#but there is no doubt in my mind that no time in the world is going to help me come around to that conclusion.
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Breeding Fever
Summary: Logan's primal instincts kick in as he reveals his desire to breed you, mixing human and mutant blood in a heated sex.
Pairing : Logan Howlett x Fem!Human-Reader
Note : smut, breeding-kink, rough sex
The night air was thick with tension, an electric hum that thrummed between you and Logan. In the dim light of the cabin, shadows danced along the walls, and the smell of woodsmoke mingled with something much more primal.
Logan leaned against the rough-hewn table, muscles coiling under his flannel shirt, a dark gleam in his eyes that spoke of hunger—not just for the food cooking on the stove but for something deeper, something raw and untamed.
“Damn, you look good tonight,” he rumbled, his voice low, the gravelly tone sending shivers down your spine. You caught the flicker of his gaze, lingering just a beat longer on your curves before he snapped back to your eyes. “Like you were made for me, just the way I like it.”
The heat rose in your cheeks, and you shifted, the air crackling between you. “Is that so? What exactly do you like?” you asked, your voice teasing, playful, but your heart raced with anticipation.
He pushed off the table, closing the space between you in an instant, his breath warm against your skin. “Oh, you know. A little bit of fire, a little bit of chaos.” His eyes darkened, and you felt the weight of his gaze. “I want to see just how much fire you’ve got in you.”
His words ignited something deep within, a primal yearning that bubbled to the surface. “What do you want from me?” you breathed, feeling the heat radiate off him.
With a wicked grin, Logan leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I want to breed you. Mix this human blood with my mutant blood.” Each word dripped with desire, the command in his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I want to see you carry my kids, all five of them, hot and heavy with my blood in you.”
Your breath hitched, the thought spinning in your mind. It wasn’t just a fantasy; it was a raw, animalistic truth.
“Five? You think I can handle that?” you teased, trying to mask the sudden rush of excitement coursing through your veins.
“Hell yeah, I know you can.” He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you, the intensity palpable. “You’re strong. I need a mate who can keep up with me. You’re perfect for this.”
With that, Logan pressed closer, his hands finding your waist, fingers digging into your flesh possessively. “Let me show you,” he growled, and before you knew it, he had you pinned against the wall.
The cabin felt smaller, the air thicker as he lowered his mouth to your neck, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Just imagine it,” he murmured, lips trailing fire along your collarbone. “Little ones running around, all wild like me, with your spirit. God, that thought gets me hard.”
You gasped, the heat pooling in your core as he continued his assault on your senses, his hands roaming freely over your body. “What if I want it now?” you asked, the challenge rolling off your tongue.
“Then let’s not waste any more time,” Logan growled, lifting you effortlessly and tossing you onto the table, the surface rough beneath you. “I’m gonna make you scream my name, babe. Let’s see just how loud you can get.”
Your heart raced, and you couldn’t help but grin, feeling utterly alive under his fierce gaze. “You think you can handle me?”
“Handle you? I’m gonna own you.” He didn’t waste a second before diving in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left no room for doubt. It was rough, hungry, and as his tongue slid against yours, you felt the world slip away, leaving only the two of you.
As he pulled back, panting, Logan’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “I want to feel you wrapped around me, every damn inch of you.”
With that, he was on you again, hands gripping your thighs as he spread your legs apart, his mouth trailing down your vagina. The heat of his breath made you squirm, anticipation building as he took his time exploring every inch of your clit.
“You taste like heaven,” he growled, eyes dark and wild. “I could get lost between your legs, babe. But tonight? I’ve got plans for you.”
The thrill of his words sent a shiver through you, and you arched your back, craving more. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,” he said, voice thick with desire. “And when I’m done, you’ll be begging for more.”
With that, he slid inside you in one powerful thrust, stretching you wide. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming as he filled you completely. “God, Logan,” you moaned, the pleasure overwhelming as he began to move, powerful and commanding.
“Yeah, that’s it. Let me hear you, babe. Let me know how good I feel.” Each thrust was deep, hitting places inside you that made your vision blur, your nails digging into his back as you pulled him closer.
“Just like that,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your entire being. “You’re mine, remember that. Mine to breed. Mine to fill with my kids.”
The thought sent a rush of heat coursing through you, and you felt your body tighten around him, drawing him in deeper. “Logan, I—”
“Shh, don’t think too much. Just feel.” He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, the table creaking under the pressure. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure racing through you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.
“More, I need more,” you begged, craving the release that felt so close yet so far.
“Then scream for me, babe. Let everyone know who you belong to.”
With a growl, he drove deeper, his hands gripping your hips to keep you in place, the world around you fading into nothing but pure, unadulterated pleasure. As he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, you felt the tension snap, a wave of bliss crashing over you.
“Logan!” you cried, the name spilling from your lips as you surrendered to the overwhelming ecstasy.
“Yeah, that’s it, babe. Let it all go. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”
As your body shook with the intensity of your release, Logan followed soon after, filling you with his hot cum completely, claiming you in a way that sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.
Breathless and spent, you collapsed against the table, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “So, how many do you think we can handle?”
Logan’s grin was wicked, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, I’m thinking five, at least. But we can always go for more.”
With a chuckle, you settled into his embrace, heart racing at the thought of what was to come. “Just keep the fire burning.”
“Trust me, babe. This is just the beginning.”
#james howlett#logan howlett#hugh jackman#james logan howlett#james logan howlett x reader#logan wolverine#wolverine#hugh jackman wolverine#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x female reader#x men wolverine#the wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine headcanons#wolverine imagine#wolverine human reader#wolverine x fe!reader#wolverine smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine x reader smut#wolverine x you#wolverine fanart#logan x reader#logan#logan 2017#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett headcanon#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut
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the moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room as caleb slept beside you, his arm draped over your waist. his steady breathing was the only sound, a rhythmic comfort that made you feel safe. but deep within the recesses of his mind, caleb was far from peaceful. the nightmare came in flashes, images of you in danger, of him failing to protect you. it started with a distant voice, one he didn’t recognize, calling out your name—sharp and desperate.
“no!” he gasped, jolting awake, his heart pounding in his chest.
his eyes darted around the room, wide and frantic, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he thought he saw shadows creeping along the walls. his body was tense, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he tried to ground himself in reality. the room was still, silent, save for the soft sound of your breathing beside him.
he turned to you, his face pale, eyes wide with fear. you stirred in your sleep, unaware of the storm raging inside him. but the panic didn’t fade, it only grew. the images were still vivid in his mind—your body crumpling to the ground, his hands reaching out but failing to catch you, unable to protect you from whatever danger had come for you. the thought of losing you, of not being able to keep you safe, twisted something deep within him.
without thinking, he shot up from the bed, his breath shallow as he stood by the side of the bed, looking over you like a soldier on guard. he scanned the room, the familiar comfort of it now suddenly foreign and threatening. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, his protective instincts kicking in like a switch. you were safe now, but what if something happened? what if it happened again?
you shifted in your sleep, and caleb froze, heart racing as you murmured his name. he rushed back to the bed, kneeling beside it, his hand hovering over you like he was afraid to touch you too roughly. “hey,” he whispered, his voice thick with anxiety. “baby, wake up.”
you groggily opened your eyes, disoriented, the soft warmth of sleep still clouding your mind. “caleb?” your voice was hoarse, but your confusion only added to his growing unease.
“i couldn’t protect you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice breaking as the nightmare’s grip tightened. “i couldn’t keep you safe…”
your brow furrowed, still caught between the real world and the dream world. “caleb, what are you talking about?” you reached out, touching his arm gently. “what’s going on?”
he was trembling now, and his hand, which had been hovering over you just moments ago, now gripped the edge of the bed as if holding on for dear life. his eyes were wide, filled with terror, and you could see the raw vulnerability behind them, the same vulnerability that he only allowed himself to show in your presence.
“you were—” he stopped, taking a shaky breath, trying to calm himself but finding it impossible. “you were in danger. i couldn’t get to you in time. i… i failed.” his voice cracked, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to erase the haunting images from his mind. “i couldn’t protect you.”
you sat up slowly, now fully awake, your heart aching at the sight of the usually calm and composed caleb so unravelled. you placed both hands on his cheeks, gently guiding him to look at you. “caleb,” you said softly, your voice steady, “you haven’t failed me. you’re here. you’re always here, and i’m safe with you.”
but he shook his head, the self-doubt crawling into his thoughts. “what if something happens when i’m not around? what if i can’t protect you when you need me the most?” his grip on your hand tightened. “i can’t lose you. i can’t…”
you could feel his fear, his overwhelming need to keep you safe, and you cupped his face, grounding him with your touch. “caleb, listen to me,” you said, the conviction in your voice helping to pull him back from the edge of his panic. “you are my protector, but you can’t control everything. you can’t be everywhere at once. i know you’d do anything to keep me safe, but i need you to know that i’m not going anywhere. i trust you, and i trust us. okay?”
his breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. but all he found was love and reassurance. he swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “i can’t lose you,” he repeated, his voice a mere whisper.
“you won’t,” you promised, leaning in to kiss him gently, your lips soft against his. “you’re not going to lose me. i’m right here.”
caleb finally relaxed, his breathing slowing as he pulled you into his arms. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “i just… i can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”
“i know, caleb,” you whispered back, your head resting against his chest. “i know.”
and there, wrapped in each other’s arms, caleb finally allowed himself to believe that you were safe, even if only for the moment. the fear was still there, lingering in the back of his mind, but with you beside him, he would fight to keep you safe for as long as he could.
#protective caleb is going to be the death of me#love and deepspace caleb x reader#l&ds caleb#caleb fluff#caleb x you#caleb x reader#caleb#lads caleb#caleb x mc#lnds caleb#love and deepspace caleb#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace#lads x reader#l&ds fluff#l&ds x reader#fluff#love and deepspace fluff#lads fluff
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I'M SORRY, JULIET | Mick Schumacher
Mick Schumacher x Secret Girlfriend Vettel!Reader
SUMMARY: You're secretly dating Mick, both of you hiding it from everyone in your families until you get so happy about him getting his first points in Formula 1 that your father, Sebastian, ends up finding out
WORD COUNT: 2404
WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of teen pregnancy (age 17 from Seb and Hanna), angst. Settled on 2022 British GP
VEE'S NOTES: I missed so much posting about Mick so I had to bring him back... even that means Seb is the "bad guy" here. Hope you like it and thanks for reading! I'll be waiting for your opinions <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST
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© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!
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You hadn’t attended a Formula 1 race for longer than you could remember, and truthfully, you never thought you would again until Mick Schumacher started turning your world pink.
The boy had known you since you were a child, back when you would occasionally attend races hand in hand with your grandfather, Norbert. Your relationship deepened every time you saw each other in the paddock or at family gatherings, and despite the age difference between you, you grew closer and closer until you eventually fell in love with each other.
Even before your relationship began, you were both fully aware of the obstacles in your way. It wasn’t just the fact that Mick was six years older than you, but also that you were the children of two drivers who weren’t just former rivals and friends, but also were like family.
All of that, combined with the inevitable pressure from the press if they ever found out about your relationship, mattered little to Mick. One afternoon in mid-June, when the Schumachers and the Vettels had gathered together, he had decided to confess his feelings for you. At first, you were completely in shock, hearing from the lips of the very boy you had loved for years that he loved you too.
So, of course, when Mick asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend, you didn’t doubt to say yes.
Neither of you cared what others might say because, for now, no one knew about your relationship.
And there you were now, standing in the Aston Martin garage alongside your mother and your three younger siblings, watching the race with great enthusiasm as Sebastian drove the emerald-green car.
To the outside world, it might have seemed like you were simply there for one of the most important days in your father’s career since it was his 35th birthday. But in reality more than watching your father, you wanted to see your boyfriend.
Hanna noticed the tense expression on your face. Smiling warmly and without taking her eyes off Emily and Matilda, who were playing tag nearby, she stepped closer to you.
“Are you okay, Y/N? You seem like you’re in another galaxy.”
Your body tensed at the question, something that happened every time someone in your inner circle mentioned directly or indirectly your secret boyfriend. You tried to hide what was on your mind, but the combination of your mother’s presence and your nerves made you say more than you actually wanted.
“I’m nervous because I want dad to finish in the points,” you said with as much conviction as possible, though it wasn’t enough to convince Sebastian’s wife. “And well… I’m also worried about Mick.”
Hanna raised an eyebrow, curious, but not pressing. She had once been seventeen too. More than that, she had gotten pregnant with you at that age, and she knew that your concern for Mick went beyond simple friendship. Mothers developed a sixth sense when it came to their children, and she knew you too well to be fooled.
“Mick? Why would you be worried about Mick?” she asked, making sure not to pry too much or reveal how much she already knew.
“Well… he’s having a really good race today,” you replied, lowering your gaze to the floor. “I’d like him to get a high position,” you explained, “even though with the piece of crap car he has we can’t expect much.”
Hanna nodded understandingly, reading between the lines of your words.
“I get it, sweetheart. I was the same way with your dad when he started racing,” she said, deliberately choosing her words to make you overthink. “Mick has a lot of talent, but he’s not in a team that helps him shine, so I understand why you care so much.”
“If you ever need to talk about Mick you know you can trust me, right?” Hanna added,
You appreciated your mother’s words, though you remained cautious just in case she was digging for something that might expose your relationship. How naive you were to think she didn’t already know you were dating one of Sebastian’s best friends’ sons.
When the checkered flag waved and the twenty cars crossed the finish line, your eyes remained glued to the leaderboard. Not only had Carlos, one of your best friends, taken his first victory, but both Mick and Sebastian had finished in the points, placing eighth and ninth respectively.
Your father earning two points on his birthday was amazing. Your boyfriend earning three? Even better, especially since it was his first time scoring points in Formula 1. Saying you were emotional was an understatement, and no matter how much you tried to hold it in, a few tears escaped down your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly to avoid drawing attention.
Hanna, still by your side as she fed the youngest member of the family, noticed you approaching with a hesitant expression, as if you wanted to ask something but were afraid to.
“Can I go to Mick’s garage to congratulate him?” you asked cautiously. “It’s his first time scoring, and I’d like to say something to him in person before we leave for Switzerland.”
“I know you’re excited for him,” your mother said while burping the baby, “but I think it’s better if you stay here. It’s your dad’s birthday, and honestly? I doubt Haas would even let you see Mick.”
You nodded, though sadness crept in. You looked at the monitors, seeing the top three drivers already celebrating on the podium. Even from your location, you could hear the Spanish national anthem playing over the speakers.
“Mum,” you tried again, “come on, let me go congratulate Mick. I’ll be back quickly, and I’ll be here by the time dad gets back!”
Your exaggerated gestures and the way you waved your arms were too adorable, and Hanna couldn’t help but see herself in you. She remembered how she had felt when she started dating Sebastian, wanting nothing more than to see him every chance she had. As much as she tried to be the responsible mother, sometimes she just couldn’t help it. This was one of those moments, one where she gave in to the charms of her eldest, the spitting image of her father.
“Make sure you come back as soon as possible,” she relented with a small smile. “I don’t want your father calling me a bad mother for letting his baby do grown-up things.”
“Thank you, mum!”
With that being said, you sprinted off, weaving through mechanics, fans, and celebrities scattered around the paddock. You checked your phone to see if Mick had texted you, but there was nothing. That only made you hurry toward the Haas garage. Seeing it empty, you quickly turned around and headed toward the hospitality area, which was further away. While dodging anyone in your way, you sent Mick a message telling him you were on your way and that you had to be quick before your father returned.
When you arrived, the first thing you saw was Mick soaked in champagne, holding a bottle in his hand. The Haas team members, including Guenther, were celebrating. You felt out of place and your insecurity crept in, making you want to turn around and leave. But then Mick saw you, and the moment your eyes met, you knew you had made the right choice.
Mick immediately broke away from the group and rushed to your side, hugging you tightly. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you, even if just a quick peck, but his rational side reminded him that now was not the place.
“Congratulations, Mick!” you exclaimed, your excitement taking over you. “Oh my God, oh my God! I’m so proud of you!” you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck.
“I finally get to see you, princess. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to,” he murmured playfully. “Although, I’d love to do a few other things with you.”
Your face turned bright red, something you had grown used to ever since you started dating Mick and were used to hear his endless compliments.
“How was the race?” he asked. “Did you like it, even though I probably looked like an idiot who doesn’t know how to drive?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mick!” you scolded, lightly hitting his arm. “You scored points for the first time. If that’s being an idiot, then I don’t know what that makes me.”
“That makes you the love of my life.”
Mick pulled you even closer, and just as he was about to kiss you, completely ignoring the risks, a voice interrupted.
Or rather, someone did.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Mick Schumacher?!”
As soon as you heard your father’s shouts, you and Mick pulled apart. You stood frozen, your face turning completely pale as Mick began cursing himself. How was he supposed to explain to the man who was like a father to him in many ways that he was dating you, his daughter?
You didn’t stay silent. You, who had a temper as strong as the man who had given her life, stepped between Mick and your father, trying to ease the tension that had formed over a simple show of affection.
“Dad, stop! It’s not what it looks like!” you exclaimed, nervous but determined.
“What do you mean it’s not what it looks like?” Sebastian scoffed, unwilling to believe your words. “Come on, Y/N, you were about to kiss him!”
“Yes, because Mick is my boyfriend,” you stated without hesitation. “We’ve been secretly dating since last month because we didn’t want to say anything just yet,” you explained without caring about the consequences. “So don’t act like this and use your fucking head and be reasonable for once.”
The Aston Martin driver was stunned, unsure how to react to the news that his daughter had a boyfriend, and that it was none other than the son of the man he considered his best friend, who had once been his mentor.
Mick watched as Sebastian looked at you in disbelief before shifting his gaze back to you, focusing all his attention on you.
“Y/N, this is insane… Mick,” he gestured toward him, “isn’t just any driver, he’s the son of—”
“I already know, Dad!” you interrupted, your tone sharp. “And? Does it matter? I don’t care who his father is, or who mine is, or the relationship between you two,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “We love each other, we take care of each other, and that’s the only thing that should matter to you.”
Mick alternated his gaze between father and daughter, finally mustering the courage to say something. But, before he could even open his mouth, Sebastian raised his right hand, silencing him immediately:
“Stop trying to fix this. You’ve fucked up, Mick,” he muttered as he stepped closer, his voice low enough that not even you could hear it. “My daughter is too young, and you know you could get into serious trouble if this gets out,” he added before stepping away and moving back toward you. “ I just sort of saved you from shit talks about you, so consider yourself lucky.”
“You can’t blame Mick for this, Dad,” you interjected defiantly. “We’re adults, and we can make our own decisions, so just leave us alone already.”
“You are not an adult, Y/N Vettel, you’re still a kid,” Sebastian snapped, his voice filled with unfiltered anger. “Stop acting like you are, because all you are is a reckless little girl.”
“Let me remind you that when you were 17 you fucked mum and you got her pregnant.”
You threw it out without thinking, and immediately, you regretted it, placing your hands over your mouth as if that could fix what you had just said. You knew you had been the most beautiful mistake your parents had, but you didn’t think about the impact it could have in their lives, especially in your father’s.
"I'm sorry, Juliet," the older driver began, trying not to let his anger and, especially, the pain he felt from your comment show. "But it's time to leave."
"Dad..."
"Not 'dad' or anything, Y/N," Sebastian said, raising his voice and making it sound harsher than he had intended at first. "Do you think it’s funny for me to see my daughter rubbing herself up against the one I consider my son?"
Mick paled as he heard his mentor’s words, feeling completely awful because he knew Sebastian was right. You threw him a look, but didn’t have the strength to answer. You were so in shock that you didn’t know how you hadn’t just left yet.
"And you, Mick," he said now, shooting a penetrating look at the young man, "I thought you could show a little more respect for our family and everything we’ve built together all these years."
Having said that, Sebastian took you by your shoulders carefully and started walking back to where the rest of your family was, not giving you or Mick a chance to say goodbye.
"We don't choose who we fall in love with, Sebastian," Schumacher blurted out, still frozen in place.
Your father and you turned around. The look of disappointment on Seb’s face made Mick feel a thousand times worse than he ever thought he could, but it was the sight of your tears falling rapidly that made him start crying.
"I expected you, more than anyone, to agree with this," he continued, pointing at you and himself, "because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that your daughter deserves someone good who can make her life the best it can be. If I can’t be that person because you won’t let us..." he pointed at himself, "...then I’ll be okay with it being someone else."
Vettel swallowed hard, not knowing what to say to the German’s words.
"I just want Y/N to be happy," the boy said again, "and if I have to let her go for now until you can accept and see that I’m really in love with your daughter, and that she’s the love of my life, I’ll be willing to do so."
With that, the young man turned around, trying not to look back, hoping to hear some words from those he had considered his family for so many years.
But, unfortunately for him, you and your father didn’t.
#f1#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#mick schumacher#mick schumacher x reader#formula 1 angst#f1 angst#mick schumacher fanfiction#mick schumacher fanfic#mick schumacher imagine#mick schumacher x yn#x reader#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#f1 rpf#formula 1 rpf#mick schumacher angst#sebastian vettel angst#angst
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Hey I hope you've having an amazing day/evening/night. This is my first time requesting something😅, and I was wondering if you could possibility write something like what you did with my type but the reader having natural auburn curly hair, with freckles thinking that she's not his type or something along those lines.
Gold in Snow
Summary: you and lando are in a relationship but you're reserving hate comments about you being a ginger, with freckles because the fans don't think you're his type
Song: Golden Hour · JVKE
Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶
Word count: 5.8k
MASTERLIST - F1
The roar of the crowd was deafening. Another podium finish for Lando, another shower of champagne soaking his expensive suit. You watched from the relative calm of the garage, a small smile playing on your lips.
He looked genuinely happy, and that, more than anything, made the constant noise and pressure of Formula 1 palatable.
You’d been dating Lando Norris for almost a year now. A year of stolen moments, whispered secrets in hotel rooms, and navigating the chaotic whirlwind that was his life. A year of pure bliss…mostly.
The “mostly” came in the form of comment sections. Forums. Twitter threads dedicated to dissecting every pixel of your existence and comparing it to the accepted prototype of a WAG – Wives and Girlfriends – in the F1 world.
You were… different.
They’d say it with a thinly veiled, almost clinical detachment, but the message was always the same: you didn’t fit. You were too… ginger. Too freckled. Too… you.
The ginger part bothered them the most. Lando was a global superstar, practically sculpted from marble, with a smile that could melt glaciers. He was everything they wanted him to be: conventionally attractive, charming, and effortlessly cool.
And you? You were… well, very, very pale. Your hair was a fiery halo, and your skin was dotted with a constellation of freckles that bloomed fiercer in the summer sun.
“He likes the exotic look,” one comment had sniped. “She’s probably got a killer tan when she’s not hiding in the shade.”
You’d chuckled then, a hollow sound that didn’t quite reach your heart. Exotic? You’d spent your life battling sunburns and jokes about having no soul.
And killer tan? Honey, you burned so fast, lifeguards would start applying sunscreen just by looking at you.
You tried to ignore it. Lando certainly seemed to. He showered you with affection, praised your quick wit and sharp mind, and constantly reminded you how beautiful he found you, flaws and all.
But the insidious comments burrowed under your skin, planting seeds of doubt that you desperately tried to weed out.
You saw him heading towards the garage now, adrenaline still buzzing through him. His eyes found yours, and that signature Lando grin spread across his face. Your heart did that familiar little flip.
“Hey!” he said, pulling you into a hug. He smelled of champagne and victory. “Did you see that last overtake? Unbelievable!”
You laughed, burying your face in his still-damp fire suit. “Yes, I saw it. You were amazing, as always. Just try not to spray me next time, okay?”
He pulled back, his brow furrowed. “You okay? You seem… quiet.”
You forced a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long weekend.”
He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. “Well, we’re flying back tomorrow morning. We can just chill in the hotel tonight. Order some room service, maybe watch a movie?”
“Sounds perfect,” you said, meaning it. Just the two of you, away from the cameras and the judgment.
That night, as you lay in his arms in the dimly lit hotel room, the familiar ache in your chest returned. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow… undeserving.
“Lando?” you whispered, the sound barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning.
“Hmm?” He nuzzled into your hair.
“Do you… do you ever read the comments? About us?”
He stiffened slightly. “I try not to. You know how toxic that can be.”
“But you do read them, right? Sometimes?”
He sighed, a heavy sound that vibrated against your chest. “Okay, yeah, sometimes. But I don’t pay any attention to them. They’re just… noise.”
“Noise that says I’m not good enough for you.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.
He pulled back, his eyes searching yours in the dimness. “What? That’s ridiculous. Who says that?”
“Everyone. Online, anyway. They don’t think I’m your type. They think I’m… too ginger. Too freckled. Too… plain.”
He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. “Hey. Look at me. You are absolutely stunning. Inside and out. You are intelligent, funny, kind, and you have the most beautiful smile in the world. And yes,” he added with a mischievous grin, “I also happen to think your hair is gorgeous, and your freckles are like little constellations scattered across your skin. They’re unique, just like you.”
You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “But they say…”
“They say a lot of things. People are always going to have opinions. But their opinions don’t matter. Only mine does. And I think you are perfect.”
He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that chased away the doubts, at least for a moment.
But even as you melted into him, a small, insidious voice whispered in the back of your mind: He’s just saying that. He has to say that.
The knot in your stomach tightened with each passing day, each new photo plastered across social media. You and Lando, laughing at a restaurant, holding hands at the airport, just being normal.
What shouldn't have been a cause for concern, was. It should have been a happy bubble of romance, but it was quickly becoming a breeding ground for anxiety, a place where your insecurities festered and grew.
Because under each picture, nestled amongst the supportive comments and heart emojis, they lurked. The whispers, the not-so-subtle digs.
"He could do so much better." "She's not even his type." "Another generic influencer." And the worst of it? "Ginger + Freckles = No."
You knew it was irrational. Lando loved you. He told you every day, showed you in a million little ways, from the way he held your hand to the way he looked at you with genuine adoration.
But the internet had a way of burrowing into your brain, planting seeds of doubt that blossomed into thorny vines. You found yourself scrutinizing your reflection, picking apart every freckle, every strand of your fiery hair.
Was it too much? Was it enough? Were you enough?
"Penny for your thoughts?" Lando's voice startled you, pulling you back from the precipice of your spiral. He was standing in the doorway of your shared flat, his racing helmet tucked under his arm, a familiar mischievous grin playing on his lips.
"Just thinking about this weekend," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Excited for the snow."
"Me too! Max and Steve are already counting down the hours. You're coming to the slopes tomorrow, right?"
You hesitated. "I… I have something I need to do in the morning. I'll meet you guys up there later, okay?"
Lando frowned, his blue eyes searching yours. "Everything alright, love? You seem a bit off."
"I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just… a doctor's appointment. Nothing serious. I'll explain later. Promise."
He didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to push. "Alright. Just text me when you're on your way. Drive safe.”
He kissed your forehead, the warmth of his touch a brief comfort against the chill that had settled within you and left.
The next morning, the drive to the snow mountains felt endless. Each mile was another step closer to the potential storm brewing in your head.
You told yourself you were being ridiculous, that you were letting faceless strangers dictate your feelings. But the seed of doubt had been planted, watered, and was now taking root.
When you finally arrived at the ski resort, the crisp mountain air did little to soothe your nerves. You walked into the reception area, the scent of pine and hot chocolate thick in the air.
"Name?" the receptionist asked, her eyes glued to the computer screen.
"It's… uh… Y/L/N, party of Lando Norris."
The receptionist's fingers clicked across the keyboard, and she looked up, a polite professional smile gracing her lips. "Ah, yes. Mr. Norris's party. You're all set. Here's your lift pass. Your equipment rental is just through those doors. Have a wonderful day."
You collected your ski boots and poles from the rental shop, the familiar weight grounding you slightly. You'd been skiing since you were a kid, practically born on the slopes.
It was one of the few places you felt truly free, truly yourself.
You strapped on your skis and headed towards the main lift, scanning the crowd for a flash of Lando's familiar McLaren Racing beanie or the boisterous laughter of Max and Steve.
The lift carried you higher and higher, the view expanding to reveal a breathtaking panorama of snow-covered peaks and pristine valleys.
For a moment, the internet, the comments, the doubts, all faded away. You breathed in the crisp air, feeling the thrill of anticipation course through you.
As you reached the top, you spotted them. Lando, grinning and waving, Max, already carving down the slope with reckless abandon, and Steve, carefully navigating the beginner trail.
You took a deep breath, pushed off, and let gravity do its work. The wind whipped through your hair, the sun glinted off the snow, and for the first time that day, you felt a genuine smile spread across your face.
You were good. Really good. You weaved and turned, carving graceful arcs in the powder, your ginger hair a vibrant streak against the white landscape. You glided past other skiers, feeling the rush of adrenaline as you navigated the slopes with practiced ease.
You found yourself on a black diamond run, moguls stretching out before you like frozen waves. This was where you belonged, where you felt alive. You took a deep breath and launched yourself into the challenge, navigating the bumps and dips with precision and skill.
Suddenly, you heard a whoop of excitement and a familiar voice. "Wow, check out the ginger ninja!"
You glanced over your shoulder and saw a couple of guys, clearly impressed by your skiing skills.
You grinned, threw them a wink, and continued your descent, the compliment a small spark of warmth against the doubt that still lingered.
The crisp mountain air bit at Lando’s cheeks, painting them a matching shade to the gaudy orange ski suit Max insisted he wear. He shifted his weight from one ski boot to the other, impatience radiating off him in visible waves.
He’d been waiting at the base of the slope for what felt like an eternity. Max was already halfway up the mountain for his third run. Steve was content to nurse a lukewarm hot chocolate and offer unsolicited advice on Lando’s form, despite the fact Lando hadn't even put his skis on yet.
"She's taking her time," Steve commented, taking another careful sip. "Probably intimidated by the black runs."
Lando rolled his eyes, though fondness softened the gesture. He knew you weren't intimidated by anything. This was more than likely your first time on the slopes, so you were probably taking it easy.
You were a natural athlete, thriving on competition, but you’d also confessed, with a sheepish grin, that skiing looked deceptively easy on TV.
He was about to tell Steve as much when Steve suddenly straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, there's your girl!"
Lando spun around, instantly forgetting the cold, the wait, and Steve’s irritating commentary. He searched the throng of skiers snaking down the slope, his heart doing a little skip. And then he saw you.
You moved with a surprising grace, your skis carving effortless arcs in the snow. Sunlight caught in your fiery red hair, turning it into a cascade of glittering copper. Each freckle seemed to dance on your skin, illuminated by the mountain sun.
He knew, objectively, that you were beautiful. He saw it every day. But seeing you now, flushed with exertion and radiant with joy, took his breath away.
He froze, utterly captivated, as you approached. You navigated the final stretch with smooth confidence. “Show off,” he muttered under his breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
You slowed to a stop, kicking up a spray of snow just inches from his boots.
"Hey!" you exclaimed, laughing. You pushed your goggles up onto your forehead, revealing eyes the color of warm honey. "Sorry! How long have you been waiting?"
Your cheeks were rosy, your breath misting in the cold air. Lando stared, speechless.
"Baby? What's wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing with concern. You reached out, your ungloved hand gently touching his cheek. The cold stung, but he barely noticed.
He swallowed, his voice a low rasp. "You're beautiful."
The words were a whisper, almost lost in the wind. He hadn’t meant to say it so abruptly, so…exposed. But the sight of you, framed by the snow-covered peaks, had rendered him incapable of coherent thought.
Your eyes widened slightly, and a blush bloomed on your cheeks, a delicate counterpoint to the healthy glow of the mountain air. "Lando," you said softly, "you okay? Are you coming down with something?"
He blinked, shaking himself slightly. "No, I'm fine. More than fine, actually. You just…you look incredible."
Steve coughed pointedly beside him. Max, having apparently teleported from the top of the mountain, snickered. Lando shot them both a warning glare. They knew how self-conscious you were, especially around his racing colleagues.
The comments section of his social media had been a cesspool ever since you two became public. Hateful words about your appearance, thinly veiled as concerned opinions that you weren’t “his type,” were a constant, ugly background noise.
He knew it bothered you, even though you tried to brush it off with a laugh and a casual, "Haters gonna hate." But he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you thought no one was looking.
He hated those comments, hated the people who wrote them, and hated that they had the power to make you feel anything less than extraordinary.
He took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Ignore them," he said, his voice firm, his gaze locked on yours.
You looked confused. "Ignore who? Max and Steve?"
"Everyone," he said, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "Anyone who makes you feel like you're anything less than perfect. Because you are. Perfect. Just the way you are."
The blush on your cheeks deepened, and you ducked your head slightly, a shy smile playing on your lips. "You're sweet," you mumbled. "But I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea."
"Good," Lando said fiercely. "You're mine. And that's all that matters." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ignoring Max's exaggerated gagging noises.
He pulled back and met your gaze, his expression serious. "Listen to me. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful, or that you're not good enough, or that you don't belong. Because they're wrong. They’re absolutely, unequivocally wrong. You’re amazing, inside and out. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re fiercely intelligent, and yes, you’re unbelievably beautiful. And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you."
A tear, born of emotion and the biting wind, escaped your eye. "You're going to make me cry," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.
"Good," Lando said, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "Let them see you cry. Let them see how real and how beautiful you are. Don't hide anything. Don't let anyone dim your light."
He knew his words were bold, maybe even a little cheesy, but he meant every single one of them. He wanted you to know, deep down, that he saw you, truly saw you, and that nothing anyone said would ever change that.
Max, surprisingly, had stopped snickering. He clapped Lando on the shoulder. "Alright, mate, enough with the declarations of love. Let's hit the slopes. Before I get frostbite."
Steve nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Lando. You can gush later. Right now, let’s see if your girl’s got what it takes.” He winked at you. “No pressure.”
You smiled, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Pressure is my middle name," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let's go."
Lando grinned, relieved to see the familiar spark back in your eyes. He squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.
He watched as you adjusted your goggles and clicked your poles into the snow. He felt a surge of pride watching you. He knew the comments would still be there, lurking in the shadows of the internet, waiting to pounce.
But he also knew that you were strong. You were resilient. And you had him.
He grabbed his own skis, a newfound confidence coursing through him. He would protect you, always. But more than that, he would celebrate you, every freckle, every fiery strand of hair, every brilliant facet of your being.
As you pushed off, gracefully navigating the gentle slope, Lando felt a lightness in his heart that had nothing to do with the altitude. He knew, without a doubt, that their love story was just beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them.
He followed you down the slope, his orange ski suit a beacon against the white snow. He caught up to you easily, skiing alongside you, matching your pace.
"So," he said, grinning mischievously. "Think you can keep up with me, ginger?"
You laughed, a bright, joyful sound that echoed through the mountains. "Try me, Papaya boy."
And with that, you kicked it up a notch, leaving Lando in your snowy wake.
He laughed, his heart soaring.
He pushed off, determined to catch up, knowing that even if he never did, he would be perfectly content just to chase you, forever. . . .
The papaya coloured dress hung on you, a vibrant splash of sunshine in the sterile white bathroom. It was Lando’s favourite colour, or so he claimed. He said it reminded him of McLaren, of speed, of… you.
But all you could see in the mirror was a canvas of imperfections.
Your reflection stared back, a stranger dissected and judged. The fiery red hair, usually a source of pride, now felt like a neon sign screaming "OUT OF PLACE."
The constellation of freckles scattered across your nose and cheeks, tiny sun-kissed stars Lando often traced with his fingertip, seemed like blemishes, flaws magnified under the harsh bathroom light.
The original plan, a simple elegance of no-makeup and loose waves, lay discarded. You'd envisioned a carefree evening, a confident entrance with Lando by your side.
Now, the thought of facing the public, the prying eyes, the inevitable whispers, felt like climbing a mountain of anxiety.
Social media had been a minefield lately. Ever since your relationship with Lando Norris became public, the comment sections had become a breeding ground for toxicity. Most were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating your love.
But a persistent undercurrent of negativity gnawed at your confidence. The "fans," or rather, the internet trolls masquerading as them, were relentless.
“She’s not his type.”
“He could do so much better.”
“Ginger? Really? He's lowering his standards.”
The worst were the comments picking apart your appearance. The freckles, the hair, the perceived lack of "glamour." They painted you as an anomaly, someone who didn't belong in Lando's world. It was absurd, of course.
Lando loved you for you. He told you every day. But the insidious nature of online hate was that it seeped in, whispering doubts in your ear when you were most vulnerable.
Tonight, facing a McLaren party filled with glamorous personalities and industry insiders, the doubts had reached a crescendo. You grabbed a tissue from the dispenser, dabbing at the corners of your eyes, fighting back the overwhelming urge to cry.
The reflection in the mirror blurred, the colours swam, and the vibrant papaya felt like a mocking reminder of everything you weren't.
