment to charge into the kitchen, having likely been napping on your bed. He scampered over to you first, licking your face when you bent down to pet him, before moving to Ingrid, as if he could tell she needed a bit more attention. Your sister pet Scout lovingly, and with her attention elsewhere, you slumped a bit, the weight of your emotions settling squarely back on you. 

And while Ingrid didn’t notice, Mapi certainly did. 

“Okay mi amor, go shower and then we can call it an early night.” Mapi instructed, pressing a kiss to Ingrid’s lips as you grimaced and sighed dramatically. Chuckling, Ingrid agreed, giving Scout one last pet before heading off to shower. 

As soon as Ingrid was out of the kitchen, Mapi turned to you, a sad frown on her face. There were tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes almost instantly, and you shuffled forward into her open arms. 

Mapi hugged you tight for a minute or so, gently rubbing her hand up and down your back. After a few moments, Scout evidently got bored of the lack of attention, or he felt like comforting you himself, because he pushed his way in between you and Mapi, standing awkwardly in between the two of you. This, at least brought a smile to your face, a small laugh escaping you. Mapi pulled away, giving your dog a very fake glare. He just kept wagging his tail and staring up at her. 

“Do you want me to reply to your Mamma?” Mapi wondered gently, her hand finding its way to your shoulder and squeezing. 

“No,” you replied, voice breaking a bit over the word. You cleared your throat, shaking your head just slightly. “No, she texted me and I told her Ingrid was fine and that she’ll call when she’s feeling better.”

María studied you for a minute, the way you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes, the way you shifted uneasily on your feet, as if you wanted nothing more than to run. “Sol, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” You insisted. “I just want to make sure Ingrid is okay. Are you sure it’s a good idea she showers by herself? Should we have taken her to the hospital? How often do we have to wake her up tonight? Should she sleep with her head elevated? Is ice good for a concussion? Should she have eaten more? Or eaten less? Does she need to drink extra water? What if–”

Mapi cut off your very long spiral of questions, covering your mouth with her hand. “Tranquilo, Sol. Ingrid is fine. I’ve got her, sí?  I know what to do for a concussion, I’ve got everything taken care of.”

You looked like you didn’t believe her, eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulling at your mouth. 

Mapi sighed. “Seriously. I’ve got this. I’m just gonna get her an ice pack for her head and some pain killers and try to get her to sleep. You don’t need to worry about anything” 

“But–”

“Nope. Go get ready for bed. I know you were up late last night playing video games.” Mapi was very rarely stern with you, but in this moment, you saw what her opponents must see on the pitch; a borderline scowl, eyebrows scrunched together as she regarded you authoritatively. 

“That’s not true! I went to bed at 11!” You exclaimed, moving towards the stairs anyway. 

Mapi scoffed. “When I came to get Scout for his walk this morning, you’d fallen asleep with your controller in your hand and your headphones on and you only wear those when you play late at night and you only fall asleep playing when you’re up really late.” 

You rolled your eyes, stomping up the stairs without replying to Mapi. Still, there was something so soft about the Spaniard knowing all your habits, something that made the ache in your chest hurt just a little less. 

—

Ingrid wasn’t an easy patient, Mapi knew this. She just seemed to forget because Ingrid so rarely got sick or hurt. It was a struggle to get her girlfriend to take things slow, more than once having to steady the Norwegian when she stood up or moved too fast. Ingrid was clearly in pain, too, but she kept insisting she didn’t need any pain killers, only agreeing once Mapi promised to go get her favorite coffee tomorrow morning. It was shockingly similar to caring for you when you were hurt or ill, which was more than entertaining for Mapi, since Ingrid always complained about how difficult you were in those circumstances. 

But even once Ingrid was peacefully asleep in bed, Mapi knew her job wasn’t done. The Spaniard tucked the blankets up tighter around Ingrid, pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead. She threw her pajamas on, an old pair of Norway shorts and one of Ingrid’s t-shirts, before surveying the room. The lights were off, Ingrid’s water was full on the nightstand. There was a trashcan next to the bed in case of emergency, and the white noise Ingrid insisted on sleeping with was set to the correct volume. The fan was on the second setting, and Ingrid’s phone was on charge on Mapi’s side of the bed. 

Nodding to herself, Mapi began heading down the hall to where you were almost assuredly still awake. What she wasn’t expecting when she pushed your bedroom door open, though, was to find you crying as you scrolled on your phone. 

“Hey, what’s this cariño?” Mapi said, referencing the tears falling down your face. She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, noticing that it was meticulously clean, something you only did when you were anxious. You wiped at your eyes furiously, dropping your phone onto the bed next to you without locking it. Mapi picked it up, worried that your Mamma had dared to message you something that would make you cry. 

You sniffled, unsuccessfully trying to stop your tears, knowing very well that you were being more than ridiculous. Mapi wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at what she found on your phone. On the screen was a google search about concussions, and you’d clicked on a tab of all the potential dangers of a head injury. 

“Sol, don’t google stuff like this.” Mapi told you. “None of this is going to happen.” 

“You don’t know that!” You replied, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth. “She hit her head really hard, she could have a delayed brain bleed or she could have hurt her neck or–” 

Mapi wasn’t sure why you were so worked up over something as simple as a concussion, but the urge to laugh at your absurdness had faded, replaced by a deep concern as she realized you were genuinely convinced something bad was going to happen. 

“Solstråle,”

“No, Mapi, you should be in there with her watching her and making sure she’s okay!” You shouted, raising your voice almost unconsciously as you continued to cry through your words. 

“Hey! Don’t shout.” Mapi said, still calm even though you knew she didn’t like to be yelled at. 

You forced yourself to stop pacing for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Mapi watched you silently, trying to determine whether or not you’d accept a hug from her at the moment. Your anger seemed to be fading as quickly as it appeared, your shoulders slumping as you sat heavily back down on the bed. You looked small, suddenly, in Mapi’s oversized tshirt and a pair of sweatpants. You looked like the kid you still very much were, not the adult you tried to be. 

Mapi took a seat next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you to lean against her.

“What’s going on, hmm? Why are you so upset about this?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t like that she’s hurt. It makes me anxious.”

Mapi hummed, her thumb rubbing small circles onto your arm. “How anxious?”

“Very.” You exhaled, leaning into the Spaniard even more. 

Mapi smiled a bit, thinking about just a few months ago, when you would have shied away from any comfort at all. 

“Do you know why?” She wondered. 

“No.” You answered too quickly for her to believe you, and you began fidgeting with your hands in your lap, which was something you only did when you were lying. She didn’t press you, though. Instead, she kissed the top of your head and stood up. 

“Alright. It’s late, your eyes are shutting, you’re exhausted. Go to bed, nena.” 

You merely shrugged, avoiding eye contact with Mapi in a way that told her you were going to be doing anything but going to bed. The Spaniard sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose in between her fingers. 

“How can I get you to sleep, Sol?” 

You thought for a moment, before a small smile tugged at your lips and you looked up at Mapi much too earnestly. You told her your idea, and much as she wanted to say no, she knew you really wouldn’t sleep otherwise. So, she relented, and you grabbed your pillow and a blanket [and Scout], and followed Mapi down the hall to their room. 

—

Ingrid woke up with a pounding headache the next morning. With a groan, she rolled onto her side, hand searching for Mapi to grab onto. Her girlfriend shifted down from where she’d been sitting up in bed, allowing Ingrid to burrow into her chest. 

“How are you feeling, mi amor?” 

“Like I’m dying.” Ingrid sighed dramatically. 

“Dying?!” You cried, sitting bolt upright from where you had been laying on the floor next to Ingrid’s bed. She rolled over to look at you, wincing at the pain she felt from the movement, blinking a few times as if she thought she was hallucinating. 

“Did you sleep on the floor?” Ingrid asked incredulously. 

Still borderline frantic, you nodded your head. “Yes. Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

Ingrid was silent for a second, looking between you and Mapi, completely bewildered. “Sol, why did you sleep on the floor?” 

“Don’t bother, amor. Answer her question first.” Mapi sighed, reclining back against the headboard and shutting her eyes. 

Ingrid huffed her frustration. “I’m alright, Sol. Why did you sleep on the floor?”

You frowned up at her. “I was worried. Google said the first 24 hours of a concussion are the most important, and I know Mapi is a heavy sleeper, so I just wanted to make sure-”

“Sol, that isn’t your job. I’m fine. You shouldn’t have done that, you have school today, you’re going to be exhausted and sore.” Her tone was more sharp than she intended it to be and she felt immediate guilt at the look of hurt that flashed across your face. 

“Sorry.” You said sharply, getting up and gathering your pillow and your blanket and hastily walking out of the room. 

Ingrid flopped back down onto the bed with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t mean to make her upset.” 

Mapi kissed her temple tenderly. “I know. She’s just worried, and I think you embarrassed her a little. She was going to stay home from school to look after you.” 

“She shouldn’t have to do that.” Ingrid argued. 

Mapi spoke slowly, like Ingrid was missing the point. “She wants to. She’s really anxious about this, Ingrid. She was pacing around her room last night googling concussions trying to figure out how to help. She just wants to make sure you’re okay, like you do for her.” 

Ingrid felt her heart melt a little. She forgot, sometimes, how sensitive you were, how much of a worrier. You kept so much inside that it was always a bit startling to see you express yourself so outwardly. She moved to get up from the bed, but Mapi’s arms remained locked around her midsection. 

“María, I need to go talk to her.” 

“No. You stay here, I’ll go talk to her.” 

“I’m not staying in bed all day.” Ingrid grumbled, fighting back a smile as Mapi kissed her cheek once, then twice more. 

“No, of course not.” Mapi agreed. “You can lay down on the couch, too.” 

Ingrid groaned, slumping back onto the bed and crossing her arms over her chest. “I hate this.” She called. 

“I know! Mapi replied, shaking her head at her girlfriend’s dramatics. 

—

Mapi knocked on your door, hearing a huff that she assumed meant she could come in. You were stuffing your things into your school bag, angry tears tracking down your face. 

“Sol, stop for a second.” 

“No, I’m going to be late.” 

“Solstråle.” 

“Go away, Mapi.” 

“No, stop it.” Mapi said, more firmly this time. She took your bag out of your hands, attempting to hold it out of your reach. You glared at her, lower lip trembling as you did so. “You can stay home. I talked to Ingrid.” 

“She doesn’t want me to stay home.” You choked out, humiliated at how upset this was making you. 

Mapi looked at you for a moment longer before placing a hand on your shoulder. “She does, she just doesn’t want you to worry. Just like you don’t like us to worry about you.” 

“No, she doesn’t want me here.” You argued, finally ripping your bag away from Mapi and slinging it over your shoulder. Mapi almost commented on the fact that you were very clearly still wearing your pajamas, and that school didn’t start for another hour, but another voice cut in before she could. 

“I do want you here, sweetheart. I just don’t want you worrying about me.” 

Both you and Mapi turned to face Ingrid amusingly fast. 

“Ingrid, I told you to stay in bed!” Mapi chided good naturedly, knowing how much her girlfriend hated to be babied. 

“Sol-”

“Go lay down, Ingrid. I’m fine.” You pleaded, the redness of your eyes and the wobble of your chin not helping your statement. 

Your sister ignored you, crossing the room in two long strides and pulling you into an almost painfully tight hug. Mapi stepped out of the room, knowing that this was one of your Engen moments, where you really just wanted your sister. 

“No, Sol. I’m fine.” Ingrid told you, her fingers scratching lightly at your scalp where her hand rested. 

You sniffled, pressing your face further into her shoulder, as if to assure yourself that she was really there. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. I’m okay. Everything is okay.” Ingrid promised, pausing for a moment before she extracted herself from the hug and led you to sit on the edge of your bed next to her. She gave you a second to calm down, still crying softly into her shoulder, as she took in the sight of your room. The framed photo of the three of you on your desk. The polaroids up on the wall, all taken at the top of a hike you’d completed. The map that Mapi had given you, and the painting of the waterfall in Norway. 

Ingrid didn’t like to see you cry. But your tears, just like the things decorating your room, showed that you were feeling things. Not like before, when it was difficult to even get you to explain how your day was in more than two words. You felt safe to feel here. Safe to be vulnerable. 

So, she didn’t like the tears. But everytime she saw you cry, she thanked the universe that you were still here with her to cry, still willing to push your face into her shoulder and grip onto her shirt with your fist like you’d done when you were little. She’d never take that for granted. Ever. 

She didn’t take her responsibility to care for you lightly, either. 

“What’s going on, Solstråle? Why are you so worried?” 

Again, it was that magic ability Ingrid had to get you to admit things you normally never would. Instead of brushing your sister off like you’d done to Mapi the night before, you sucked in a breath and tried to explain the absolute mess of feeling inside of you.

“Do you ever… feel like things are too good? Like everything is going so well. And you’re happy, but you aren’t sure you deserve to be. So something bad must be about to happen to ruin it all? It feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s too good to be true, and I’m so scared, all the time, that I’m going to do something to mess everything up, or something bad is going to happen.”

Ingrid wasn’t really quite sure what to say to that. Whether it was because her head was pounding with an incessant headache, or because she’d truly never felt the way that you were describing right now, she wasn’t sure. She just knew that you needed reassurance that no one was going to come and take away your happiness. 

“You deserve to be happy. You’ve been through so much, Sol, and you deserve to be happy. I’m not going to let anyone take that away from you. Ever. It’s not too good to be true. No shoe is going to drop. Nothing bad is going to happen and you’re not going to mess anything up. I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere. I love you so much, Solstråle, and no one could ever take that away. Nothing could ever stop me from loving my baby sister.” 

Ingrid felt tears soaking through the fabric of her shirt, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing. Still, she kept running her hand up and down your back, keeping you held close to her. She wouldn’t be the first one to pull away. 

“I… I want to believe that. I just don’t know how to stop being scared. I don’t know how to convince my brain that nothing bad is going to happen.” 

“I don’t really know either.” Ingrid hummed. “But we’ll figure it out together, no?” 

You nodded, feeling absurdly emotional at the together part. 

“And anytime you feel scared, you tell me or Mapi. And I’ll be rational and give you a hug and Mapi can make a joke so bad you have no choice but to laugh, and she’ll be happy because her goal was just to distract you anyway.” 

You let out a weak laugh, leaning away from your sister to wipe at your face with your sleeve. 

“Okay.” You agreed. “I’ll try.” 

Ingrid smiled at you. “Good. Now come downstairs with me. We’re going to put on a reality TV show and you’re going to describe everything happening on screen because I can’t watch.” 

You laughed again, standing and following your sister out of your room. You held onto her arm as she walked down the stairs, and Ingrid let you. Sometimes, she couldn’t fix things right away. She’d let you hover, and in time, you’d realize she was alright and you’d be okay. 

Or, she’d have to climb out the window in the middle of the night and run away to Frido’s just to get away from your and Mapi’s hovering. Either way. 

—

:) i love my child sol.

[bunny-1111]

Did I stutter? Theo Nott x fem!reader

Description: With the Christmas ball approaching, you can’t stop daydreaming about Theo. But when Pansy reveals that he’s been quietly chasing off your suitors, you’re left questioning his true feelings. When confronted, Theo’s possessiveness comes to light—but will he finally ask you to the ball?

Genre: Angst, slow burn, romance Warnings: Slight possessiveness, mild language

Word count: 1.9k

Part 2, here

Unedited and unread

reblogs, likes and comments appreciated my loves <3

...

The Christmas ball was a yearly sensation.