That’s when you heard the familiar click of the front door.
“Y/n?” Lando’s voice echoed through the house, a warm, comforting sound that momentarily cut through the anxiety clouding your mind.
Panic seized you. You couldn't let him see you like this, a mess of insecurities and mascara-smeared cheeks. You needed to compose yourself, to build up a façade of confidence before facing him.
Quickly, you turned the small lock on the bathroom door. The click was loud in the sudden silence.
“Y/n?” he called again, his voice closer now. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, just… just getting ready,” you managed, trying to inject a lightness into your tone that felt utterly fake. Your voice wavered, betraying your true state. “I’ll be out in a second.”
You heard him pause outside the door. “You sure? You sound… different.”
He knew you too well. He always did. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears away. “Just a bit of a headache. Nothing serious.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken concern. You could almost feel his presence on the other side of the door.
“Okay,” he said finally, his voice softening. “But don’t rush. I’m happy to wait. Do you want me to get you some water?”
His thoughtfulness, his unwavering care, only made the guilt swell inside you. He was so genuine, so supportive, and here you were, hiding from him, consumed by the petty insecurities fueled by strangers on the internet.
“No, I’m fine,” you insisted, a little too quickly. “Just… give me a few more minutes, okay?”
“Alright,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. You heard him move away from the door. “I’ll be in the living room.”
You let out a shaky breath, leaning against the cool porcelain of the sink. This couldn’t go on. You couldn't let these hateful comments dictate your life, dictate your relationship.
Lando deserved better. You deserved better.
Taking a deep breath, you turned on the cold tap, splashing water on your face. You grabbed a towel and gently patted your skin dry, removing the remnants of your almost-attempted makeup.
You looked at yourself again, really looked.
The fiery hair, the freckles, the flaws… they were all part of you. They were what made you unique, what made you you. And Lando loved you for it. He saw beauty where others saw imperfections.
He saw strength where others saw vulnerability. Why were you letting the opinions of anonymous strangers outweigh the love and adoration of the man you adored?
You let out a shaky sigh, a weight lifting from your shoulders. It wasn't a complete cure, the insecurities wouldn't vanish overnight, but it was a start.
With newfound resolve, you took another look at the papaya dress. It shimmered under the light, a vibrant symbol of sunshine and joy. You smoothed the fabric down, a small smile gracing your lips.
You unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out.
Lando was standing in the living room, fiddling with his phone. He looked up as you entered, his face immediately lighting up. He was wearing a simple dark suit, impeccably tailored, but it was the genuine warmth in his eyes that truly caught your attention.
He took a step towards you, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. The smile widened.
“Wow,” he breathed, his voice laced with admiration. “You look absolutely stunning.”
You blushed, the compliment genuine and heartfelt. “Thank you.”
He closed the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, tracing the familiar pattern of your freckles.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft with concern. “You seemed a bit… off earlier.”
You hesitated, the urge to brush it off still lingering. But you knew you couldn't hide from him. He deserved the truth.
“I… I saw some comments online,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “About… about me. About not being ‘your type.’”
His expression darkened, his eyes hardening with anger. “Don’t you dare listen to those people, Y/n,” he said fiercely, his grip on your face tightening slightly.
“They don’t know anything. My ‘type’ is someone who is kind, intelligent, funny, and beautiful, inside and out. Someone who makes me laugh every single day. Someone who challenges me and supports me, even when I’m being an idiot. That’s you, Y/n. That's always been you."
He paused, his gaze searching yours, making sure you understood the sincerity of his words.
"And as for the… the physical stuff," he continued, his voice softening again. "Your hair is the most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen. Your freckles are like little constellations, guiding me through the darkness. And that little dimple you get when you smile? Drives me absolutely crazy."
He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough, Y/n. Because to me, you are perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude, of love.
You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I love you, Lando,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his jacket.
He held you tight, his arms a comforting embrace. “I love you too, Y/n. More than you know.”
After a long moment, you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you.
Lando was right. You couldn't let the negativity of others define you. You had his love, his support, and that was all that mattered.
You looked at him, a genuine smile gracing your lips. "Ready to go to this party?"
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Absolutely. And just so you know, I'm planning on spending the entire night showing you off to everyone. They need to see how lucky I am."
He took your hand in his, his fingers interlacing with yours. As you walked out the door together, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And that, you realised, was all that truly mattered.
The haters could say what they wanted. You had Lando, you had your love, and that was more than enough. The papaya dress suddenly felt like armour, not a target.
You were ready to face the world, hand in hand, imperfections and all. . . .
The party was exactly what you expected: loud music, flashing lights, and a sea of familiar faces from the F1 world – drivers, team principals, engineers, and their partners.
The sheer volume of people made your anxiety prickle, but Lando kept a firm grip on your hand, navigating you through the crowd.
He introduced you to what felt like a hundred people, his arm possessively around your waist, his smile beaming. You tried to focus on the conversations, to be witty and engaging, but the whispers seemed to follow you, phantom echoes of the comments haunting your mind.
“Lando’s with her?”
“She’s… different.”
“Not exactly what I expected.”
You squeezed Lando’s hand tighter, trying to ground yourself. He seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, his attention solely focused on you.
“Having fun?” he asked, his voice barely audible above the music.
You forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s… great.”
He looked at you, his eyes searching. He knew you better than anyone, and he could see the forced cheerfulness masking your discomfort.
“Hey,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “If you want to leave, we can. We don’t have to stay here.”
“No,” you said quickly. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here. With you.”
He smiled, relieved. "Okay, but seriously, if you change your mind, just say the word."
Just then, a tall, lanky figure approached, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Lando! Mate, good to see you.”
“Oscar!” Lando clapped him on the back. “Good to see you too. Oscar, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Oscar Piastri.”
Oscar offered you his hand, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
You shook his hand, trying to gauge his expression. Was there judgment there? Pity? You couldn’t tell. “Likewise, Oscar. Congratulations on your season so far.”
“Thanks,” he said, his smile genuine. "It's been... interesting, to say the least." He paused, then gestured to a woman standing beside him. "And this is my girlfriend, Lily."
Lily stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. She had kind eyes and a simple elegance that immediately put you at ease. "It's lovely to meet you, Y/N. Lando talks about you all the time."
You blushed, glancing at Lando, who just winked. "All good things, I hope?"
Lily laughed. "Of course! He's completely smitten."
The four of you fell into easy conversation, discussing the season, the pressures of being in the spotlight, and the challenges of maintaining relationships in such a demanding environment.
You found yourself relaxing, the tension slowly draining away. Lily was refreshingly down-to-earth, and Oscar, despite his reserved demeanour, had a dry wit that you found endearing.
As the conversation flowed, you noticed Lily subtly steer the topic towards your interests, asking about your work, your hobbies, and your passions.
She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you, not just as Lando’s girlfriend, but as an individual.
“So, Y/N” Lily said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “Lando tells me you’re a writer? That’s fascinating! What kind of writing do you do?”
“I dabble in a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling your confidence grow. “Short stories, poetry, some freelance journalism. It depends on what sparks my interest, really.”
“That’s amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve always admired people who can write. It’s such a powerful way to express yourself.”
Oscar nodded in agreement. “It is. I’m useless at it. Give me a steering wheel any day.”
Laughter bubbled up from your chest, your earlier anxieties fading into the background. You were having a genuine, enjoyable conversation, with people who seemed to genuinely care about you.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise. “Lando, darling! There you are!”
A woman, dripping in diamonds and designer clothes, glided towards you, her eyes scanning you from head to toe with blatant disapproval. You recognized her as the wife of a prominent team principal, a woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper judgment.
Lando’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face her. “Genevieve, good to see you.”
She completely ignored Oscar and Lily, her gaze fixed on you. “And who is this, Lando? A new… acquaintance?”
You felt your cheeks flush, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. You knew what was coming.
Lando’s arm tightened around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”
The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “This is your girlfriend? How… interesting.” Her tone dripped with condescension. “Well, congratulations, darling. I’m sure you’re very happy.”
She turned back to Lando, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lando, darling, you really could do so much better. Don't you want to think about your image?”
You felt your heart sink. This was it. The moment of truth. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of negativity.
But then, something unexpected happened. Lando’s eyes flashed with anger, and his grip on your waist tightened protectively.
“I’m perfectly happy, thank you,” he said, his voice cold and firm. “And Y/N is more than enough. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were in the middle of a conversation.”
He turned his back on the woman, effectively dismissing her. He looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”
You nodded, still reeling from the encounter. “Yeah,” you mumbled. "I'm okay
Lily stepped forward, her expression fierce. “Honestly, some people are just ridiculous,” she said, her voice laced with scorn. “Don’t let her get to you, Y/N. She’s just jealous.”
Oscar nodded in agreement. “She’s got nothing better to do than spread negativity. Ignore her.”
Lando squeezed your hand. “They’re right. Don’t let her ruin your night.”
You looked at them, at Lando, at Lily, at Oscar. You saw genuine support, genuine kindness, genuine acceptance. And suddenly, the weight on your chest lifted. The comments, the whispers, the judgment – they didn’t matter.
You had people who loved you, who supported you, who valued you for who you were, not for who the internet thought you should be.
You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “You know what? You’re right. I’m not going to let her ruin my night.”
Lando grinned, relieved. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about we get out of here and go somewhere more… private?” He winked suggestively.
Lily laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Oscar, you’re driving, right? I’ve had one too many cocktails.”
As you walked away, hand in hand with Lando, you glanced back at Lily and Oscar, a warm feeling of gratitude washing over you. You had found unexpected allies, people who saw past the surface and appreciated you for who you were.
You were still an outsider, still a ginger with freckles, still not “his type” according to the internet. But tonight, surrounded by love and support, you didn’t care. You had Lando, you had friends, and you had the courage to be yourself.
And that, you realised, was more than enough. The papaya dress no longer felt like armour, but a symbol of your strength, your resilience, and your unwavering commitment to being true to yourself.
You were you and you were happy. . . .
landonorris
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landonorris
Happy anniversary to my beautiful girl. Two years. Two years of laughter, adventures, and learning to love you more fiercely every single day. I know the internet can be a dark place, especially for someone as radiant as you. Don't listen to anyone who talks about you bad, especially those whispering nonsense about "types." They see a snapshot; I see the whole damn masterpiece.
Your fiery hair is sunshine on a cloudy day, each freckle a tiny star mapping out the constellation of my heart. They don't see the intelligence that sparkles in your eyes, the quick wit that keeps me on my toes, or the unwavering kindness you show to everyone you meet. They don’t see you. You are everything I could ever want, and more than I ever deserve. So, happy anniversary, my love. Let's keep painting our world with joy, ignoring the noise, and celebrating the beautiful, unique you. I love you more than words can say. ❤️
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🥖Establishing Your Identity ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card
I promise you there isn’t a single thing that’s exciting about being a copy of someone else’s elegance or magnificence🌹Since that in itself is already effort anyway, if you must establish a unique identity, why not stay true to your Divinity?🌻After all, isn’t everybody already singularly UNIQUE within themselves?🌸Just as a tulip isn’t to be compared to a jasmine or a magnolia, each specimen of flowers is fully accepted to be uniquely BEAUTIFUL in its own way~🌷
As a human woman, all you need to do to become the highest expression of your DIVINE BEAUTY, is to think like a flower… DECENTRE THE OPINIONS OF THE PATRIARCHY, BIH!🥖🥖🥖
Who the fuck cares what some penis-wielding creature thinks a woman can or can’t do?🐙Why should you allow the self-restrictions of femcel women define the limits of your personal interests?🦐
In this world that’s only forgotten the value of individual beauty, never underestimate the importance of YOUR unique imprint~🐾Being individually, organically, singularly and identifiably ORIGINAL in a garden of factory-produced plastic flowers is possibly the greatest, most valuable gift of fragrance you could share with the Divine Femmes of this world~💐
Psst...did you know that flowers are an enlightened expression of plants? Yup.
music: Like A Flower by Red Velvet IRENE
film: Flowers (2010)
deck-bottom: XI Judgement Rx, Gold Astronomer (John Dee), Priestess of Healing
[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]
[Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]
☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.
Pile 1 – Sweet Thorny Rose Who's Only for the Strong
vibe: Mafia In the morning by ITZY
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seeds of Light – 6 of Cups
A bit dramatic. A bit over-emotional. More often than not, you’re super chaotic on the inside! Do you realise that you possess the superpower of HILARITY?🤪Yup, apparently that’s a word. You’re…rather unexpectedly…friendly, and actually pretty funny once people get to know you. Your hilarity, when displayed to the right people, can be panacea to their insecurity, confusion and even heartbreak🌿Oh my gosh, isn’t that a rare superpower—because obviously not that many people have your special kind of social intelligence!🐬
Most of all, you’re somebody who’s fiercely loyal to yourself! In the way that you simply exist, you sow the seeds of loyalty-to-self in the hearts and minds of those who are similar to yourself but lacking courage🦔In this world, people get swayed by external opinions, expectations and all that shit (blame the media, culture or whatever) and they become very doubtful of their worth and place in the world, so your particular kind of confidence in your sense of humour and self can be deeply healing, on top of inspirational~🌞
The thing about your confidence is, no matter what is at stake or what you have to sacrifice, you won’t let even the most expert manipulators, gaslighters or enablers bend and beat you into whatever stupid shape they wish you to be👻You stay true to your heart and vision no matter what it costs you to ‘lose’ in a battle of wit. You can ride the wave but you won’t lose yourself in the sauce. You never let society’s dictation—which is often highly unintelligent—influence your dreams or ideas about how you wanna go about Life~🧠
And that’s…how you win the war over your psyche! Now tell me how this isn’t a thing of the superheroes?🦄
growing and glowing – 7 of Pentacles Rx
In your boss babe aenergy, you tell yourself, every day, that you decide the pace of what you want to see manifest in your world. It sounds crazy and if you’re met with the wrong people, they’re gonna assume you’re a narc or a self-serving megalomaniac—but the whole time, you’re just a SIGMA or some shit🤪You’re the type of person who doesn’t require even an ounce of other people’s approving look to know that what you’re thinking for yourself is right. You, don’t even respond well to rules and orders that have ‘unreasonable’ written all over them🥴
And about ‘hard work’ or ‘hustle culture’? Well, if whatever is being discussed involves a lack of intelligence or sensibility, you ain’t buying it. It isn’t to say you can’t work hard at anything—it is to say that you will only devote yourself to endeavours that truly matter at the core of their conception🫀You don’t even buy this whole ‘work smart not hard’ narrative; for you, it’s always been about whether or not an effort is meaningful to your growth or the growth of the community in the grand scheme of everything. That, is how BIG your thinking gets🤯
And this is exactly what most people can’t even begin to grasp. People often frustrate you. And more likely than not, if you remain clear about these values of yours, you may be shunned by those that are weak and lazy in their minds🧳Their loss. You ain’t even interested in working or even walking with them slow ass fools—although you do possess enough empathy to understand that such fools are just afraid. But oh well~ can’t let other people’s Realities slow you down, now can you? So just like that, you keep on flying higher like a motherfucker🚀lmao
enlightened crown – King of Pentacles
Oh, you are certain to be richie rich at some point in Life—even if you had come from poverty, for instance, but that’s not the point. You’ve got this tenacity in you that’s obviously gonna be rewarded by some financial abundance in this lifetime. ‘Richie Bitchie’ is written all over your birth chart—go check, maybe you have strategic Capricorn/Saturn placements?🪐Anyway, keep your ‘genius hustle’ all to yourself and remember that you don’t gotta share your secret sauce to abundance with nobody who don’t respect you for you, OK?🍅🌶🥫
You’re free to live for yourself, in a paradise of your own making, with only your people—you know what I’m saying? When it comes to other people’s company, I always say: ‘Never chase after anybody’s attention. Let them prove themselves worthy of your affection.’ Then again, who am I to even be telling you this?🤡Your mind is strong and you already know all of this. Maybe you just need to be validated/reminded every now and then, so you don’t feel so alone in your ‘sigma’ aenergy🎃
Anyway, in a world so social, surely every one of us needs to compromise every now and then—after all, we live in society. But I think, you shouldn’t ever give in to its rules and expectations when it comes to your guarding your values🛡It’s weird how some people be making it sound like being assertive or introverted or shy or a loner is a crime—the world has bigger problems than girls liking their own company and focused on their personal goals🤹
UNLOCKING SUPERPOWERS🔻💜
courage to be yourself – Silver Historian (Polydore Vergil)
always be alright – Priestess of Luxury
Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸
☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.
Pile 2 – The Caterpillar Who Became the Butterfly Who Became a Dragon
vibe: New Woman by LISA
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seeds of Light – XVII The Star
Hello, natural-born Superstar!🎇Do you have strong Aquarius placements or 11H Stellium? Maybe you have strategic fame-degrees in your natal chart? 5°, 17°, and 29° are three of the most common ‘fame degrees’ in astrology, so you might wanna check that out, too. Basically, since your preconception, you were written to be a trailblazer of sort. It doesn’t matter the capacity or the variety—you were designed to achieve some level of publicity or notoriety in this lifetime🎳huehue
For that very reason, in this incarnation, you were never meant to be static, just this one thing that appeals to everybody’s palates. Part of your ‘blueprint’ involves constantly changing and transforming yourself, your paradigms, again and again, numerous times until you become one again with your Higher Self whilst in a physical form💞REINVENTION is your middle name. You are boundlessly creative and fresh! Although sometimes you may get exhausted…
That said, if you’re somebody who isn’t easily defined, it’s only because you’re too ORIGINAL. It’s because you’re a PROTOTYPE fresh out of the blueprint; people are still catching up with figuring you out~🧬hahah But that’s what’s really exciting about being BORN EXTRAORDINARY, right? Many would love to be reborn as something similar to you in their next lives, did you know that?🎈
growing and glowing – 6 of Pentacles
The reason that you’re a prototype, which obviously can be quite a lonely experience, is that your Soul wanted to bring more extraordinary colours to the whole Human Experience itself. Your Soul saw and understood how drab and dull the lives of many on Earth look to the Celestials, so you came down to contribute something more exciting~☄️That was all, really. Uplifting of the human spirit, so that their eyes become upgraded enough to perceive more colours of Love~🌈
Prototypes are rarely the most popular things or people, but one thing for sure is that they’re remembered, venerated almost, as the ones who started this new thing no one had even thought about. Prototypes are ones forever remembered as a positive force of change; the opener of new pathways of thinking or being, breathing, living, expressing~🍏Of all the Piles, you really came down here to be of service—first and foremost by just being yourself😘
The truth of the matter is, it’s enough that you’re here. And if you really feel a pull towards that fame and notoriety, all you need to do right now is keep doing this one thing that’s most authentic to your Soul. Keep at it until you become so masterful at it the world can’t help but MANIFEST you into the world stage so people can actually benefit from your Lightwork! Crazy, right? But it’s really that easy! You really be magical like that, hoe~🤩
enlightened crown – 8 of Wands Rx
The 8 of Wands in reverse here is basically saying: ‘close your ears to the world!’🙉hahah No, no, it isn’t telling you to become a narc—it’s saying that you can safely listen to your Heart’s whisper when it comes to establishing your identity in this loudly confused world~🙈Babe, you’re the voice of reason that’s meant to tear down the old paradigm of boredom, where’s the sense in you instead following the crowds?🙊Ya got that?
If you’re going to grow and bloom into anything magnificent at all, might as well grow and bloom into the most enlightened expression of Yourself🌺Be honest, speak your truth, don’t get yourself killed lmao The way to immortality, the way to remaining evergreen in the minds of those still living on Gaia, is through being the most ICONIC person to ever walk there. And you can only be that way if you’re honest to your heart to boot🌼
Let yourself grow day by day, breathing deeply at every moment, and should the occasion arise, always be ready to paint yourself anew, to serve a new era of Mankind, where people actually get to establish their Heaven on Earth through conscious choices that reflect the Divinity within🐛Remember that you are the Prototype—one day all of Humanity is going to be just like you🦋But for now, you’re the caterpillar who turned into a butterfly who became a DRAGON!🐉
UNLOCKING SUPERPOWERS🔻💚
courage to be yourself – Silver Astrologer (John Dee)
always be alright – Priestess of Patience
Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸
☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.
Pile 3 – Sensitive and Strong Shine On Soft Spectre of Surreal Sunshine
vibe: Mantra by JENNIE
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seeds of Light – 5 of Pentacles
Oh, you silly goose🦆On the outside you look unrealistically beautiful and almost intimidating, but on the inside, you’re just a smol hamster who wants to be friends with everybody🐹At the core of your being, you’re thee definition of a girl’s girl—anybody would be lucky to have you as a friend. You’re loyal as fuck. But hey, society is rife with losers, right? Your looks have gotten you misunderstood and hated for literally the lamest reasons. That’s a little ‘problem’ we could have for being a natural-born Royalty—those with a peasant mentality tend to harbour resentment to those they recognise as possessing an ✨EXPENSIVE✨ aura. You know that, right?🌛
Thing is, you’re not at all intimidating like Gordon Ramsay or Marco Pierre White or Anna Wintour. You’re a different kind of intimidating altogether. You’re sweet, beautiful, polite and friendly, basically you’re a ray of sunshine. People think you’re gullible—whoops!💀With you, it isn’t just a matter of status or accomplishment, but that people hate with a passion women like you who know exactly what you’re worth. Your standards for almost every aspect of your own existence are sky-high! Babe, you are the standard of existence🪁
Women like you are rare and should be cherished as a role model for young girls. High-quality Human female who not only possesses a good heart and brains but also has the audacity to own your pretty!🩰What’s society gonna do with a mutiny like this? Woman was supposed to take a supporting role and remain eternally humble and doubting herself so that man could take on the role of uplifting her from her 'default' confusion, right?🎣
Men have composed sleazy scriptures to confound the Divine Feminine; how dare you sing against their gospel?😫pffft
growing and glowing – Knight of Pentacles
Keep confounding them then. Give ‘em a taste of their own medicine, gurl. See, people think you’re gullible or stupid, right? That makes everything a lot easier—because in reality, you’re the kinda gal who strategizes immaculately, all while thinking to yourself: ‘This is how big girls play. If you can’t play the big games, go away.’ Actually, you take great pleasure in outdoing everybody if only you’d vocalise this😜Buuut, you’re too graceful for that~🤭
You’ve got sense. You’re superbly intelligent. You were most likely born rich or have that presence about you that gets everybody thinking: ‘Surely one day she’s gonna be stupid rich.’🫦Beware of leeches at every turn, girl! You’ve gotta be able to admit to yourself that not everybody’s gonna have your best interest at heart, OK? You could totally be targeted for your resources when people realise that they can’t even begin to compete with you on an even ground, let alone WIN against you. And that’s truly, really the sad part of all of this…🩸
Because you never wanted to compete with anybody. If you’ve ever competed with anybody it is with the you of yesterday. People are weird to be feeling a sense of competition with you, because the whole time, you chose to be born at this passage of time exactly to uplift other women—to awaken them from their own complicity in upholding the patriarchy. To simplify, and if you’ve never thought of this before, let this be the first time you’re hearing it…
enlightened crown – 9 of Wands Rx
Women who are inclined to feel inferior to you are those who possess a femcel psychology deep inside of them. These are the dangerous pick-mes, queen-mes, and malignant female narcs and manipulators. These types of women seek to be a harbinger of chaos in the lives of PRETTY GURLS like you. Don’t be wasting your time on these Ghislain Maxwell wannabes if you wanna live a prosperous Life!🤠
This that pretty girl mantra. Pretty girls don’t do drama… ‘less we wanna
Yup, ‘less you wanna and it’ll be depending on the type. ‘Bring the drama only if it’ll make me munny’📞lmao You smart like that. Drama is a hustle. Hustling can be dramatic. Reputation on the line? Might as well gain something out of it, so that whichever way the wind blows, you WIN BIG either way. Total boss babe move🚬
You’d never let people waste your time. Since dealing with people is exhausting anyway, you gotta make sure that you get some kind of compensation. Hmm I’m sure you’ve got some strategic, auspicious Capricorn/Saturn/10H placements hahah Jennie Kim, Jang Wonyoung and Lily-Rose Depp come to mind when I think about your aenergy. Such unfailingly kind, optimistic and beautiful aenergy~🎀
UNLOCKING SUPERPOWERS🔻💗
courage to be yourself – Silver Physician (John Dee)
always be alright – Priestess of Opulence
Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸
☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.
[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]
[Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]
#Punk Panda Pick A Pic#pick a card#tarot pick a card#pick a card reading#pac#tarot pac#pac reading#tarot#astrology#witchblr#tarotblr#astroblr#glow up#goddess#destiny#pretty#girlblogger#girlblogging#girlboss#mindset#positivity#spirituality#style#fashion
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lockscreen
namgyu x f!reader
who wouldn't put their cute boyfriend as their lockscreen?
warnings: mentions of drug addiction. angst into fluff
this was requested <3
loving namgyu is never hard.
it was the easiest thing in the world, really.
what was hard was watching him destroy himself, knowing that no matter how much you loved him, no matter how much you wanted to save him, he had to want to save himself first.
those first months together were some of the hardest of your life.
namgyu was drowning in his addiction, and you were barely keeping your head above water trying to pull him out.
you spent too many nights waiting up for him, only for him to stumble through the door smelling like alcohol and smoke, eyes red and unfocused.
there were arguments, slamming doors, nights where he passed out before you could even say goodnight.
still, you stayed, because you loved him.
because you saw the man he could be, even when he couldn't.
love alone wasn't enough to fix him.
eventually, after one too many broken promises, one too many nights spent crying yourself to sleep,
you made the hardest decision of your life...you walked away.
not because you stopped loving him, but because you loved him too much to watch him keep destroying himself.
it was during that time apart that namgyu finally decided to change.
he checked himself into rehab, cut off the people who enabled him, and found a new job...one that didn’t have drugs and alcohol in every corner, one that didn’t drag him back into temptation every night.
you didn’t know all of this at the time.
all you knew was that, after months of silence, he showed up at your door sober, steady, and more sure of himself than you had ever seen him.
he told you he was clean. that he had been for months.
most of all, that he still loved you.
taking him back wasn’t a decision you made lightly.
when you looked into his eyes, really looked, you saw the man you had always believed he could be.
that was all you ever wanted.
now, three years into your relationship, things were different.
they were better.
namgyu still had his moments of doubt, but he had grown so much.
he smiled more now, genuine and unburdened.
he let you love him without questioning why you did.
he loved you in return in a way that left no room for doubt.
the two of you never minded using each other’s phones. there were no secrets, no reason to hide anything.
so when namgyu needed to check something online and his phone was charging in the bedroom, he didn’t think twice about picking yours up from the coffee table and unlocking it.
what he didn’t expect was to see a picture of himself staring back at him.
it wasn’t a picture he had taken or one he even remembered being taken.
as he looked at it, his breath caught in his throat.
it was from when you both visited your family in your home country over a year and a half ago.
the golden hour sun cast a warm glow over his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw.
his black hair, always brushed, looked almost blue under the sunlight.
he looked… healthy.
he remembered that trip well.
it had been just three months into his sobriety.
he had been shaky then, still learning how to exist without numbing himself with substances, still wondering if he even deserved to be happy.
he hadn’t realized you had captured him like this...at a moment when he was still struggling, still doubting himself.
yet, somehow, in this photo, he looked at peace.
he stared at it for a long time, fingers hovering over the screen as a strange feeling swelled in his chest.
“when did you set this as your lock screen?”
his voice came out quieter than he expected, almost hesitant.
you had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body, damp hair dripping onto your shoulders.
at the sound of his voice, you glanced up, eyes flicking to your phone in his hands.
when you saw what he was talking about, a soft smile tugged at your lips.
“i’ve had that as my lock screen since the evening it was taken.”
namgyu blinked. he looked down at the picture again, then back at you.
“wait, really? but that was… that was over a year ago.”
you nodded, walking over to him.
“yeah. i never changed it.”
namgyu felt his throat tighten. of all the pictures you could have chosen, you had chosen this one.
a picture from one of the most vulnerable times in his life.
a time when he still wasn’t sure if he was worthy of a second chance, of happiness, of you.
yet, you had seen something in him then that he hadn’t seen in himself.
setting your phone aside, he reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck.
you smelled like shampoo and warmth and everything safe in the world.
“you’re a great photographer,”
he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.
you let out a soft laugh, running your fingers through his hair.
“and you’re a good model.”
he huffed out a small chuckle, shaking his head.
“nah. you just make me look good.”
“you make yourself look good,”
you murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.
“you always have.”
namgyu tightened his hold on you, his heart full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.
he had spent so much of his life convinced that he wasn’t enough.
that no one would ever look at him and see something worth loving.
but you did.
you always did.
masterlist
#namgyu#namgyu x reader#namgyu x y/n#squid game#squid game s2#squid game fanfic#squid game season 2#multifandom account#meadowfics#squid game x reader#squid game x y/n#squid game x you#namgyu x you#namgyu x thanos#player 124#nam gyu squid game#nam gyu
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from start to finish, this fic is truly one of a kind. as a community, we fall in love with these characters. it's a natural feeling all of us have had. so we create these love stories to generate some sense of fantasy that we create in our minds. what i love about this — it's the opposite of that. it derives from the same place but it's something entirely different.
until now, i’ve only read romance driven fics, but this is the first one that i’ve read — i think ever — and it’s really made me think of how this truly was a psychological thriller. in the fandom world, it’s never really done and so well at that. the plot holes are meticulously placed in the story in the character’s involvement, the shady past that doesn’t necessarily add up with the timeline and it truly makes you think. it’s thought provoking in a way that makes you feel challenged, where you’re just waiting for the next big thing to happen. it keeps you on the edge of your seat.
i'm not sure if i can quite put my finger on it, but there's something entirely unique about it. maybe it's the prose and how deeply it's wound itself into my brain — i quite literally can't think of anything else. this fic has given me brainrot in the best way possible. it's truly so touching how you've clearly poured your heart, soul, and mind into this. there was so many intricate lines woven into this. ones that really have to be tangled with precise thought. because of the intention you've put into it, you really have to think of this intricate web you have thrown together.
i'm so deeply obsessed with this entire piece of fiction. you’re so incredible, it blows me away. the pacing throughout this suspenseful piece of fiction is something i will forever appreciate everything you have done for me on this fic. truly, this is such a fantastic story that has a multitude of reasons for what’s written and its meanings; it leaves you with questions that don’t really get answered. as if it models after a thriller film, it leaves you wanting more bits of the puzzle, with so many questions up in the air — me personally — i’m dying to know what actually happened but that’s kind the beauty of it? in life, we don’t actually get all the information we need to make a decision. we base our decisions off of the information we have and we don’t always have all the information and that’s kind of the beauty of this story.
there’s a true layer of realism laced into it, pulling at my heart and every string attached to this masterpiece.
now, i’m going to go on another level of obsession and go by my favorite parts of this fic because i simply will never be able to stop discussing and analyzing this fic. there is so many bits and pieces i love.
“No judgment here, Abby is always safe with you, but you both made a promise, and she will always keep a promise.”
i can’t lie, the first time i read this, i thought to myself — oh…for sure….reader/oc is the fucking killer because there is no way they aren’t. the…abby is always safe with you. hm. was she always safe with reader though. i love that there, even in the beginning there is this first seed of doubt that’s planted in your mind. if you blink, you might miss it. it was this introduction of establishing the dynamic between jerry and oc, and seeing where the relationship with the father of someone she supposedly did care about. from the beginning it toys with this idea of you can love someone but in all the wrong ways and there’s the sliver of possibility that oc could very well be the antagonist in this story so playing with that element right out of the gate is so brilliant to me.
“It’s been years, El.” “I know, but we’ll find her, okay? She wouldn’t just leave, and she wouldn’t leave you. We all know this, you know this.” Her smile reassured you somewhat, but you still had that nerve eating away at you. What if she really was gone?
yes……it has been years……so why are y’all looking for her now…..
honest to god, the number one though i was having, especially as i got deeper into all of the lore you provided with this fic, i kept thinking to myself, what the fuck happened in the years abby was gone? why now is there this sense of urgency to located abby and find out where she’s been all this time. it really provokes the question of where do ellie and reader stand morally? because to me, and this is just my opinion (do not crucify me chat), i genuinely believe they operate from this morally grey area.
they have to operate from it right? because what is their motive to look for abby now? there has to be one now. something that kicked up this dysfunctional friend group in gear to have them split their decision or light a fire under their ass to find their friend. it’s all very interesting, mysterious, and really does make you think about the reasoning that’s never explained. ominous, the truth hangs and as an audience your blindfolded to the truth. in the dark so to speak and it’s done so incredibly well.
“When I look at you, I wait for you to shout and yell at me. Blame me for her going missing, I wait every single time, and it never comes. That’s pathetic, right? That I wait for you to blame me for the reason your daughter is missing.”
another question to throw up in the air. this entire reblog is just going to be the thought process behind how i interpreted different things because wow, i’ve never used my brain so much reading a fic. reading romance obviously does not take a lot of brain power to do, right? do i still love it? yes, absolutely. truly, this fic is just on a different level that i don’t think is quite appreciated. seriously, if you are reading my adhd (trash) thoughts, please i beg of you, read this fic. i cannot express that enough.
by the way, in case you didn’t know, eren wrote this in fours days and they are a fucking genius.
i will say this until my fingers bleed on this keyboard.
anyways, just had to throw that out there.
back to the analysis. the most interesting part of this section above is the guilt oc feels. because is this oc having survivor’s guilt OR is this because oc feels guilty about something else? an event that’s not being spoken of. years have passed, right. so, a lot of events could have happened from when abby disappeared to this point in the timeline where they are still mourning her. oc is still expressing guilt, even after ALL THIS TIME HAS PASSED. smells like fish to me.
“Ellie, you dress like you live in the fuckin’ woods, he’ll believe you.” You rolled your eyes, brushed past her, up the stairs, and into her house. “C’mon idiot!” “God, yes Mother!”
man, this is still getting to me so bad. eren humor is peak in my eyes. to me, it will never be beaten. also, a little bit of a side bar, but the way you have written ellie in this is just peak. from time to time i will see ellie written in this nature where she’s the domineering type and i truly don’t believe that’s true to her character. it’s fiction, fan-fiction at that so obviously most of the time most of it is written from a self-serving place but i think what’s really beautiful about your writing is well, it’s never coming from a selfish place. the way you write any character really is so true to canon. if if it’s in an au, it still feels raw and authentic to the original material. and i don’t think people realize just how rare that is. truthfully, it really speaks volumes to how much passion and heart you pour into your writing. it’s such a beautiful thing. and no one should take it for granted. it’s really a difficult thing to do and you seem to do it so effortlessly.
“I have a good feeling about this date,” Abby admitted softly, unbeknownst to you, holding back her sobs, and smiled even though you couldn’t see her. “I think It’s going to be amazing.” “Yeah? How do you know?” “Because I know you, and you deserve this.”
abby is babygirl. abby is pure. abby is an angel. maybe it’s me being a bit bias but she is the sweetest, the victim, and you cannot convince me otherwise. i’m an absolute whore for things like this in fics. where there are little moments between into untainted pace, one that hasn’t been wrecked with. you can see a glimpse into something much sweeter. it’s so sweet it nearly rottens my teeth. like. just viewing abby in this light where she truly just wants the best for you. as the dialogue continues, the love between oc and abby is incredibly tangible and you can feel it. a bond that can’t be broken and it’s really just this wonderful thing and it’s so painful knowing that they can never get back to that. abby will forever be changed by everything she went through. she will never be the same abby again and that alone is devastating. i’m not sure if that was intentional, but god, it aches in the most haunting way.
but it’s a reflection of real life. anyone that has endured any level of tw ab*se will never be the same after. their minds work, how the live their life after the fact, it’s really jarring in the most realistic way. makes me wanna double over in realization that this abby is already gone in the current timeline.
“I met Abby first, actually—” “Abby? Why doesn’t that name ring a bell?” “Oh, uh, Jerry Anderson’s daughter? They own the candy store?”
have y’all clocked the inconsistencies chat….first mandy says she hardly knew her but when they met she says she doesn’t know who she is……put your thinking caps on, chat. god, i hate this cunt so deeply, it’s not even fucking funny. was actually just waiting for her death the moment she got introduced. i clocked the bad ideas chat, they are catastrophic. get this mandy bitch the fuck out of here.
A bracelet. Holding it up, you inspected it closely. “What’s that?” Jesse spoke up as you noticed there were quite a few charms already missing. Did Abby hide them? Why was there only a few left, and the others were gone? “Is that Abby’s?”
the symbolism of the bracelet is such a nice little detail that i really have enjoyed. showcasing something so small and how it plays such a big role in the overall arch of how the rest of it plays out is a really cool play.