When the autumn leaves were long covered by the deep snow of winter, was when you knew it was not far off.

As you sat in the great hall across from your friends in a daydream, imagining Theo all dressed up in a three-piece suit, your mind slipped into mush as you dreamed about his hand placed delicately on your waist, moving you through the steps of a waltz.

"Hello, earth calling. Are you even listening to me?!" Pansy clicked her fingers to pull you attention back into focus

"Sorry, you were saying?" you rush, flustered by your own thoughts.

"Yeah, I was asking if you want to go to Hogsmeade this afternoon?" she continued.

"Oh sure" you agree, you eyes now glued to your plate, trying to pull your mind away from him

"we'll join you, yeah" Draco casually adds

"No!" Pansy quickly exclaims

"what, why not?" replies Draco his voice high and whiney

"Because, girls day, only, we're gonna try find some dresses for the Christmas ball" inisted Pans

"we are?" you question

"we are." she states

"Oh Merlin, I hate this ball bullshit" Enzo adds, throwing his fork down

"Couldn't agree more, Enz" says Theo softly

"Yeah, Theo it must be so annoying having every girl in every house ask you to the dance, gosh you boys are insufferable" ranted Pansy

Oh, that's right, the unpleasant reminder that you and Theodore have no romantic relations and you can't do anything about the girls who swoon over him, Merlin. Why do they all have to be so desperate for him? Why can't they just leave him for you? Why can't something happen between you two why can't h-

"Come on let's go get ready for Hogs" She interrupts your self-destructive thoughts, now dragging you along back to the dorms.

As you shiver into your scarf, the cold air bites at your lips, the snow filled streets of Hogsmeade bring a sense of quickness in turns of just how soon the ball is.

"I expect someone should ask you to the dance soon" Pansy says linking her arms in your as you walk together, shopping bags in your free arms.

"Thanks, Pans, you too," you smile

You're met with unusual silence from her, so you give her a small shove, a gentle nudge, saying, spit it out.

"Well, Draco's asked me to go... I've said yes" she carefully says

"Pans! When, why didn't you tell me? This again, I thought you said you and Dray were really done this time?" You ramble, eyes wide with passionate protection for her

"I know, but like his gonna let someone else take me, I wouldn't want him to go with anyone else take me either, it's just like you and-" she starts

"Don't finish that sentence alright, you and Draco dated, Theo and I nothing" you huff

"Oh yeah, then why is he going around threatening any guy who even considers asking you." her tone

Pansy’s words hit you like a bludger to the chest, forcing the air out of your lungs. You almost stumble your steps, but she keeps her arm linked with yours, pulling you along as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell

“What are you talking about?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays you, cracking at the end.

Pansy raises a brow, glancing at you like she’s holding the world’s best secret, and you’re not in on it. “Oh, don’t play dumb. It’s been happening for months.”

Months?

Theo, your Theo, going around and threatening people from asking you to the ball? That doesn’t make sense. He barely looked at you when you weren't all together, always composed, acting as though your presence didn’t make his eyes soften as you wished they would.

But then again, you have noticed that boys, nice boys, that is, had stopped approaching you after a while. You chalked it up to bad luck. You and your friends did have a certain unapproachability. The rumors swirled about Theodore Nott being unattainable, uninterested in any romance, but he never gave any indication that he’d be willing to defend you, much less ward off potential suitors.

“yeah right, that can’t be true.” Your denial comes out weaker than you intend, the words sitting heavy on your tongue.

Pansy giggles like the school girl she is. “Sweetheart, believe what you want, but I know a possessive bloke when I see one. Trust me, Draco’s the same way, just less… subtle.” She waves her hand dismissively, but her eyes hold a knowing glimmer, irritating you. Like she has insight into your life that you aren’t aware of yourself.

You shake your head, trying to process everything. “But why wouldn’t he just—”

“Ask you himself?” Pansy finishes for you, her voice lilting, almost teasing. “Oh, come on, you know Theo. He’s about as emotionally available as a cursed lock. He probably doesn’t even realise what he’s doing half the time.”

“But pans, months?”

Pansy shrugs a nonchalant gesture that tells you she’s probably been keeping this from you for a while. “Look, I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d figure it out, and honestly, it’s kind of fun watching him sulk whenever someone gets too close. Merlin, the way he glares could melt the snow.”

You let out a breath, the cold air burning your lungs as you try to wrap your mind around it. Theodore Nott, the Theo who lives in your mind, your friend of years, the same Theo you desperately want to yourself, had been quietly chasing off any competition? It feels surreal, like a dream you’d conjured in the midst of one of your daydreams in the Great Hall.

But if that’s true… then why hasn’t he made a move? Why hasn’t he said anything to you?

As if reading your thoughts, Pansy squeezes your arm. “Don’t overthink it. Boys are complicated, especially our boys alright, even when they think they’re being clear. Maybe he’s waiting for the right moment, or maybe he’s just an idiot.”

You laugh, a short, breathy sound that fogs up the air around you. “Yeah, idiot sounds about right.”

Hogsmeade is bustling with students, all of them chattering about the upcoming ball, dresses, dates, and everything in between. You glance at shop windows, your eyes trailing over elegant gowns and shimmering accessories, but your mind is miles away, stuck on a certain brown-haired Slytherin boy who, apparently, has been harboring some very mixed signals.

By the time you make it back to the castle, your hands are full of bags, and your head is full of unanswered questions. Pansy is still chattering away, something about her dress and how Draco better match her, but you can barely focus.

You keep replaying her words over and over again. Theo’s threatening people? Why wouldn’t he just ask me? The thought sends your heart into a frenzy, and no matter how much you try to convince yourself, it’s nothing, that maybe Pansy is exaggerating; you know deep down that she’s probably right.

It isn’t until the next morning at breakfast that you catch sight of Theo, sitting at the Slytherin table with his usual quiet confidence. His hair is slightly tousled, like he couldn’t be bothered to comb it properly, and his tie is crooked, but it doesn’t matter—he still looks effortlessly good, as always.

Your heart does a little flip as you watch him, your mind racing with everything Pansy told you. Should you say something? Ask him if it’s true? Or would that be too forward? Maybe you should just wait it out, see if he says anything first…

But before you can make a decision, Theo glances up and locks eyes with you. It’s a brief moment, but it’s enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. His expression is unreadable, as usual, but there’s something in his gaze that makes your stomach twist.

You quickly look away, focusing on your plate, but your thoughts are a mess. Could he see it all on your face? Are you accidentally showing what you didn't have the courage to say?

The rest of the day passes in a blur, and by the time evening rolls around, you’re no closer to figuring out what to do. Pansy, of course, is no help—she just keeps teasing you about it, making cryptic comments about how Theo’s going to “make his move” eventually.

You’re not so sure.

It’s not until later, when you’re heading back to the common room after a long day of classes, that you run into Theo. Literally.

You’re not paying attention, too caught up in your own thoughts, and you bump right into him as you turn the corner.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t—” you start to apologize, but the words die in your throat when you look up and realize it’s him.

Theo’s standing there, hands in his pockets, his usual calm, unreadable expression in place. But there’s something different about him tonight, something that makes your heart race.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine, as his hand lays on your shoulder, steading your place in front of him

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your voice still, but it’s a losing battle.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and tension.

Before you can make a decision, Theo breaks the silence. “You’re going to the ball, right?”

The question catches you off guard, and you nod before you can stop yourself. “Yeah, I am.”

His eyes darken slightly, and he takes a step closer. “With anyone?”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a second, you forget how to breathe. Is this it? Is he finally going to ask you?

“No,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Theo’s gaze stays locked on yours for a long moment, and then, finally, he says, “Good. Keep it that way.”

And just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your mind spinning.

You stand frozen in place, his words echoing in your mind. Good. Keep it that way. It’s a simple sentence, but the way Theo said it, with that intensity in his eyes, sends your heart into a tailspin.

What did he mean by that? Was it a warning? A request? Or something else entirely?

You shake your head, trying to clear the confusion, but it’s no use. Theo’s always been hard to read, but this feels different—like there’s something just beneath the surface that you can’t quite grasp.

"No Theo wait!" you call out before he gets too far

His body swiftly turns around waiting for you, typical Teddy, of course he makes you run after him.

When you finally reach him all you can manage is "I don't understand."

"what's not to understand, darling," he says softly almost sympathetic

"Have you stopped guys from asking me, personally?" you say so quickly you didn't even have time to realise what you had just asked

"Yes. I have" he replies immediately

"wh-what?" you mutter out

"Did I fucking stutter? Anyone asks you and you tell me" his tone stern and meaningful, inching closer and closer to you, "alright"

"alright" you agree in a small voice

"Good girl" he smiles as he tilts his head, before walking off.

well, what the fuck now.

Author Note: I've been feeling so unsure about my writing lately, I've been struggling to produce good work. I have been so flat out at work that by the time I get home, I'm writing at like 2am, so it just turns out shit... and I get too tired to finish it properly like this one, but I just wanted to get something out. Ugh, I'm sorry. anyway hope you try to enjoy this one, I will get back to my confident writing soon, I hope lol love youuuuuuu, B.

Part 2, here

[suguru-getos]

"Please- please-" you raggedly breathe, knees scraping against the hard floor as Satoru dragged you by your wrist, a soft whimper escaping your lips. You had no idea why he had gotten so angry. You have been nothing but good. You're forced to stand up next, hard grip on your hair sure to give you migraines. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I don't understand-"

This is the first time Satoru has been so silent, it terrifies you, the very marrow of your bones. He is big, tall, looming and so unwavering when he wants to be. Your hurt and panic breaks into a sniffle, lips parted to utter what he'd call a pathetic excuse of an apology. "What did I say, when I said I would be okay with you going out?" He raised a brow, and your pupils wavered in the bone-chilling coldness of his tone. Harsh blue eyes and pursed lips ready to attack his little prey. "Yo- You- you-" Fuck, you're stuttering. Just like you always do when you're scared and panicked. "Yo- You- you-… what. Did. I. Say?" Satoru hums, after mocking your tone.

You sniffled, "s-said to me to not go out apart from the estate premises."

"Do I need to make sure you listen to me in a different way?" For Satoru, it's simple. You have tried to run so many times that his patience has worn out, the constant fear of you going away is making him the monster he is now. The outside world is filled with curses, and bad things. You, are a non-sorcerer and you should know better. Besides, after today's incident. He is ready to do anything.

"Why the hell were you outside then?" He yelled, Satoru… doesn't really yell. The problem is, a special grade spirit was sighted near the store you decided to go see for yourself. While that's something rare, it's increasing his anxiousness a tenfold. What if you had been there, you had been a bag of fucking bones! "I just- wan' wan' wan'ed you know- I just-"

"Speak to me properly or I will break you in ways you can't take. Wouldn't let you walk for days." That causes you to cry out, why is he overreacting so much! Christ! He already has you here, rotting, against your will. You sobbed, heart racing and breaths shallowing.

Satoru was… tolerable… you wouldn't call yourself the unluckiest person in the world until today. He had abducted you, but he was never… this.

"Can’t talk to her or she will have a FUCKING panic attack." His jaw grits, holding you by the neck and pinning you against the wall. Your hands instinctively hold his wrist, but they're meek, sweaty with fear, and powerless. "If I see you step out again, I will kill everyone you hold near since you love watching me helplessly try to make you compliant, without hurting you, no?" Without hurting you… yeah right.

You nodded, "W- Won't step out." It's getting harder for you to speak with every second, eyes losing focus and fight or flight kicking in. Satoru's harsh expressions are blurring out, you were passing out.

And you do, fall limp against him. His feet impatiently tapping the floor once he sees you collapse. Another reminder of how you could die in an instant and leave him like Suguru did. A soft sigh escapes him once the throbbing headache kicks in. The high adrenaline calming down and kicking in with brutal headache. He lets you fall on the floor, ignoring the slight bruise in your head at the impact. You should know better. At least this is keeping you from not fucking dying.

He walks away to get the medication for his head, looking at himself in the mirror. He doesn't… look like himself. He leans in, watching the colour of his eyes greying. Something's wrong. That's when it kicks in.

Yandere Satoru was influenced by the same special grade curse he had killed. Why else were his thoughts so messy? You had escaped so many times but he always thought you'd just… understand one day.

A cold blood rushes through his spine once his cloudy thoughts clear up, and the idea of you passed out on the cold flooring floods him. Satoru has never been more quick to pick you up, cradling you close. Some part of him is happy, you wouldn't run away anymore. Another part of him is unsure if it's him truly thinking it, or if it's the curse's energy tampering with his own. A small part of him wants to die for putting you through this. Satoru Gojo needed to figure this out.

And then… he needed to build his relationship with you from scratch once he finds out what you did go out to buy. There were ingredients of his favourite Kikufuku. You were trying to make him… Kikufuku.

The small part of him that wanted to die isn't so small anymore. Months, if not weeks, it will take months to get you to love him like this again…

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (three) - finale

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made" pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader. warnings: more angst <3; part one here; part two

Staying away from Rafe was hard.

It was hard before you two tried to be friends and it’s even harder now that you gave him the no-contact ultimatum. Everywhere you went, it felt like he was there, even if he wasn’t. It was in the songs that played on the radio, in the way the sun set over the patio near your dorm, in the way his, now yours, shirts still smelled like him. 

You missed the late-night conversations, the way he’d laugh at your jokes, and how he could read you better than anyone else. But more than anything, you missed the way he made you feel—even if it wasn’t real at first. 

Every time your phone buzzed, you stupidly hoped it was him, even though you knew it wouldn’t be. You’d told him to stop, to leave you alone, and he had respected your boundaries even when it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. And you’re proud of him for it—for once, he’s doing something right. But you’re mostly proud of yourself too, for sticking to your decision, for not letting him back in so easily.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

You thought giving yourself space would help you move on, help you figure out if you could ever really trust him again. But instead, it just left this space where he used to be. You kept wondering how much of it was real for him—if any of it was. Maybe that’s why staying away felt impossible because a part of you wanted to believe he meant some of it, that his feelings weren’t just part of some game. 

You had to draw the line, to protect yourself from getting hurt all over again. And even though it hurt to keep him out, you knew it was the only way you’d figure out what you really wanted, without him clouding your judgment.

You tried to move on.

Slowly, cautiously, you started going on dates—nothing serious, just enough to remind yourself that there were other people out there, that Rafe wasn’t the only guy who could make you laugh or feel special. Every few weeks, you’d let yourself get dressed up, put on a smile, and meet someone new.

The first date was awkward, more like a practice run than anything else. You spent most of it comparing the guy to Rafe, noticing all the little things that didn’t measure up. It wasn’t fair to the guy, but you couldn’t help it. He wasn’t Rafe, and that’s all you could focus on. You ended the night with a polite hug and a promise to text, but you knew you wouldn’t.

The second date was better, but not by much. The guy was nice, made you laugh a few times, but there was no spark, no connection that made you want to see him again. You tried to be present, to give him a chance, but your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to what he would say or how he would react to something. By the end of the night, you felt more exhausted than excited.

After that, you took a break. It was too soon, you told yourself. You weren’t ready to move on yet, and that was okay. 

Some days, you almost reached out to him. You’d pick up your phone, scroll through your messages, and your finger would hover over his name. It would be so easy to send a quick text, something casual, just to see how he was doing. But you never did. You knew that one message could ruinl everything you’d worked so hard to build—the distance, the boundaries, the fragile sense of self you were trying to protect.