Sunday, 2nd May 2015. I think she hates me. I’m not sure what I did for her to hate me, but apparently I must have done something. Sunday, 2nd May 2015. She threatened me today. I haven’t stopped crying. I don’t know why she hates me. Monday, 3rd May 2015. It’s getting harder and harder to look at her and tell her I’m fine. It’s breaking my heart and I can’t even talk to her about it.
out of the entire fic, this broke me. even as i reread this again, for maybe the twentieth time at this point, abby is just so good. besides jerry, she’s the only person who feels like a true victim in all of this. and the letters? oof. how could you do this to me……we all know i’m not strong enough for this. seeing her spiral out, something she wrote down because she didn’t feel like she could speak it. that is so fucking painful. it’s a parallel to seeing a loved one hurting, in pain, whatever the cause may be and knowing there isn’t anything you can do to make it stop for them. that’s another breed to another level. what do you mean she’s staying silent so she doesn’t break oc’s heart. as always, abby is too good for this world.
“Oh yeah? The fuck you gonna do? Shove this bottle down my throat? Your threats are empty and pointless, like your search for your little fuckin’ girlfriend—” “Say one more thing about her, I dare you.”
….is oc a little…….violent
hm, much to think about.
Tuesday, 4th May 2015 I can feel her. She’s everywhere. She’s told me to back off, but what do I say when she notices I’m pulling away? I can’t even smile at her without it being a problem. What if she kills me? She’s crazy, I don’t think anyone understands. I tried to keep her away, but she’s clawing her way into everything and tearing things apart. At night, I can see her outside the window, looking at me, smiling at me, looking at me like she wants to kill me. Who do I tell? Who can I go to without making it a big issue? Is she really capable of killing me? Making me disappear?
i fear none of y’all get this like i do. the thriller continues to seep out the deeper the fic gets, the suspense, the good anxiety that has you on the edge of the seat just waiting for more bits of the truth to be revealed. i seriously cannot praise this fic enough. honestly. the letters are a really nice touch, personally something i’m a bit of a whore for. little tokens of the past, yeah, i can’t express it enough how much i love it.
Just as you sat down at her table, a sudden loud banging had you flinching in your seat. You looked over at Mandy who halted in her steps not even 5 minutes later when she reappeared from the kitchen and from where you were sitting you could see and hear her grinding her teeth together. “What was that?” “The neighbors are probably decorating again, It’s starting to get on my nerves If I’m being honest.”
I HATE THIS CUNT SO BAD. literally, she is the biggest cunt ever. mandy, when i fucking catch you. stop holding my girl and RELEASE HER. YOU HAVE TAKEN THIS TOO FAR YOU FUCKING CUNTBUCKET. yes, anyways, i fucking hate her with my entire heart and wish nothing but evil things upon her. how could you do this to pookie……smh
“S’not your job to protect everyone,” Mandy smiled softly, watching you closely. “You know that right? You can’t save everyone, especially if they can’t even save themselves.” Her fingers graze yours on the top of the table, you weren’t even sure how or when she moved hers but when you felt them against yours, your eyes locked with hers. “Maybe Abby left because there are better things out there for her, or maybe she just wanted to see something new.”
oh, mandy pisses me off so fucking badly. the way she’s so delusional but to be so real i can relate a little bit to that. but fr, the way mandy is trying to convince oc to forget about abby, trying to pretend like she doesn’t have abby captive. oh…..girl be so fucking real with yourselves. although, as much as i hate this cunt, you really have written her like a true sociopath trying to grasp at straws.
Even the eerie darkness is something straight out of a nightmare.
i love this line so fucking much. it’s perfect. it gave me chills the first time i read it and it still does.
“The Shining.”
ERENNNN EASTER EGGGGGGGGG. hell yeah. that’s what i’m talking about.
Thursday, 6th June 2015 “Abby, you look beautiful, why are you panicking?” Abby was sitting on the edge of her bed, fumbling with her bracelet yet not looking at you. “Hey, Abs, what’s up?” You crouched in front of her and took her hands into yours with a soft smile. “I don’t feel beautiful,” She admitted sadly. “Oh, Abby, you are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful, your soul is perfect and stunning. You are the most beautiful person in the world. Your hair is beautiful, your smile is beautiful, your pretty eyes are stunning,” Her sniffle caused you to pause, reach your hand up and wipe it away. “Everything about you is beautiful.” “Really?” Cupping her face between your hands, you press your lips against her forehead and smile. “Yes, really, you are so fuckin’ beautiful.” You whispered into her skin. “I promise, love.” How could you not see the pain she was holding back, behind the little glint in her eye?
this entire section is so perfect. oh my goodness. maybe because it's a little dose of fluff underneath all of the unfortunate circumstances. how sweet they are with each other, how wholesome it all feels before trauma and grief could grab ahold of either of them. oc reassuring abby of her beauty. the moment is so tender and sweet. but there is also this underlying sadness within it.
You always noticed the way she would blush and look away when you would tell her you love her before you either hung up after being on a phone call with her for hours, or even when you left her house. “I love you.” You murmured, folded the piece of paper and pressed your lips to it.
the fluffffff. this is hurting my heart by healing my heart at the same time. But honestly your fluff heals me so much. oc recalling moments spent with abby, god. my heart literally cannot take it. regardless of what happened, it’s clear reader truly loved abby before all of this but it still makes me wonder what brought them to the point of where they had to find abby. I’ve been saying this from nearly the beginning but my mind is still wondering the why of it. you have done such an amazing job on giving just enough information to provoke questions but not enough to fully answer the question. it’s a tight line to balance on and you’ve done it perfectly.
If it wasn’t for the fact you were already looking at Ellie, you would have had a stroke when you heard the loud crashing of her falling off the chair when she noticed Dina making her way towards her.
this part made me laugh so bad 😭😭😭😭😭 !!!!!! arguably more than the fucking tree. which if you see below is next on my favorite outtakes ;)
In your eyes, you could see the outline of their figure under the moonlight, shimming between trees, jumping over tree’s that’ve been left to fend for themselves over the years, and even though the pain and burn in your legs were starting to ache more and more the longer you ran after them, you couldn’t stop. You needed to do this no matter the outcome. “Stop running away from me!” You shouted, jumping over the same tree as they did. “I just want to talk! That’s all! Stop fuckin’ running!” You huffed. You didn’t see the branch hanging in front of you, or the rock on the floor, not until tripped, your face smacked into the branch harshly and landed on the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck,” You groaned, cupping your nose quickly with a wince. “Fuck!” You yelled, spitting out the dirt.
reader is a clumsy bitch. wow. so me. crazy butch bitch…..is that what you had in mind…..i love crazy butch bitch. okay. ray. shut up now. but seriously i love this sm. there is something so human? about this moment? idk if there’s a better way to say that but. like yeah if i was trying to hunt someone, my tall-ass would head butt a branch like HELLOSOKDKDKD?????? it’s so funny oh my god. peak eren humor me thinks. you’re always funny though so that’s not a surprise 🤍
“If you’re knocked out cold, then no, but I will if you aren’t.” “The tree already knocked her out cold” Jesse chimed in with a sudden laugh. “Both of you go fuck yourself!”
all i gotta say is 😭😭😭😭😭🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤓🤓🤓🤓 #jesseslayed
Pride and Prejudice ………………………… Mandy ♡ “Look at her name,” You murmured, pulling the slip of paper out. “Whos? Mandy’s? “The way she’s spelt it.” Once you unfolded the paper, your eyes flickered between the slip between your fingers, and the name in the book, Ellie doing the same, having to lean over you. “Wait,” She paused, snatching it from you and taking a look for herself. Ellie looks at her name, and then at the note again; ABBY DESERVED WHAT SHE GOT. ♡
THE REVEALLLLLLLEKKDKDKDDOJXBEISOS. i loved it so bad. i’ve reread this so many times so i apolocheese if i’m commenting in past tense but wow. i love how it was done through a book. and the overall theme of one common denominator unfolding the truth and what really happened. there is something so cool and mysterious about it — the eren way. can i rock mandy’s shit fr. a pain in the ass fucking fr.
“If the right person fucks with my family, yeah,” The smirk you gave her caused Mandy to shift around in her seat comfortably. A sense of terror seeps into the cracks of her skin and travels up her spine. “I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between their fuckin’ eyes, unless Ellie gets to it before I do.” “Make it seem like a horror movie.” She giggled.
back to scary!oc i see….. :sideeye: but wow. it’s really unsettling to me that mandy, the sociopath is uncomfortable and it’s by reader’s doing. i think it really speaks volumes about oc and the things we don’t know about them. there’s this darker side to oc that’s foreshadowed in many interactions through this fic and it’s really intriguing. what kind limits do they really have? do they have any? or is it truly a “whatever it takes” mentality. all of it is verrrryyyy interesting.
also for oc to say i wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between their their fuckin eyes not to mention also dragging ellie in the statement before. so….this isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this? it also reminds of the little passage in the beginning where reader said ellie and her are a line she’s not willing to cross. okay….but what line is being crossed then?
AHHHHHHH ITS MAKING ME CRAZZZYYYYY. #youareagenius
On a note, she hadn’t realised or seemed to have noticed just how bold and eerie you got when you would bluntly stare. Like Ellie, Mandy never understood what you were thinking about when sitting there, zoning out like a zombie. At some points she expects to start seeing cartoon bubbles with those pictures appearing by the side of your head. “What’s the scariest movie you’ve seen?”
READER/OC YOU SCARE MENEENRNDNDDJ WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ALL THESE YEARS I NEED TO KNOW.
“I was just going to say that Abby owes you two kisses for the black eye you got.” He smiled innocently. “Risked your whole face for her. Props to you.”
ETHEL CAINNNNNN CRUUUSHHHHHH EASTERRRRRR EGGGGGGGGG. RAHHHHHHHHH. I LOVE YOUR BRAIN. I'M SENDING YOU A MILLION KISSES ASAPRICKY.
“Yes, Boss.”
#bossslay 🥰🥰🥰
The fact she’s not getting it makes you more angry, angrier than when you found out Abby went missing. “But, I did this for you? Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see I do everything for you?” “I didn’t ask you to take my best friend away from me! I’m asking you to give her back to me!” “She’s not here! Why would she be here?!” “Do not let her move,” You told them as you slowly took a couple of steps away from her. “If either of you let her walk out that damn door, m’shooting you both.” With the stare you were giving them, they both knew you weren’t kidding. You were scary when you were angry, that’s not a secret.
AGAINNNNNN WOULD READER ACTUALLY SHOOT THEM?????? ARE THEY BEING FR???? IM SCARED OF THEM ACTUALLY. OHMYGGOODDDJDDJJDJDJD.
slightly traumatized by how scary they are but that’s kinda……..
okay let me shut up my mouth right now. but actually, i need a novel about what reader has been up to all these years.
“Let me have her, that’s all I want, please just— I need Abby, please” You begged, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the cool metal on your skin. “I just want my Abby back.” “There’s no Abby left to bring back.”
oof. this hurts because there’s some level of truth within it. even if abby can be saved, there are parts of her that will never be the same. she will never be the version of abby that reader loved. she never can be. and that truth is a stab to my lovergirl soul. i’ll be billing you for my therapy bills 🤍
The figure curled up in the corner of the room, holding themselves until whatever nightmare they’re able to get out of. Taking a singular step into the room, you crouch slowly, ignoring the throbbing pain in your hand as you reach it out and gently touch their shoulder. “M’not gonna hurt you,” You reassured just before they flinch at your touch with a pained whimper, head whipping around and tired blue eyes meet yours. The sight causes your breath to hitch and heart to thump loudly in your chest. “Abby?”
ABBBYYYYYYYY BABYGIRLLLLLL WE SAVED YOUUUUU (reader should have found you earlier but they are a bit shady…..) but abby flinching :((( </33 babygirl has been through so much, hurt sm, nobody went looking for her, she deserves so much better. oc step aside, you don’t deserve her, thank u ☺️
“It’s n..not the same,” A sob slipped out and she shook her head. “Not the same,” “What’s not the same?” “If I take it off, you’re g..going to find it disgusting,” “I could never think that of you, Abs”
wow. pain. PAINNNNNNNNNN. but also soft reassurance to someone (abby) who has just endured the most abuse, hasn’t seen someone she loves or cares about for years and her first thought is how she is going to be perceived by someone she does love. the last thing she wants is to be so raw and exposed, left for you to see. she’s fresh off an open wound and god, knowing she is back in a safe space is something she needs to hear. hell, no matter what anyone of us are going through, we all need it so to see that showcased is really beautiful.
“I took care of it, she won’t hurt Abby or anyone else again.” Ellies eyes didn’t leave Abby as she spoke. “Stop, I took care of it, like we promised. We keep each other safe.” She sighed once she noticed your look. “Abby?”
i have not been able to stop thinking about this interaction. dang. WHAT DID ELLIE DO …. I NEED THE LORE …. ugh my brain that craves to know everything is being deprived and i need all the erenussy info on this …. BUT it’s very beautiful the way you have intended it to be. a mystery.
One secret revealed, another buried and hidden.
and the one liner, perfect as always, ending on a fucking banger. ay dios mio, this is perfection. just as everything you write. thank you for blessing with this masterpiece. an exquisite masterpiece that you put so much love, intention, and talent in creating. i feel so honored i got to be apart of your process as you were in between the stages of creating it. there is nothing i love more than supporting you. one day, you will see how brilliant you are, because you are. so brilliant with that gorgeous brain of yours.
i love you, never stop sharing your talent, my sweet bubba ♡
SECRETS WILL KILL YOU, KEEP IT HUSH.
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synopsis: what was once the best times of your lives, what happens when the one you loved more than live itself, your best friend; vanishes without a trace and it’s up to you and your friends to figure out what happened? can you save her in time? tags: major angst, talks of character death, reader being oblivious, cursing, nervous and depressed reader, talks of guns, an appearance from said gun near the end, sprinkles of fluff. happy ending, somewhat. there’s probably a bunch of other stuff i’m missing, but i need this out my face already. wc: 22k .... uhm, look away. an: i’m not sure how i feel about this, but i’ve been reading too many psychological books over this past month; send help asap, and had the idea to write a little something of my own, i say little like this isn’t sitting at a fat 20k+ words .. don’t judge me please or i’ll cry. i cried too much writing this because i hated it for so long LMAO. thank you @vifilms for proofreading and supporting this crazy idea, and helping me through it. i love you. anyway, enjoy <3
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Thursday, 28th April 2015.
“you know you could just tell your date you came down with a cold, s’not like she would notice, girls too obsessed with herself notice anything,” Abby suggested, her round dark green glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.
“I can’t just lie,” You scoffed, looking up from your phone, and noticing Abby was clad in one of your sweaters, cross-legged and reading yet another recommended book. “Besides, you know me and dates never last, remember the last one? 20 minutes into getting to know her,”
“She accidentally mentioned her girlfriend, yes, I will never let you live it down.” Abby giggled from beside you and shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen this time? She tells you about the 4 wives she has at home?”
“Funny,” You grumbled and slapped her shoulder playfully. Abby laughed and you felt your heart flutter. You liked it when she laughed, it felt refreshing and beautiful. “If that happens, I hope you’ll be there to rescue me when I call you stressed out.”
Holding her hand over her heart, the blonde nodded with a subtle smirk on her lips. “I solemnly swear I will always rescue you from your failed dates.”
“Hey, Honey.”
Jerry. Sweet and kind Jerry Anderson; He still looks young, even though the stubble on his face is more grey than before, the dark bags under his eyes darker, but you can tell the glint is slowly burning out in his eyes. He used to have a spark to him, but now it’s dim, almost vanishing right before you. “Hey, Mr Anderson.” You coughed on smoke and cleared your throat.
“C’mon kid, I’ve known you since you were in diapers, and throwing eggs at the neighbor’s house, you can call me Jerry.” He laughed, but the smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. Not like it used to be.
Stubbing out your cigarette on the sidewalk, you chuckled nervously and wiped your hands nervously on your jeans. “Yeah, no right, sorry, Jerry, habit, you know” you trailed off, looking at him silently, trying to work him out. “Any news?”
“No, don’t think there will be any for a while.”
Abby, your best friend, had made a joke once in her backyard that if you weren’t both in a serious relationship before you turned 18, you would both date, settle down, and get married. It was a promise you promised to keep, if anything, you would be right outside her door, asking her to be your girlfriend the second you turned 18.
Her 26th birthday is next week.
Abby disappeared just weeks before her 18th, she left your house happy and smiley, secretly hoping you would still be single in the next two weeks. She loved you. Jerry knew how much she adored and loved you. Hearing about the dates you would set yourself up on, broke her heart but you were her best friend, so she should be happy for you right? Never ruin a best friend’s dream and wish, she told herself each time she left you and went home to cry into her pillow while her dad, god bless his soul, sat on the end of her bed, comforted her, and stood by her.
“I miss her you know?” You finally mumbled out, looking away from him. “More than I did yesterday, and I’ll miss her more tomorrow than I did today.” The crack in your voice was evident, and it broke Jerry’s heart to see and hear you so distraught. His was hurting too, for so many reasons, but the main one was he didn’t know where his daughter was and it was slowly killing him.
“I know you do, kid,” His smile was faint, his hand trembling as he took a seat beside you on the sidewalk. “My girl loved you with all her heart,” His voice wavered and you couldn’t even smile at him, you couldn’t even promise him anything because how can you? “I know in my heart she’s still out there, somewhere, I’ve heard the talk, the gossip people are saying, saying that she’s dead, some days I believe it, some days I don’t, but I do know one thing, she’ll come back, to us, to you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she’s an Anderson, we don’t give up,” Jerry laughed and for a second it felt like Abby was still with you, laughing and joking like nothing else in the world mattered. “And she’s your best friend, my girl wouldn’t leave you behind. She’ll come back, and that promise you made each other? When you were younger, stealing my beers and trying to smoke a joint?” He laughed again when your eyes widened and he patted your back lightly. “No judgment here, Abby is always safe with you, but you both made a promise, and she will always keep a promise.”
“I’ll find her, Jerry, I promise.”
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“You’re slouching like a dog and m’pretty sure you’re drooling”
Peeling your eyes open slowly, you scowled at the sight of a smirking Ellie looking down at you amused. “Fuck off, what do you want?” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and closing your eyes again.
“Saw Jerry,” Her voice was suddenly softer, and you could just picture the way she was playing with her fingers, not knowing what else to say. “He looked—”
“Worse for wear?”
“Something like that,” Ellie smiled and sat in the empty chair beside you. “I know this is a dumb question, but have you heard or seen anything?”
“You mean have I seen the girl I’m in love with walking around? The same girl who suddenly vanished into thin air?”
“Don’t be a dick, m’serious.”
“Then no, I haven’t seen Abby walking around. Do you think I would be sitting here, drinking a beer at 1pm if Abby was here?”
Ellie, even though she pisses you off and gets under your skin, was helpful with everything. She was always there if you needed someone to talk to, always about if you needed just a little help trying to figure out when and where Abby disappeared too. After the breakup with Dina, Ellie felt herself stuck in a hole, unable to feel that push to get out and get help. You were there for each other, even if Dina did give you a subtle glare or side eye when she saw you together. You and Ellie was a line neither of you would cross. That’s always been how it is.
“Hey guys!”
“Oh here we go,” Ellie shrank back in her chair and held back a groan. “Doesn’t this girl have other friends? I wouldn’t even say we are friends”
“Who is— Oh fuck sake.”
“How are we doing?!” Mandy, someone that Dina had brought into the friend group when Ellie and she were still together, skipped over and smiled at you both. “Ellie.”
“Anyway, as I was saying,” She completely blanked her, turned back to you, and smirked. “I think that we, me and you if you get my drift, should go and look for her.”
“Say fuckin’ what now?” You blinked.
“Find whom?”
“Abby, who else do you think?” Your friend snapped.
“Oh, the girl who wanted you to abandon our date that one time?”
You can see her lips moving, but you don’t know what she or even Ellie are saying; your eyes are locked in on the charm around her bracelet. It wasn’t there a few weeks ago, you’d know, she’s always happy and cheery, flinging her arms about like she’s just snorted the lemonade instead of drinking it. It looked oddly familiar, but at the same time, you couldn’t put your finger on it. “So what do you think?” Ellie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and she looked at you with that infuriating grin.
“About?”
“Finding Abby”
Ellie can’t tell if you want to throttle her or throw something at her with the way you’re staring at her. It used to freak her out when you would go silent and just stare like you suddenly forgot how to function, but lately, she’s gotten used to it, this is your way of processing something. “Ellie, you can’t be serious right? We don’t even know where she went before— before she just disappeared. How are we going to find her? With what money? Where do we even start? This isn’t some crime show we watch on the TV, Ellie, this is real, this is her life—”
Her hands came up, grabbed your shoulders, and squeezed tightly with a soft chuckle. “Breath, Nancy Drew, you’re going to give yourself a panic attack. We don’t have to suddenly rush off, and get ourselves into trouble, we just have to retrace steps. Abby’s steps.”
“It’s been years, El.”
“I know, but we’ll find her, okay? She wouldn’t just leave, and she wouldn’t leave you. We all know this, you know this.” Her smile reassured you somewhat, but you still had that nerve eating away at you. What if she really was gone?
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The charm was still gnawing at you. Where could you have pictured it before? You weren’t 100% sure you were seeing things right, maybe it was one that you had thought you had seen before but it was your mind playing tricks on you. Maybe it was because you had a hole in your heart, and you were trying to put something there to ease it a little. To make it whole again.
So why couldn’t you let it go? Why did you have to keep pushing yourself into something that wasn’t there? Was it because you needed Abby, and you needed to find her? To restore your thoughts? Or was it because some part of you knew the outcome of what’s happened, and you were too afraid to say it out loud?
“Been a couple of years since you came in here,” Jerry’s voice rang out from behind you. He sounded tired. He probably hasn’t slept properly in years, just like you. So you knew how he was feeling. “You and Abby would try stealing the candy, but I always knew it was you two. Always sneaking around and causing trouble between yourselves.”
You looked at him over your shoulder, fingers grasping at the picture he hand hung up on the wall of Abby, tightly and smiled painfully. “Did Abby take anything? When you—”
“I would have told you, you know that.” Jerry cut you off, dropping the box in his hands onto the floor, and sighed softly. “I’ve been in her room hundreds of times since she, well, since she disappeared and I haven’t noticed anything different. I haven’t even changed the wallpaper, s’too hard to handle.”
“She wouldn’t have left without a reason, Jerry. Abby doesn’t just go missing. If she was in trouble, she would have come to me, if anything was wrong, she would have called me, she would have asked for my help.”
“This is hard for me to talk about.”
“And you think It’s not hard for me?” You scoffed, gripping the picture tighter. “My best friend goes missing and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do. There’s nothing I can do. It fucking kills me to know that she’s probably out there, scared and alone, and I’m here feeling sorry for myself? You know how fucking shitty that makes me feel that I couldn’t keep her safe? She’s not fucking here and It’s my fault because I didn’t protect her hard enough. I should have walked her home that night, I should have done more.”
For the first time in years, Jerry can see how terrified you are. For a while, you’ve been able to keep your emotions and feelings at bay, keep them under control, but as you stand there, looking at him, he can see a younger you. A scared little you. You look small, broken, and terrified as you stand before him. “This isn’t your fault,” He shakes his head and clenches his fist. “This has never been your fault.”
“When I look at you, I wait for you to shout and yell at me. Blame me for her going missing, I wait every single time, and it never comes. That’s pathetic, right? That I wait for you to blame me for the reason your daughter is missing.”
His sudden sob catches your attention, and you feel like shit. You’ve never meant to make him upset, you’ve always been the one to make people laugh, to make their stomachs hurt over a silly joke you made, but always has everyone laughing and smiling. But you’ve made him cry, and you suddenly feel lost again. “M’sorry—”
“I’ve never blamed you for this, and I won’t start today”
You find Ellie on her porch step that same afternoon after your conversation with Jerry, nursing a glass of water in her hand and her eyebrow raises just slightly when you storm over and stand right in front of her with your arms folded over your chest. “Alright? You look like you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown or murder.” She joked, and your lips quirked up just slightly. “What’s up?”
“I want to find Abby.”
Just like that, Ellie placed her glass beside her, almost knocking it over when she leaned back and grinned at you. “Nancy Drew, this is going to be something,” She lazily smiled and stood up quickly. “Just don’t go telling Joel, he worries enough about me and whatnot,”
“Tell him that we’re just going camping, just until we get somewhere with whatever steps we have to retrace around here.”
“Camping?” She scoffed and glared at you.
“Ellie, you dress like you live in the fuckin’ woods, he’ll believe you.” You rolled your eyes, brushed past her, up the stairs, and into her house. “C’mon idiot!”
“God, yes Mother!”
When you were younger, you and Abby spent a lot of time at Ellie’s house. Joel always had to refill glasses with lemonade to put more sandwiches on empty plates, and you were always thankful for him, Ellie, and Abby. Always for Abby. The memories of your childhood, your growing up, lingered in certain parts of the house. For a split second, you felt like you were back there as you walked into the living room; you remember how Abby almost cried when she lost a game of Uno, and Ellie teased her nonstop for it. You remember how the blonde would cuddle into your side during random movie nights, especially the horror movies Dina decided to watch, even though she would turn them off most of the time because it got too scary.
The picture of the 4 of you still sits on the fireplace and a smile curves on your lips. You still remember the day it was taken, and how cold it was to take such a picture in the snow. If you squint hard enough, you can see the redness forming on Abby’s nose, and if pictures had audio then you would be able to faintly hear the chattering sound of Ellie’s teeth at how cold it was that night. You weren’t sure if Ellie would have gotten rid of all the memories, but you were thankful she didn’t. You lost Abby, Jerry lost Abby, but in the end, you all lost her. You all lost a part of yourselves that morning he couldn’t find her. A little bit of each of you died when the posters were put up all around Jackson not even a week later. The missing poster still haunts you. No matter what.
“Even in pictures, Abby always wanted to be close to you.”
Joel. Placing the picture back down, you turn around and find him holding logs of wood. His hair was slightly shorter; Ellie probably had enough and took the scissors to it. His eyes still had a small glimmer of hope, but he still looked exhausted. “Yeah,” You nodded and fumbled with your hoodie sleeve. “Haven’t taken a photo since, feels too weird without her in them. It would also feel like cheating, can’t take a picture that she’s not in, you know?” A faint smile tugged at your lips.
“You’ll all take one together when she’s back, no doubt about it. Hell, Ellie will probably fill her wall with new pictures of you guys,” Like Jerry, Joel’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you hold back either a sigh or a cry. “El misses her too, you know?” He added quietly, like he was scared she would hear you both. “She might not talk about it, like you, but I’ve heard her crying at night, sometimes it takes me hours to get her to calm down. Poor girl almost sent herself into a panic attack last night because she was crying so much. I wish I knew how to help her, all I ever want is to help her and keep her safe and I don’t know how. I feel lost because I can’t help her when she needs it.”
“You’re doing the best you can, Joel.” You wanted to help her too, you wanted to ease and help everyone but even you were lost and confused. “She knows you’re here, and she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk about it. I promise.”
“Yeah I know—”
“Joel? I thought you were out with Tommy?” Ellie appeared finally and looked between you both. “You guys alright?” She laughed nervously and dropped her jacket on the back of the chair with a shiver. It was slowly getting colder, so more blankets and fires were needed.
“Yeah, yeah, was just catching up and stuff, haven’t seen Joel or Tommy for a while.”
“If you didn’t cancel on the dinner last week, you would have seen them,” She teased, kissing Joel’s cheek and taking the wood from his hands before walking over to the almost gone-out fire. “Old man misses you, he misses all of you.”
Even Abby, she thinks.
“Right, you guys staying for dinner or?” Joel laughed.
“Yes, we’re staying,” Ellie looked at you, folding her arms over her chest. “Aren’t we?”
“Yeah, missed your cooking.” You grinned playfully at him.
“We’ll be in my room!”
“I know El, It’s the only place you socialize.”
Pushing open her door, Ellie slumps herself in her desk chair, sighs, and then looks over at you as you slump face-first onto her bed. “Right, operation find Abby, what’s first?”
“Well, we all saw her that night, surely someone knows something that we don’t,” you mumbled before lifting your head slowly with a grumble. “Abby doesn’t just go missing within 24 hours, El. Not without someone seeing something. Have you seen how many people lurk outside the bar? Lurk around the shops? Someone has to have seen her, or something.”
“So, we start there. We ask everyone.”
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“C’mon dude, surely you remember seeing her at least once that night?!” Ellie scowled, holding up a photograph of Abby in his face, almost shoving it under his nose with how angry she was getting. Sighing under your breath, you reached your hand up and pulled her arm away.
“El, he doesn't remember, let’s ask someone else. Preferably someone who isn’t drunk right now.”
“We’ve been asking people for hours—”
“It’s not going to happen overnight El, and as much as I want it to, It’s impossible.” You rubbed at your face and sighed loud enough for her scowl to drop and a frown to appear. “I just want her to be okay, and I know that she’s scared somewhere, whenever she is, but I need to find her.”
“We’ll find her, we’ll look around all day and night if we have to.”
The metal door clangs loudly against the brick wall, sending a slight vibration through the floor, and the feeling of terror sinks in all over again. The room is dark, and cold, not even a blanket could keep you warm if you tried hard enough. The days have been lost, not even sure what year it is anymore, and not even having enough energy to count specks of dirt on the walls have been long forgotten. The energy to keep going was slowly getting lower and lower.
The painful squeak of the door opening would cause anyone to lose sleep. “Eat your food, don’t make me waste more money on this shit if you don’t want to eat it. Stop being ungrateful and do what I tell you.” The small plate of food hits the floor, almost going everywhere, and just like that the door slams shut again without another word.
How much longer?
“Yeah, I saw her.”
Both yours and Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up at his words, and you look at her with a glimmer of hope. “You did? You saw her?” You asked.
“Course I did,” He nodded, taking a hit from his cigarette and coughing abruptly. “Was getting something from the bakery store, bread or something? She wasn’t there for long, but I saw her.”
“Was she with anyone?”
“Nah, was by herself, she didn’t seem to be in a rush or anything. I was cleaning up the tables outside, and that’s when I saw her. Then when it came about that she had gone missing the next week, I didn’t know what to think. I don’t think she went missing, but I suppose I should let the professionals deal with it.”
“Professionals,” Ellie clicked her tongue on the side of her mouth and laughed. “Yeah because they’re much help.”
“Thank you,” You smiled apologetically. “Let us know if you can remember anything else.”
“Will do. Hope you find her.”
Just as you and Ellie turned around to leave, to ask someone else, that high-pitched voice rang out again. Stopping you both in your tracks. “Hi!” Mandy smiled sweetly, looking between you both as she got closer.
“Gonna take this pencil and shove it right in my fuckin’ eye,” Ellie grumbled under her breath.
“Hi, Mandy.” You murmured.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Looking for Abby, didn’t we mention this to you yesterday?”
Jabbing Ellie in the rib, you shook your head when she glared at you and slapped on a fake smile. “Did you see Abby at all?” You asked, looking at her closely.
Mandy looked between you both again, eyes just widening slightly before she laughed and shrugged. “No? We weren’t close.”
“Don’t have to be close to someone to know if you saw them or not.” Ellie pointed out.
“I was with my parents, and even if I did see her, I was drinking too much that night to know,” She shrugged again, looking at you with a happy smile. One that for some reason, made you uncomfortable. “Speaking of which, I have some books I have to give back to my parents.”
“You remember being drunk that many years ago?”
There it was again, the wave of her hand brushing her hair away from her face when you noticed that same bracelet charm. It was making you irritated because you still can’t picture where it’s from, or who made it. But you know that you’ve seen it before, that you do know and are aware of. “—If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay?” Mandy offered, giving you one final smile before she walked away.
“She pisses me off more and more every day I swear. Remind me why you went on a date with her?” Ellie slipped the pen into her pocket and rubbed her nose harshly. Was she coming down with yet another cold? You thought to yourself.
“M’not sure, she always cornered me when I was alone and kept asking until I said yes, that’s it.” You shrugged as you both walked. “She always shows up when we’re talking about Abby, no?”
“I don’t think she’s the kidnapping or killing type, to be honest. Too bubbly and cheerful.”
“She’s not dead, Ellie.”
Halting in her steps, Ellie turns around and acknowledges her words quickly. “Shit, no I know, I didn’t mean it like that. This is just stressing me out, we’re still getting nowhere.”
You both take a seat on the chairs outside the bakery, tired and feeling sorry for yourself as you both silently look through the list of names of people you still need to talk to. Wanted to know if anyone had seen her, just something. “There’s still the lady who owns the wine shop, that creepy guy who owns the other bar,” Ellie mumbled.
Brushing your fingers over the paper, you shrink back in the chair with a sigh, one that already explains how tired you are, and close your eyes.
Saturday, 1st May 2015.
“Yeah, m’here,” you mumbled, holding your phone to your ear, feet kicking at the rocks. “Make sure you rescue me.”
“I have a good feeling about this date,” Abby admitted softly, unbeknownst to you, holding back her sobs, and smiled even though you couldn’t see her. “I think It’s going to be amazing.”
“Yeah? How do you know?”
“Because I know you, and you deserve this.”
Her words buried deep in your chest, and you felt your eyes slowly well up with tears, but you couldn’t cry, not today, not when you were about to have a fucking date. “Abby?”
You weren’t sure if you heard the hitch in her breath, and if you did, you ignored it. “Yeah?” She asked, fumbling with the sleeve of the hoodie she stole from you.
“Thank you.”
Blinking away the tears in her eyes, Abby smiles sadly to herself. “Of course. I love you.”
“I love you—”
“Y/N? Hi!”
“Abby I gotta go, I’ll come over after, yeah?”
“Good luck.”
Slipping your phone into your back pocket once you hung up, you smiled tightly. “Mandy, right?”
“The one and only! Seems unsettling it took you until the first date to know my name, but whatever, we’re here now.” She didn’t seem to notice your tight-lipped smile and urge to roll your eyes. “Shall we?”
“Lead the way.”
The small restaurant was slightly dimmed, smelling of cigarettes and strong beer. Mandy didn’t seem to mind, in fact, she was happily walking around; looking for a table to sit at and a small shriek of happiness flooded from her once she found a table that fitted her. “Let’s sit, come come.” The redhead hurried, throwing her bag and jacket onto the table beside her.
“Oh, uh, sure,” You took her things, smiling apologetically at the old couple who looked at her shocked, and seated yourself in the chair opposite her. “M’not sure what to eat here, never been before.” You admitted sheepishly.
Mandy, who had yet to even speak, looked at you with a smile. “Everything here is good except for the lemon tart and the white wine.”
“What’s wrong with the wine?”
“Tastes like shit, typical for them, and whatnot.” She shrugged again, and It caught you off guard with how fast she covered up her distaste for things with a wide smile. One that’s almost sinister-looking. She was a good person though, Dina mentioned she was. You couldn’t judge her based on a smile. “Now, how did you meet Dina and Ellie?”
“I met Abby first, actually—”
“Abby? Why doesn’t that name ring a bell?”
“Oh, uh, Jerry Anderson’s daughter? They own the candy store?”
“Ah,” Mandy flashed yet another smile, sitting back in her chair and nodding along. “Don’t know them personally, I wouldn’t have a reason to.”
“Right,” Clearing your throat, you hummed and gave her your best grin. Did you look stupid? Maybe, but did she care? Apparently not. “How did you meet Dina?”
The sharp pinch on your skin had your eyes snapping open, your body almost falling out of the chair when you spotted Ellie looking at you, grinning from ear to ear. “Dude, fuck you.”
“You’re wasting time, If m’not allowed to nap, then you aren’t allowed either.” She scoffed, slipped the sheet of paper into her pocket, and stood up. “We aren’t getting anywhere, let’s go back to mine and we can go from there.”
“What if there’s nothing?”
“There’s always something.”
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You started to lose count of the days. First they started as days, and then they suddenly started blending into weeks. You and Ellie were still none the wiser. Still lost on every account of what happened when Abby had left your house the night she vanished. You had barely left your bed; only to shower, brush your teeth and eat, but besides that, it felt like you were falling into another deep hole you weren’t sure you could dig yourself out of.
Today was the first day you gathered enough energy to pull yourself out of the hole that was your unmade bed, and clothe yourself in something that had way too many holes, and probably is over 5 years old, but it was a start. “Most books that come back are usually missing a couple of pages, s’not unusual,” Brenda, the owner, explained with a tired smile. “Doesn’t make it less annoying though.”
“Yeah, can’t read a book with a fuckin’ page missin,” You grumbled, feeling the same emotions as her. You could get lost in your books, and to know the one you wanted to read was missing about 5 pages pissed you off. “S’fine, I’ll just take the other books.”
“Are you sure, Honey?”