Instead, you threw yourself into other things. Classes, the cheer squad, hobbies, anything to keep your mind occupied. You spent more time with friends, even though it was hard not to talk about him. You kept the conversations light, steering away from anything that would bring his name up. You didn’t want to be that person who couldn’t stop talking about their ex, who couldn’t let go, even if that’s exactly how you felt inside.

It helped, sometimes.

For brief moments, you’d find yourself genuinely laughing at a joke or losing yourself in a book or a project. But then something small would happen—a song on the radio, a glimpse of someone who looked like him, or the sound of his name in passing—and it would all come rushing back. It wasn’t fair. 

You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but each time it felt like a fresh wound. The memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he always knew just what to say—it was as if he left a ghost behind, haunting every corner of your life. And in those moments when you’d catch yourself smiling or feeling light, it was like a betrayal. How could you allow yourself to feel joy when he wasn’t there to share it?

It was like trying to run from a shadow that moved with you, always there, no matter how fast you tried to go.

Every time you thought about him, about how he had hurt you and how you were struggling to move on, it felt like stabbing at an old wound, hoping it would heal faster if you just made it worse. The reality was that you missed him in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

Running into him was inevitable. Despite your best efforts to avoid the places he might be, your college was too small, too intertwined with memories of him.

The first time you saw him after the ultimatum was at a party you had reluctantly agreed to attend. You spotted him across the room, laughing with his friends, looking just as carefree as ever. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and for a moment, you felt stuck to the ground. But then he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and the smile slipped from his face.

It was a small moment, one that no one else seemed to notice, but it felt like the all the air in your lungs had been sucked out. You forced yourself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you.

The second time was worse.

You were at the grocery store, just trying to get through your day when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him. The shock of seeing him so close, so unexpectedly, made you want to disappear on the spot.

You both mumbled awkward apologies, neither of you really saying anything of substance, just trying to avoid the awkwardness. But then he asked how you were.

“I’m fine,” you replied, too quickly, too sharply. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, to reach out and touch you, but he didn’t. You both stood there, trapped in a painful silence, before you finally made an excuse and walked away, leaving him standing there in the aisle.

After that, the encounters became more frequent. You saw him at the beach, in coffee shops, passing by on the street. Each time, it was the same—an awkward exchange, a few forced pleasantries, and then a quick retreat. It was like the universe was conspiring against you, refusing to give you the space you so desperately needed.

And each time, it hurt just a little bit more. Seeing him in these mundane, everyday moments, like nothing had changed, made it harder to keep up the distance you’d built. It reminded you of all the times when being around him had felt natural, easy, like he was just supposed to be there.

But the worst part was the way he looked at you. Jessica had told you before. He’d never looked at any girl like that. And you stupidly held onto that tiny hope even if you shouldn’t. 

You’d been trying to keep it together all night, but the sight of Jessica and Tyler laughing together, so effortlessly in love, was making you bleed inside. The drinks kept coming, one after another, until the room started to blur around you. You didn’t even notice how much you were drinking—only that it was easier to keep swallowing than to think about Rafe. 

But the alcohol wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts.

Instead, it seemed to amplify them, making everything feel sharper, more painful. Jessica and Tyler’s whispered words of affection, the way his hand rested on her thigh, the way she looked at him with pure adoration—You couldn’t stop thinking about how that should have been you and Rafe.  

By the time you realized you were too far gone, it was late. You stumbled as you stood up, the room spinning wildly around you. Someone—Jessica, maybe—asked if you were okay, but their voice was muffled, distant. You tried to nod, to say something reassuring, but your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crashing back into your chair.

"Whoa, easy there," Jessica’s voice was sharper now, filled with concern. She crouched down in front of you, her hands steadying you. “You’re not okay. We need to get you out of here.”

You tried to shake your head, to insist that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The room was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t focus on anything. Your vision was blurry, your limbs heavy, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were too drunk to take care of yourself. You couldn’t even stand up, let alone make it home.

Panic started to set in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to lose control like this. You weren’t supposed to need help.

“Jess… I’m fine…” The words slurred out of your mouth, but even you didn’t believe them.

“No, you’re not.” Jessica’s voice was firm now, almost authoritative. She glanced around, clearly trying to figure out what to do. The other girls were watching, their laughter fading into worried murmurs, “Baby, can you go and get her some water and sugar, please?”

She gently guided you to lean back, her hand on your shoulder to steady you. You tried to focus, tried to push through the fog in your mind, but everything was slipping away, your thoughts swirling together in a jumbled mess.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. She wasn’t just a concerned friend at this moment; she was scared. You’d never seen her like this before. 

“I—” You started, but the words tangled in your throat. You wanted to tell her that you were sorry, that you didn’t mean to ruin the night, that you just wanted to stop thinking about him for a couple of hours, but all that came out was a garbled sound that barely resembled a word.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her thumb brushing lightly against your arm. “We’ll get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Tyler returned with the water and sugar, and Jessica took the glass, trying to get you to drink. The water felt cool against your lips, but swallowing was harder than it should’ve been. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Come on, just a little more,” Jessica urged. You managed a few more sips before the glass slipped from your grasp, water sloshing onto your lap.

“Jess, I—” You tried again, but before you could finish, you heard another voice, one that sent a jolt through your foggy mind.

He was there, right in front of you, and you knew it was him without needing to open your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him mutter. He crouched down, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

“She had too much to drink,” Jessica explained quickly, her tone defensive, as if she expected him to start blaming her. “We were just about to get her out of here.”

You tried to smile, to play it off like it was no big deal, but all that came out was a shaky breath. “Too much… too much, Rafe…”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. He turned to Jessica, his voice all business now. 

You didn’t know how long he had been standing there. Was your brain torturing you? Making you believe he was there?

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he knelt down beside you, his hands grabbing your trembling ones. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he was afraid you might break into pieces if he spoke too loudly. “I’m gonna get you home, okay?”

You wanted to say no, to tell him that you didn’t need him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, too tired and too dizzy to fight it.

He exchanged a look with Jessica and she sighed, her worry morphing into something closer to relief. “I’ll help you get her to the car.”

Your legs were useless, and you sagged heavily against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, cradling you against him. His scent surrounded you, familiar and comforting, and despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. Your eyes fluttered shut as he carried you out, the sounds of the party fading away behind you.

The ride to your dorm was a blur. 

You were vaguely aware of Rafe’s arm around you, of Jessica sitting on your other side, rubbing your back in small circles. The motion of the car made your stomach churn, and you had to close your eyes to keep from getting sick. Uber or not, you weren’t about to ruin someone else’s car. 

When you finally arrived, he practically carried you inside while Jess fumbled with your keys before pushing the door open.

He led you to your bed, easing you down onto the mattress.

“I’ll stay with her,” he muttered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Jessica hesitated, looking between the two of you, before nodding slowly.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said to Rafe, squeezing his arm before she left.

You were barely aware of her leaving, still too drunk to process much of anything. He knelt down beside your bed, brushing a stray hair from your face. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby.

You wanted to say something, to tell him that you didn’t need him, that you were fine on your own.

You felt your bottom lip tremble. 

He noticed the change immediately, his blue eyes softening as he continued to gently brush the hair from your face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just breathe.”

But that only made it worse. You could feel the tears welling up as you realized just how much you’d missed this—missed him. The safety of his presence, the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did.

Your stomach churned, the nausea that had been building since you first sat in the car finally reaching a breaking point.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, your voice weak and shaky, “I think I’m gonna—”

He reacted instantly, his arms tightening around you as he quickly looked the room. “Okay, okay, just breathe,” he said, “You’re gonn be fine.”

But breathing was the last thing on your mind as the room started spinning faster. You tried to push away from him, your hand gripping his shirt as you fought to keep it down.

“Rafe, I need to throw up,” you managed to gasp, panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up from the bed and hurrying toward the bathroom. You barely registered the fact he was touching you again after so long, your mind solely focused on the nausea.