“Yeah, m’sure—”
From the corner of your eye, there was a sudden flash, a sliver of blonde hair caught your attention and your body did a full 180, dropping the books on the floor, causing Brenda to let out a scowl and drop to her knees quickly just to pick them up. They were collector books, how dare you just drop them?” Shit, fuck, sorry, Brenda, I have to go—”
You were already running away before you finished your sentence. Pushing people out of your way, tugging them and almost pushing them over as you scrambled to get past the large crowds. “Abby!?” You shouted, sadly tripping someone over in the process, but a part of you didn’t care. “Move out the fuckin’ way,” Your hands pressed onto a back, shoving them a little too hard for anyone’s liking, sending them tumbling over one of the stools. “Abby!”
Before you could comprehend anything else, let alone think about the blonde hair, your body barreled into another harshly, sending you both to the floor, your back hits the dirty floor with a loud thud and winds you in the process. “Fuck!” You hissed, coughing painfully.
“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”
Jesse. Turning on your side, your eyes flutter open, the pain in your back trailing all over your body as you find him already pushing himself off the floor, crouching beside you, and holding a hand out for you. “Sorry, I just thought I saw someone.” You explained, taking his hand and letting him pull you up.
“Abby?”
“What?”
“You were shouting her name,” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders and dusting off yours. “Dina told me you and Ellie were looking for her, or something like that,” Jesse murmured, holding his hand up to block the sun from his eyes. “Had any luck?”
“I wouldn’t be shouting her name like a fuckin’ maniac and pushing people over if I had luck finding her,” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. His smile fell at your aggression, but quickly recovered and patted your shoulder with another smile. “Sorry, I’ve just— I don’t know what to do, It feels like she’s still here, somewhere, and I just want her to come back.”
“I know, and she will. You’re both like, stuck to each other, If anyone can find her, It’s you,”
“Y/N! Y/N!”
Turning your head, you find Ellie frantically running towards you and Jesse. She barely acknowledges him though and instead, shoves a piece of paper into your hands before hunching over, resting her hands on her thighs and panting heavily. “What’s this?” You question with a raised eyebrow.
“Abby was arguing with someone,” She spoke between pants and cleared her throat. “That creepy old man we saw last week? Freaked me the fuck out, to be honest, but when I saw him again this morning, he kind of cornered me and started telling me that she was arguing with someone near the barn, it got heated, but that’s all he remembers.” Ellie finally got out.
“Arguing? With who?”
“Fuck if I know, but he said it sounded bad. So whoever she was arguing with, knows where she went, or was the one to see her last, right?” She blinked, copying Jesse and blocking the sun from her face with her hand.
“I thought I saw her,”
“Saw who? Abby? When?”
“Was talking to Brenda about books, and then It just felt like I saw her—”
“Almost took me out in the process.” Jesse chimed in.
Rolling your eyes, you looked down at the sheet of paper; the same sheet that listed the names of everyone who lived here. “So she was arguing with someone? That could have been anyone.”
“Half of them are old, one argument would send them into their coffin—”
“Ellie!”
“What?! M’just saying! It’s true.”
“Jesse, do you remember Abby wearing jewelry?” You asked after a few seconds of silence.
His eyebrow rose this time, only to furrow. “Uh, maybe, I’m not sure, why?”
“Abby never wore jewelry unless it was from you or Jerry.” Ellie gave you the same confused look. “Why? What is that big head of yours thinking?”
“Nah, s’nothing, was just wondering,” You shook them off and scrambled the paper between your hands. “Something just feels off and I can’t explain it no matter how much I think.”
“Jerry still has all those pictures we took, maybe we can start there this time, see if anything jumps out at you?” Jesse suggested this time.
“Wha— You?” Ellie scoffed.
“Abby is my friend too, Ellie.”
“And yet you’ve never taken the time to visit us or Jerry since she went missing, shocker, Jesse.”
“Guys, enough,” You pinched the bridge of your nose harshly and sighed deeply. “Let’s just go see Jerry for the pictures.”
Jerry wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t changed anything in Abby’s bedroom. The wallpaper was still the yellow and sunflower she picked when she turned 16. The bed sheets were the same light blue with clouds that scattered around the fabric. Her mirror still had every Polaroid hung up from the multiple drunk nights you all had. “There’s still another box in the attic, I’ll get it for you.” Her Dad appeared in the doorway, looking at you all with a gentle smile. “Weird seeing all of you in her room after so long,” He chuckled and placed the box on her bed. “Can I get any of you something to eat or drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“M’alright, but thank you, Jerry.”
“Can I have a glass of water?”
“Really, Jesse?” Ellie glared.
“What?! I’m thirsty.” Jesse glared back.
“I’ll get your drink and then grab the last box.” Jerry laughed at their bickering and left the room.
“Right,” Ellie clasped her hands together and took refuge at Abby’s untouched desk. You could tell Jerry hadn’t touched anything there because the old music festival poster was still lying there on the oak. “Something that could help us.” She muttered to herself while you and Jesse were already opening the box.
“I didn’t realize how many pictures we took when we were all together,” Jesse smiled fondly at the thought of seeing so many old memories between you all and instantly shoved his hand into the filled box and grabbed a handful of pictures.
“How many are there?” Ellie laughed from the other side of the room.
“More than Joel has of those vinyls, that’s for sure.” You chuckled.
“Old man is gonna be so jealous we have more pictures together than he has of his beloved music.”
“Or you could find another that he doesn’t have yet, you know, being a good daughter to the old man seeing as he feeds you 4 times a day and takes care of you,” You suggested with a subtle smirk. “Just a little idea of what to get him for his birthday.”
“Oh yeah? What are you gonna get him then?”
“Another jumper, what else?”
“You’ve given him over 10 since you met him!”
“Didn’t you steal 3 of my jumpers?” You quipped back, eyebrow rose and lips quirked up.
“You just— Your jumpers are comfy, okay!?”
“Oh I was just asking, you’re the one getting all defensive,” You teased before taking your handful of pictures. You don’t remember each time you took them, there were so many that it could go back years before you were even friends with Ellie or Jesse. There were more than enough to write an entire book; it seemed as you scanned over a couple.
As you went to grab another set, seeing as the ones you picked didn’t really give you much, you had knocked over the pile that Jesse had already looked through, and sent them tumbling to the floor. Cursing under your breath, you rolled your eyes at yourself and sighed. “Shit,” You grumbled, placing the pile of photos on the bed before kneeling on the floor to grab the few that you knocked over. “Ellie, did you find anything?”
“Nah, still nothing.” The Brunette sighed from the desk.
Picking up the abandoned photos, you quickly catch onto a slight glint and sparkle from the corner of your eye; furrowing your eyebrows, you push the pictures onto the bed with the others, and lean your head down more, looking under her bed. “What the—” Reaching towards whatever it was you thought you saw, you grabbed it, and your lips parted with a soft exhale.
A bracelet.
Holding it up, you inspected it closely. “What’s that?” Jesse spoke up as you noticed there were quite a few charms already missing. Did Abby hide them? Why was there only a few left, and the others were gone? “Is that Abby’s?”
Ellie had quickly snatched it from your hands, which caused you to almost stumble onto the floor at her abrupt movement, held the bracelet up and looked at it. “I’ve only seen this once,”
“So It’s hers?”
“I assume so, I saw her with it on her 16th birthday,” Ellie nodded and took a seat in the middle of Abby’s bed with her legs crossed. “I’ve only seen her with it on once, and I mean, you guys should know that too seeing as you got her the fuckin’ thing, Y/N”
Did you? Then why couldn’t you remember?
“How don’t you remember?” Jesse laughed and slapped the back of your head gently. “Can we just talk about the fact she wore all of your clothes? She wouldn’t go out unless you were going, nor would she go to any of the parties here unless you were with her? You were both obsessed with each other. You bought it for her, or made it for her, should I say.”
“Made it?” You choked out, looking over at the bracelet that was still in Ellie’s hands. “I don’t—”
“It’s been hard for all of us, but more so for you,” Ellie admitted quietly and smiled sadly. “Abs was closer to you than the rest of us. We can all understand that this is something you don’t remember because you’re too busy blaming yourself.”
“That’s not—”
“Y/N, you’ve been blaming yourself the second the missing posters went up,” Jesse spoke, sitting beside Ellie on the bed. “Every day since then you’ve blamed yourself,and you’re still blaming yourself, right now, I just know your head is going through the cycle It’s been going through for the past god knows how many years.”
“But why don’t I remember making her that? Why?”
“Because you’re blocking it out,” Jerry spoke up. “You’re blocking out all the memories because you’re scared.”
“M’not scared—”
Planting the final box on the floor, Jerry crouches beside you and places his hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “You’re blocking them out because you’re scared. You’ve been blocking them out because you’re blaming yourself, and maybe if you block them out, it won’t hurt you as much—”
“Hurt me,” You scoffed and shrugged his hand off your shoulder as you stumbled to your feet. “Won’t hurt me as much. M’not ready to let her go, is that better for you? Maybe if I keep my memories locked away, I’ll have more time to make new ones when she comes home. I know this is fucking hard for all of us, for you, but it is killing me—” You paused to take a deep breath, ignoring the worried looks on all of them. “It’s fucking killing me going through fucking photos, asking people around the fucking village, trying to figure out what happened when she’s fucking alone, all alone and I don’t know where she is. This is pointless, all of this is pointless because Abby means more to me than some pictures! I’m here looking at fucking pictures while the girl I love is somewhere out there, fucking scared and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t promise you anything, I can’t promise no one anything”
“Y/N—” Jerry frowned as he rose to his feet and cupped your face gently between his hands. “You’re looking for her,” He murmured with a soft smile. “You’re doing something, and you’re doing a better job than the so-called professionals.”
“I can’t even figure out who she argued with, I haven’t done anything.” You choked out, body falling into his as he wrapped his arm around you and cupped the back of your head. “I need her back, I just want her back.”
“I have faith. With you both, I always have.” Jerry smiled.
You weren’t sure what happened after your small breakdown, all you know is that you’re still sitting in Abby’s bedroom 5 hours later. Still sifting through endless pictures, notes, journals, anything to give you a hint of something. Was Abby afraid of someone? Why was she arguing? Who was she arguing with? You had so many questions and yet you felt like you had so little time to get everything. “This is the second time she’s yelled at me, what did I do wrong?” Ellie, who was hunched over the desk, mumbled as your eyes locked onto her back.
“Ellie? Who yelled at you?” You asked, sitting up slowly.
“What? No, It’s a diary entry in Abby’s journal,” She turned around, made her way over to you, climbed onto the bed, and slumped beside you. “Look,” Ellie passed you the book, onto the page she was reading and you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw it.
“Who yelled at her?” You took the journal from her hand and skimmed through more of the pages, ones you assume Ellie has yet to read through. Jesse left not that long ago, muttering apologies but his parents wanted him to help with dinner.
The more you flipped through, the more you noticed.
Sunday, 2nd May 2015.
I think she hates me. I’m not sure what I did for her to hate me, but apparently I must have done something.
Sunday, 2nd May 2015.
She threatened me today. I haven’t stopped crying. I don’t know why she hates me.
Monday, 3rd May 2015.
It’s getting harder and harder to look at her and tell her I’m fine. It’s breaking my heart and I can’t even talk to her about it.
“Obviously the last one has to be about you. So something happened and she couldn’t even talk to you about it, I assume?” Ellie slumped her head on your shoulder and grumbled. “Is there anything else? To just give us a timeline for however long this went on for?”
“That was the last one,” You closed the book and placed it on your lap with another long sigh. “Abby never told Jerry anything, so I doubt talking to him about this is going to do much.”
“So, over the past god knows how many weeks we’ve been doing this, we’ve found out that someone was on Abby’s case, who, that’s still another thing we need to figure out,” Ellie explained, nervously fumbling with the ring on her finger.
“I wish she would have spoken to me, I could have done something, kept her even safer,” You felt worse now than you did earlier, reading those journal entries made your heart sink. Your best friend, the girl you were in love with, was going through something she felt like she couldn’t even talk to you about.
“Abby would hate that you’re blaming yourself,” Ellie frowned, curling into your side and rubbing her nose. “You know that she would never let you think that about yourself, it will kill her to know you’re blaming everything on yourself, still.”
“I always promised I would keep her safe, and I couldn’t even do that. If I did, she would still be here, she wouldn’t be missing, El.”
“When we find her, m’going to ask her for permission to punch you—”
“Why?!” You cut her off, outraged and shocked at her words.
“Because then maybe you’ll stop blaming yourself for this, for everything that’s happened.”
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You’re sitting at the bar the next evening when it happens, minding your own business as you wait for Jesse and Ellie, when a guy, a gruff guy walks up to you; slightly drunk and smoking a cigarette, when he bumps into your shoulder and scowls. “Heard you and your little friends are looking for that girl,” He hiccups, the stench of his beer breath has your stomach churning and nose scrunching up at the smell.
“Fucks it to you?”
“She’s been gone for years, no chance she’s gonna turn up now, no?” His laugh made your skin crawl and you didn’t know if you wanted to smash his beer bottle over his head or break his jaw. Maybe both, it would be easier for him to stop talking to you. “I don’t know why you try, she was a lost cause years before she disappeared.”
“You don’t even know her, shut your fuckin’ mouth.” You warned, standing up slowly. You towered over him by a few more inches, and half expected him to cower away, most people did, but he didn’t, he just laughed harder, taking constant drags of his cigarette and looked you up and down. “M’not afraid to shove that bottle down your throat, now fuck off.” Your face was now in his, and the smell of beer smelt worse if that was even possible.
“Oh yeah? The fuck you gonna do? Shove this bottle down my throat? Your threats are empty and pointless, like your search for your little fuckin’ girlfriend—”
“Say one more thing about her, I dare you.”
Before you can go through with your promise, a hand grabs your arm and pulls you away. “He’s not worth it, just let it go.” Ellie, who you hadn’t even noticed arrived, murmured into your ear and dragged you away from the smiling man. “Fighting someone isn’t worth it when we have someone more important to find, okay?”
“Stupid cunt.” You growled at him, letting Ellie drag you out of the bar and into the open air. “Could have just let me throttle the bastard or something.”
“And risk you getting into trouble when Abby is waiting for you?” Jesse spoke up and pushed himself off the wall.
Just her name has you relaxing in your spot and nodding to yourself slowly. Abby was waiting for you, wherever that might be, she was. No matter how long it takes, you’re going to be the one to save the woman you love. All you have is hope. Pulling out your small box of cigarettes along with your lighter, you shove one between your lips, lighting it up and taking a long drag. “So, the notes, the bracelet, what’s next?” You mumbled between puffs.
“Are you chain smoking?” Ellie laughed with a subtle scoff.
“Give me a break, I haven’t slept properly in years,” You rolled your eyes and slumped your head on Jesse’s shoulder. “What’s next?” You asked again.
As Ellie went to open her mouth, Mandy appeared outside the small shop beside the bar, looking over at you and waving quickly. “Y/N!” And before you knew it, she was already standing in front of you before you had the time to register what was going on. “Are you free tonight?”
Coughing on your cigarette, Jesse slapped your back and laughed softly while you cleared your throat and smiled painfully at her. “Tonight? Uhm m’not sure, why?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have dinner with me?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, silly, I said tonight didn’t I?”
You could see Ellie rolling her eyes beside you from the corner of your eyes, and as much as you wanted to say no, maybe saying yes might help your case. You could try and find something else about Abby, maybe Mandy might have seen someone being rude or mean to Abby when you weren’t around. “Yeah, sure!” You agreed, a little too enthusiastically for your liking.
“What?!” Ellie shouted.
“Oh really? That would be wonderful, how’s 7?”
“7 is great, Mandy”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ellie whisper-yelled once Mandy walked away and was so far away that she couldn’t hear you guys. “Are you fucked in the head or something?”
“Relax, If It’s just me with her, she might know something and tell me.”
Eyeing you up closely, she simply sighs and slaps your back gently. “Make sure you text or call if she starts to freak you out too much.”
“Or if she tries to kiss you again,” Jesse added with a snicker.
“You guys are so funny, seriously, should become comedians or something.” You took another drag of your cigarette and glared at them both.
“And never be able to see your angelic face again? How would I survive?” Ellie gasped dramatically and grinned. “No but seriously, don’t give into her weirdness. Remember, only anything to do with Abby, got it?”
“Yes mom,” You huffed while Ellie simply pinched your arm and laughed at your scowl. “We have time to kill until then though. Any idea on who threatened her? I keep thinking but no one comes to mind.”
“No fuckin’ idea, Abby had her secrets, ones she didn’t tell us about, but if it risked her like, m’sure she would have told one of us right? She wouldn’t just hide it until something like this happened?”
“None of us knew this was going to happen, let alone Abby knowing,” You murmured, using your shoe to put out the cigarette you dropped on the floor once you were done with it. “Abby used to have multiple journals, were the others not in there?”
“Not that I saw, she probably kept there somewhere else. Journals aren’t supposed to be snooped in, hiding it is what I would have done if I had one.”
“So you’re saying we look in her room again?”
“Worth a try, might find something else.”
Abby’s Dad didn’t mind that you were once again sitting in her bedroom, it was something you all did when you were younger; Abby’s house being the one that everyone hung out in the most, so changing that routine now would be pointless.
Looking through the endless supply of books in her bookshelf, you bite back another sigh when you placed yet another back, still not finding anything that could be of use or even a fuckin’ clue, and turning around. Ellie was sitting cross-legged on the floor at the end of the bed, going through the journals you both looked through last night, and with the sigh she lets out when she throws her head back, you know it’s another deadend.
“Nothing, again.”
Sitting down beside her, you take the journal from her hands, your fingers brush against the words, even her words were somewhat comforting to you. As you fumbled with the pages, you were suddenly intrigued with what Ellie was doing; Reading notes you all used to write for each other if one of you had gotten into trouble with your parents, and weren’t allowed to leave the house. “Abby never got in trouble, like ever,” She laughed.
“Because we never told Jerry about the other shit,” You snickered, the memory of Abby trying weed for the first time, and her Dad freaking out when you both arrived home, slightly buzzed out your minds, trying to act normal. “He knows about most of the weed stories, but not the insane shit we used to get up to as kids.”
“We were fuckin’ crazy, weren’t we?”
“Oh, we should have been shipped off to the ward for the shit we did.”
“Remember Brenda thinking she had rats in the shop? But it was just us making it seem like she was going crazy?”
“I still regret that, I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t give me 4 joints before,” You threw your head back and laughed. Your laughter died down quite quickly when you brushed your thumb against the edge of the page, a sharp pain shooting through your hand. “Shit! Ow.”
“Fuck you do?”
“Paper cut,” You grumbled and looked down at your small wound.
Only for your eyes to widen at the slight kink in the paper.
“Ellie”
“Did you know that Abby used to call you butterfly?” Ellie, oblivious to your stare, laughed.
“Ellie” You repeated, louder this time.
“What?”
Turning to face you, her eyes land on the paper instead of your face, and the letters fall from between her fingers once you’re peeling apart two pieces that had somewhat been glued together.
“Typical Abby, fair play,” Ellie murmured once you pushed the two pieces apart.
A whole new entry.
Tuesday, 4th May 2015
I can feel her. She’s everywhere. She’s told me to back off, but what do I say when she notices I’m pulling away? I can’t even smile at her without it being a problem. What if she kills me? She’s crazy, I don’t think anyone understands. I tried to keep her away, but she’s clawing her way into everything and tearing things apart. At night, I can see her outside the window, looking at me, smiling at me, looking at me like she wants to kill me. Who do I tell? Who can I go to without making it a big issue? Is she really capable of killing me? Making me disappear?
What if she kills me?
What if she does?
What if this is the last time I’ll see my friends, my dad, my journals?
What……………….
Closing the book quickly, Ellie flinches beside you at the force, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is getting fuckin’ weird.” You admitted. “I’m going to kill whoever it is.”
“Let’s not jump to those conclusions just yet, is there anything else?”
“No, it’s the only page we haven’t seen. So it’s a woman, a woman was the last person to see her, right? That’s gotta be the only reason right now. We have nothing else and if there is other stuff, we’re fuckin’ missing it.”
“I can look through everything again when you’re with that crazy one, see if we missed anything. I don’t mind drinking another black coffee, some energy drinks and staying awake all night.” Ellie joked.
“I don’t mind going through it all again with you when I get back. We’re still meeting up later, yeah?”
“If she doesn’t somehow kidnap you and trick you into dating you, yeah.”
6:45pm rolled around quickly and you found yourself standing outside of Mandy’s house, one hand shoved in your jacket pocket while the other was at your side, and patiently waiting. Just as you were about to knock a second time, the door swung open to reveal a very happy Mandy, smile so wide you could see her teeth. “You made it!”
“Course,” You laughed, digging your hand deeper into your pocket. “Sorry m’early,”
“Don’t worry, earlier the better! Come in, it’s cold out here tonight,”
Stepping aside to let you in, Mandy’s hand brushes against yours as you walk past her and into her warmer house, oblivious to the way her eyes raked over you, almost a little too desperately. “The food is in the oven, should be ready soon, can I take your jacket?”
“Nah, you’re alright, It’s freezing out there, gotta warm myself up a little.” You smiled, eyes instantly noticing just how neatly the table was set. The candles flickered almost angrily, the cutlery placed perfectly, and the tablecloth somehow matched everything. “This is nice,”
“Yes, isn’t it? I wanted it to be perfect for you.” Mandy commented softly. “I’m just going to check on the food, feel free to take a seat, get yourself comfortable and stuff, I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.”
Just as you sat down at her table, a sudden loud banging had you flinching in your seat. You looked over at Mandy who halted in her steps not even 5 minutes later when she reappeared from the kitchen and from where you were sitting you could see and hear her grinding her teeth together. “What was that?”
“The neighbors are probably decorating again, It’s starting to get on my nerves If I’m being honest.”
“At 7:30?” You laughed nervously.
“They have no consideration for those who live beside them. I’ll start giving them a piece of my mind If they keep it up,” She explained, placing the hot pot in the middle of the table with a bright and wide smile. “There! Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Juice? Wine?”
“Smells amazing,” You smiled and got a little more comfortable in your seat before looking at her again. “Water’s fine, thank you.”
“It’s my Mother’s recipe, nothing beats a homemade meal,” Mandy’s smile never left her face, not even when you quickly dug into the fresh meal. “I’ll be back with your water.”
You were almost done with half of your food by the time she came back with a fresh glass of water, and you looked at her with a thankful smile when she placed it beside your plate. “Thank you,” You mumbled before furrowing your eyebrows. “Sorry, that’s gross.”
“No, no it’s cute, don’t worry.” She giggled, sitting in her own chair.
As she started digging into her meal, her eyes would flutter over at you, but you seem really into whatever it was that she made to notice the subtle flirtatious eyes she was making at you. It was delicious, and you loved food, so you couldn’t complain now could you? “This is really good,” You mumbled between chews.
“I’ll thank my mother for you when I see her again.” Mandy smiled.
“You might want to give me the recipe, it’s so good.”
“As much as I like you, I can’t do that, family recipe.” She smirked widely.
Mandy continued to eat her food, little moans of delight falling from her mouth with each bite she took, while you were suddenly falling into your own world. Mandy hadn’t seemed to notice you had stopped replying to what she was asking you, or just wanted to get the food out of the way before she continued. Either way, it didn’t seem to affect her much. All you could seriously think about was Abby, hoping that she had some source of something to keep her hoping and until you could find her.
“Are you okay? You’ve gone quiet,” Mandy murmured finally, finishing the final piece of her food. “Is it the food? Is it not sitting right with you?”
“No! No the food was amazing, m’just thinking, nothing to worry about.”
“Worried about what?”
“Just worried about Abby is all, like I said, nothing to worry about.” You smiled and wiped your face with the napkin you had on your lap.
You hadn’t noticed the way the smile on her face dropped and just stared at you. “Were you close? You and Abby?” She asked.
“Since we were babies pretty much,”
“That’s nice, nice to have someone close to you and that you can trust, I suppose.” Her voice suddenly got a little quieter, and nursed her glass of wine. “How do you know she didn’t just leave willingly?”
“Abby wouldn’t have left Jerry without a reason, she wouldn’t have left us, left me, without a reason.” You frowned, eyes focused on the empty plate before you. “She’s not the type of person to run away. Even when things are hard, she comes to me for help and she didn’t—”
“Was she in trouble?”
“Someone didn’t like her, threatened her, and I didn’t even know. If she told me, I could have helped her, kept her safe.”
“S’not your job to protect everyone,” Mandy smiled softly, watching you closely. “You know that right? You can’t save everyone, especially if they can’t even save themselves.” Her fingers graze yours on the top of the table, you weren’t even sure how or when she moved hers but when you felt them against yours, your eyes locked with hers. “Maybe Abby left because there are better things out there for her, or maybe she just wanted to see something new.”
“Without me?” The crack in your voice was evident.
“Anyone can leave if they truly need to or want to,” Her fingers continued to brush against yours with each word and you couldn’t even move. “People expect so much from people around here, we’re all trying to live, find someone, and get on with our lives, and sometimes that can be too much for one person to handle. Maybe Abby didn’t want to burden you with a thought she might have had.”
“Her burdens are mine,” You murmured. “Whatever she deals with, we deal with it together.”
Her hand retracted from yours quickly, once again you didn’t notice the scowl on her face, and grabbed your plate from in front of you as well as her own before making her way into the kitchen. “Would you like some dessert?” She asked, abandoning the conversation altogether.
“Oh, uh, sure?”
The light above flickered, making a soft buzzing sound as the room felt colder again. Sunlight wasn’t a luxury anymore, even if it was so desperately needed. Mold has started coming in quicker than before. Even the eerie darkness is something straight out of a nightmare. The only thing in the room that was noticeable was the small lamp on the floor, but even that wasn’t bright enough. It never was.
By the time Mandy came back with two bowls in her hands, you were standing by the bookshelf, running your fingers over the spines of what you can already tell are very old books. “Didn’t know you liked to read books?” You asked, looking over at her.
“Oh yeah! I love books, mostly the classics, but the thriller ones are my favorite. Could read them all day. I actually have to return those to Brenda soon, had them way too long.” She giggled and placed the bowls on the table. “What is your favorite?”
“The Shining.”
“Haven’t read it before, do you have a copy I could borrow?”
“Yeah sure, I’ll find it and give It to you.”
“Perfect, let’s eat dessert!”
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“Glad you’re back in one piece,” Ellie was the first to comment when she noticed you walking into the bar an hour later. “Didn’t try to shove her tongue down your throat this time?”
“Like you tried with Abby that one time you got drunk?” You quipped back with a lazy grin and slumped into the chair beside her. “Nah, she just kept touching my hand, not trying to kiss me this time.”
“Oh? Are you lovebirds now?”
“Knock it off, El.” Jesse laughed and continued to sip his beer.
“No, you imbecile, she did get weird whenever I spoke about Abby though,” You shrugged, pinching some of Ellie’s chips. “Like, she just got up and went to get dessert?”
“She’s always been weird, so fuckin’ obsessed with you for a start.” It was Jesse this time.
“Really? I never got that vibe before,”
“You wouldn’t, you’re like so fucking oblivious to most shit,” Ellie snorted. “You didn’t even realize I was flirting with you when I first met you. Took you 4 months to say, Ellie, were you asking me on a date that one time? Oblivious.”
“In my defense, you fuckin’ flirt with everyone,” You defended with a soft laugh, and eyed up the pictures on the table. “What are you guys doing anyway?”
“Well, while you and Barbie were having your little date, me and Jesse were going through the rest of the pictures. Nothing has jumped out yet, but I do have a feeling something will point us in the right direction this time.”
“Right, pass us some then,”
“Of course your majesty.”
“Fuck off, man,” You snickered and snatched the pile from her hand. “Oh, you know the family that lives beside Mandy?”
“Huh? Beside Mandy?”
“Yeah, the family that lives next door?”
“No one has lived in that house for like 4 years,” Ellie blinked, confusion written all over her face.
“Oh, she said they were decorating or something earlier, there was banging and that’s what she told me.”
“Joel knows more than me about anyone, I’ll ask him later, see if anyone’s moved in since the other family,” Ellie promised with a tired smile.
“Thanks, El,” A chip that you flicked hit her in the chin and you held back a laugh when her eyes widened and she suddenly scowled at you. “Sorry, you looked like you needed something to cheer you up. Did you sleep much last night?”
“A few hours, better than none, right?” The smile she gave you didn’t reach her face. Everyone is like that lately and you sadly understood why. The community wasn’t exactly whole right now.
“Want to watch a movie tonight?” You suggested as you ate some more chips.
“What one?”
“Uhm, you pick, I don’t mind which one.”
“Don’t wanna freak anyone out or anything,”
“What is it?”
“There’s someone in the background of the picture you and Abby took the night before, well, you know, you can’t see much but It’s someone for sure,” Jesse mumbled and slid the picture over to you.
The background is blurry, you notice that much at first but as you squint your eyes just a little more, a black silhouette is something you can pick out. Standing behind what you can only assume Is one of the trees just across the ways of the pond both you and Abby spent a lot of time at. “It’s too dark, I can’t fucking pick out who it is,” You huffed. “Do you think It might be who threatened her?”
“And risk getting caught when she’s with you? Knowing damn well you’d knock their teeth out?” Ellie laughed.
“Anything’s possible, El.”
“Let’s say this is them, how do we find out who it is?”
“Could host a small get-together tomorrow night here, remembering Abby or something, and we all write something for her, see if someone slips up and exposes themselves?” Jesse suggests, looking between you and Ellie.
“It could work,” Both you and Ellie answered at the same time. “But how would we know who it is if they turn up and say something bad?”
“No idea, but we’ll figure it out as we go. Haven’t we always done that?” He smiled and pushed the rest of the pictures which were of no use back into the box before putting the lid on. “We’ve always had each other's back, that’s not going to change.”
“I’ll do whatever It takes If It means we’re one step closer to finding Abby.” You agreed.
“Alright, you’ve pulled my leg, I’m in too.” Ellie dramatically huffed but the smile on her lips gave her away. “Let’s watch that sappy romance movie,”
“Which one?”
“Abby’s favorite.”
“You, Ellie Williams, want to watch Love Actually? Willingly?”
“Why are you saying my name like that?! Yes, let’s watch it.” She scoffed and slapped the back of your head when she stood up. “Besides, you and Abby can bully me all you want for wanting to watch it when she’s back with us.”
“She’ll never let you live it down, you know what right?”
“Yeah, but It’s worth It, she is too.” Ellie winked.
—
The following evening dawned on you quicker than you would have liked. All of you were on edge. The picture, the missing charms, the truth that someone didn’t like Abby had you, Ellie and Jesse looking around the bar with caution.
The remembrance of Abby had the all clear, everyone helped and chipped in where they could. Jerry was over the moon when you told him that you guys were doing this for her. Maybe in hopes that it would bring you one step closer, or maybe one step closer to her coming home.
Thursday, 6th June 2015
“Abby, you look beautiful, why are you panicking?” Abby was sitting on the edge of her bed, fumbling with her bracelet yet not looking at you. “Hey, Abs, what’s up?” You crouched in front of her and took her hands into yours with a soft smile.
“I don’t feel beautiful,” She admitted sadly.
“Oh, Abby, you are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful, your soul is perfect and stunning. You are the most beautiful person in the world. Your hair is beautiful, your smile is beautiful, your pretty eyes are stunning,” Her sniffle caused you to pause, reach your hand up and wipe it away. “Everything about you is beautiful.”
“Really?”
Cupping her face between your hands, you press you lips against her forehead and smile. “Yes, really, you are so fuckin’ beautiful.” You whispered into her skin. “I promise, love.”
How could you not see the pain she was holding back, behind the little glint in her eye?
“To Abby!”
Jerry’s voice brought you back to reality, smiled at everyone who raised a glass in her honor and nodded to himself as he walked down the small steps. “Thank you for coming,” He murmured to a few of the older couples who gave him a gentle hug and a soft reassurance. “I know that Abby would have loved to see you guys together again.”
On edge, you looked around the bar slowly, trying to pick out anyone that was acting weird or unusually suspicious. That’s how you looked at most people these days, picking them out one by one, wondering if they had done or said anything to Abby the night she vanished. You spotted Ellie doing the same on the other side of the room, taking small unsuspicious glances at everyone who came in and left. “Here,”
To your left, Jesse was holding a beer towards you, which you took with a soft thank you, and leaned against the wall with you. “Anyone catch your eye yet?”
“Not yet, everyone seems to be kind, and talking to Jerry, cheering him up and stuff,” You mumbled between sips, eyes still moving around as each person moves around before you. “I don’t think they would hide, we know most people here, if anyone’s missing, we’ll know.”
“And if they do choose to miss something that is important to the community, then they are hiding something.” Jesse added.
“Exactly, I don’t think they’re stupid enough to let it slip, know that we know something.”
“Did that guy who told you she was arguing with someone tell you anything else or?”
“Deadend, he just smiles at me all weird like now when I see him.” You grimaced and took a big gulp of your beer.
“It’s that friendly smile you have.”
“Eat a dick.” You laughed.
In the middle of the bar, there was a box, which gave people to write notes, poems, or even just one word, so that when Abby did come back home, she would have kind things to read, and hopefully it would be able to cheer everyone else up when they read a few of them nearing the end of the night. You thought the idea was a good one when Jerry asked you about it this morning. He enjoyed having your input when it came to his daughter.
You wrote something simple, not overdone, but a little i miss you and i love you more than anything. It meant more than anything, Abby would know that if she was here right now, reading them. You always noticed the way she would blush and look away when you would tell her you love her before you either hung up after being on a phone call with her for hours, or even when you left her house. “I love you.” You murmured, folded the piece of paper and pressed you lips to it.
Ellie smiled from across the room.
She always found it amusing it took you years to know you were indeed madly in love with your best friend.
“Hey,”
You almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you turned around to find Dina looking at you and nervously fumbling with her fingers. “Dina, hey,” You smiled awkwardly.
“Do you hate me? It would make sense if you did, with how I pulled away from you all, but with Abby going missing, I just got scared, and being around you guys made me miss her so much.” Dina rushed out.
“I don’t hate you,” You reassured her quietly. “I understand though, it’s okay, we all deal with it differently, but I don’t hate you, none of us do.”
“Is Ellie okay?” She asked hesitantly.
“I don’t think so, but she’s getting there,” You admitted truthfully. “You should talk to her.”
“Wouldn’t that be awkward?”
“Nothing’s awkward unless you make it awkward.” You winked with a soft laugh.
“Right, I’ll go and see her, if she starts freaking out, you should probably come over or something.” Dina smiled.
“Will do.”
If it wasn’t for the fact you were already looking at Ellie, you would have had a stroke when you heard the loud crashing of her falling off the chair when she noticed Dina making her way towards her. Snorting under your breath, you shook your head, pushed yourself off the wall and made a beeline straight for the beer. “Usual?” Elaine, the older woman who took over the bar after her husband passed, smiled when you were quick to nod and slump yourself against the counter. “You look tired, you sleepin’?”
“When I can, which isn’t much,” You mumbled softly with a subtle shrug. “But what can you do? Sleep is the last thing I need right now.”
“Maybe you need just a little bit to find her.”
Pushing the beer into your direction, she laughed at the way your lips parted as you grabbed it; ready to ask her how she knew. “Jerry told me earlier when he came here to set up. It’s a good thing, you know? Abby adored you, and I know how much you care about her.”
“I seem to be getting nowhere when I feel like m’finally getting somewhere.”
“There’s more out there than meets the eye, Honey,” Elaine smiled. “You just have to look closer.”
“What do you—”
“Y/N?” Jerry called out.
God fucking damn it.
At his voice, you turn your body slightly, almost stiffly and raise an eyebrow at him. You quietly excuse yourself from the conversation you got yourself into with Elaine when he waved you over, and took a couple of strides towards him, placing your almost empty bottle of beer on the table beside you. “What’s up?”
“I was just going through some of the notes, you know, the ones people left for Abs, and I found this. What does it mean?” He explained, slightly rushed and shoved a piece of paper into your hands with worry written all over his face. “Did someone hurt her? Take her from me? Why?”
Your eyebrows furrow as you look down at the slip of paper in your hands, looking back up at him confused. “What is it?”
“Read it, It’ll make more sense if you see it.”
Doing as you’re told, you don’t have time to acknowledge the small fact that your hands start to tremble as you unfold the little note with caution. Your lips part, body tensing as your eyes widen as you read over the note slowly. Not fully understanding. “Someone put this here?” You asked, voice cracking. “When?”
“I’m not sure, so many people have been leaving notes. I wouldn’t have been able to catch who.” Jerry shook his head, and gripped the edge of the table tightly. “If someone’s hurt her, m’gonna kill them. M’gonna kill them, Y/N”
“Not before us,” You murmured, already looking around the room. “Who was in charge of the box?”
“Me, and a couple of others, but this is the only bad one.”
“You’ve looked at the rest?”
“Of course.”
“Alright, put it somewhere else, out of sight from everyone. If this is the only bad one, then it’s possible they’re just trying to scare us, making up a lie about what’s happened to her. She’s fine, okay? Abby is strong, and we’re gonna find her.” You nodded. You weren’t sure who you were trying to reassure more, you or Jerry? Both of you? The whole town?
“What are you going to do?” He blinked.
“Figure it out. That’s what m’gonna do.”
The night rushed along slowly as you, and a bunch of others made your way out of the bar, cigarette hanging between your lips and a cold beer in your hands. The note played on your mind angrily, eating and chewing away at your brain, almost trying to claw its way out of your head as you inhaled hit after hit of your cigarette. Who here hates Abby enough to hurt her? Take her away? She was nice to everyone, always offering to help someone who needed it, never letting the older people carry stuff too heavy, Abby wouldn’t hurt a fly, so why would they feel the need to hurt her? Take her away from where she loves? From the people she adores? It doesn't make sense.
The longer you stood there, practically taking Ellie’s thought into consideration, pulling out cigarette after cigarette, the darkness seemed to loom and lurk more creepy than any other night. Almost like it was mocking you, judging you from afar as you tried to wrap your head around everything. Even the journal pages still don’t make sense to you and it’s been over a week since the first. It’s like she left, and suddenly you’re trying to figure out a really fucked up riddle in order to get you prize, the prize being Abby once everything slots into place like a puzzle.
“Let’s get you home, Honey. Night time around here has become a little scarier than before.” You spot a mother wrapping her daughter up on her scarf and jacket before holding onto her hand tightly after she places a kiss on her forehead. “Stay close to Mommy and you’ll be okay, alright?”
You wish Abby stayed close to you.
You watch the family walk away down the path, the lights casting a shadow around them. Like a possessed child, the shadow like a demon hanging on by a thread as they were no longer in your peripheral each step they took until they were around the corner. Gone just like Abby.
As you dropped your cigarette on the ground, you caught something behind one of the trees when you looked back up, lurking in the darkness and your body suddenly tensed on the spot. Did Abby feel like this? Did she feel like her entire soul left her body when she knew someone was watching her? Following her?
“Hey!” You shouted, dropping your bottle in the process as you walked over to them, or trying to. It seemed like you had slightly spooked them, not aware you were staring right at them. “Hey!” This time you started running as you saw the rustle of the leaves, the snapping of twigs under their feet. “Stop running away!” You called out, pushing the branches out of your way.
Were you really doing this right now? Running after someone who could easily just kill you?
In your eyes, you could see the outline of their figure under the moonlight, shimming between trees, jumping over tree’s that’ve been left to fend for themselves over the years, and even though the pain and burn in your legs were starting to ache more and more the longer you ran after them, you couldn’t stop. You needed to do this no matter the outcome. “Stop running away from me!” You shouted, jumping over the same tree as they did. “I just want to talk! That’s all! Stop fuckin’ running!” You huffed.
You didn’t see the branch hanging in front of you, or the rock on the floor, not until tripped, your face smacked into the branch harshly and landed on the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck,” You groaned, cupping your nose quickly with a wince. “Fuck!” You yelled, spitting out the dirt.
Rolling yourself over slowly, you puffed out a sigh as your eyes fluttered open; the midnight sky lurked down at you, almost inviting it to eat you whole. If it could reach out and grab you, you would be the darkness’s first victim. The chitter of insects in between the long grass had your ears perking up as you sat up. Cupping the back of your head, you hissed and screwed your eyes shut tightly and pulled yourself up off the floor.
Looking around, even though it was no use and they were probably gone already, you stumbled towards one of the trees and leaned against it tiredly. But all things turn you angry at some point.
All you could really think about the fact you still hadn’t found Abby the longer you slumped yourself there, and that was enough to anger you enough until you repeatedly punched at the oak, over and over again until your knuckles were completely red, bits of wood stuck in your skin, but you didn’t care, if you don’t have Abby, what was the point?
“Fuck you!” Your scream echoed eerily.
The flap of bird wings rang out loudly around you.
It took you an hour to trek back to the town. You held your hand against your chest, your nose stung like a bitch but this was the last thing on your mind as you stumbled your way through the crowds of drunk people, not giving you a single glance or worrying about the fact your nose was still bleeding, you probably broke a few knuckles. “Jess, have you seen Y/N?” You heard Ellie’s voice but couldn’t see her.
“Y/N? No, I haven’t seen her for a couple hours, now that I’m thinking about it.”
“Shit, alright, uhm,”
The sound of loud crashing caused both of them to look straight at you as you stumbled over one of the tables. “I think we found her?” Jesse laughed.
“Shit, Y/N?” Ellie’s eyes widened at the sight of your bloody nose and rushed over to your side; not before watching you struggle 4 times to stand on your feet. “Fuck, what the fuck happened to you?” She scoffed, pulling you up carefully.
“Someone,” You groaned and slumped your head against her shoulder. “Someone was watching, through the trees, ran after them but hit my head, broke my nose, I think? And then I lost them, so I punched a tree, I think my knuckles are broken.” You explained with a slight slur in your voice. “But m’fine, just need to sit down for a second.”
“That’s a lot of I thinks, we can’t leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes.” Ellie muttered under her breath and wrapped her arm around your waist tightly. “Let’s get you to mine, Joel’s out with Tommy so he won’t ask questions.”
With the help of her and Jesse, you made it to Ellie’s house in one piece, well minus your dignity that the tree smacked out of you, but you still made it without another fall. They had managed to patch up your knuckles, and stopped the bleeding of your nose, ignoring every curse and wince that fell from between your bloody lips; telling you that it was your own fault for going without some kind of help or backup. “So who did you see?” Jesse asked, dropping the dirty rags in the bin and turning to face you again.
“I was drinking my beer, and then I saw someone behind the trees, if this is the same person who was watching Abby, I can tell you it would have freaked anyone out—”
“Says the one who ran after them.” Ellie scoffed from beside you.
“You were talkin’ to Dina, and Jesse was, well Jesse was where he usually goes, which is where? I don’t know.” You glared at the pair of them. “But m’here, no?”
“Luckily.” Ellie sighed and pulled the tissue from out of your nose carefully. “What if something else seriously bad happened to you? And no one was there to get you?”
“M’not going anywhere—”
“You don’t fuckin’ know that! You can’t just disappear without telling one of us. That’s not fair.”
The panic and worry in Ellie’s eyes is something you haven’t seen since Abby went missing. She didn’t talk about how she felt, but her eyes and face did, which is why your shoulder sagged and you nodded slowly. “I know, El, m’sorry, okay?” You smiled sadly.
“For what it’s worth, this whole look—” She pointed to your entire face with a laugh. “Is so worth it. M’gonna tell Abby you risked breaking your knuckles and nose for her.”
“And she’ll ignore me for a week—”
“A week? She will ignore you for a solid 5 seconds before she’s asking you to cuddle her.” Jesse laughed with a slow head shake. “Did you find anything else out? Minus the dumb injuries?”
“There’s one thing Jerry showed me.”
“What is it?”
Reaching into your back pocket with a quiet groan, you pulled the slip of paper out and handed it to Ellie, who was watching you closely. “That’s all that happened tonight.”
Unfolding it, exactly like you did earlier tonight, Ellie’s eyebrows furrow into a tight frown almost and nothing comes out of her mouth when opens it and instead she looks back at you with wide eyes. “This happened tonight?”
“Let me see,” Jesse held his hand out and took it from her. His eyes widen too. “How didn’t we notice? How many people were going to that box?”
“M’not sure.”
Does a domino effect really have to happen in my life? You thought.
Ellie, who’s usually the one to be the first to ask what’s next, doesn’t do that, instead she looks at you and frowns. “You need to rest, If Jesse has to leave, I can figure out what’s next for this sudden murder club search party, but you need to get some sleep, and I won’t take no for an answer. Got it?”
“El—”
“I said got it?”
Slumping against the bed, you simply nodded like a lost puppy and folded your arms over your chest, completely forgetting about your broken knuckles you winced. “Fine, but if you find anything, wake me up, yeah? Please?”
“If you’re knocked out cold, then no, but I will if you aren’t.”
“The tree already knocked her out cold” Jesse chimed in with a sudden laugh.
“Both of you go fuck yourself!”
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Brenda, poor woman was reading through one of her own books, jolted in her spot and looked up when the bell on the door rang, and held back a sigh at the sight of you and Ellie stumbling in through the small door with curses and grumbles. “Brenda! My favourite lady!”
“Ellie, may I remind you of the time you almost broke my window? we aren’t even acquaintances”
“I paid for it to be fixed, didn’t I?!” Ellie moaned and kicked the floor childishly. “Can we look at that book you keep when people loan or bring back books? We have something we want to compare,”
“For?”
“Just something we are working on, please? It’ll only take a couple minutes,” Your friend begged, leaned over the counter and pouted. “I will even ask Joel if he will take you on that date!”
“Date?! Excuse me—”
“You’re in love with Joel, do this for me, and then I’ll get you that date with him”
“Fine, but don’t knock anything over like last time, It took me an hour to fix everything.” She scowled and walked away.
“You’re the best!” Ellie shouted after her.
The flight flickered on, and the sounds of loud banging could wake anyone up, even the small insects that lurk in the long grass outside in the wilderness. “Need to take these back, hope you enjoyed those pathetic reads.” They mumbled, snatching the books from the dirty floor and scoffed. “Don’t understand what’s so special about them or you. Also, I can't afford to borrow anymore so this is the last of them for you.”
Just as fast it went on, the light was gone and it felt even colder once the door slammed shut.
Hunching over the counter, Ellie spots the thick yet old book and grabs it with both hands, a soft grunt slipping past her lips before pulling it over the counter and dropping it on the oak, the loud bang causing you to flinch and flick her ear. “Ow!”
“That’s for trying to give me a heart attack.” You scoffed and slapped her shoulder. “So this was your big plan? Look through the names until one stands out?”
“Yeah or until we find one that matches, I guess?”
“Brenda, I know i’m late with returning these books but— Hey!” Mandy halted in her steps mid way through the door when she spotted you and Ellie leaning on the counter, looking through something. “Loaning another book, Y/N?”
“Oh, no not today, just finding something for Joel.” You lied, Ellie almost snickering behind her hand at your blatant lie. “You read them already?”
“Oh yeah! I had some free time after you left last night, really enjoyed them”
“What was your favourite?”
The question caught her off guard as her lips formed into a pout as she thought about it. “Uh, I really liked Pride and Prejudice, the others were boring but that one was amazing.”
No one in this town apart from me and Abby love that book. You thought.
“Ah, well m’glad you enjoyed it. Do you still want to borrow my copy of the shining?”
Mandy chewed her inner cheek before nodding a little too quickly and smiled again. “Yeah, of course! Those stupid neighbors finally stopped decorating so I can probably get a night in to read some of it!”
“Mandy, hello Love.” Brenda appeared with a mug in her hand and a plate of biscuits. “Returning them already? That was fast.”
Placing the stack of books on the counter, Mandy simply gave her a warm smile, one that was slowly starting to creep you out, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can’t afford to borrow anymore for a while, my brain is fried with all the stories I’ve read this week.”
“No worries, Honey, just sign in the books you borrowed and they’ll be more for you next time when you do want to read again. Girls, can she use that for a second and then you can get back to whatever you were doing.”
“A date is on the line, Brenda, don’t rush me”
“I’ll rush you both out of that door,” Brenda smirked and the words died in throat once Ellie nodded her head quickly, picked up the book and practically shoved it in shocked Mandy’s hand with a stutter of words. “Thank you.”
“Do you have a pen I could borrow?”
Reaching for the one beside you, you hold it out towards her, which she takes with a soft thank you, places the book back on the counter and doodles her name onto the sheet of paper. “Thank you again, Brenda. You always have a really good selection of books!”
“You’re more than welcome, Love.”
“See you later, Y/N?”
“What’s happening later?” Ellie eyed her.
“It’s that party thing, dunno if m’going though,” You smile and shoved your hands into your pockets. “If I do, I assume you’re going?”
“Yes! The only time I get to be free and myself, I guess. So I’ll be there. If you do change your mind and come, I’ll see you there?”
“For sure.” Another tight lipped smile.
Mandy took her leave not long after, leaving you and Ellie to your little search once more and Brenda took herself into a little corner of the shop to what you could only assume was to read one of her books. “Now that she’s gone,” Ellie trailed off.
Opening the book again, you brush your fingers down the list of people until it lands on hers; furrowing your eyebrows when you look at the book in front of you again, you lean your face closer and look at the signature a little longer, for far too long until you’re shoving your hand in your back pocket, rummaging around for the slip of paper you and Ellie took last night. “What are you doing?” Ellie laughed, watching you struggle.
Pride and Prejudice ………………………… Mandy ♡
“Look at her name,” You murmured, pulling the slip of paper out.
“Whos? Mandy’s?”
“The way she’s spelt it.”
Once you unfolded the paper, your eyes flickered between the slip between your fingers, and the name in the book, Ellie doing the same, having to lean over you. “Wait,” She paused, snatching it from you and taking a look for herself.
Ellie looks at her name, and then at the note again;
ABBY DESERVED WHAT SHE GOT. ♡
“Did she just—”
“The fuckin’ heart, Ellie.”
“Wait, is she really that fucking insane?” Ellie looked at the slip still in shock. “Are you joking me? She’s been under our nose this entire time?”
“So, the banging I heard?”
“Wasn’t anyone fucking decorating that’s for sure.”
“Before we jump to conclusions, let’s just go get something to eat, m’starving, and go through what we have. Anyone could write hearts next to their name.”
“In the exact same way she does it? I doubt it.” Ellie murmured, tore the page out of the book quickly and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. Glaring at your stare. “What? Brenda won’t fuckin’ miss it.”
Shuffling out of the door, you and Ellie spot Mandy happily skipping away, and the sight has your friend scowling ad mumbling incoherently under her breath, “Why’s she so fuckin’ happy all the time? Has she never dealt with sadness or hurt in her life?”
Nudging her shoulder with yours as you both walk, you shook your head. “Apparently not. Look at me, depressed as fuck.”
“Same,” Ellie looked at you before you both burst out into a laugh. “Man, if she’s somehow done anything to be the reason Abby went missing, m’gonna kill her. You know that right? I don’t care what you say, I’ll do it.”
“Ellie—”
“No, whoever took Abby from us, is going six feet under. You can’t stop me.”
“Let’s feed you, that monster is hungry—”
“Y/N, m’not joking, this isn’t a joke—”
“I know, and that’s what’s scaring me right now, Ellie.”
Pushing past you with a grumble at your words, Ellie’s quick to find a seat in the far corner, out of the way from people, and ushers you to hurry up. “I’ll be right with you, Honey, just have to get a few orders out of the way.” The old woman smiled from behind the counter.
“No worries!”
Unzipping your jacket, and placing it on the back of your chair, you sit down opposite Ellie and really look at her. She’s frowning, which means she’s deep in thought again, and that only means she’s planning something, something that you aren’t sure is supposed to scare you or make you happy. The bags under her eyes are much darker than they were last week, so that’s a clue she’s not been sleeping no matter how many times she’s told you she has been. Her lips are in a tight line. Even her smile lines are vanishing. “And then I think— Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She mumbled, catching you staring.
“S’nothing, you just look exhausted,” You offered a soft smile. “What are we eating?”
“I’ll just share with you, order whatever.”
Ellie was always a picky eater, well she says she is but always steals any of the food you make or buy, and went with something simple when it was your turn to order food; a bowl of chips, salsa and a chicken sandwich. “—And then we have the note, if that crazy psycho took the book out last week, then Abby’s alive, which means she has to be here somewhere, and we’re just not looking hard enough—”
“The woman at the bar, who got me a beer, told me that we need to look closer, so you might be right,” You nodded, munching on your chips. “She might know something, but doesn’t want to get too close to it, I don’t blame her, this whole thing has been freakin’ me the fuck out.”
“So Abby’s here somewhere?” Ellie took a handful of chips and ate them slowly. “That’s what we’re going with?”
“Yeah, but where? We know this place like the back of our hands. We would have found her already by now.”
“That’s where m’confused because I don’t know. I have no idea where she could be—”
“Y/N, Ellie! I’m so glad I found you guys!” Brenda’s voice rings out.
The pair of you turn in your seats, and look at her with your mouths full with food, and staring like a deer in headlights. “Brenda, miss us already? It’s been 30 minutes.” You coughed, swallowed your food and wiped your face. “What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed her worried look.
“There’s something you need to see, I haven’t told anyone else yet, apart from you guys.” She rushed out, pulling a book out of her bag and placing it on the table. “I was going through them, like I always do just to make sure she didn’t rip any of the pages, some people have done it, and I found this.”
“Pride and Prejudice?” You blinked.
“Just look at the back. please.”
Looking over at Ellie, who was just watching with confusion written all over her face and still eating, you open the book and skip through the pages, until you’re on the last page before the back. “Did you hide spiders here? To scare me?” You laughed nervously.
“It’s about Abby.” Was all she could stutter out.
Once the words fell from her mouth, your hands dropped the book on the final page, and all of you looked down at it. Staring at it like the horribly written words were going to jump out of the page and eat you. “She took this book out last week.”
M….Mandy
Crazy…
Abby
“Is that—” Ellie swallowed and locked eyes with you. “She’s still—”
“Alive.”
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“So what’s the plan?” Ellie mumbled into your ear, the 3 of you watching a very happy Mandy dancing with her friends, and snatched your beer from your hand. “We corner her?”
“Not here,” You shook your head. “Too obvious. She would see it coming.”
“You think she knows we know?” Jesse asked.
“I don’t think so, If she knows that we know, I don’t think she would have shown up tonight,” You grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into your mouth. “Besides, this way, we can observe her, try catching her saying or doing anything that could expose her.”
“We’ve been looking through so much shit for the last month, why can’t I just hit her?” Ellie grumbled and slumped in the chair like a scolded child with a pout on her face.
“Look what happened to Y/N when she went against a tree,”
“Jesse! Stop bringin’ up that fucking tree.” You groaned and threw your head back.
“It’s funny!” He laughed.
“Your poor nose didn’t think so,” Ellie cooed playfully and kissed your cheek. “Don’t tell Abby, she will actually kill me for that.”
“Leave my nose alone!”
Amongst your conversation with your friends, you hadn’t notice Mandy walking over to your table until she slid into the empty chair beside Jesse and that’s when all the laughter died down. “Who died?” She giggled, words slightly slurred. “I’m just coming to see how you are doing.”
“M’good,”
“Been better.”
“I think I’m gonna get another drink, Ellie? Y/N? You guys want anything?”
“Two beers!” Ellie cheered.
Fumbling with the bowl of chips, your eyes flicker between Jesse at the bar, and Mandy who was happily sipping her drink through a straw, not worried about the fact you were either about to lose your shit, or throw a chair at her. “So, how’s the search going?”
“S’fine,” You shrugged, not wanting to give her too much without her catching on that you knew. “Keep hitting deadends, but it’s fine besides that.”
“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”
Ellie makes a face of disgust at her, her need and want to just throw something at this girl gets stronger every time she opens her mouth with something ridiculous. “Is Jesse making the beers or something? Why is he taking so long?”
“Ellie, half the town is here,” You laughed and threw a chip at her. “Be patient.”
“It’s hard to have that when you live here.” She grumbled and leant her head on your shoulder. “Wake me up when he’s back.”
“You got it, El.” You laughed.
You hadn’t expected her to actually fall asleep, but when you feel her body slumping more into your side not even 10 minutes later, you’re quick to wrap your arm around her to stop her from falling off the chair and onto the floor. Nor do you notice the look of annoyance on Mandy’s face, still sipping her drink. “I would have guessed Jerry would have been helping you search for Abby. Did you say that was her name?”
The question catches you off guard, slightly offended she even thought of it let alone asked it; Jerry spent countless months of time over several months searching for her. Never eating or sleeping, he stayed awake in hopes she would walk through the door at any given moment. “How long have you lived here?” You found yourself asking and cocking your head to the side.
“How long have I lived here? Oh, since I was like 8 or 9. Why?”
“Then you’d know we look out for our own. Same thing happened when a little boy went missing for 3 days when I turned 16, we all went looking for him and brought him home when we found him. It doesn’t matter if we have distaste or disagreements with someone, if something happens in our community, we help each other, we search, and we don’t rest until we find them.” You explained slowly, eyeing her up. “Jerry doesn’t sleep, just because you don’t see him asking every single person where his daughter is, doesn’t mean he’s not looking. Jerry would kill everyone in his way to get to his daughter. That’s how much he gives a shit about her. We all do.”
“Would you?” It’s like your words didn’t phase her.
“Would I what?”
“Kill someone to get her?”
Looking down at Ellie, your eyebrow raises just slightly, and it’s back to normal before she can blink and when you chuckle, her skin crawls. “S’not me they should be worried about. When we find whoever took her, m’gonna have to keep Ellie on a tight leash or she’ll be like a rabid dog looking for something to chew,” You paused and inhaled deeply when your eyes met. “But I would, if you want the truth. I would kill anyone if it meant I could have Abby back.”
“Do you have it in you?”
“If the right person fucks with my family, yeah,” The smirk you gave her caused Mandy to shift around in her seat comfortably. A sense of terror seeps into the cracks of her skin and travels up her spine. “I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between their fuckin’ eyes, unless Ellie gets to it before I do.”
“Make it seem like a horror movie.” She giggled.
“I think we’re scarier than anything in a horror movie you’ve seen before, Mandy.”
On a note, she hadn’t realised or seemed to have noticed just how bold and eerie you got when you would bluntly stare. Like Ellie, Mandy never understood what you were thinking about when sitting there, zoning out like a zombie. At some points she expects to start seeing cartoon bubbles with those pictures appearing by the side of your head. “What’s the scariest movie you’ve seen?”
“The life m’fucking livin’. That’s what.”
“Your life isn’t that—”
A tray of beers enters your vision as you look up to find Jesse side eyeing Mandy, and then looking at a sleeping Ellie on your shoulder. “At least she’s sleeping. What were you guys talking about?” He asked, wrapping his lips around the bottle and gulping down the liquid.
“I was just telling Mandy that m’not afraid to kill whoever took Abby from us.”
“Remember when you tried to kill that guy who stole your chips a while back?” Jesse smirked, subtly waiting for Mandy’s reaction.
“For stealing chips?” She choked out, pushing her chair out, picking up her almost empty glass and rising to her feet.
“Oh yeah, the guy’s terrified of me.” You smiled.
“I would have been too if you tried to kill me for taking your chips. I need to get another drink. Speaking of, do you want more chips?”
“You’re alright, your friends look like they miss you”
“They’re all drunk, but I’ll see you.”
Once she left, you finally let out a laugh. “Really Jesse? When did I try to kill a man for stealing my chips?” You shook your head and took your beer.
“I tried to see if it would get a reaction out of her, not sure if it worked though,” He shrugged, once again taking a longer glance at Ellie. “Has she been asleep for a long?”
“Not a long time, but she just fell asleep when she came over here, I thought she was joking until she practically fell into me and I don’t have it in me to wake her up, not when she’s barely slept much since we started all this.” You murmured and rubbed her back slowly.
“I can hear you both talking, stop being so loud.” Ellie grumbled against your shoulder and peeled her eyes open slowly. “Is she gone? Can I get the fuck up now?”
“Were you fakin’ that?” Your hand slapped the back of her head gently; which she laughed at when she sat up completely. “After tonight, you’re getting at least 15 hours sleep.”
“Says you, you haven’t slept in like 10 years.”
“I take naps when needed”
“Not enough, those dark circles under your eyes finally match that bruised nose.”
“Enough with my nose! And the tree!” You warned when Jesse opened his mouth. “Let me live it down for fuck sake.”
“I don’t think I can, the story was hilarious,” The brunette smirked, hands running down her face as she yawned into the palm of her hand. “So, did she start freaking out when Jesse said you tried to kill someone?”
“Not like we hoped.”
Once the clock hit 11pm, Ellie was the first to notice Mandy slipping out of the doors, with a few of her friends following closely behind. “She’s leaving, let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Following her. She wrote the note, she doesn’t fuckin’ read books, she can’t even read the fact you aren’t interested in her, and she’s obsessed with you for a reason none of us know. She knows something, if you don’t want to follow her, I’ll go alone.” Ellie rambled on and she jumped to her feet.
“Like fuck you’re going alone. Jesse open your mouth about a certain something, I will hit you.” You warned again, looking at him with a harsh glare. “Not a single word about it ever again, you guys got it?”
“I was just going to say that Abby owes you two kisses for the black eye you got.” He smiled innocently. “Risked your whole face for her. Props to you.”
“Can we talk about you and Abby flirting after?”
“Right, let’s go then.”
You kept your distance, not wanting to give anything away. A part of you did feel slightly uncomfortable with the fact you were literally following someone, but the other part of your brain was screaming at you. She knows what happened to Abby. She knows something. It wasn’t like you could ignore that gnawing feeling in your mind. “What are we going to do if we find something?” Ellie asked, huddling close to you.
“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it?” You murmured with each cautious step. “If she’s as crazy as that note proves then we can’t just throw ourselves at her and attack her.”
Hiding behind the tree when she suddenly drops her purse, Ellie grabs onto the back of your shirt tightly as you all watch Mandy scrambling to pick it up and stumbling her way up the path towards her house; almost tripping over in the process and if it wasn’t for the fact your hand quickly came up and cupped Ellie’s mouth, the laugh she let out would have gotten you all caught. “Shut the fuck up.” You warned.
“Yes, Boss.”
“Ellie’s gonna be the reason we all die.” Jesse grumbled, sneakily running over towards the other tree that was closer to her house. “I think she’s gone in the house now, you can move.” He waved you over, still looking at the window.
“Don’t laugh, or you’ll get us caught.”
“God, I won’t laugh again unless she falls out of the fuckin’ door.” Ellie grumbled from behind you, still using your body as a shield. “Or hits a tree—”
“Ellie, I will tie you to a tree and leave you out here. I said don’t bring it up.”
“C’mon, you and that tree have a pure love relationship now.”
“M’gonna tell Joel about what you did with that girl behind his house if you don’t shut your mouth right now.” You warned, turning to look at her.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would, now shut the hell up.”
Stalking up the steps quietly, you keep your hold on Ellie tight when she stumbles up one of the steps and Jesse was the one who had to place his hand over her mouth this time when she went to yelp. “Do not get us caught, Ellie, I’ll never forgive you.”
From here, you could see Mandy in the kitchen, filling her glass up with whatever she chose to drink tonight, taking a sip as she leant against the counter and her shoulders sagged. That sudden loud banging had you all flinching in your spots and Mandy straightened herself up. “Quit it! You do that all the fuckin time, it’s driving me nuts!”
“She’s already nuts,” Ellie’s voice muffled behind Jesse’s hand.
“Should have killed you when I had the damn chance, but no! Everyone gives too much of a shit about you!”
Carefully, without dropping Ellie or causing Jesse to fall over, your hand lightly grips onto the door handle, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as you turn it just enough to hear a soft click. “Let’s go.” You whispered, removing your hold reluctantly and stood up.
Pushing the door open wildly, Mandy stumbled back, almost falling over the table when You, Ellie and Jesse stormed in through her front door. “Y/N?”
“Where the fuck is she!?” You’re suddenly in her face in a flash and fists balled up by your sides.
“What happened to not throwing ourselves at her and attacking her?” Ellie grumbled quietly from beside Jesse under her breath.
“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mandy stammered, eyes wide and glossy.
“Oh, you don’t?” You laughed sarcastically and shook your head. “You know exactly what m’fucking talking about.”
“I really don’t—”
“You can drop the innocent act, you insane little bitch.” Ellie seethed from beside you.
“Y/N, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mandy sobbed, backed into a corner and not knowing an escape route.
Her breath hitched and she gasped when you’re suddenly gripping her face between your hands tightly; looking down at her angrily. Angrier than she’s ever seen before. “No? Then fuck what fuck is this?”
The sheet of paper hits her square in the chest, and Mandy scrambles to catch it, her shaky hands fumble to open it, and as her eyes catch onto what’s on the page, you finally see the way her jaw clenches and her face relaxes. “She never deserved you,” She scoffed, finally letting her guard down. “That stupid little bitch deserved everything that happened.”
“The fuck did you say?”
“She had it coming. If she didn’t keep taking you away from me, telling you to ignore me, blowing off our dates—”
“We went on one date!”
“A date she kept telling you to miss, always listening to her, doing what she tells you, with her out of the way I could have you to myself.” She grinned.
Leaning closer to her, you laughed in her face. “You still have nothing,” You murmured with a grimace. “This makes me hate you more.”
“No you don’t, you don’t hate me.” Mandy shook her head and plastered on a smile. “No,”
“Are you fucking stupid?” Ellie blinked, eyes going between you and then Mandy. “You’re fucking crazy, obsessive, who would love that?”
“Dina loved you, didn’t she, Ellie, takes one obsessive bitch to know another?”
“Hey,” Jesse warned, stepping in front of Ellie. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”
“Ah yes, Jesse, the other one. How does it feel knowing she loved you both yet still broke up with you when she had her fill?”
“Shut the fuck up,”
“Where is Abby?” You glared and gripped her face harder. “Tell me where she is!”
“She’s gone! She was never here, I took care of her for us!”
“There is no us!”
The fact she’s not getting it makes you more angry, angrier than when you found out Abby went missing. “But, I did this for you? Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see I do everything for you?”
“I didn’t ask you to take my best friend away from me! I’m asking you to give her back to me!”
“She’s not here! Why would she be here?!”
“Do not let her move,” You told them as you slowly took a couple of steps away from her. “If either of you let her walk out that damn door, m’shooting you both.” With the stare you were giving them, they both knew you weren’t kidding. You were scary when you were angry, that’s not a secret.
Wandering into the living room, the same one you ate fucking dinner in, you halted in your steps with your arms folded over your chest. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but as you glanced around the room, you couldn’t exactly find anything out of the ordinary, or even remotely suspicious. Maybe you had gotten it wrong? You were so sleep deprived that anyone could have written the note, Mandy can’t be the only one to write hearts next to her name, right?
You were about to give up on this crazy plan; the crazy plan of yelling and screaming at Mandy until she told you what you wanted to hear, when the faintest scraping sound had caught your attention. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough that you could hear it from where you were standing. Your eyebrows furrow and your body turns just slightly, head pointing in the direction of the cabinet opposite the bookshelf. “What’s that noise?” You asked to no one in particular.
“What noise?” Ellie quipped, cautiously keeping her eyes on Mandy, who was still slumped against the counter, and occasionally over to you where you stood. “I don’t hear anything—”
There it was again, the slight scraping sound, but only this time it’s a little louder.
Before you could take another step towards the cabinet, Mandy was suddenly moving around and pushing herself in front of you, but you weren’t focused on her face, no, you were more focused on the gun pointed at your fuckin’ face. “I can’t let you go through there,” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “If you just stopped looking, stopped asking people, begging people for help, then this wouldn’t be happening. I did this for us, for you, why can’t you see that?”
“You took her from me, from us, why would I love you for that?” You scoffed, stepped a little closer. “If you’re gonna shoot me because I want to find her, then don’t be a goddamn pussy and shoot me.”
“S…Shoot you?” Mandy stammered, quickly shaking her head. “No! No, I don’t want to shoot you, I love you!”
“Y/N,” Ellie warned, trying to figure out a way to help you, get you away from her. “Y/N.”
“Let me have her, that’s all I want, please just— I need Abby, please” You begged, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the cool metal on your skin. “I just want my Abby back.”
“There’s no Abby left to bring back.”
“I really hate when people lie to me,” You whispered so quietly that she almost didn’t catch it. “Liars are one of the worst things in the world, stop trying to piss me off even more.”
You’re not sure what happens, one second you’re all standing there, and the next Ellie’s jumping at her, putting herself on the line to simply help you. “Ellie!” You growled, watching her practically pushing Mandy onto the floor, the gun still safely in her hands.
“Now is really not the time to question what m’doing. Go get her!”
Quickly, you manage to rush around the commotion, and slip back into the kitchen; keys, surely she keeps keys around here somewhere right? The kitchen is cold, plates in the sink that haven’t been touched in weeks, and your mind starts to wonder again as you look around. Could Abby really be here? Locked away without any sunlight? What if she was here but it’s too late?
Pulling open one of the drawers, you let out a sigh of relief once you spot a set of keys, way too many now that you look at it. Who needs that many if they don’t have secrets they’d rather stay locked away? Snatching them up and slamming the drawer shut again, you stumble your way out of the kitchen.
Jesse’s already pushing the cabinet away, a metal door hiding and tucked away perfectly behind it, when you also happen to glance over to see Ellie was standing over Mandy as you walked back into the living room, the gun now in her hands. “Go, I can look after Ellie, make sure nothing happens.” He groaned, slumping against the wooden cabinet.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, go!”
With trembling hands, one by one, you slot the keys into the lock; cursing and muttering under your breath when certain ones don’t unlock it. By the 7th key, the lock falls and you suck in a deep breath. Anything could be waiting for you on the other side of that door. Your life is already on the line, what’s one more to the list? So with a final sigh, and groan, you pull down the handle and pull the door open. The loud screeching of metal rings through your ears and sends a shiver down your spine.
The coldness washes over you quickly as you look down at the steps leaning into the basement once the doors open. You glance over at Ellie, Mandy’s still kicking at her legs, trying to get up and you send your friend a reassuring smile before making your way down into the dark and eerie room.
There’s no windows, you notice that quite quickly first, they’re all boarded up. No one would hear you if this entire plan goes to shit, Mandy somehow locking you up in here. Not a single living soul outside of this house would be able to hear your screams and cries for help. Not even the animals or insects living right beside it.
Tucking the keys in your back pocket, you step off the last step and release yet another sigh. It’s colder down here than it was opening the door, you think to yourself. To your left there’s a table with an endless supply of books, weird. Moving towards them with caution, you’re quick to pick up on all the torn up papers, the pens scattered along it. Picking up one of the notes, you’re in no luck when you find there’s nothing on there, yet another mystery in your endless supply of wonder.
To your right there’s another small room. You look at it for longer than you like, wondering who would need two rooms in one, until the gentle scraping catches your attention again as you went to turn around. It sounded like chalk on a chalk board, that’s the best way you could describe such a sound, maybe it wasn’t exactly lose to what you can imagine, but it’s the best you got.
As you got closer, you noticed the smaller padlock on the door, keeping whatever’s hidden, hidden.
Pulling the keys out of your pocket, you’re shaking even more when you look through them to find a key much smaller than the other ones, one that’s dainty and could hide anywhere if it tried harder enough.
The lock drops and you start to notice your hands haven’t stopped shaking, but now it’s starting to get uncomfortable, and uncontrollable for you to deal with. Sliding the lock, you press your forehead against the door and take a deep breath. Was this how it ends? Was this going to lead you into yet another deadend? Was Abby really gone and you were going to be stuck down here with some crazy psycho?
“Let go of me!” You heard Mandy scream from above you. Ellie’s words being screamed angrily right back at her.
With a final sigh, you pull the handle down and pull the door open.
If Abby’s not here, and this is just me falling into a trap, let everyone know I tried.
It’s dark. You can’t see anything. Turning your head, you notice a small light switch just beside the door, covered in mould and dirt, probably not the best idea to put your hands all in it, but you do it. You flick the switch and the light loominates the room and that’s when you notice it. You finally see it.
The figure curled up in the corner of the room, holding themselves until whatever nightmare they’re able to get out of. Taking a singular step into the room, you crouch slowly, ignoring the throbbing pain in your hand as you reach it out and gently touch their shoulder. “M’not gonna hurt you,” You reassured just before they flinch at your touch with a pained whimper head whipping around and tired blue eyes meet yours.
The sight causes your breath to hitch and heart to thump loudly in your chest.
“Abby?”
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Jerry, who was smiling and cooking something for dinner as the music on the radio played quietly, almost fell to his knees the second the door opened to reveal you, Ellie, Jesse and Abby.
“My girl?” He whispered, not wanting to be loud to the point it might scare her. “Abby,” He breathed out when blue eyes met him. “Oh, baby.”
Guiding her towards the table carefully, you gently helped her sit down, but not before her hand tightens around your arm when you went to walk away. “M’just gonna run you a bath, you’re cold and you need to be warm, I’ll be right back, okay?”
Abby simply nodded slowly. Almost like she wasn’t even there.
“Honey, I can make you something else to eat? You don’t have to eat this but,” Jerry trailed off, watching the way Abby’s simply still looking in the spot you once were, yearning for you to come back already. “At least drink something for me?” He frowned, pulling his hand back quickly at the sight of Abby flinching and pulling her hand away when his goes to touch hers. “I won’t hurt you, baby girl. I’d never hurt you.”