He got you to the bathroom just in time, guiding you to the toilet as you collapsed in front of it. He held your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back as you retched, the sound of it echoing harshly in the small space.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he murmured, grounding you as you emptied your stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand on your back, the gentle way he kept your hair out of the way.

When it was over, you slumped against the cool porcelain, too exhausted to care about anything other than the relief of having the nausea finally subside. Rafe handed you a damp washcloth, and you pressed it against your face, the coolness soothing against your overheated skin.

“Better?” he asked softly, crouching down beside you. 

You nodded weakly, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, while you avoided his gaze entirely. The room was quiet now, the only sound the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you tried to regain some control.

“I’m sorry.”

You felt embarrassed, and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected, and you hated every second of it.

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe said gently, his hand still resting on your back. 

“Can you… can you stay over?” 

You didn’t want to be alone, not tonight, not with the way your heart was aching.

Rafe’s eyes softened, the way they did only for you, and for a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might stay and help you forget, even just for a little while. 

But then he shook his head, his expression pained.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained, like it hurt him to say it. “You know I can’t, sweets.”

You tried to hold it together, but it was no use. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying—quiet, heartbreaking sobs that you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks, but it only made you cry harder. “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t even respond, the words tangled up in your throat. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t stay; it was everything—the confusion, the heartbreak, the way you felt like you were losing him all over again, even though he was right there in front of you.

“Please don’t cry,” Rafe pleaded, his voice breaking. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You buried your face in his chest, the sobs shaking your entire body. The warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of him—it was too much, too close to everything you’d been trying to avoid. But you couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

“I just… I just miss you,” you choked out, the words spilling from you in a broken whisper. “I miss you so much, Rafe.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I miss you too.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the ache in your chest, the one that had been there ever since you’d forced yourself to let him go.

“I wish things were different,” his usually bright eyes were dimmed, his brows drew together as if he was in pain. He looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, like he was afraid this might be the last time, “I keep hurting you.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his touch gentle as his fingers cradled your face. His thumbs brushed away the tears again, but they kept coming, fresh and spilling over. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a ragged breath.

“Please don’t hate me more for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely holding back. His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to cling to in this moment that felt like it was tearing you both apart.

“I could never hate you,” you whispered back, the words catching in your throat as the tears continued to fall. It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud.

He left that night.

You had almost convinced yourself that it was better this way, that moving on, that he did you a favor that night by leaving, that keeping him out of your life was the only solution. 

Staying away from you was killing him. 

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

Rafe spent his days trying to distract himself, throwing himself into his studies for the first time in his life, into parties, into anything that would take his mind off you. 

But nothing worked. Every time he saw something that reminded him of you, it was like a punch to the gut—a song you liked, a place you used to go together, even the smell of the ocean would bring memories crashing back. He missed you so much it hurt.

And when he saw you, it was even worse. The first time he ran into you after the break, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He was at a party, trying to forget, trying to lose himself in the noise and the crowd, when he saw you across the room. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then your eyes met his, and his heart almost stopped.

You were as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so, but there was something different about you—something guarded, distant. But before he could even think about crossing the room to talk to you, you looked away, your expression closing off, leaving him standing there like an idiot, staring after you. 

He’d told you he’d wait for you and he intended on keeping that promise. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you back, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never been this wrecked over a girl, but you weren’t just any girl. 

Rafe had never been good at groveling, at admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do anything. He’d get on his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He didn’t care about his pride anymore, not when it meant losing you. He was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to prove to you that he was serious, that he loved you more than he ever thought possible.

But every time he saw you, he felt that hope slipping further away. The look in your eyes, the way you avoided him, it all felt like a final nail in the coffin. And yet, he couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop himself from yearning for you, from wanting you back in his life. He was going out of his mind, torn between respecting your wishes and fighting for you with everything he had.

Rafe knew he had to do something different, something that would show you just how much he had changed. The problem was, he didn't know what that was. He needed to find a way to prove to you that he was serious, that he was willing to put in the work to make things right.

So he started small.

He stopped going to parties, and stopped trying to drown out his feelings in distractions. Instead, he focused on becoming the person he thought you deserved—the person he knew he could be if he just tried. He started paying more attention in class, showing up on time, and actually studying. He even started volunteering, something he’d never done before, just to keep his mind occupied with something productive, something that wasn’t about him for once.

But the real change came when he began working on himself. He started seeing a therapist, something he’d always scoffed at before. He had a lot of baggage, a lot of unresolved issues that had driven him to hurt you in the first place, and he knew he needed to work through them if he ever wanted to be good enough for you.

It wasn’t easy. Therapy forced him to confront things he’d buried deep, things he’d avoided dealing with for years. Family trauma and all. But he stuck with it, because he knew it was the only way to get better, to be the kind of man you could trust again.

Slowly, he started to see changes in himself. He was more patient, more understanding, and more aware of how his actions affected others. He didn’t expect you to notice any of it—he was doing it for himself as much as for you—but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d see that he was trying.

And then he had to pick you up that night.

He had never seen you drunk before, you’d always preferred your fruity punch over any other alcoholic drink. He’d always known you as strong, independent, someone who could hold your own. Seeing you like that—broken, hurting—made something in him snap. Was this his fault? Had he done this to you? 

He knew he couldn’t stay that night. As much as it killed him to leave, he understood that this was part of growing too—the part where he learned to respect your boundaries, to give you space even when all he wanted was to hold you and never let go. You’d hate yourself the next day. He was doing you both a favor. 

The next morning, Rafe didn’t text or call. He wanted to give you time, to process everything without the pressure of him hovering. Instead, he threw himself back into his routine, keeping himself busy but always with you at the back of his mind. He wondered if you remembered anything from the night before—how close he’d come to breaking down when you asked him to stay, how it had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from you again.

Days passed, and he didn’t hear from you. It felt like a new kind of torture, but he stayed strong, if this was part of the process then so be it, he needed to be patient. 

He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to make you feel like you owed him anything. But he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.

So when the call came that you were in the hospital, his heart nearly fell through his ass. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—he just went.

The thought of you being hurt, of something happening to you, was enough to make him speed over the legal limit. He needed to see you, to make sure you were okay, even if it was the last thing he did.

When he got there, his heart clenched tightly in his chest as he pushed through the doors of the hospital. He hated hospitals, hated everything about them—the smell, the sterile white walls. But none of that mattered now. All he could think about was you.

The nurse at the front desk directed him to your room, and he practically sprinted down the hallway, his mind racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios. He’d been too fucking anxious to ask if you were okay, as soon as your name and the word hospital registered, he was rushing over. When he finally reached your door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?

But then he heard your pretty voice, soft and familiar. He pushed open the door and there you were, sitting up in the hospital bed with a sprained ankle, looking more frustrated than hurt. He breathed out in relief, so intensely it made his knees weak.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw him standing there. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer, “They called me. I’m still your emergency contact.”

“Oh,” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “I didn’t realize.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hold it together. “It’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious. Did a little too much during practice."

Rafe nodded, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The sight of you in that hospital bed, even for something as minor as a sprained ankle killed him. 

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Really.”

But he couldn’t leave. Not now, not when you were right in front of him, looking so small and vulnerable. He shook his head, his voice coming out rougher than before, “I’m not leaving.”

You blinked up at him, “But you don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, his voice firm. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m staying.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t kick him out.  “Okay.”

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, settling in like he had no intention of going anywhere. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint beeping of the machines and the murmur of voices from the hallway outside. For a moment, neither of you said anything.  It was strange, being this close yet so far away from you. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way yours had softened, the way the lines of worry on your face were starting to smooth out. You looked tired like you’d been lacking sleep. He wished he could help, even if just for a little while.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I used to think I was pretty good at taking care of myself. But then I met you, and I realized I’d never really let anyone take care of me before. Not like you did.”

“Rafe—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently, “I’m still here. I’ll always be here, even if all I can do is sit in a hospital room with you and make sure you’re okay.”

You looked down at your hands, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart squeezing painfully at the admission. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for that night.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning a little closer, careful not to overwhelm you but needing to be nearer all the same.

“I didn’t do anything special,” he murmured, though his mind replayed the events of that night. The helplessness he’d felt seeing you in that state, knowing there was little he could do to make it better. He hadn’t been sure then if you’d even wanted him there, but he’d helped you anyway. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed someone—when you needed him.

“You were there,” a tear slipped down your cheek, and he instinctively reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away. The touch was soft, almost reverent, and it made your breath get stuck in your throat.  “That’s more than enough.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment, savoring the comfort it brought, even though it hurt to let yourself feel it, “Just glad you’re safe.”

“Why did you come?”

“Because I love you,” he admitted, tired of carrying the truth inside him, “I know I screwed up—God, I know that. But I’ve spent every day since trying to be better, trying to be the kind of man you deserve. And I know I have a long way to go, but I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not unless you ask me to.”

“You love me?”

Your voice sounded so meek, so unsure it made him want to punch himself in the face. This was entirely his doing. 

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked nervous, and vulnerable, “Yeah,” he said, “I do. I’m in love with you, I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to say it, or maybe I was too scared to. Didn’t want to make you think I was saying it to save my ass, y’know?”

You’d always wondered what it would be like to hear those words from him, to have him admit that he cared for you in the same way you cared for him. 

“I didn’t want to push you,” he continued, fingers intertwined, “But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t let you think that I didn’t care, that I didn’t want this, want you.”

You blinked, trying to process everything he was saying. This was the Rafe you’d always hoped for—the one who was honest and unafraid to show his emotions. But it was also the Rafe who had hurt you, who had made mistakes that left scars you weren’t sure had fully healed.

“Rafe, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to say it, sweets. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of going back to that place where everything fell apart.”

He had changed—you could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke to you. He wasn’t the same Rafe who had hurt you.

"I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he continued, though there was a hint of desperation in it. "I know I need to earn that. But please, give me a chance to prove it. I don’t want to lose you again."

"You can’t wait for me forever.”

“I’d wait for you a lifetime. I told you,” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing when he spoke, as if he was trying not to cry, “If you ever want me, I’m yours.”

His hands, usually so restless, were still now, resting on his knees as he leaned slightly forward in his chair. You saw the man he was trying to be—the man he wanted to be for you. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was trying. And that had to count for something.

“Even if I made you wait until we’re eighty and grey?”

Rafe let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained but genuine, “Even then,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’re it for me.”

It scared you how much you wanted to believe him, how much you wanted to pull him into your arms and tell him that he was it for you too. He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, waiting for you to close the distance. You hesitated for only a moment before your fingers intertwined with his.  It felt right, like coming home after being lost for so long.

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking, feeling. He looked like he was holding his breath.

“I love you too.”

It was still scary, still uncertain, but you realized that nothing worth having ever came easy. And Rafe, with all his flaws and all his efforts to be better, was worth it.

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief, “I don’t deserve you,” he said whispered, lips pressed against your fingers, “But I’m going to spend every day trying to. I swear, I’ll never stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he could physically hold you together through sheer will alone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he started, his voice panicked, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his. “I just… it’s been a long time since I let myself feel this way.”

He nodded, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles. “You don’t have to hold back with me. Not anymore. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, running down your cheeks. Rafe was there instantly, his other hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, “For everything I put you through.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, giving you the strength to keep going. “I was so miserable Rafe,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Scared that if I let you back in, I’d get hurt again. Scared that I’d lose you all over again.”

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “And I promise you, I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you down.”

“I want to try.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t  believe what he was hearing. “You do?”

You nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “I do. But we need to take it slow, okay? I need time.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, his eyes bright with hope. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I don’t fucking care sweets, I’m not leaving.”

You weren’t just giving him another chance—you were giving yourself one too. A chance to heal, to forgive, and to find your way back to each other.

Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise between you. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “It’s you and me, okay?”

“You and me.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. It was a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time, and seeing it made you want to bawl all over again. His hand cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your jaw as his eyes locked onto yours, silently asking for permission, for forgiveness, for a chance to be close to you again. And when his lips finally brushed against yours, whatever pain you were feeling on your ankle disappeared. 

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, afraid to push too far too soon. But the moment your lips pressed back against his, that tentative touch deepened. Rafe’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a second. You could feel the desperation in the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath hitched when you parted your lips to let him in.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in him, the door to your room swung open with a creak. You both froze, lips still touching, as someone cleared their throat.

You pulled away from each other reluctantly, your cheeks flushed, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Your eyes met Rafe’s and you saw the same blush of color on his face, the same love-sick expression that you were sure mirrored your own.

The doctor stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I see you’re feeling better.”

Rafe cleared his throat, stepping back slightly, his hand still lingering on your arm as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. “Uh, yeah, she’s doing great,” he mumbled.

“You must be the boyfriend.”

You couldn’t help the grin that took over, “Yeah. He is.”

[papercorgiworld]

I don't need space, I need you

Mattheo and Theodore fluff

Based on this request, please don't hate me for taking 29 days to post this rather average piece, but I had a lot of requests and not a lot of time. I hope you like it!

Finally I had time to write today! Big yey for me, people. I needed it and I'm so happy I wrote something today. 💛 Sending you lots of love and of course: happy readings!

A/N: I got some stuff going on in life so if I don't respond, I'm sorry. Just know that I love you. 💛

There was a request for a Draco and Enzo version: you can read it here

Mattheo

“Where’s my princess?” Mattheo sings as he enters the common room in search of you. “Not here, I would check the library.” Blaise states not looking up from his book. Mattheo nods and is about to turn around to head straight for the library, but Draco’s snickering stops him from doing so. “I bet you’re pleased to have a moment of peace.” Mattheo focuses on Draco, not completely getting where the blond's going with this. “I honestly pity you, man, must be so suffocating.” Suddenly all eyes are on Mattheo and not just his friends, the entire slytherin common room is curious to hear what the big bad boy has to say. Mattheo moves a nervous hand through his curls and chuckles. “Yeah, she’s a bit much with her hugs and cuddles, and urgh those constant questions to check on me. I’m lucky she studies so much, so I have a break from time to time.” Mattheo sits down opposite of Draco who grins and nods, fully believing that Mattheo feels saved by your absence. However, Mattheo felt miserable sitting there, knowing that he could be spending time with you.

Just like Mattheo was searching the castle for you, you had been searching for him and ended up checking the common room. With watery eyes you turn around, unnoticed by anyone, and leave the common room. He thinks I’m too much?

***

“Who is it?!” Mattheo yells as he pushes you against the wall of an empty hallway. He rarely raised his voice with you, but now his face was close to yours, his eyes dark and piercing yours. He looks more pained than angry, but you just look confused. To him it was obvious, you had fallen out of love with him and probably found someone else. There was plenty of proof:

A quick kiss on the lips and a wish of good luck before Tuesday's test was all Mattheo got, instead of the tight hug and intense kiss you would normally give him before a test. 

When you got your results back on Wednesday you jumped into Luna’s arms and just gave him a happy smile, while he was standing right there next to Luna. His heart ached to hold you and press you against his chest. Worse was when you asked Enzo about his test first and ended up discussing all the answers, barely giving your boyfriend any attention.

Thursday you went to sit next to Pansy in the common room, instead of settling in your boyfriend’s lap. Mattheo was forced to watch you the whole evening without touching you once. When you left for bed, you told him not to walk you to your room and reminded him to spend some much needed time with his friends. The sweet kiss you gave him, didn’t make up for any of it. 

Were you trying to get rid of him? To Mattheo the case was obvious.