You come back no later than 15 minutes. To her that’s still too long.
Abby didn’t move an inch or speak once the entire time you left to run her a bath. She was still sitting silently on the chair, not touching the food her Dad had plated for her, and left the glass of water in Its original spot. “Abby?”
Her head turned slightly, the most movement she’s done since she got home, and looked right at you. Her eyes looked dull, emotionless but stood up slowly when you held your hand out for her. Taking your hand, Abby doesn’t look back or spare a glance to anyone in the room as she leaves. It’s quiet, too quiet but no on can blame her, she’s been in a room for god knows how long, they understand that this is going to take some time to adjust.
By the time you made it into her bedroom, you’re quick to scoop up the fresh clothes in your free hand, the other still holding onto hers tightly as you guide her into the bathroom. The same bathroom that there’s a warm bath ready for her.
Placing the clean folded clothes on the toilet, you looked over at Abby, who still has yet to talk, was facing away from you, looking at the water. “There’s clean clothes here, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?” You smiled. “I’ll give you some privacy, I’ll just be in your room— Abby?” Her hand reaches out for yours, grabbing you tightly and keeping you there when you turn around to leave. “Hey,”
“S..Stay,” Her voice cracked, but kept her grip firm. “S..Stay, please?”
“Okay, of course, m’not going anywhere,” You promised and cautiously stepped closer to her. “Let’s take this off, yeah? You’re probably not warm enough.” As you went to unzip the hoodie she was wearing, her hand stopped you again. “Sorry, habit,”
“It’s n..not the same,” A sob slipped out and she shook her head. “Not the same,”
“What’s not the same?”
“If I take it off, you’re g..going to find it disgusting,”
“I could never think that of you, Abs”
After a few minutes, Abby nodded reluctantly and let you unzip the jacket fully. It only took a few seconds for you to stop in your tracks and understand what she meant once the jacket was off and she was once again facing away from you. “Abby,” You gasped.
You remember the times you would spend laying on her bed, with her snuggled in your chest, and threading your fingers through her hair, braiding it, playing with you. It was all gone in an instant. Gone just like she had once been. This Abby was left fragile, so thin, pale and terrified. “I..I’m disgusting,”
Walking around her until you were face to face, you held back a frown and gently cupped her face between your hands, your heart shattering into pieces at her flinch. “Won’t hurt you,” You whispered, wiped away the tears that fell and kissed her cheek. “You’re here with me, you’re safe, and I’ll never hurt you,” Slowly, you brushed your finger across her cheek, and smiled when she carefully leaned into your touch. “You’re beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful.”
Abby doesn’t believe you, you can tell by the way she shakes her head, cries harder and holds onto your arms tightly. “M’scared, m’so scared.”
“I know, Love, I know, but I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I promise, I promise I won’t.”
By the time Abby managed to get into the bath, with the help from you, she cried at every touch, rubbing her eyes harshly each time you rubbed the shampoo into her hair, mumbled about being sorry that she couldn’t stop squirming and with every reassurance from you that it was okay, it made her chest heave and cries louder. You didn’t ask her what happened, you know that when she was ready to talk about it, you would be there to listen. Guide and help her when needed.
Rinsing the final suds of shampoo from her hair, or what Mandy left of it, you smiled softly when her eyes fluttered open and found you. “Hi,” You pressed your forehead against hers and brushed your thumb over the side of her neck slowly. “You’re getting warmer.” You murmured. “We’re almost done.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Love.”
Abby was clad in some of your old clothes, curled up in your side on her bed 15 minutes later. Her hand gripped the back of your jumper tightly, face buried deeply in your chest as you drew random patterns along her skin beneath your clothes. “M’glad you’re here,” You whispered against her forehead. “I never stopped looking for you, I hope you know that. You can tell me what happened when you’re ready, m’never gonna rush you to talk about it, but know that we’re here for you, and we just want to keep you safe. We’re ready to talk when you’re ready.”
All Abby could do was nod.
The door squeaked and opened to reveal Ellie, clothes dirty and hair slightly ruffled, as she stepped into the room with a fresh plate of food in one hand, and a drink in the other. “Hey, Abs.” She smiled, placing both on the nightstand before sliding onto the bed beside her. “I know you might not be hungry but, I brought you some food, Jerry practically rushed me to bring it to you.”
Abby curled more into you and buried her face in your chest with a smile tugging at her lips. “How is she?”
“What did you do?” You asked, ignoring her question and noticing the red stains on her shirt instead.
“I took care of it, she won’t hurt Abby or anyone else again.” Ellies eyes didn’t leave Abby as she spoke. “Stop, I took care of it, like we promised. We keep each other safe.” She sighed once she noticed your look. “Abby?”
“Mhm?”
“Can I cuddle you?”
Turning her head slowly, Abby looks up at Ellie for a couple of seconds before nodding. Lying down on the bed further, the Brunette carefully places her arm over Abby’s waist and cuddles up to her back, while Abby places her head against your chest again. “M’sorry it took so long,” She mumbled into Abby’s back. “M’so sorry.” She kissed her head and held her tighter.
Leaning your head down, you pressed your lips against Abby’s forehead, stroked her arm comfortingly and smiled when she held onto you a little tighter. “You can sleep now, we’ll always keep you safe, Baby.”
One secret revealed, another buried and hidden.
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#❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐲’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐬 ❞#.....so i went a little over board.#this is probably my longest reblog in vifilms' history.#when it got so long i just opened the reblog and typed it in docs.#but wow.#i love you.#this is insane.#and by insane....i mean insanely amazing.#i will never grow tired of reading this fic.#the way you have expanded my perspective of writing with this wonderful piece of fiction needs to be studied.#everything about this is just too intriguing.#you are amazing and you deserve to be praised and celebrated.
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Drinks or Coffee
Rosé x Fem!Reader
Word Count: ca. 9k
Req by Anon
Notes: It's rushed af, and I'm not proud of it, BUT I couldn't do anything better with the time I had.. SORRY HBD to my number one girl 🫶🏻
Rosé - drinks or coffee "We're just friends, it's okay Kinda weird how my night changed"
English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.
♡ Enjoy! ♡
The party was nothing but noise and flashing lights. A swirl of expensive perfume, designer outfits, and clinking glasses filled the air, creating an atmosphere that was both dazzling and exhausting. Conversations overlapped, a constant murmur of pleasantries, forced laughter, and industry talk that held no real weight. Music pulsed through the venue, too loud to ignore but not quite loud enough to drown out the superficial exchanges happening around her.
Y/N shifted her weight from one foot to the other, balancing a half-empty glass of champagne between her fingers, pretending to be engaged in the conversation happening in front of her. A senior executive was speaking, something about an upcoming collaboration, or maybe a tour, but Y/N wasn’t really listening. She had perfected the art of nodding at the right moments, offering small smiles, and laughing politely even when she didn’t fully register the joke.
It wasn’t that she hated these events. She understood their importance, knew they were a necessary part of the industry, but tonight felt particularly draining. There was nothing here for her, no real excitement, no real connection. Just people trying to impress other people.
Her gaze flickered toward the exit. If she left now, she doubted anyone would notice. She could slip away, maybe go home and curl up with a book, or even just sit in the quiet of her dorm, free from the noise. It wasn’t like she was adding anything to the energy of the room.
She sighed, fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. “One more hour,” she told herself. Just one more.
And then—
A laugh. Warm. Familiar. Effortless.
It cut through the noise like a melody she had memorized by heart.
Y/N’s body reacted before her mind even processed it. Her head turned instinctively, eyes scanning the crowd, drawn toward the sound as if it had called her by name.
And then, there she was.
Rosé.
Standing beneath the golden glow of the chandeliers, her head tilted back in laughter, eyes crinkling at something Jennie had just said. She was radiant in a way that made the rest of the room fade into the background. Y/N barely noticed the people around her anymore. It was just Rosé, effortlessly captivating, pulling her attention without even trying.
"Standing in the corner of a crowded place, this is boring 'til I heard your name."
Y/N exhaled, the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding slipping past her lips.
The party no longer felt so unbearable.
Rosé stood across the room, deep in conversation with Jennie, her expression alight with amusement. The golden glow of the chandeliers softened her features, casting a delicate shimmer along her cheekbones. Even in the dim, ambient lighting of the venue, she seemed to glow, as if the world had conspired to make her the brightest thing in the room.
Her hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her look effortlessly elegant. A few strands had slipped out of place, yet instead of looking messy, they only added to her charm. She was dressed in something sleek and understated, nothing overly extravagant, but still stunning in the way it fit her, hugging her form in all the right ways. The fabric caught the light with every small movement, making it impossible not to notice her.
She wasn’t even trying.
She wasn’t standing under a spotlight, wasn’t performing, wasn’t singing with that breathtaking voice of hers. She was just… being herself. Laughing at something Jennie had said, head tilted back slightly, her eyes crinkling in delight.
And yet, Y/N couldn’t look away.
For a moment, she felt ridiculous. She had known Rosé for years. They had spent so many hours together, backstage at award shows, waiting in green rooms, sharing snacks in the hotel after long schedules. They had been each other’s company on quiet nights, texting about everything and nothing until one of them inevitably fell asleep mid-conversation.
Rosé had always been beautiful. That wasn’t new.
So why did it feel like Y/N was seeing her for the first time?
"Is it just me startin’ to see you in a different light?"
Y/N swallowed, a strange warmth creeping up her neck. She blinked, willing the thought away.
And then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, Rosé’s gaze drifted through the sea of people and landed on her.
For a second, Y/N forgot how to breathe.
There was something in Rosé’s eyes, surprise, maybe or something quieter, something unspoken. The conversation she had been having with Jennie momentarily faded into the background. Y/N swore she saw the tiniest flicker of hesitation, as if Rosé wasn’t just looking at her but seeing her, in a way that mirrored exactly what Y/N was feeling.
Then, slowly, Rosé’s lips curled into a smile.
Soft. Familiar. The kind of smile Y/N had seen a thousand times, yet suddenly, it felt different.
Y/N’s heart stumbled over itself.
Rosé lifted a hand and waved, a small motion that somehow carried the weight of the entire evening.
She tilted her head slightly, an unspoken invitation in her gaze, and just like that, leaving was no longer an option.
Y/N found herself moving before she even decided to. It was as if her body knew something she hadn’t quite admitted to herself yet, an invisible pull, a force guiding her straight to Rosé without hesitation. The music and the crowd faded into the background, becoming nothing more than a blur of movement and sound.
The moment she stepped closer, Rosé turned to her with an easy smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Finally,” she said, crossing her arms. “I was wondering how long you were gonna sulk in the corner.”
Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t sulking.”
“Sure,” Rosé teased, tilting her head slightly, her blonde hair slipping over one shoulder. “You looked like you were planning your escape.”
Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but.. well, she had been planning her escape. So instead, she just shrugged. “The party’s boring.”
Rosé smirked, leaning in just a fraction closer. “Not anymore, right?”
There was something in her voice, light, playful, but beneath it, something else. Something expectant. The way she looked at Y/N made her stomach flip, like she was waiting for an answer to a question she hadn’t asked out loud.
Before Y/N could analyze it too much, Jennie, who had been casually observing their interaction, cut in smoothly. “You two should just stick together. You’re the only people I’ve seen tonight who don’t look like they want something from someone.”
Rosé let out a soft laugh, the sound effortless and familiar. “Sounds like a plan.”
Jennie’s eyes flicked between them, like she was noticing something neither of them were ready to admit yet. But she just smirked knowingly before stepping away, leaving them in their own little space amidst the chaos of the party.
The conversation flowed easily after that, as it always did between them.
They talked about everything and nothing, complaining about their exhausting schedules, reminiscing about the funniest behind the scenes moments, making quiet jokes about the over the top fashion choices at the party. But underneath all of it, there was something different.
The space between them was less than it should have been.
Every time one of them shifted, the warmth of Rosé’s arm brushed against Y/N’s, sending tiny sparks of awareness up her skin. It wasn’t intentional, at least, Y/N didn’t think so, but neither of them moved away.
Then, without thinking, Y/N reached for a drink from a passing tray.
Her fingers unintentionally brushed against Rosé’s. It was barely a touch. A fleeting moment. But it was there.
Neither of them pulled away immediately.
Y/N swallowed, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She told herself it was nothing. Just a touch. Just a moment.
But then Rosé looked at her. Really looked at her.
And for the first time, Y/N wasn’t so sure it was nothing at all.
The warmth of Rosé’s fingers against Y/N’s lingered, even as the moment passed, even as they both slowly withdrew their hands and pretended like it hadn’t happened. The touch had been brief, fleeting, barely more than a brush of skin against skin. And yet, Y/N could still feel it, like an imprint left behind, delicate but all-consuming.
The air between them had changed.
The conversation continued, but Y/N found herself barely paying attention. She nodded at the right moments, let out small hums of acknowledgment when necessary, but her focus was elsewhere.
Because something was different now.
Rosé, standing impossibly close, her presence overwhelming in the best way. Rosé, whose perfume, light and floral with a hint of vanilla, was something Y/N could recognize anywhere. Rosé, who was quiet now, no longer filling the space with playful words, but instead watching Y/N in a way that sent something warm curling in her chest.
It wasn’t just her imagination.
She could feel it, this pull, this tension simmering just beneath the surface.
Rosé leaned in slightly, her voice just above a whisper, intimate despite the crowd around them. "Wanna get out of here?"
Y/N blinked, caught off guard.
Before she could respond, Rosé tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes.
"We could get drinks, or we could get coffee."
Rosé’s tone was casual, too casual, like she wasn’t fully acknowledging what she was asking. Like she was testing something, waiting for a reaction.
Y/N arched an eyebrow, smirking slightly, an attempt to keep her voice steady. “Since when do you drink this much, Rosie?”
Rosé shrugged, effortlessly cool, but Y/N caught the tiny flicker in her expression, the way her lips twitched like she was holding back something more. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to take you somewhere else.”
Y/N’s breath hitched.
A second passed. Then another.
Neither of them moved.
Rosé was still looking at her, the same way she had been all night, like she was seeing something new, something she hadn’t fully allowed herself to acknowledge before.
And maybe Y/N was looking at her the same way. The weight of the moment balanced on a knife’s edge.
Then, as if making an unspoken agreement, Rosé reached for her clutch, her movements smooth, deliberate. Y/N followed suit, setting her barely touched drink on the nearest table.
They didn’t say anything else, there was no need to.
Without another word, they slipped through the crowd together, leaving the noise of the party behind.
The city air was crisp when they stepped outside, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the party. The cool breeze nipped at Y/N’s skin, carrying with it the distant scent of rain on pavement and something floral from a nearby storefront. She inhaled deeply, letting the quiet settle over her like a balm.
Neon lights flickered against the wet pavement, stretching into long, fractured reflections with each passing car. The city was still alive but softer now, distant laughter from groups of night owls mingling with the low hum of traffic. It was the kind of night that felt endless, like anything could happen.
Rosé didn’t say where they were going, and Y/N didn’t ask.
She simply fell into step beside her, their shoulders brushing with every few strides. Neither of them moved away.
A comfortable silence stretched between them as they wandered through the quieter streets of Seoul, where the flashing signs and bustling crowds gave way to cozier alleyways and familiar corners. It wasn’t the first time they had done this, sneaking away after long events, walking without a real destination, enjoying the rare moments of peace their schedules didn’t often allow. But tonight felt… different.
Eventually, they turned down a quieter street, and Rosé led them toward a small, tucked-away café. The warm glow from inside spilled onto the sidewalk, the golden light inviting against the cool blue of the night.
Y/N smiled as recognition dawned. They’d been here before.
Hidden from the prying eyes of cameras and fans, this place had become something of an unspoken sanctuary, a little slice of normalcy in a life where normal didn’t exist.
But somehow, tonight, it felt different.
As Rosé pulled open the door, Y/N hesitated. "Are we really doing coffee at this hour?"
Rosé smirked, tilting her head slightly. “Since when do you care about time?”
Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh, stepping inside after her.
The café was warm, the rich scent of roasted beans and vanilla hanging in the air. Soft music played from an old speaker near the counter, blending into the occasional clinking of ceramic cups and the quiet murmur of the few other late-night customers. It was nothing like the party, no flashing lights, no suffocating expectations, no noise that drowned out the thoughts in her head.
Just them.
As they settled into a corner booth, Rosé ran a hand through her hair, shaking off the slight chill from outside. Y/N watched as she glanced at the menu with mild disinterest before resting her chin on her hand, eyes flickering up to meet Y/N’s.
“You’re stalling,” Y/N teased, placing her own menu down.
Rosé hummed, tapping her fingers against the table. “Maybe.” Then, after a beat, “What do you feel like?”
“Tea,” Y/N answered easily, lifting an eyebrow. “And I know you’re not about to order coffee. You hate drinking it late.”
Rosé’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Maybe I just like the company.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, but her heart betrayed her, skipping a beat at the effortless way Rosé said it.
They placed their orders, tea for Y/N, something herbal for Rosé, before settling into the quiet lull of the café.
The dim lighting cast soft shadows over Rosé’s face, highlighting the curve of her cheekbone, the slight downturn of her lips as she stared into her cup, stirring absentmindedly. Her fingers wrapped around the ceramic as if grounding herself, but there was a thoughtfulness in her expression, something unsaid resting at the tip of her tongue.
Y/N didn’t speak. She simply watched, taking in the way Rosé’s brows knitted together slightly, how the flickering candle on the table reflected in her eyes.
The café was quiet, not an empty kind of quiet, but the kind that felt safe. Unlike the party, there was no pressure to be anything but themselves here.
And yet, the air between them still carried a charge, an unspoken tension, something lingering just beneath the surface.
Y/N traced the rim of her cup absentmindedly, watching Rosé over the rising steam of her drink.
There was something mesmerizing about the way she carried herself, the effortless way she curled her fingers around the handle of her mug, the way her thumb absentmindedly smoothed over the ceramic surface as if lost in thought. She wasn’t fidgeting, not exactly, but there was a quiet kind of movement to her, a rhythm in the way she tapped a delicate pattern against the side of the cup, her mind seemingly elsewhere.
Y/N had seen Rosé like this before, deep in thought, lost in the quiet corners of her mind. But tonight, something about it felt different.
Maybe it was the lighting, casting warm shadows over the soft contours of her face.
Maybe it was the way her eyes flickered up to meet Y/N’s every so often, as if making sure she was still there.
Maybe it was the silence, charged, heavy with things unsaid, lingering between them like a question neither of them had dared to ask.
And then, before she could stop herself, the words slipped out. "This night felt pointless until I saw you."
Rosé stilled.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her cup, her posture shifting just the smallest fraction. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but Y/N noticed.
Because Rosé always moved with a certain grace, always carried herself with an effortless fluidity, and yet… something about the way she froze in that moment told Y/N that she had caught her off guard.
The words hung between them, suspended in the air like something fragile, something that could shatter if handled too carelessly.
For a moment, Rosé didn’t respond. She just sat there, her lips parted slightly, eyes searching Y/N’s as if trying to find the meaning hidden beneath them.
Because they both knew those words meant more than they should.
"I know we can't say what we mean, but I'm happy that you're here tonight."
Rosé opened her mouth, as if to say something. Y/N could see it, the hesitation, the thoughts racing behind her eyes, the weight of a response she was unsure if she could give.
She stopped herself, instead, she simply smiled.
Not her usual bright, camera-ready smile. Not the charming, practiced expression she wore for flashing lights and adoring fans.
This was something else. Something smaller. Something softer. Something private.
As if Y/N’s words were something she wanted to keep.
After that night, something changes.
It isn’t sudden, there’s no grand moment of realization, no spoken confession that shifts the world around them. But it’s there. Subtle and persistent. A slow unraveling, threading itself into the fabric of their everyday lives, too quiet to name but impossible to ignore.
They start spending more time together.
More than before. More than what could be written off as coincidence or simple friendship.
It starts small.
Rosé starts texting first.
Not because she has a reason, not because there’s anything urgent to say, but just because. Because she wants to, because something about Y/N’s name lighting up her screen makes the dullest parts of her day feel lighter.
And Y/N texts back, always. Sometimes with teasing responses, sometimes with sleepy voice notes at ungodly hours, her voice groggy but affectionate.
And then there are the calls, ones that start as quick check-ins but stretch into hours, their voices growing softer, quieter, like neither of them want to be the one to say goodbye.
Then come the meet-ups, slipping away between schedules, finding hidden places where no one will bother them. There’s something different about those moments. The way Rosé’s fingers toy with the rim of her cup, the way Y/N’s gaze lingers just a little too long. The way neither of them rush to leave.
The nights stretch longer.
More late-night conversations, more laughter, more stolen moments in places that feel like they exist outside of time. Y/N finds herself memorizing the way Rosé’s eyes flicker when she’s talking about something she loves, how she bites her lip when she’s deep in thought, how her voice softens when she says her name.
And then there are the touches. Small at first.
Brushed fingers when reaching for something at the same time. Rosé’s hand on the small of Y/N’s back when guiding her through a crowd. The way Y/N’s fingers linger on Rosé’s wrist when she tugs her closer, like she’s waiting for something.
It’s brief. Fleeting, but it’s enough.
Enough to make Y/N’s breath hitch. Enough to make Rosé’s heart stutter.
Rosé tells herself it’s nothing. Except… It’s always something.
She catches herself staring when she shouldn’t.
During rehearsals, during interviews, in moments where she should be focused, but instead, she’s watching her. Watching the way Y/N moves, the way she laughs, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear absentmindedly.
And every single time Y/N looks back at her, catches her in the act, Rosé’s pulse races.
It’s fine, she tells herself. Completely normal.
But if that’s true… Then why does it feel like something she’s not ready to admit?
Why does she find herself searching for Y/N, even when she’s supposed to be focused on something else? Why does her chest tighten when Y/N walks into a room, why does the absence of her presence feel palpable in a way it never used to?
It follows her everywhere.
During rehearsals, during interviews, in moments where she should be fully present but instead finds her thoughts drifting, always back to her.
And now? Now they’re here again, another schedule, another long day in the industry’s endless cycle. But this time, Rosé doesn’t just feel Y/N’s presence.
She sees her.
The backstage room hummed with the familiar chaos of a live broadcast, producers adjusting earpieces, stylists making last-minute fixes, camera operators calling out to one another. The low murmur of voices, the shuffle of footsteps, the faint whir of a curling iron in the background, it all blended into a steady, predictable noise.
But Rosé barely noticed any of it.
She was seated on the worn leather couch, waiting for the next segment to begin, her body angled slightly toward Y/N without realizing it. The space between them was negligible, their legs nearly touching. Too close to be accidental. Too familiar to be deliberate.
Y/N was speaking, her voice low and warm, her words laced with something teasing. Rosé wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying anymore, something about the interview, or maybe a joke about how long the day had been, but all Rosé could focus on was the way her voice curled around the words. The way her lips twitched in amusement before she even finished speaking, like she already knew Rosé would laugh.
She should move. She should.
But she didn’t.
A staff member passed by, flipping through a clipboard, their voice cutting through the air with an amused lilt.
"You two are always together." The words landed too heavily.
It was casual, offhanded, thrown into the conversation without a second thought. A passing comment meant to fill the silence.
But Rosé felt it like a spark.
Y/N, as always, was quick to respond. She let out an easy laugh, one of those effortlessly charming ones, leaning back against the couch as if the statement meant nothing at all. "Guess she’s stuck with me."
The staff member chuckled and walked off, the moment already forgotten.
Rosé should have laughed, too. It was a joke. Just a joke, but her face burned.
It shouldn’t have meant anything. It shouldn’t have sent a sudden, unsteady rush of heat creeping up her neck, shouldn’t have left her fingers curling subtly against her lap, pressing into the fabric of her dress as if grounding herself.
But the thing about the joke was that it wasn’t really a joke at all.
They were always together.
She could feel Y/N’s gaze on her now, lingering in that way that made Rosé feel seen in a way she wasn’t sure she was ready for. It was subtle, a flicker of attention, a silent question in the way her eyes softened at the corners.
Rosé kept her own gaze forward, pretending to be focused on the ongoing conversation happening across the room. If she laughed too much, it would be obvious. If she didn’t laugh at all, it would be worse.
So she settled for something in between.
A quiet exhale. A half-smile. A sip of water that did nothing to cool the warmth still spreading through her chest.
The conversation moved on. The moment passed, but the thought stayed.
Later, after the interview was over, after the cameras had been turned off and the crew had started packing up, Rosé found herself walking down an empty hallway beside Y/N. The distant hum of voices and laughter from the other rooms faded as they stepped further away from the noise.
It was just them now.
No cameras. No audience. No need to pretend.
Rosé spoke without fully thinking, the words slipping out before she had the chance to swallow them down.
"Maybe they have a point."
Y/N, who had been mid-step, paused.
She turned slightly, just enough for Rosé to see the shift in her expression, the way her amusement dimmed into something quieter, something unreadable. She didn’t speak right away, didn’t offer another easy, teasing response. Instead, she just looked at Rosé, really looked at her, like she was searching for something in her face, waiting to see if Rosé would take the words back.
She didn’t.
Y/N tilted her head, considering. Her voice was softer when she finally spoke. "Do they?"
It wasn’t playful, it wasn’t teasing. It was a real question.
Rosé swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of her own words.
She could still hear the echo of the joke from earlier. Could still feel the heat of Y/N’s gaze lingering on her, waiting for an answer.
And she could lie. She could laugh it off like she always did, could throw back a simple of course not and pretend like her pulse wasn’t hammering in her throat.
But she didn’t.
She just stood there, staring at Y/N, feeling everything and saying nothing.
Because maybe... Maybe she already knew the answer, and that’s what scared her the most.
And yet, the weight of that unspoken truth didn’t fade with time. It followed her in the quiet moments, in the spaces between conversations, in the way Y/N’s absence felt too loud even when the world around her was filled with noise.
Days passed, then weeks, and still, Rosé found herself caught in the same loop—avoiding, pretending, wanting, running.
She told herself that the tension would dissolve, that if she kept her distance, whatever this thing between them would fade into something manageable. But the distance only made it worse.
So when the invitation arrived, just another industry gathering, just another night of routine smiles and polite small talk, Rosé didn’t expect anything different.
She certainly didn’t expect her.
A private gathering, tucked away from flashing cameras and the ever-watchful eyes of the public. The kind of night where the air is thick with laughter, where drinks are passed between friends, and where time feels just a little more forgiving. Music hums softly from a speaker in the corner, blending into the low murmur of voices and the occasional clink of glasses.
Rosé isn’t drunk, not even close, but there’s a lightness in her limbs, a warmth curling in her chest that has nothing to do with the wine she’s been sipping. It’s the kind of night where everything feels easier, where reality seems softer at the edges, where thoughts she normally keeps locked away start to slip through the cracks.
Somewhere between conversation and quiet, between the flickering candlelight on the table and the sound of her own heartbeat, she feels her.
Y/N is close. Too close.
Rosé hadn’t even noticed when it happened, when the space between them had disappeared, but now?
Now, she’s hyper-aware of everything. The warmth of Y/N’s body beside her, the way their legs brush beneath the table, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the evening air.
And then Y/N shifts, just slightly, and Rosé barely has time to react before she’s right there.
Her breath, soft, warm, ghosts against Rosé’s skin, impossibly near, and a shiver runs down her spine before she can stop it.
Her mind goes blank.
The conversation around them, the music, the laughter, it all fades into static, into something distant and insignificant.
There is only this. Only her.
Y/N’s voice, when she speaks, is barely more than a whisper. "If I kissed you right now, would it ruin everything?"
The words ignite something in Rosé, like a spark catching dry kindling, like something waiting to burn.
A slow inhale. A heartbeat too loud in her ears. A heat creeping up her throat that she doesn’t know what to do with.
She should say something. Do something, but she doesn’t.
She can’t.
Panic grips her chest before she even realizes it. A second stretches too long between them, thick with the weight of what’s been left unspoken for too long.
And Rosé? Rosé laughs.
Too quick. Too forced. As if that will erase the weight of what was just said.
"You’re just tipsy." It comes out light, dismissive, as if she can brush this off like nothing, like it’s not the most real thing she’s ever heard.
She shakes her head slightly, as if that will make it not real.
But Y/N isn’t tipsy. She isn’t swaying, isn’t slurring her words, isn’t drunk on anything except whatever this is between them.
And Rosé knows it. She knows it in the way Y/N’s expression flickers, just for a second. The way something flashes across her face, too quick to catch before she masks it.
But Rosé saw. She felt it.
The sharp sting of disappointment. The flicker of something wounded, something Y/N won’t let herself hold on to.
And Rosé’s chest tightens in a way that feels unbearable.
Because for the first time, she realizes that she doesn’t want Y/N to stop asking.
The morning after that night, Rosé wakes up with a sinking feeling in her chest.
For a moment, in the hazy stillness of her bedroom, she lets herself pretend everything is fine.
That nothing has changed. That her heart isn’t tangled in something she doesn’t know how to name.
But reality settles in too quickly.
She blinks up at the ceiling, the remnants of last night flickering behind her eyelids, the warmth of Y/N too close, the whisper of her breath against Rosé’s skin, the question that still lingers in the air between them like an unfinished song.
"If I kissed you right now, would it ruin everything?"
Rosé exhales sharply, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead.
She tells herself it’s exhaustion, that the weight pressing down on her chest is just from too many late nights and back-to-back schedules.
But she knows better.
She knows it has everything to do with the way Y/N had looked at her. The quiet expectation in her eyes, the way her voice had softened, like she was offering Rosé something fragile, something she had been holding onto for too long.
And the way Rosé had run.
From her, from the truth, from whatever this thing between them was turning into.
So she does the only thing she knows how to do. She avoids.
The first message comes in before noon.
She sees it, her screen lighting up with Y/N’s name, but she doesn’t open it.
An hour later, a second message follows.
Rosé glances at it briefly, long enough to see the words "Are we okay?" before she locks her phone and shoves it face-down onto the nightstand.
The third message arrives sometime in the afternoon.
It sits unread in her notifications for hours, a quiet reminder that Y/N is still waiting for something Rosé isn’t sure she can give.
When her phone vibrates with an incoming call, she doesn’t even let herself hesitate, she just lets it ring.
Following days she tells herself she’s busy. That their schedules don’t align, that she’s tired, that it’s better this way.
But when Jennie corners her in the practice room later one day, arms crossed, her gaze sharp in a way that says she already knows the answer, Rosé falters.
“You’ve been weird,” Jennie says, not bothering with subtlety. “What’s going on?”
Rosé doesn’t look up from where she’s absently scrolling through her playlist, pretending to search for a song she isn’t really paying attention to.
“Nothing.”
Jennie scoffs. “Right. So nothing is why you’ve barely said two words all day?”
Rosé forces a laugh, but even she can hear how hollow it sounds. “I’m just tired.”
Jennie studies her for a moment, expression unreadable. “Does this have anything to do with Y/N?”
The name alone is enough to make Rosé’s breath hitch, to make her fingers clench around her phone before she forces them to relax.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, too quickly, too stiffly.
Jennie doesn’t press. She just sighs, shaking her head slightly. “Whatever it is, you’re not handling it well.”
And Rosé knows that.
She knows it every time she catches herself opening Y/N’s chat in the dead of night, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, over the words "Are you okay?", over the words "I'm sorry."
But she never types them. Never sends them.
Because that would mean admitting that this, whatever this is, means something, and she’s not sure she’s ready for that.
So she keeps running.
And Y/N? Y/N pretends not to notice, because if Rosé is going to run, she won’t chase.
But ignoring something doesn’t make it disappear. Rosé learns that the hard way.
No matter how much distance she tries to put between them, no matter how many unanswered texts or avoided glances, she still feels Y/N, like gravity, like a pull she can’t escape.
So when another event comes around, another event with the same people in a different venue, another night of rehearsed smiles and carefully curated interactions, Rosé tells herself that this will be just like any other.
That this time, she won’t let herself look for her.
But the moment she steps inside, the moment the lights and laughter and music blur into the background, she does.
The room is a blur of movement, a dazzling display of expensive gowns and crisp suits, of practiced smiles and meaningless conversations spoken over the hum of music. Laughter rises and falls, champagne flutes clink together in rehearsed toasts, and somewhere in the distance, cameras flash, capturing moments that will be dissected by the media in the morning.
Rosé stands near the edge of the crowd, her fingers curled loosely around the delicate stem of a wine glass, the cool press of glass grounding her.
She tells herself she isn’t looking for Y/N. She tries not to, but it doesn’t matter, her eyes find her anyway.
Like they always do. Like they always will.
And when they do, something sharp twists in her stomach.
Y/N is across the room, wrapped in conversation, her body angled toward someone Rosé doesn’t recognize. She’s smiling, bright and effortless, the kind of smile that makes people lean in, makes them stay. She laughs at something they say, head tilting back slightly, the sound clear even over the noise of the party.
She’s good at this. She always has been. She knows exactly how to make someone feel like they’re the only person in the room, and Rosé hates it.
Because tonight, that person isn’t her.
A bitter taste lingers at the back of her throat, something that has nothing to do with the wine she hasn’t touched in minutes.
She grips the glass a little tighter, eyes locked on the way Y/N leans in just slightly, the way her fingers graze against the sleeve of the stranger's suit, light, fleeting, but there.
It’s nothing. It’s probably nothing, but it doesn’t feel like nothing.
Then, as if sensing something, Y/N’s gaze shifts.
Just for a moment. Just long enough for their eyes to meet across the room. Long enough for Rosé to wonder if it was intentional.
But before she can figure it out, before she can read whatever might be hidden in Y/N’s expression, Y/N looks away.
And Rosé feels something crack inside her.
"Feelin’ so good at a bad party."
She exhales, turning away sharply, lifting her glass to her lips in an attempt to distract herself. The wine is smooth, expensive, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in her chest.
Jennie’s voice, dry and amused. “You look like you’re about to shatter that glass.”
Rosé stiffens. She barely has time to fix her expression before Jennie steps beside her, moving slowly, deliberately, sipping her drink as she watches her carefully.
Rosé forces a small laugh, one that feels unnatural even to her. “I’m fine.”
Jennie hums, unimpressed. “Right. And I’m the newest member of TWICE.”
Rosé exhales through her nose, loosening her grip on the glass. “It’s nothing.”
Jennie doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she follows Rosé’s gaze across the room, to her.
Y/N, still laughing, still talking, still not looking at Rosé.
Something shifts in Jennie’s expression.
Then, without missing a beat, she turns back, raising an eyebrow. “If you don’t want her to move on,” she says, voice softer now, words deliberate, “do something about it.”
Rosé swallows. Her throat is dry. She doesn’t respond.
Because she doesn’t know how.
The party is still alive beyond the walls of the bathroom, laughter spilling over the bass-heavy music, muffled conversations buzzing like static. The distant hum of it all presses against the thick wooden door, but in here, there is nothing but silence.
And them.
Rosé barely has time to react before the door swings shut with a soft click. She grips the edge of the marble sink, fingers tightening until her knuckles turn white.
She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t have to.
She knows who it is.
The energy in the room shifts, the air thick with something suffocating, something heavy, something inevitable. The bathroom lights cast a dim glow against the mirror, reflecting back the face of someone who looks far too composed for how fast her heart is beating.
Behind her, Y/N stands motionless, but Rosé can feel the weight of her gaze, pressing against her back like a question waiting to be answered.
"Why are you acting like I don’t exist?" The words are quiet, but they land like a punch, knocking the air from Rosé’s lungs.
She inhales sharply, but it doesn’t steady her. She wasn’t ready for this.
She thought she had been avoiding a conversation, but the truth is, she was delaying it, and now, there’s nowhere left to run.
Her stomach twists violently. For a fleeting second, she thinks about lying. Thinks about brushing past Y/N, making up an excuse, slipping back into the party like none of this is happening.
But she can’t.
Slowly, she turns to face her.
Y/N is standing a few feet away, arms crossed, not in defiance, but in frustration, in hurt. She looks exhausted, like she’s been carrying the weight of this conversation for far too long.
Rosé swallows, her throat dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Y/N scoffs. Not in amusement. Not in mockery. It’s a sound of disbelief.
Of disappointment.
“Don’t do that,” Y/N murmurs, shaking her head. Her voice is softer now, but it’s laced with something tired. “Don’t stand there and pretend like you haven’t been ignoring me.”
Rosé looks away, but it doesn’t help.
Because the silence that follows confirms it.
She has been ignoring her. She’s been avoiding her, dodging texts, letting calls ring unanswered, keeping her distance like it would somehow fix this, like it would make everything that happened between them disappear.
But it hasn’t.
And now, the distance feels more suffocating than the closeness ever did.
The silence stretches, growing heavier.
"We can’t be like this." The words slip out before she can stop them.
They hang in the air, raw and exposed, before Rosé even fully understands what she’s just said.
Y/N flinches.