Friday was the worst. Happy to finally have you next to him as you were both reading, settled close by the fire. With his eyes still on the page of his own book his arm moved behind you to pull you closer and you let your head rest on his shoulder as you continued to read, but still Mattheo frowned. Normally you would sling your legs over his and cuddle up against his chest, wrapping your blanket around the both of you and creating this warm bubble of love. He could barely focus on his book, as his eyes constantly wandered to you reading next to him but not cuddled up against him like you used to.

So by Saturday Mattheo had pretty much had it with you. You rubbed your temple as squeezed your eyes. “I have a headache, I’m gonna head to my room and rest for a bit.” You got up from your seat to leave the library and Mattheo did the same. If you weren’t feeling well then he needed to be by your side. “Oh, don’t Matt. I’ll be fine. I’ll ask Pansy to give me something against the pain and settle next to me until I fall asleep.” Mattheo stood perplexed as you just kissed him and left. Now he wasn’t even good enough to take care of you anymore.

This was the moment he snapped. With stern strides he follows you.

“Who is it?!” You frowned at the question and met Mattheo’s dark eyes. “Obviously, you’re done with me. So who’s better than me, huh?” His voice was filled with anger, but his question sounded so heartbreaking, that you felt no need to get angry with him for pushing you against the wall and snapping at you. You cup his cheeks and softly shake your head. “Matt, I love you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your voice is calm and endearing, reminding him of how much he needed your love. You were always so gentle with him and feeling you slip away the past week hurt so much that he felt like falling apart on the spot. He's too hurt and afraid to lose you to act tough and with a whisper he confesses his worries. “You don’t check up on me anymore. You don’t wish me luck before a test like you used to. We don’t cuddle anymore.” You stare at him in silence for a moment, you had never seen Mattheo this soft and vulnerable before. 

Your hands still resting on his cheeks move to his neck as you wrap your arms around him and pull him against you. Mattheo snuggles his face in your neck, embarrassed with himself and desperate for your warmth. You rest your head against his and your fingers move through his curls, making him sigh at your touch. “You told Draco I was a bit too much. So I backed off, because I didn’t want to lose you. I know I can get clingy sometimes, I’m sorry.” Mattheo moves away to look at you and his eyes look guilty. “No, no. Don’t apologise. Don’t be sorry. I love you clingy and cuddly. I need you to be around me.” Your eyebrows knit together. “But I heard you say-” Mattheo interrupts you and shakes his head. “I was being stupid. Don’t listen to the things I say. Just stay with me and love me… overwhelm me with everything you have.” You tilt your head in confusion. “No, I mean listen to me, just forget about what I said back then. I- I was trying to act tough so I pretended to- you know.” You chuckle. “You pretended not to like cuddles, because you wanted to be a tough guy?” Embarrassed with himself Mattheo nods. “I’m a softy for you and I need my daily dose of love. I don’t need space.” 

You sigh at Mattheo’s pouty face. “My boyfriend’s an idiot.” Mattheo nods and leans in for a kiss. “Please, let me take you to your room and let me take care of you, because I want nothing more than to be around you.” You pull him in for another intense kiss as an answer and as you walk to your dorm, he squeezes your hand the whole time walking.

Theodore

“Where’s my lady?” Theodore frowns as he sits down opposite of Blaise, who raises his shoulders without looking up from his book. Theo shakes his head in annoyance, he needed you like he needed cigarettes. He spent the whole day longing for your love and warm embraces. Merlin, all he wanted right now was for you to entangle your fingers with his hair and ask him about his day. “For once the two of you aren’t attached to the hip.” Mattheo quips and Draco snickers. “Must be refreshing to have a moment to yourself.” Theodore stays silent for a moment and a little further, near the common room entrance you halt in your step. “She’s so mothering, it’s almost toxic. I don’t know how you do it, mate.” Draco wiggles his eyebrows at Theo as Mattheo talks. “You know, if you ever need us to come save you, we could always come up with a code word.” Draco offers and Theodore chuckles, not knowing what to say. “It’s not toxic, but I’m happy to have a moment with you guys, because she can be a bit much. She’s always so… clingy.” You chew your lip and slowly take a step back, leaving the common room as the word ‘clingy’ rings in your head. 

***

You didn’t want to lose your boyfriend due to being too clingy. So you decided to keep your distance. 

Instead of spending your evening studying cuddled up with your boyfriend you ask Hermione to help you out with potions who of course never passes the opportunity to study. Keeping up his tough act in front of his friends, Theodore can’t protest as you leave the common room to go study with your friend instead of with him. Theo feels himself get cold as he sits by the fireplace with his friends. If you’re not there to keep him warm the room just feels empty and even the conversations are boring. He can’t help but curse himself for letting you go study with Hermione. Having to make peace with an evening without you, Theodore longs for the next day and having you next to him during breakfast while you talk about your plans for the day. 

The next morning, at breakfast Theo only gets a small kiss from you before you turn to Pansy gossiping about some third years. Theodore can’t resist but snake an arm around you and you love his touch, but you try not to be too clingy and decide to not fully lean against him. Your boyfriend is happy to have you next to him, but disappointed that you stay engaged with Pansy’s gossip instead of giving him some much needed attention. Why were you not combing his hair with your fingers until it looked the way you preferred it? Why were you not checking if he had done all his homework? What was so bloody interesting about Pansy’s conversation?!! He was getting so annoyed that he was caught by surprise when you kissed him tenderly and headed for class. His mind and body were screaming to have you back by his side and walk you to class, but he just turned to his breakfast and spent the morning sulking.

Finally, after two days, he had you close to him, settled on his bed with a book in your hand. You were all alone in his room and you both enjoyed the peace and quiet. You lay between his legs with his arms around you, while his head rested on yours, reading some of the paragraphs of your book but mostly taking in your warmth and scent. He gives you a soft kiss on your cheek and you smile and lean against his chest. “I love you.” You whisper and his eyes shine even brighter than he smiles. “Love you too.” However, your romantic moment is ruined when Blaise and Mattheo enter. “Astronomy tower?” Mattheo raises his eyebrows at Theo who is about to decline the invitation, but you speak up first. “I was just about to meet up with Luna.” You jump up and Theodore's eyes go furious at the suggestion of you leaving. “No you’re not.” Theo snaps at you, shaking everyone in the room. “Why are you so eager to get away from me?” Theo questions and Blaise and Mattheo’s eyes move from their friend to you. You take a step back at your boyfriend's accusation. “I’m not. I’m just giving you space so you can hang out with your friends.” Theo shoots Blaise and Mattheo a dark glare. “Out! Both of you!” 

As soon as the duo closes the door behind them and you and Theodore are left alone in the room Theodore gets up and towers over you. “I don’t want space, I want you. So tell me what’s going on, because I can’t stand it anymore.” His voice is stern, but you feel yourself relax as you no longer have to act differently and you can finally be honest with him. “You think I’m clingy and sometimes I’m too much… and I get that and I don’t want to lose you… so I did my best to give you some space in the hopes of saving our relationship.” Theodore’s heart aches at the soft tone of your voice. How could he make you feel like you were too much when you were all he wanted. “I’m such a shit boyfriend.” Theo sighs as he sits back down on his bed, making you frown and join him. “No, I was too much.” Theo’s head snaps to you. “You are not. I didn’t want those idiots to think I was whipped or soft or- so I said you were clingy, but you're not, if anything I am… I want you around 24/7.” Your eyes widen at his confession. “Soooo, you’re saying that ‘the’ Theodore Nott is so in love with me that he prefers cuddling over hanging with his friends.” Your boyfriend chuckles. “Yeah, so please just go back to reading in my arms and make me the happiest man alive.” You lean towards him and he meets your lips. The sweet kiss quickly turns passionate as you both fall back on the bed.

For the ones who asked to be tagged, here you go lovies: @ho3forfakeguys and @bitchoftoji