It’s slight, barely noticeable, the way her lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting it, like, even after everything, some small, stubborn part of her still hoped Rosé wouldn’t say it.
She exhales, running a hand through her hair, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh.
“Right,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “Of course we can’t.”
Rosé clenches her fists, nails digging into the skin of her palm, hating the way her chest aches at the sound of Y/N’s voice.
She should say something else, something softer, something that doesn’t sound so final.
But she doesn’t.
Y/N looks at her, and suddenly, Rosé feels like she’s standing at the edge of something dangerous.
A precipice she isn’t sure she wants to step away from.
"Then stop looking at me like you want me." The words come out sharp, cutting through the thick silence between them like a blade.
Rosé flinches. Because Y/N isn’t wrong.
And the worst part? She doesn’t even try to deny it.
She just stands there, silent, frozen, drowning in the weight of everything she hasn’t said.
And that, Y/N realizes, is answer enough.
The silence stretches between them, heavier than anything Rosé has ever carried. She watches as Y/N exhales, her expression shifting—not angry, not bitter, just... tired. Like she’s finally reached the end of something she never wanted to let go of.
And Rosé hates it.
She wants to reach out, to say something, to fix whatever this is before it slips through her fingers completely. But no words come, and when Y/N finally steps back, putting space between them, Rosé doesn’t move.
She watches as Y/N walks away, disappearing into the noise of the party.
And Rosé doesn’t chase her.
They stop talking, not gradually, not in the way friendships sometimes fade over time.
No, this is different. It’s sharp and immediate, like a door slammed shut, like something breaking just beneath the surface but never making a sound. Like a final breath before drowning.
Y/N tells herself she’s done waiting. She tells herself that if Rosé wants to pretend nothing happened, if she wants to ignore her, to act like Y/N doesn’t exist, then fine.
She won’t chase her. She won’t sit around hoping Rosé will finally stop running.
But it still hurts. More than she thought it would.
It hurts when she catches herself glancing at her phone, expecting a message that never comes. The stupid reflex of checking her notifications first thing in the morning, only to be met with silence.
It hurts when she hears Rosé’s voice in an interview, that familiar, melodic tone, speaking casually, laughing like nothing is wrong. Like she isn’t tearing Y/N apart in the quiet spaces between moments.
It hurts when she sees her across a room, standing with the same effortless grace, her fingers curled around a glass, her posture poised and unreadable.
Like they never meant anything at all.
Y/N tells herself she doesn’t care.
She throws herself into her work. Rehearsals, performances, interviews. She smiles when she’s supposed to. Laughs at the right moments. Flirts just enough to keep up the illusion that she’s fine.
That she isn’t falling apart. And for a while, it works.
Because when she’s on stage, when the lights are bright, when the music is loud, she can forget.
She can ignore the quiet ache in her chest, the way her thoughts always seem to drift back to Rosé when she isn’t paying attention.
But then the nights come.
And suddenly, there’s nothing to distract her. No flashing lights, no cameras, no endless noise to drown out the thoughts she doesn’t want to have.
She comes home to an empty room, kicks off her shoes, stares at the ceiling, and wonders if Rosé is doing the same thing. If she’s lying in bed somewhere, wide awake, thinking about Y/N the way Y/N is thinking about her.
She should let it go. She should.
She wants to.
But then, on a night where the loneliness is unbearable, when the silence feels too loud, when the weight in her chest feels too heavy, she reaches for her phone.
Her fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitation settling in her bones.
She shouldn’t. She knows, but before she can stop herself, before she can talk herself out of it. She types out a message.
"Drinks or coffee?"
The words stare back at her, small and simple, but somehow carrying everything.
She doesn’t expect an answer.
She tells herself she’s just doing it for closure, for something final. A message sent into the void, never to be answered.
She leaves the screen on anyway.
Watching.
Waiting.
Rosé is half-asleep when the message comes in.
Her phone vibrates softly on the nightstand, barely enough to stir her from the fog of sleep, but somehow, somehow, she feels it before she even registers the sound.
With a sigh, she shifts under the covers, eyes fluttering open just enough to see the dim glow of the screen casting a faint light across the room. The brightness stings, blurring her vision as she squints at the notification.
She almost ignores it. Until she sees the name.
Y/N.
Her breath catches, sleep vanishing instantly.
Fingers trembling slightly, she swipes at the screen, blinking hard as the words come into focus.
Her stomach drops.
For a long, paralyzing moment, all she can do is stare.
Y/N’s name on her screen feels like a ghost, like something she hasn’t let herself think about in weeks, like something she’s spent too much time trying to bury.
She thought she was doing the right thing. She thought if she pulled away, if she ignored the way her heart ached every time she saw Y/N, it would go away. That the distance would make it easier.
But it didn’t. It never did.
Every single day without her felt like walking through a world that had lost its color.
She felt it in the quiet moments, the ones where she reached for her phone, fingers hovering over Y/N’s contact, only to talk herself out of it at the last second.
She felt it in the laughter that didn’t reach her eyes anymore, in the way the world seemed too quiet without Y/N’s voice filling the spaces in between.
She felt it in every song she sang, in every lyric that hit too close, in every interview where she forced a smile and pretended like she hadn’t been unraveling piece by piece.
She missed her.
More than she wanted to admit, more than she could admit.
And now, here Y/N was.
Reaching out. Giving her a choice.
Drinks or coffee? It wasn’t just a question. It was an offering. A last chance. A lifeline.
A way of saying, "Are you going to keep running, or are you finally going to face this?"
Her heart slams against her ribs.
She could ignore it, she could keep pretending, she could let the silence stretch on forever, let the distance between them turn permanent.
And maybe Y/N would finally get tired of waiting. Maybe she would move on. Maybe, one day, Rosé would see her across a room, laughing with someone else, looking at them the way she used to look at Rosé.
The thought makes her stomach twist violently.
The air in the room feels suffocating, thick with the weight of everything she’s refused to say.
Her fingers tighten around her phone.
And then, before she can stop herself, before she can talk herself out of it.
She moves.
Rosé throws off her blankets, the chill of the room hitting her skin, but she barely feels it. Her body moves on instinct, faster than her thoughts can keep up, like some part of her already knows what she has to do.
Her hands shake as she grabs a jacket, as she shoves her feet into her shoes, as she pushes open the door and steps into the night.
The cold air bites at her, sharp against her skin, but it doesn’t matter.
Because all she knows is this.
The rush in her chest, the certainty settling into her bones, the desperate, aching need to move.
Suddenly, the thought of losing Y/N feels unbearable.
The café is nearly empty when Rosé arrives, its golden glow spilling onto the dark, rain-slicked pavement, a quiet sanctuary tucked away from the noise of the world outside. The soft chime of the bell above the door rings out into the stillness as she steps inside, breathless from the cold, her lungs burning as if she’s been running for miles instead of the short, frantic sprint from the station.
Her pulse is hammering, each beat echoing in her ears, but she forces herself to move forward, to look.
And then, she sees her.
Y/N is exactly where Rosé knew she would be, sitting in the farthest corner of the café, curled into the same spot she always claims whenever they come here. The table in front of her holds a half-empty cup, long forgotten, her fingers wrapped loosely around the ceramic as if the warmth of it is the only thing keeping her tethered to the moment. Her gaze is unfocused, staring out of the window into nothing, lost in thoughts Rosé can’t begin to guess.
There is something different about her.
Something about the way her shoulders are set, the way the usual spark in her eyes is missing, the way her lips are pressed into something softer, something unsure.
She looks lost, and the sight of it nearly destroys Rosé.
She swallows against the tightness in her throat, her steps hesitant as she moves toward the table. Her entire body feels too warm, too unsteady, as if the moment she speaks, the fragile thing between them will shatter completely.
Y/N doesn’t look up right away.
She only notices when Rosé finally slides into the seat across from her, exhaling shakily, the weight of weeks of silence settling between them like something heavy, something unspoken.
For a long, stretched moment, neither of them say a word.
The quiet hum of the café surrounds them, the occasional clink of porcelain, the low murmur of an old jazz song playing through the speakers, the hushed voices of the only other patrons lingering near the entrance.
But at their table, there is only silence.
Rosé stares down at her hands, clenched into fists against her lap, trying to steady herself, trying to gather the courage to say what she knows she needs to say.
"It’s not just you," she whispers, the words tumbling from her lips before she can stop them, before she can convince herself to stay silent for just a little longer.
Y/N’s brow furrows slightly, the smallest crease forming between them, as if she isn’t sure she heard her correctly. Her fingers twitch around her cup, but she doesn’t speak.
Rosé inhales sharply, then exhales just as quickly, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, the way her heart seems to ache with the weight of what she is about to admit.
"I’ve been thinking about you every day." Her voice is quiet but steady, and once the words start, she doesn’t want to stop. She can’t stop. "Yesterday, today, and tomorrow."
She forces herself to meet Y/N’s gaze, forces herself to let the words exist, no longer hidden in the safety of silence.
"Is it so wrong I’ve been thinking ‘bout you all day?"
The air between them shifts.
A moment ago, it had been heavy with uncertainty, thick with all the things they had been too afraid to say, but now? Now, it feels different.
Y/N stills, her fingers flexing around the ceramic mug, her breath catching ever so slightly, her lips parting like she wants to say something but can’t quite bring herself to speak yet.
For a second, a terrible, agonizing second, Rosé wonders if she’s too late.
If she’s already ruined this beyond repair. If Y/N has moved on.
But unexpectedly, Y/N smiles.
Soft. Knowing. Like she understands, like she’s been waiting for this, like she’s been waiting for her.
She leans forward just slightly, her eyes searching Rosé’s, voice gentle but firm when she finally speaks. "Then stop running from me."
The breath Rosé has been holding finally escapes, her chest rising and falling as something inside her, something that has been knotted up for so long, finally breaks loose.
And this time? She won’t run.
The morning light spills through the sheer curtains, casting golden ribbons of warmth across the duvet, illuminating the soft folds of fabric as Rosé stirs beneath it. The world feels quieter in this moment, gentler, as if the universe itself has shifted ever so slightly overnight, tilting into something softer, something lighter. The weight she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying feels a little less suffocating, her breaths a little deeper, her chest no longer as tight.
She stretches lazily, the warmth of sleep still clinging to her limbs, fingers curling against the pillow as she blinks away the last remnants of dreams she can’t quite remember. There’s a peaceful stillness in the air, the kind that only exists in the early hours of the morning before reality fully settles in, before the demands of the day creep in to steal away these fleeting moments of tranquility.
Then, her phone buzzes against the nightstand.
The sound is quiet, almost insignificant against the hushed hum of the waking world, but it reaches her all the same, cutting through the fog of sleep.
With slow, clumsy movements, she reaches for it, fingers swiping blindly across the screen, still sluggish from sleep. The brightness of the display stings her eyes, and she squints against the glare as she reads the notification.
Y/N.
"Drinks or coffee? Just call me"
For a moment, Rosé just stares.
The words blur slightly in her vision, not because she’s still waking up, but because something inside her stirs, something deep and aching that she hasn’t fully allowed herself to feel until now.
A slow smile tugs at the corners of her lips before she even realizes it, the kind of smile that starts small but spreads, blooming into something uncontrollable, something real.
She reads the message once.
Then again.
And suddenly, she’s wide awake.
There’s no hesitation this time. No doubt creeping in to make her second-guess herself. No fear holding her back, telling her to stop, to run, to pretend like this doesn’t mean everything.
Just certainty. A kind of clarity she hasn’t felt in weeks.
She doesn’t waste time typing out a reply, doesn’t sit there searching for something witty or teasing to send back. Words aren’t enough. They never have been.
Instead, she presses the call button, the movement instinctive, as if her body already knows what her heart has only just allowed itself to accept.
The line rings once.
Twice.
"Morning, sleepyhead."
Y/N’s voice comes through the receiver, warm and familiar, laced with the soft amusement of someone who already knows Rosé too well, who can probably picture her sitting there, tangled in her sheets, phone clutched tightly in her hands.
Rosé exhales, her smile widening, the last remnants of sleep disappearing entirely.
"Morning." Her voice is still hushed, still laced with the gentle rasp of sleep, but there’s something lighter there now, something unburdened.
Y/N hums on the other end, the sound threading through the quiet like a melody Rosé didn’t know she’d been waiting to hear. "So? Drinks or coffee?"
Rosé laughs softly, the warmth in her chest spilling over, impossible to contain. She’s already sitting up, already reaching for the first jacket she can find, already moving before she’s even fully aware of it.
"Neither."
There’s a pause, and she can almost hear the curiosity in Y/N’s silence before the response comes."Oh?"
"I just want to see you."
There’s another pause, longer this time. The kind that stretches, that means something. Rosé can hear Y/N shift slightly on the other end, can imagine the small smile forming on her lips, the tilt of her head, the way she’s probably biting back some teasing remark, drawing out the anticipation just to make Rosé wait.
"Then hurry up, Chipmunk."
Rosé laughs again, this time louder, freer. And for the first time in a long time, she knows exactly where she’s meant to be.
#kpop imagines#girl group imagines#gg x reader#kpop x reader#blackpink x reader#blackpink rosé#rose x fem reader#rosé x reader#rose x reader#roseanne park x reader#park chaeyoung x reader
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Gossip | M Boldy
summary: you can’t date a reporter when you’re an athlete without some fallout.
-
Matt knew this was going to be a problem from the second he introduced you to his teammates.
It was in the way Brock’s easygoing smile turned stiff, how Kirill’s laughter quieted when you walked into the room, how Jake and Rossi exchanged wary glances behind your back. It wasn’t personal—at least, not entirely. It was about your job.
You were a writer for The Hockey Insider, an outlet notorious for gossip pieces that followed the team like a shadow. Kirill had been caught in a dating rumor that nearly wrecked his relationship. Jake’s contract negotiations had been spun into a fabricated feud with management. Rossi had once been accused of partying too hard—never mind that the supposed “wild night out” had actually been his mom’s birthday dinner.
So, when you stepped into their world, there was an unspoken question hanging in the air: Can she be trusted?
Matt had defended you — of course he had. He knew you. He knew the way you analyzed plays more than drama, how you hated the clickbait articles as much as they did. He knew you didn’t write that kind of stuff.
But the doubt still lingered.
And then he saw the text.
It wasn’t like he had meant to snoop. He was trying to find a text from himself he’d sent you important information about.
Boss: We need something on Brock. Preferably messy. Let me know what you’ve got.
Matt felt his stomach drop.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and a moment later, you walked into the room, fresh out of the shower. Your hair was damp, your skin still flushed from the heat, and you were wearing one of his old Wild hoodies — one you’d stolen months ago and never gave back.
You looked at ease, content.
Matt had never felt more off-balance.
“You need something on Brock?” His voice came out sharper than intended.
You blinked, eyebrows knitting together. “What?”
Matt turned your phone screen toward you. “Your boss. Looking for dirt on Brock.”
Your body went rigid.
Matt scoffed, shoving the phone onto the counter. “Jesus, Y/N.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“What I think,” he repeated, voice rising, “is that my teammates were right to be on edge around you.”
You flinched, hurt flashing across your face. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve been defending you for months. Saying you don’t write that shit, that you wouldn’t sell us out. And now you’re sitting on a story about one of my teammates?”
You exhaled sharply, frustration flickering in your eyes. “I didn’t write anything.”
“But you were going to.”
“No,” you snapped. “I wasn’t.”
“Then why does your boss think you have something?”
Silence.
Just for a second. But it was enough.
Matt shook his head, stepping back like he didn’t even want to be near you. “Unbelievable.”
“That’s what they do, Matt,” you said finally, voice tight.
“They assume I’m sitting on something because I have access. Because I’m around you. Around them.”
Matt ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “And what? You just ignore them? How long before you give in?”
That’s when you laughed.
It wasn’t a happy sound. It was bitter, exhausted.
“Give in?” you echoed, shaking your head. Then you met his eyes, and for the first time, you looked tired.
Defeated, you mumbled “Matt, I quit.”
The words knocked the wind out of him.
“What?”
“I quit,” you repeated, voice thick with emotion. “Because I knew this would happen. I knew they’d want me to sell you out. And I couldn’t, I wouldn’t do that. Not to you, not to Brock, not to any of them.”
Matt felt like the floor had just disappeared beneath him.
“You—” He swallowed hard “You didn’t tell me.”
You let out a shaky breath. “I wanted to find something else first. I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.”
“But it was because of me,” Matt said quietly.
You didn’t answer.
Matt dragged a hand down his face. He had spent so much time worrying about whether you would betray him that he hadn’t stopped to consider the sacrifices you had already made.
“I’m sorry” he said, voice softer now. “I should’ve trusted you”
You exhaled slowly, staring down at your phone like it physically pained you. “Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You should’ve.”
And with that, you turned, grabbed your phone off the counter, and walked out the door.
Matt didn’t stop you.
He wasn’t sure he had the right to.
You and Matt didn’t talk for weeks.
At first, he told himself it was for the best. You had fought, you had left, and maybe that was how things were supposed to end. But that didn’t stop him from noticing the silence. No more texts, no more calls. No more waiting for you after games, no more waking up to you stealing his hoodies.
It was stupid how much he missed you.
The guys didn’t bring you up much—not after that night when you stormed out—but Matt caught the way Brock, Kirill, Jake, and Rossi sometimes looked at him like they wanted to say something. Like they knew.
Still, he pushed it aside. Focused on hockey.
The team was in the thick of the playoff race, every game crucial. After a big win, the locker room was buzzing, laughter bouncing off the walls as guys peeled off their gear.
“Hey, check this out,” Rossi said from across the room, holding up his phone. “Hockey Weekly just put out a piece on us.”
Kirill scoffed. “If it’s that one guy again, I don’t care.”
“No, no,” Rossi said, scrolling. “This one’s actually good.” He cleared his throat and started reading:
“The Minnesota Wild aren’t just a team fighting for a playoff spot—they’re a team built on chemistry, resilience, and a camaraderie that’s impossible to fake. From Kirill Kaprizov’s dynamic playmaking to Brock Faber’s defensive reliability, from Matt Boldy’s quiet consistency to Marco Rossi’s relentless drive, this team has found a way to balance youth and experience in a way that just works.”
The guys hooted in approval.
“But beyond the stats and standings, what makes this team special is the belief they have in each other. Watch them on the ice, and you’ll see it. A team that doesn’t just play together, but plays for each other. A team that, if they keep this up, could be a real threat in the postseason.”
Rossi looked up. “Damn. Who wrote this?”
Jake leaned over, glancing at the byline. Then he froze.
Matt caught the shift in his expression immediately. “What?”
Jake turned his phone around so Matt could see the name at the top of the article.
Y/N L/N
The room went quiet.
Matt felt like he’d been punched in the gut.
He should’ve known. The writing, the insight—it was you. You had always talked about wanting to cover the game itself, not the drama. And now, even after everything, you had still found a way to do that.
And you had written about them.
Not gossip. Not rumors. Just a damn good article about their team. About the things that mattered.
Guilt settled like a weight in his chest.
“I thought you said she quit writing?” Brock said, raising an eyebrow.
Matt swallowed hard. “I—” He didn’t know what to say. Because, apparently, you hadn’t quit. You had just quit him.
“Dude,” Rossi said, shaking his head. “You gotta fix this.”
Matt sat there, staring at your name on the screen, heart pounding.
Yeah. He did.
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──── 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕
Like the flow of ink across skin, his artistry carried stories to the surface: delicate linework, shaded secrets, painted dreams. Not only did artwork hold the stories he created, but his own decorated arms told tales of their own, and you would be hard pressed to keep anything a secret among the soothing hum of his tattoo machine and voice while you lay in the sanctuary of his workspace, drawn taut by the tension of his proximity that you craved more of.
But with the fierce tide of secrets, also came burning revelations.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── Tattoo Artist!Rafayel x F!Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ── 6.5k 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── T 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ── Tooth Rotting Fluff, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, teasing and flirting, slight angst (anxiety and insecurity), first kiss, first tattoo 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ── HERE 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ── HERE 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ── This whole fic was inspired by the utterly phenomenally talented @obligatedart and her Tattoo Artist!Rafayel artwork ― I was captivated and on the first day of working on this, I wrote 2k words in the span of 2 hours, never have I been so inspired. ── Thank you so, so much for allowing me to work with you on this, love. I had the time of my life! please be sure to check her out her blog or visit her linktree! ── Event runners, please mind the tags and specifics written at the end of this fic, well beyond the read more cut... this fic has 32 fills in total.
⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
─── 𝑳𝑨𝑫𝑺 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ───
“Sooo,” Rafayel teased, the vowel long on his tongue. “I’ve got no clients this afternoon. What does a fishie like me gotta do to get your cute butt into my studio, kitty?”
You sighed into the phone, picturing the way he would be sitting on the high stool at the counter of his shop, swinging his legs while he held the phone between his shoulder and neck to talk to you. There were no doubts to what his hands were occupied by — through the speaker in your ear, you could hear the quiet hash of a lead pencil brushing over paper.
“You’re only asking because you want to be the one to finally break me into the world of tattoos, or whatever.”
It was true, the tattoo artist you called your best friend and whom you adored beyond what was platonic, had used every single trick in the book of bribery and persuasion to get you through the door and onto his chair as his client.
An honour that many artistically inclined people waited years for — to have the opportunity to display even a stroke of the prodigy’s work.
But what Rafayel didn’t know, however, was that the decision was already made weeks ago — the very concept of your tattoo design he himself sketched with your studious input would stretch from your collarbone and down towards your shoulder. Swirls of colour with strong lines would map the delicate skin.
A coy laugh filled your ear. The butterflies in your stomach roared to life at the sound. “Okay, you caught me, I’m busted.” There was a short pause where you could hear the muffled sound of shuffling, and his next words sounded somehow closer — as though they were spoken against the shell of your ear, his hot breath caressing the skin softly. “What’d’ya say, cutie?”
You stopped and thought. While your attraction was no doubt a hesitant topic for you to broach to anyone but your journal — the butterflies in your stomach swirled in agreement to that thought — holding out the game of cat and mouse no longer appealed to you. Each glance, word, or touch from Rafayel never failed to spark that heat, and you knew, deep down, that maybe getting this tattoo was only an excuse to be close to him; to feel the touch you craved with no ulterior motive.
Ulterior motive, my ass, you scolded internally.
But if it were true, and he had no clients for the afternoon — no matter how suspicious that may be — the two of you would be free to see one another with no outside expectation of attention being diverted elsewhere.
“Hmm,” you hummed, unsure if the teasing lilt of your tone was nullified. “I don’t know, Raffie. I mean, maybe? I’m just not sure.”
The sound of Rafayel’s sharp inhale made you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. “What do you mean ‘I don’t know’? You’ve been thinking of this design for ages!” The expression of indignation in his tone and undoubtedly on his pretty features made your stomach tie in knots — the furrow of his pierced brows and pout of his full lips, while he tilted his head to the side to better analyse your words.
“It’s–” you tried, but he cut you off.
“What’s stopping you, huh? D’you want more colour, maybe?” A sudden gasp from the speaker made you jump slightly. “Have you found another artist?”
“No! No, you dummy,” you rushed, horrified at the idea of any other person making their mark on you.
Only, Rafayel laughed, the sound of it was real and deep in his chest. “I’m only teasin’ you.”
“Oh, you– No, what’s stopping me is that once I get one, I might not be able to stop. You might just have a new regular, Raf,” you replied petulantly, crossing an arm over your chest in protest.
He scoffed, and you could feel the eyeroll he sent your way in your very soul. “You say that like it’s a problem—you don’t think I wanna see my favourite girl more often? Especially so I can tattoo her?” It truly was there now, the petulant scowl on his downturned lips was crystal clear in your mind. “C’mon, I thought you were a clever kitty.”
“Do you realise just how annoying you are?” you asked seriously. Despite your words, you started to get ready to leave all the same.
“Yup.”
A small silence grew, though it wasn’t uncomfortable, rather he seemed to be waiting for a confirmation. And there was no way you would give him the satisfaction.
“Well,” he sighed, “if you don’t want it, it’s fine. But I’m lonely.” That pout on his lips made his tone of petulance far more exaggerated. “Come and keep me company.”
“Fine,” you huffed, a ghost of a smile on your lips. “I’m headed over, do you want anything while I’m on my way?”
“Yes!” His shout made you wince and hastily pull the phone from your ear. Even then you could hear his exclamations of joy at being brought snacks. You finally put the speaker back to your ear as he finished with: “Gods, yes. Uh– I wouldn’t mind–”
“Your usual?”
“I was gonna say–” He groaned. “Ugh, you know me too well.” The sound of him moving over the line made you raise a brow in silent question while you slipped your shoes on. “Yes, my usual, please.”
“Unfortunately for me, I do.”
And you ended the call before you could hear his retort.
The drive to his tattoo shop was pleasant and short — the sight of the ocean’s swell so close to his haven always gave you pause at the sheer beauty.
You turned your car into a free parking space, right out the front of the elaborately decorated studio — seashells and fire lilies decorated the gold, bordered windows, and with the reflection of the water a few meters away, you could almost swear the petals danced with the movement of the waves.
The aroma of sea salt filled your senses as you stepped out of your car and into the sea breeze. It made a warmth fill you from the tip of your toes to the tips of your fingers, much like the wave of contentment you felt when you saw Rafayel yourself.
His tattoo studio truly was your haven, too — hours upon hours had been spent behind those walls, helping the artist work through portfolio to portfolio, all while he groused at the uptick of unpleasant encounters with arrogant clients.
It wasn’t all an unfortunate time of complaints, however.
Your memories of his wide smile while he hung frames of his own works on the walls still engrained in your mind. How, on the frequent occasion of him being so focused on his work, you would have the exceedingly rare instance of hearing him sing quietly; the melodic tune only just loud enough to hear, but you treasured it all the same.
All of the instances warmed your heart, and suddenly, you found yourself smiling widely as you approached the door. It was the right decision to make today the day.
Before you could reach the singular step at the entryway, the door was swung open with a cry of happiness.
Rafayel burst through the doorway, his smile blinding with his glee at seeing you. While he approached, you took notice of how he looked — the glint of his eyes was shimmering with the rays of the sun, making the blue and pink hues breathtakingly beautiful.
The black shirt he wore was loose on his lithe frame, and the sleeves were folded at his elbows to better display the stunning array of ink on both of his forearms that extended down to his hands. A few rings adorned his fingers — each as pretty and elaborate as the last.
Black ink filled the black spaces between an array of marine designs on one arm, while his other was decorated with elaborate scales, separated by the use of negative space. Layered over the top of the rows and rows of scales, was a luminous, finned entity, the colours blending seamlessly together to match the shades of his eyes.
A singular fire lily on his forearm stood out the most to you, however, and your heart swooped at the sight of it.
“There’s my girl!” Rafayel called, jogging towards you. His hair was loose around his face, the purple strands swaying with his gait. “Hey, you.”
His arms wrapped around your middle as soon as he collided with you, and you let out a gasp of surprise as he swayed you side to side. “Hey, my favourite fishie.” You kissed his cheek and pulled back, smiling just as widely as he was.
The sun shone down, and the rays of light reflected off of the silver piercings on the bridge of his nose to his dimple piercings. They were a simple titanium silver, but they gleamed brighter than diamonds as you mapped his face.
From the round collar of his shirt, the theme of his tattoos continued all the way up to his sharp jawline — the use of scales and negative space repeated, but instead of solid, dark shading on his arm, the scales were engraved with the gentle touch of flower petals to fill each one.
There was no splash of colour to compliment, rather the monochrome palette of black and grey applied to a standard of perfection only an artist could attain. Strands of his purple hair fell over the lines of his tattoos as he stood there, staring at you like you were the blessing he needed for that day.
Which, you supposed you were.
“You brought me a snack?” Rafayel asked, his eyes widening slightly while his lower lip pouted.
In reply, you shook the brown paper bag in your hand — the momentary stop at the convenience store worth it for the utter adoration in his expression. “I swear the way to your heart is through your bottomless tummy,” you teased, poking his stomach.
“Hey! Hands off, you’re touching the goods!” He snatched the bag and danced just out of reach of your fingers to peer inside.
You snorted a laugh and shook your head. “What goods?”
Rafayel’s eyes snapped up to glare at you. “Puh-lease, I have abs, okay?”
The butterflies pivoted their movements in your stomach, and you cleared your throat to fight the bubble of emotion in your throat, but he didn’t notice your sudden, flustered actions on account of his face being buried in your peace offering.
His mussed hair suddenly moved and revealed his gleeful expression. “Seaweed chips?”
“Only the best for my man.”
“Ugh, I could kiss you. C’mon, come inside.” Rafayel grabbed your hand and led you back towards his studio, his grip sure and true — unwilling to let go. And you couldn’t help but feel dizzy over how you wanted him to make good on his threat, or the fact that your hand fit so perfectly in his.
The interior of his studio was aglow, to say the least. The walls facing the sea were floor to ceiling windows with pillars between each stretch of glass — every single one decorated with the theme of water in mind. Your favourite one depicted a pod of dolphins, their fins seeming to move and chase the momentum to propel them forward and catch the pearlescent spheres of bubbles.
A few of the windows were wide open to the view — curtains swayed with the sea breeze, and with it they carried the sound of cawing seagulls.
“They’re loud today,” Rafayel commented, nodding his head towards a heaped pile of sand a few paces from the window, where a small gathering of gulls called to one another endlessly while you watched. “I could’a sworn they’d been possessed by you at one point, they were so obnoxious.”
You shot a glare at the artist, though he only smirked. “What are they going on about, then?” The bag of treats in Rafayel’s grasp made a dull thump as it settled on the till counter. “Surely they aren’t shouting prophecies and telling you that I was going to come today.”
“And what would you say if I said yes, cutie?” Rafayel laughed heartily at your exaggerated eyeroll, and he then gestured towards a large fishbowl. “Someone else also missed you.”
“It’s only been like, two days,” you sighed, but you still looked towards the fishbowl and found a small, red fish pacing the glass — back and forth, back and forth. If he were a dog, you would have guessed his tail would be wildly wagging with excitement. “Hey, Reddie, baby.”
The fish did a fast loop and faced you, his fanned tail swishing from side to side so fast that small bubbles floated to the surface of his water. You walked over, smiling wildly as you felt Rafayel’s dumbfounded gaze watching your every move.
The tip of your finger touched the cool, smooth surface of the glass.
“I would have thought that you missed Reddie more than me. What the hell?” Rafayel grumbled, and just as you looked over at him, you found his arms crossed over his toned chest, the fabric of his shirt rumpled and pulled tight over the muscles of his biceps. “Why don’t you greet me like that, huh?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you cooed, and you stepped back from Reddie’s tank. “Would you like a re-do?”
“Well duh.”
You smiled gently and walked towards him. “Hey, Raffie, baby,” you repeated, and you lifted your finger to boop the tip of his sharp nose.
In response, his nose scrunched, and he shook his head, the sway of his hair mesmerising. With such a small distance between you both, you took him in, committing the way his eyes sparkled with mirth and the quirk of his lips, the metal of his snake bite piercing reflecting the afternoon sun’s light.
“That it, kitty?” he teased, the tip of his tongue running over his lips.
“That’s it,” you affirmed, nodding assuredly — albeit ignoring the swoop of your stomach as you watched the movement on his tongue. Get it together, you reminded inwardly. “So, what’s on the agenda today, my second favourite fishie?”
“Second favourite?” Rafayel scoffed. “You’re a brat, y’know that, right?”
“Yup.”
Before long, you were lounging on the seashell-shaped couch in the reception area, while Rafayel kept fiddling around behind the counter, the scratch of lead over paper louder this time compared to earlier. “What are you up to?”
He looked up, his wide-eyed gaze meeting yours briefly before he glanced back downward. “Nothin’.”
“Nothing? That’s a lie if ever I heard one,” you teased, sitting up straight. Rafayel didn’t look up at you again, until: “I guess we’re both hiding secrets today then.”
Fiery eyes met yours faster than you could blink, and he narrowed his gaze. “And what do you mean by that absolutely ridiculous accusation, Miss Fishie?”
You were in trouble now — that title had only been bestowed upon you when Rafayel suspected something, whether it be a prank, secret, or whatever else he could sense with his otherworldly observational skills. “Miss Fishie? I haven’t done anything–!”
“You’re not doing yourself any favours by getting so defensive, cutie,” he laughed, sitting up straighter on his stool and crossing his leg over his knee. His shirt creased as he moved, and he placed his elbow on the countertop, his chin now resting in his hand. “Go on, shoot—what’s got my girl’s tongue all tied and twisted?”
You blinked, taken aback by his curiosity — there was no doubt you expected as much, but to be such a genuine interest without the undercurrent of his usual teasing manner was unusual. “Uh– Well…”
Rafayel arched a brow, urging you to continue with his free hand before he draped it over his thigh and spun his pencil absentmindedly over his knuckles.
“Well I decided something…”
“And that something is?”
A deep, steadying breath did nothing to calm the racing beat of your heart. The sudden nerves of admitting your desire to have the tattoo snuck up on you far faster than you hoped they would. In one exhale, you said: “I want you to tattoo me with that design you came up with.”
It was Rafayel’s turn to sit speechless.
The pencil that was flipping effortlessly over and through his nimble fingers fell to the floor with a deafening clatter in the silence that filled the space between you — though it was only a few paces, it suddenly felt like a cavernous trek.
He cleared his throat, and you looked at your lap, hastily placing your hands there to fidget and have an excuse not to meet his eyes.
“You want me to what? Did I just hear you right?” His voice was strained with an indiscernible emotion, though you noticed the rasp of his tenor was far from unpleasant.
“You heard me right,” you mumbled, picking at the skin by your fingernails. Footsteps sounded over the floor of his studio, and they grew louder until you could see the source toe to toe with you from under your lashes.
The warmth of Rafayel’s fingers brushed against your chin, and he cradled your jaw to move your head upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. A smile, one of genuine warmth and happiness, pulled at the corners of his lips, and it somehow made the gleam of his eyes even more dazzling.
“You want me to tattoo you?” His voice was soft, and as he spoke, you felt his thumb brush gently over your skin. “How long have you been planning this, kitty?”
“I decided ages ago, but I only worked up enough courage this morning.”
Rafayel beamed — the piercings on his lips, nose, and brows outshone by the brightness of his smile. “Okay then. Let’s get you ready, yeah?” He offered his hand, and you took it, letting him help you up from the couch. “Can’t have my favourite client disappointed, so I’ll pull out all the stops.”
You let out a nervous chuckle, squeezing his hand. “I couldn’t ever be disappointed by you, Raf.”
“Nice to know you have so much faith in me,” he said, smiling over his shoulder at you.
A closed door came into view, and the thud of your heart against your ribs grew painful — it was his space, where he worked day in and day out, where he tattooed true masterpieces on his clients and where he was in his element.
Your breath hitched, and he noticed.
“Hang on,” Rafayel whispered, and you were suddenly crushed to his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into yours and grounding you in the present. “What’s goin’ on in that head’a yours? Talk to me.”
The rumble of his voice in your ears soothed the rush of blood that thrummed in your ears, and you took another deep breath. “Just nervous, I think?”
Rafayel squeezed you tight, and stepped back to lean in close, his nose almost touching yours. “That’s alright, cutie. It’s me, and you’re safe.” His hot breath fanned over your lips, and the butterflies rampaged through your stomach at his proximity — it would be so easy to close the distance, to claim his lips and take what you’ve craved for so long.
The train of thought must have shown on your expression because he winked, the tip of his tongue toying with the shining piercing. You watched the action, only to realise he was doing it on purpose. “Up here, pretty girl.”
You blinked, your focus moving from his lips to his eyes. “I’ve got you and I’ll be sure to make this first tattoo a beautiful one; hard to surpass the canvas herself, but an artist’s gotta try, yeah?”
A small smile tugged at your lips, and Rafayel grinned back at you before he kissed your forehead.
One step after the other, you followed behind him, your hand still held tightly by his as he guided you into his booth.
The walls were painted in a pastel blue — a colour that soothed something deep in your soul, while splashes of fiery red and soft pinks decorated the space in all manners of fauna and flora, from whales to coral.
“There it is,” you breathed through a wide smile, a small giggle of laughter making your voice shake. The culprit for such awe was framed on a wall — the same, impassioned shades of red, orange, and yellow of the petals were identical to the ones that adorned Rafayel’s arm. A fire lily, symbolising such fierce passion, couldn’t be imagined to be placed anywhere else beside the artist’s space.
“There it is,” said artist assured.
The piece was simple but symbolic; one afternoon of you both glued to the hip of the other, brushes in hand while you playfully splattered paint over the canvas in a bid to sabotage his attempts to challenge you. What resulted was an outlined flower with flames of pink that licked the leaves, never charring the beauty of your joined creation.
“Never have and never will move this one,” he continued, walking backwards. “Thomas was insistent the other day on moving it to the gallery.”
“He what?” you gasped, astonished. While Rafayel was a renowned tattoo artist, his venture into traditional styles resulted in his need for a manager to juggle the endless pieces and enquiries of purchases. “But didn’t you tell–?”
“Oh, I did.” The stool next to the padded chair squeaked as Rafayel sat down, and the wheels spun as he pushed himself to the corner, where all of his supplies were messily placed. “Haven’t seen him run so fast from a lit match before.”
The implication of a lit match being waved around the precious creation made your heart leap with fear, and you started forwards, a finger pointed at his chest. “Raffie!”
“Hey, hey, it’s not harmed, is it? Kitty–! Stop–” His protests were cut short by his laugh, the jabs of your fingers hitting each ticklish spot on his side with precision. “Enough, enough—I yield!”
The wheels of his stool squealed with how fast he pushed away from your looming figure, and he held his hands up in surrender — deep, navy blue and black lines that curved around his thumb, index, and ring finger was the only art visible in his act of contrition. The rings gleamed like his piercings under the studio lights overhead.
“Good,” you goaded, lifting your chin. “Don’t you dare do that again.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said aloud, but as he turned away to focus on his supplies again, you could have sworn you heard a mumbled continuation of: “Maybe I would if you react like that. Adorable.”
As he fiddled with his tools, you walked around the space. Frames were hung high on walls with awards he won over the years, as well as a few choices of his most prideful works — one of which was a stunning, surrealist, fantastical interpretation of Reddie and a Merman, the red scales of Reddie’s body contrasting against the crystal blue of the Merman’s fins.
“Okay, cutie,” Rafayel sang from behind you, the excitement in his voice far from hidden. You turned around and found him staring up at you, his eyes gleaming with a kind of tender adoration.
His palm slapped the leather of the reclined chair. “I’ll get you to take just your shirt off so I can get to your shoulder,” he said quietly, gesturing to the stencil he had made. “Then you can get your cute butt up here, and let’s get started, yeah?”
“My shirt off…?” you whispered, eyes widening slightly. Of all the possibilities and outcomes of you getting this tattoo, somehow, this was the one thing you had not considered — naturally, being close with Rafayel meant that accidents did happen and so many hasty apologies had been said through laughter, but as for a purposeful act of this nature made your stomach tie in anxious knots again.
It didn’t help that the swirling feeling of restless butterflies grew worse the longer he stared up at you from his perch on his stool.
“Yeah, Miss Fishie,” he teased, tapping the shining leather of the seat. “Won’t be an accident this time—I can turn around if it’ll help.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “What? It’s fine, kitty. I think you’re cute, y’know, so I don’t mind.”
Oh.
Oh.
“What?”
Rafayel chuckled and shook his head. “C’mon, times tickin’ away. I wanna get started.”
“You are such a smug asshole,” you groused, trying utterly hard to ignore the heat crawling up from the collar of your shirt. “Seriously, you really are.”
“Yeah, and yet, here you are, my feisty kitty.” He made a show of smirking cheekily while he turned around, and he reached for the box of gloves on his trolley to pull free a pair.
The thunderous beat of your heart made you swallow thickly, and you cleared your throat to try and force it to settle in place, though it was in vain. Your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, and slowly, ever so carefully, the fabric revealed the skin of your stomach, your chest and neck, until it passed over your head to be held in your trembling hand. A shaky exhale made your sides flutter.
The stool Rafayel sat on made a small clinking noise as he moved to sit comfortably. “You ready now, hmm?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, looking at the floor hastily when he made a move to turn around.
The silence swelled uncomfortably, and it passed for a beat until you heard him ask: “What’s up, kitty? You wanna get on the chair for me…?”
“Oh, uh– Sorry, Raf–”
“If you apologise again, I will take this–” Rafayel picked up the tattoo machine on the table beside him, and effortlessly twirled it in his hand, “And I will tattoo a post it note on your forehead saying idiot.”
His sudden and ridiculous threat made a small laugh burst out of your constricting chest, and you stepped slowly towards the aforementioned chair. “You wouldn’t do that–?”
“Bet. Try me.” He scooted the stool closer to the chair and offered his hand to help you up onto the comfortable padding. “Apologise again and you’ll see.”
A small, nervous sigh escaped your lips, and with the guidance of Rafayel’s cool, smooth hands on your back and shoulder, you laid back against the chair, somewhat uncomfortable with the position — especially since he was so damned close to your side that you could feel every single one of his exhales against the skin of your shoulder or chest, dependent on where he positioned himself to place the stencil.
He hummed quietly as he worked, tilting his head side to side while you laid stiffly underneath his scrutinising gaze. “If you sit like this for the whole session,” he started, licking his lips absentmindedly, and he leaned in so close while looking at your shoulder that his loose hair tickled the tip of your nose. “I’m not taking the blame for how sore you’re gonna feel after—though it gives me an excuse to give you a world-famous-Rafayel-massage.”
“World famous, huh? Who else has had one?”
The colours in his irises burned at your question, and he stared at you from the corner of his eyes. “Only one person—she may be a brat, but she’s my world and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So don’t you worry, cutie.”
“Raffie,” you whined, looking away from his intense gaze as though it seared through you, the burn of it terrifying and oh, so addictive. “Don’t do that to me, please.”
“Hmm,” he hummed again, arching a brow before he focused back on his task. The click of his tongue sounded while he smoothed over the paper and gently pulled it away from your skin to reveal blue and purple lines from the stencil. “Sorry, kitty, ‘fraid I can’t listen, ‘specially not when there’s truth to it.”
You groaned low in your throat and threw your arm over your eyes to shield yourself from the embarrassment of meeting his stare.
“‘Kay, we’re good to get started. You feelin’ ready?” he asked suddenly, his voice now coming from beside you as opposed to above you.
You moved your arm and blinked against the sudden, bright light, and you glanced to the side.
Rafayel was sitting patiently, his hands in his lap while a small smile curled his lips upwards — the light in his eyes didn’t reflect just the bulb above you, but his joy for the moment. “Hmm?” he prompted, tilting his head to the side.
Slowly, you turned your head forward, inhaled deeply, and let it out with a huff as you stared up at the ceiling. “Better now than never.”
“That’s the spirit,” he teased.
Movement from the very corner of your peripherals made you snap your attention towards Rafayel once more, only, you froze in place at the sight. A hair band was around his wrist while both his hands raked through his hair — streaks of purple caught the light as he moved uncooperative strands into a messy up-do that left the longer parts of his hair remaining loose down the back of his neck.
With the hair gone from his forehead, his eyes became far more piercing — colours that would normally be intense in their own right, bore into your very being as you met his gaze.
The gloves he grabbed from a small cardboard box fit snug over his hands, and the plastic snapped against his wrist while he adjusted them to be more comfortable. “Alright then, kitty.” He winked and leaned forward, one gloved hand resting on the skin below your collar bone, while the other securely held the machine. “Here we go.”
The initial prick of the inked needles on your skin made you hiss with the sudden pain, and your head jerked upwards from the headrest to stare into his face. “Shit!”
“You’re okay,” Rafayel soothed. “It’s always gonna hurt more during the first few—wanna relax and let me work?”
You grimaced and rested your head back down onto the headpiece of the chair. “Not like I got a choice, right?”
“Nup.”
Time passed slowly while the ink coloured your skin, each stroke of the needles stung a little less than the last and the discomfort plateaued enough for you to lay more comfortably in the seat. “You’re doin’ well, kitty,” Rafayel praised softly, the hum of the machine momentarily silenced as he wiped the tender flesh of your shoulder, cleaning it of built-up ink. “Not much longer to go, ‘kay?”
“Okay.”
A small silence stretched, only occupied by the droning hum of the needles effortlessly working, and the slight hitch of your breath as he moved the machine.
The light over your shoulder lit up his sharp features, and you smiled at him through the sting of pain. With the adrenaline of sitting still while he worked, a sudden rush of bravery overtook you — starting at the tips of your fingers and your toes, much like the wave of warmth earlier, and it settled in the depths of your stomach like a molten weight. “Raf…”
“Mm? Yeah, cutie?” he asked, his eyes not leaving the fast-disappearing blue, stencilled lines on your shoulder. “What’s up, you alright?”
Fire coursed through your stomach, swirling upwards into your chest and around your heart. The feeling was intoxicating, freeing with its very presence. “Have I ever told you…” You licked your bottom lip, the sudden dryness of your mouth forcing you to clear your throat.
Your best friend, the light of your life, and the recipient of your deepest affection, stopped the machine in his hand and glanced upwards, arching a brow in question. “Told me what?”
You blinked and dragged a deep lungful of air to quell the rioting butterflies in your stomach. In one breath, you exhaled and spoke quickly. “That I think you’re really pretty.”
A beat passed, another, and another.
Rafayel seemed to have frozen in place. The amethyst of his eyes bloomed to be blinding, though he sat as still as a geode, unmoving with shock — the rise and fall of his chest from each breath even ceased.
A sobering amount of ice flooded your veins and embarrassment burned up the skin of your chest and neck, the scorching pain of the needles entirely unlike it. The reality of preferring to be chained to the chair for eternity with the constant pricks of needles over your delicate skin, rather than take in the way he only sat there, hit you like a tidal wave.
“I’m sorry–” You gasped, the build up of shameful tears forcing their way to the corner of your eyes. “I didn’t–” The chair rattled as you hastily moved to sit up on your elbows. “I’m so sorry, I’ll go–”
Before you could even sit up and run from the room, you were forced backwards by the solid weight of a body. Tattooed arms caged you against the chair — steadfast, gloved hands were planted either side of your hips, while you scurried backwards with a squeak of shock.
Rafayel had moved so fast it was a blur. All you could see was his face, the way his cheekbones were dusted pink; how his lips were shining from the light next to you.
“Raf–!”
“Shut up.”
You tried to shy backwards, to gain some distance from his suffocating presence, but he followed, keeping his nose close enough to yours to bump against the tip of it — a normal, cute tradition that suddenly held you in its vice just as tightly as the man who loomed over you.
“Please–”
“I said shut up, cutie.” Rafayel remained immovable, his hands still caged you in place — no matter how hard you tried to scoot backwards over the leather chair, you could not escape the warmth of his molten stare, or the way his breath came in slow, deep exhales over your cheek and jaw as you desperately looked everywhere around the room but at him. “Look at me.”
“Please don’t make me.” The pressure of tears on your waterline made you squeeze them shut, desperate to stem the flow. “Please, I– Pretend I didn’t say anything.”
“Who are you talking to, kitty? You, or me?” His question made you freeze, the entirety of your body stiffening, and he pressed his advantage. “Huh, so you’re talking to yourself and gettin’ all worked up.” There was a slight shuffle, and the sound of latex gloves snapping followed straight away. “You’re gonna make me ask again, aren’t you?”
A heavy sigh sounded, and you felt the rush of air against your shoulder, above the freshly done tattoo. The room was filled with a silence that grew and grew, expanding to encompass your whole being to make it feel like an ornate pane of glass soon to shatter from an unseen pressure.
“Miss Fishie,” Rafayel whispered, his voice so close you could almost taste the words on his tongue. His fingers gripped your chin gently and turned you to finally face him. Through the protection of your closed eyelids, you could imagine his expression of pity, and it only soured the butterflies in your stomach. “I need you to look at me, pretty girl. C’mon.”
Your eyes opened immediately — the fond use of your nickname mixed with the praise made a whole new heat settle in the pit of your stomach, and the butterflies bloomed through the murky depths to flutter once more.
Rafayel looked earnest, almost desperate in his need for you to look at him. The way his eyes glimmered and ebbed with the waves outside, amethysts and coral colliding as one again; his mouth slightly agape as he stared back at you. His hand moved from your chin to cup your jaw.
“I–”
“Shh,” he soothed. The pad of his thumb brushed over your cheek, a soothing gesture that only made your heart ache more. “Why’re you gettin’ all scared, baby? I didn’t even get to reply—you shut me out like a clam, or an oyster, take your pick.”
Baby.
Never before had that word been said between you, and you blinked fast in shock. The flush of heat deepened on your chest and neck while it spread to your ears.
“But you’re– You don’t–” The stuttered reply was silenced by his arched brow. Each of his movements were sharp in clarity, and if you hadn’t have felt so poised to run, you would have admired the way his tattoos and piercings only made him more beautiful in the moment.
A small, amused smile played at the corner of his lips, and the tip of his tongue darted out to wet the pink skin. “My cute kitty can truly be so damned stupid sometimes, y’know.”
“Hey–!”
“Do you see me backing down?” Rafayel pressed, his brows suddenly furrowing and casting his eyes into shadowed depths. “Do you see me runnin’ away from you right now?”
You hesitated, and in your telling silence, you realised something. The feeling of it crashed over your whole body like a tsunami wave — far more intense than you ever felt before. “...No.”
“No,” he repeated, and he moved closer. The tip of his nose brushed yours. “I think you have your answer then, baby girl.”
“Hmph–” Any reply to him you could have mustered was utterly banished from your mind at the feel of his lips on yours. It was tender and soft; the warmth he held consumed you whole.
Slowly, he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, his breath fanning over your parted lips while a smirk tugged at the corner of his. “Is that enough to show you just how much I want you; how long I’ve waited for this?”
“You knew!” you burst out, staring at him with wide eyes. “How–?!”
Rafayel chuckled quietly. “It’s Reddie’s fault.” The rise of his shoulders in an indifferent shrug obscured the light for a second. “He’s the one hidin’ my secrets.”
“You– You’re blaming a fish–! Oh my god.”
You surged forwards and captured his lips again, the leather under your legs scuffed with the sudden movement. Rafayel grunted with the force of your embrace, and he kissed back fervently, one hand on your waist while the other rested on your cheek.
The soft, feathered feel of Rafayel’s hair tickled the pads of your fingers, and you wove them upwards, revelling in the shuddered breath that hitched his chest. Your tongues met in a brief dance, and you tugged his head back lightly — more tresses fell loose from the updo to cover the ways your fingers entangled to your anchor.
“Shit, kitty,” Rafayel huffed, his lips only far enough away to draw breath. “If I had known you felt like this…”
“What, you would have said something sooner and put us both out of our yearning, heartfelt misery?”
Pink and purple danced with mirth, and he kissed the tip of your nose. “Damn right I would have.”
“I guess we’re both pretty dumb, huh?” you asked quietly, holding his face in your hands.
Rafayel winked, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a playful smirk. “Yeah, I’d say so, but you’re still the cute one.”
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⟳ 05. GOODNIGHT
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/18cc039319b97eef0ac86ed4d6567a28/3debdf17f28976c0-1f/s540x810/21287c8e6a532419dc20918b9790a3588f863d16.jpg)
You flinch slightly in surprise at the loud ringtone appearing on your phone. You nervously bite your lip, contemplating whether or not you should accept the call. You let out a heavy sigh and press answer.
The screen lights up, and Kuni’s face appears, dimly lit by the glow of his own screen. He’s lying back against his pillows, one arm tucked behind his head, eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion but still sharp as ever. You, on the other hand, are sitting at your desk, laptop and notes open in front of you, a pen lazily twirling between your fingers.
"Hey," you say, your voice quieter than usual.
“Hey." His voice is just as steady as always, but there’s something softer about it tonight.
“Why’d you wanna call?” you ask.
You hear his steady breaths close to the microphone, taking a few moments before answering. “Dunno. You aren’t here and I didn’t have anything else to do.”
He’s just doing this to pass time. This isn’t because he wants to spend time with you.
You repeat these thoughts in your head.
“Don’t you plan to study?”
“Already did this morning. I don’t pull all-nighters like you losers,” he jests, huffing a quiet laugh. You snort back, shaking your head fondly.
Comfortable silence fills the call. You pretend to be busy, looking at your notes and clicking on the mouse, as to distract yourself from admiring his annoyingly handsome face. From the corner of your eye, you can see him just staring at you, not uttering a word.
"Thanks for the food and coffee earlier, by the way,” you break the silence, shifting slightly in your chair.
“No problem.”
“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
Kuni exhales through his nose, a barely-there laugh. "I know. I wanted to."
You pause. You didn’t expect that. There’s something about the way he says it—too easy, too casual, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he didn’t even have to think twice.
And just as quickly as the thought creeps in, you shut it down. You move on, refusing to let hope take root where it doesn’t belong.
He probably just said that to keep me wrapped around his finger.
"You sure you want to stay on facetime? I still have a few more things to go over," you mumble, rubbing your eyes.
"Yeah. I doubt you’re gonna stay up that late, anyway. You look like you’re gonna bang your head on that table pretty soon," he teased.
"Shut up, I’ll be fine," you insist, but the weight in your eyelids betrays you.
"What are you even studying?"
"My thesis."
"Sucks," he says flatly.
"Tell me about it." You sigh, flipping a page in your notes, even though you haven’t absorbed a single word from it.
The call settles into a quiet rhythm as you continue studying, exchanging a few words and banters with him here and there, but mostly occupied by silence. His voice a low hum in the background, the occasional tap of his fingers against his phone mic. You don’t even realize you’re slouching further into your chair, letting the sound of his voice fill the spaces where your thoughts should be.
“You still there?" he asks after a while.
“Mhm." It’s a half-hearted sound, barely coherent.
He huffs. “Your eyes are drooping, idiot."
"They’re not," you mumble, eyes slipping shut.
"Yeah? What was the last thing I said?"
You try to think, but your mind is already drifting. Kuni says something else, something teasing, but you don’t catch it. The last thing you remember is the faintest sound of his chuckle, low and quiet through the speaker, right before the world fades out.
Unbeknownst to you, somewhere in the haze of your sleep, a hushed voice murmurs softly in the dimly lit room.
"Goodnight, pretty."
Called ended.
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⟳ BLURRED LINES — PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT
You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.
TAGLIST @joiurz @sketcheeee @mywillt0live @kyouzki @ylapsha45 @eternallykira-143 @bananasquash @kunikissr @swivi @ariesloves @lloversss @b-bbytears @kokoscutie @vi0let-writes @tomsishere @franaby @scaraenthusiast1 @usagiarchive @ilovecats-26 @quiechee @iloveescara
if your name is in bold, that means i can’t tag you
#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche smau#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche#genshin scaramouche#genshin wanderer#wanderer x reader#wanderer smau#genshin impact#genshin smau#genshin texts#smau
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When Angels Fall
Hello, my lovely people! Ready for some soul-crushing angst? No? Too bad—send your tears via mail. Love you! Also, all blame should be directed to the anon who requested this. Okay, thanks, bye!
Simon never believed in angels.
The world was too cruel, too ugly for something as pure as that. Wings were clipped, halos were tarnished, and heaven felt like a myth told to children who hadn't yet seen the things he had. He knew better than to believe in fairytales.
And then he met you.
You were 141’s guardian in the sky, an airman with a reputation that preceded you. Your callsign was Halo. It fit, he supposed, given how you watched over them, weaving through the air with a precision that impessed him since the very beginning he met you.
Your voice, crackled through his comms during every mission, would guide them out of hell and back home. You kept them safe, and God, if you weren’t the calmest person he’d ever known.
But it wasn’t just the security you brought that got under his skin. It was you—your voice, your laugh, the way you could turn a routine check-in into something that made him feel less like a ghost and more like a man.
“Wheels up in ten, boys,” you’d say, and Simon would find himself smiling under his mask, comforted by just the sound of you.
He didn’t know how it happened—how you managed to slip past the walls he had spent years building. Maybe it was the way you read him like an open book, saw through his hard exterior, or how you never once pushed him for more than he could give. Maybe it was because you still spoke to him like he was worth saving despite all the blood on his hands.
He didn’t know how, but he fell. Hard.
And the most terrifying part? You caught him.
It started small. You’d read off mission briefings in that smooth, calm voice of yours, and he’d listen like it was scripture. Then, you’d tease him about his accent and call him ‘big guy’ over the radio just to hear his exasperated huff. He didn’t even mind—not really. He’d never admit it, but he liked it. He liked you.
And at some point, it wasn’t enough to hear you only on missions.
One night, after a brutal mission, he found himself restless, the heavy burden of the battlefield clinging to him. He didn’t think—just grabbed his radio and switched to your private frequency.
“You up?” His voice was rough, and you immediately knew that he wasn’t okay.
There was a pause, then a soft chuckle could be heard coming from your side. “Simon Riley, calling me just to talk? I must be dreaming.”
He should’ve played it off and made some excuse about mission reports or logistics, but instead, he said, “Can’t sleep.”
A moment of silence passed, and then you said, “Want me to read to you?”
He frowned. “What, like a bedtime story?”
“Exactly like a bedtime story.”
He should’ve said no. Should’ve shut off his radio and suffered through another sleepless night like he always did. But he didn’t.
“…Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, alright.”
And so you did. Some book you had lying around, something about stars and the vast, endless sky. He barely remembered the words—just the sound of your voice, soft and lulling—until sleep finally took him.
After that, it became a habit. Whenever the weight of the world became too much, he’d reach for his radio, and you’d be there, voice soft in his ear, pulling him back from the darkness in a way nothing else could.
For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t alone.
But, he should’ve known happiness like this wouldn’t last.
The mission was supposed to be routine. Get in, retrieve intel, and get out. Simple. Clean.
It wasn’t.
Everything went to hell fast. Some kind of ambush, a miscalculation on their part, and the enemy waiting for them like they knew they were coming. The ground team was pinned and cut off from their extraction point, and Ghost could hear the tension in your voice as you called for support.
“Hang tight, I’m coming in,” you promised, your aircraft screaming through the sky.
He had no doubt you would. You always did.
You swooped in, raining fire from above, giving them enough cover to push forward. For a moment, it worked. For a moment, he thought they might actually make it.
Then the missile hit.
The explosion was deafening—a violent burst of flame and metal as your aircraft took a direct hit. Ghost felt it like a punch to the gut, his heart lurching into his throat as your voice crackled through his comms.
“Mayday, mayday! I’m hit—controls are—fuck—”
The world slowed.
He could hear Gaz yelling, could see Soap moving, but all he could focus on was your voice, filled with panic and your breathing ragged as you tried—tried so hard—to stabilize.
“Ghost—”
And he knew. He fucking knew.
“Eject,” he ordered, his voice steady despite his whole body shaking from the shock. “Now.”
“I—”
A choked sound. Static.
And then—
Silence.
They found the wreckage hours later.
What was left of it actually.
The ground was scorched, metal twisted and blackened, and the smell of burning fuel filled the air around them. There was no body, just fragments of what had once been your aircraft, pieces of you scattered like shattered glass.
He didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. Just stared at the wreckage, fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms.
Price placed a hand on his shoulder and murmured something meant to comfort. He barely heard it.
All he could hear was your last transmission, looping in his mind like a broken record. Your voice—his anchor, his safe place—reduced to a desperate cry for help he couldn’t answer.
That night, for the first time in years, he reached for his radio and switched to your private frequency.
Static.
He closed his eyes, gripping the radio so tightly it trembled in his hands. He waited, hoping—praying—that somehow, against all logic, you’d answer.
But you didn’t.
You never would again.
And Simon never believed in angels.
Not until he lost one.
-------------------------------------------
gonna go hide now.
@daydreamerwoah
#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x female oc#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley imagine#simon riley#simon riley angst
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Big Mama Pt. 12 | Enough
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC
Wordcount: +5.1K
Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, light smut (fingering), heavily dialogue-centered, angst, verbal argument, self-deprecation
🦋Big Mama (series) => 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
Early That Morning
“Monnie, I don't know… Everything is just…,” I said, crying softly.
“Girl! If you don't just praise God right quick, and call that man to thank him.” Monnie said, smacking her lips. She was understandably agitated with my response. Was it lackluster? Yes, but I didn't know what to say or do about it. I didn't want to seem ungrateful, but I honestly wasn't happy with the outcome.
After almost three weeks of pure hell, I received a call from a lawyer that Terry himself hired. I was told the conditions for maintaining my freedom as I was currently living in the aftermath of the incident between Terry, me, and Taylor. It was finally over, but here I was still crumbling under the weight of it all.
The terms and conditions were as follows:
Terry agrees not to sue Taylor as long as she agrees not to sue me.
Terry agrees not to file and pursue criminal charges against Taylor as long as she agrees to drop the charges against me and forfeit her right to refile.
I would not be allowed to approach Taylor in any public setting, but we could be present in the same vicinity.
There would be no established restraining order from Taylor against me, just a peace order since we have no standing or pre-existing relationship.
Terry's family agreed to take care of any outstanding medical bills for Taylor, along with her receiving a small undisclosed amount.
The records would be expunged after 90 days.
The terms were simple and clear. I just hated how much Terry had to give up for it. The outcome was obviously unfavorable and one-sided. The single impartial party who deserved justice and compensation received none— Terry. Because of that, I felt like crawling into a hole and never resurfacing. Guilt was burning across all of my deepest thoughts, creating a pile of self-doubt and resentment in the crevices of every memory— happy, sad, or indifferent.
My faith in love had been tainted by my own doing not because I didn't think Terry loved me but because I felt like he shouldn't. Every voice in my head told me I was and should've been deemed unlovable years ago. Honestly, a person like me is not capable of accepting a love as pure as Terry's. For me, it was like carrying around a burden of responsibility that was far too delicate and overwhelming. As hard as I fought to keep the world inside my head unburdened by the plague of self-doubt, I failed— forgetting just how easy it is for me to self-destruct without the slightest potential of reprieve.
2 Hours Later
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
I was startled awake by the thunder of someone pounding on my front door. I had fallen asleep on the loveseat in my living room.
Jumping up, I attempted to make my way to the door. I used the oversized plush blanket as a cover and held it tightly against my body. I was only wearing a sports bra and micro-biker shorts.
As I walked around the edge of the coffee table, the blanket snagged the corner and positioned itself under my feet. My right foot got trapped in the sea of fabric, causing me to crash onto the floor. My knees collided with the laminated wood with vigor. I had no time to lick my wounds.
“Shit!” I yelled.
At this point, I was more than agitated. I tore the blanket off of me and tossed it to the floor. Using the arm of the recliner, I regained my footing and stood up. I placed my hands on my hips and drew in a deep breath as my body registered the pain from the fall.
Before I could make another move, the knocking began again. This time, the sounds were harder and louder.
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK
Each knock sounded off, shaking the front door. I paused in fear. My anxiety peaked as my mind began to race with disturbing thoughts. I wasn't expecting visitors, so who was this?
“I can hear you inside, ‘Vana. Please, just open the door.” said a muffled voice from outside.
No. No. No. It couldn't be. Why would he be here?
“Terry?!” I yelled back in confusion and relief.
“Yes, baby! Now, can you open the door? We really need to talk,” he said.
I remained frozen in place. Losing the ability to hear, Terry's voice began to drown out.
“Havana!” he yelled again.
“Uh, Terry. I just… I don't…,” I whimpered loudly.
Before any coherent thoughts left my lips, the door swung open. I couldn't help but stare at Terry in shock.
“How the fuck……,” I asked as I approached him slowly.
“I had a key made months ago. I wanted it for emergencies. This counts as an emer….,” Terry said.
“Terry! Get out! Now!” I yelled. I was beyond frustrated and tired.
Today has worn me thin, and my patience was at its lowest. I wasn't in the mood for tolerating any form of nonsense or mess.
“No! Havana, baby… We need to talk, and I'm not leaving until we do.”
I knew I owed Terry an apology, a conversation, and everlasting grace; but I couldn't even find it in me to give myself the same.
I was battling the urge to do what I normally do—spew hateful words until the other person retreats. For the first time in my life, my body and mind actually agreed with my heart. I couldn't do it. Nothing would come out no matter how many times I opened my mouth— no words word forms and all sounds were deafened on my lips. I was unconsciously saving myself from myself, and, in this fight, I was my only opponent.
“Havana, look at me!” Terry said, grabbing my chin. Oh, how a firm yet loving hand can change things. My heart fluttered and skipped in my chest as his fingers stoked the surface of my skin.
“Terry… I… I'm sorry,” I said as tears finally broke free. “You… Y-you deserve more than I can give you. I want… I want you to be happy. I just don't think that can happen with me.”
“Mama, don—,” Terry said.
“No! Terry, just lea—leave. Please!” I yelled, pushing him away.
“Havana,” Terry said, grabbing my arms. His eyes dropped to meet mine.
Yanking away from him, I yelled again, “Ter—!”. Before I could finish, Terry's face shifted into a look of utter aggravation.
“That's it! Havana Rose,…. sit down or I'll sit you down,” Terry muttered through gritted teeth as he pointed towards the couch.
I stood there for a second frozen in shock. I never expected Terry to put up this much of a fight.
“Aight, I'm done. I'm sick—,” he started to speak as he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, “—of this shit!”.
Terry began to carry me down the hall. I pushed against his back in a feeble attempt to be released. I knew struggling was pointless, but I wasn't ready for the conversation Terry clearly wanted to have.
As we rounded the corner of my bedroom door, I could feel the tears falling with ease. There was no noise leaving my body as I silently wept. I should've prepared for this more productively. Instead, I tried to choose a coward's way out, and Terry wasn't having it.
Like always, life had a weirdly tumultuous way of making me confront my feelings.
Placing me on the bottom edge of my bed, Terry stood in front of me. His eyes scanned my face as he watched me teeter on the edge of implosion.
“Hav—,” Terry started. He squatted down in front of me and rested his hands on my knees.
As much as I wanted this to end, one question was burning through my mind— heavy and bitter as it weighed on my tongue. Unfortunately for me, the four words could not be swallowed back down, allowing the unpleasantness of the discontent to fester in the back of my throat. I knew how to rectify this feeling, and I knew how to pacify the voices in my head. But, should I, and did I deserve it?
“Do you love me?” I asked, avoiding Terry's gaze. I could see his lips begin moving, so I placed my hand over his mouth. “No, just listen to me. I want you to think about what happened. I can't even control my anger. W-what if… you wake up one day and finally realize y-you… deserve better… than me. I'm sick of pretending like… like I'm enough. Terry, we both know I'll never be enough, so let's just end this now,” I spoke barely above a whisper.
Terry's hands lifted to rest on my shoulders. As his eyes pleaded with me, I saw a glimmer of something I wish I didn't— hesitation and uncertainty. I slowly pushed his hands off my shoulders, waiting for him to just say what we already knew.
Terry didn't love me. He loved what he thought I—
“’Vana, let's get something clear. I love you with all my fuckin' heart. Just saying I love you isn't enough for me because you're everything to me. What can I do to show you that? Huh? Tell me, love. What can I do?”
I hung my head in defeat. Most women would be swooning over this, but it only added another layer to the guilt that was consuming me. Now, he was giving me unconditional love when I couldn't even allow myself the space to apologize.
“Terry, no. Please, just—,” I choked, wiping away tears.
“No, you stop. Stop beating yourself up about this. I understand that what I did made you doubt me, but don't ever feel like the problem was you. I was. I did it. All of this is on me. If I would have been man enough to tell you the truth about what happened, there wouldn't have been a fight. That one mistake caused all of this. This is my fault, not yours. And—,” he spewed breathlessly.
“Terry…,” I interrupted him.
“No, let me finish. Believe me, when I say this, I'll fight the devil himself for you. I'll climb the mountains in heaven just to find you again. I don't think you understand me, baby. I love every part of you. I hope that one day you can see that. Today might not be that day, but dammit if I don't try.”
Terry stood at his full height, towering over me. His eyes were bright yet somehow lacking their normal vitality, seeming to be void of any indication of happiness. It became clear to me that this was wearing Terry down just as much as it was me. As much as I wanted him to give up, the idea of causing him such grief and fatigue weighed heavily on my heart.
He drew his hands into fists as I watched his eyes. His face became flustered, and his breathing became ragged. Every breath choppier than the last. I could sense something brewing inside of him. His hands were shaking slightly as they rested by his side. As he unclenched and clenched his fists, his bottom lip began to quiver. His eyes glossed over, and his gaze became lethargic. No… No… This couldn't be happening.
“Terry, I'm sorry. I just feel like we can't—,” I said, standing from the bed.
Tears were streaming from Terry's eyes. The strength in his face was faltering right before my eyes.
I slowly reached out to touch his face, stroking his cheek while I wiped away the tears. He grabbed my hand, holding it tightly against his cheek.
“These… these last few weeks have been pure hell for me. I missed you so much, mama. It's like for the first… for the first time in my life, I know love; and that's because of you,” he paused for a moment, taking long deep breaths. “It was a funny feeling at first…. and coming to terms with it was hell. You only hear of women wanting to be seen and heard, but now that I know the feeling—. I don't think I could ever go back to what I thought love was.”
“Terry, you really feel that way?” I asked, sobbing with him at this point.
“Yes, it honestly scared me when I realized how much I loved you… Whew… I had to sit with the fact that I had never loved someone that much… and… and I had never been loved properly before you. Baby,… listen to me… I can say this before God and before you… that this is a love worth fighting for. Havana Rose, YOU'RE worth fighting for. Do you… please, tell me you understand,” he sobbed into my hand.
“Terry, baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't want… I just didn't know what to say,” I said, pulling him into a hug.
“You don't have to say anything. Just tell me you're not leaving,” he said, kissing the top of my head.
His hands wrapped around my waist even tighter. I rested my face in his chest and mumbled a quiet no.
How could I leave him, especially now? For the first time, my heart felt— full.
“Thank you, ‘Vana. I love you. Okay?” he said, leaning into me.
“I love you, too,” I confessed, wiping away my tears.
I reached out to touch Terry's face, tracing the outline of his jaw. As if that was all the reassurance he needed, his shoulders dropped slowly. I watched patiently as his body returned to a state of normalcy— shoulders broad, chest out, and head high.
As we stood there silently refusing to let each other go, he let out a long yawn.
“Tired?” I questioned, looking up at him.
“Yeah,” he laughed.
“Wanna take a nap… uh… together?” I asked, praying that he would say yes.
There was nothing I craved more than his touch right now. I needed him bad. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long for his answer.
“Hell, yeah!” he blurted, lifting me. His hands carefully wrapped my legs around his waist.
He kneeled on the edge of the bed, crawling towards the head with me in his arms. He gently laid me in the center of the pillows. I released my legs and let them fall onto the bed.
Finally untangling from each other, Terry lifted himself onto his hands. He scooted down so that his head was resting on my chest. I used one hand to run my fingers through his velvety hair, massaging his scalp with my fingertips. The other hand soothingly rubbed his back like a baby. Terry's arms wrapped under my body, embracing me tightly. I let my lips rest at the top of his head.
“Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up,” I cooed into his ear.
2 Hours Later
Waking up to Terry's body on mine felt like home— a place I'd never been allowed to experience. As I watched his shoulders rise and fall with each breath, I released one of my own. With him here in my arms, I could breathe again.
Terry's presence was a breath of fresh air because, admittedly, he was the air that I breathed. I had never felt so attached to anyone or anything. Every part of him called out to something in me. His voice soothed my soul, his lips electrified whatever they touched, his hands… God, his hands absolved me of my suffering, and his eyes knew how to see my heart.
“I love you,” I said softly, kissing Terry's head. “I just gotta figure out how… how to love me, too.”
Terry's arms adjusted underneath me, causing me to hold my breath. Embarrassment washed over me, warming my skin. I was silently praying that he didn't hear me. Releasing a deep groan after a few minutes, I realized he was in a deep sleep again. His shoulders slumped forward, allowing his body to melt into mine.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I leaned over and kissed Terry's forehead. I knew that lifting this man off of me would be damn near impossible. I was debating on if I should wake him up or not. I shifted to one side so his hold on me would loosen. His arms fell away from my body, allowing me to scoot out from under him— barely. I carefully moved towards the edge of the bed. I slowly turned my body so my feet softly landed on the floor.
I stood from the bed, stumbling as the feeling in my legs returned. They felt like jelly as a deep tingling sensation went to my toes. I kicked my feet and flicked my ankles.
As I sauntered across the room, I heard Terry stir in his slumber. I glanced over my shoulder to see him now on his back. His arm thrown across his chest left him posed so… so… delicately like an angel. Terry’s face alone could render even the most wicked defenseless.
I smiled brightly at the sight of him. I quietly opened the bathroom door. Stopping to stare at the mirror, I took in my appearance. Yikes! I looked like… something, and it wasn't nice.
I mentally made plans to do my hair— or maybe I'll just pay someone.
Using the bathroom as quickly as possible, I reentered the bedroom and dried my hands on a towel. I glanced over at Terry to see his chest still rising and falling. I half-smiled at the sight. Walking towards the door, I entered into the front room. I closed the door softly behind me.
Before I could reach the kitchen, I heard a noise coming from behind me. The springs of my old mattress were loud and alarming.
“Havana! Where are you?!” yelled Terry from the bedroom. I could hear the bed creaking again.
I turned around to walk back to the bedroom door. “Why is this man yelling?” I asked myself quietly as I giggled.
“HAVANA!” Terry yelled even louder than the first time. The tone of his voice contained a sense of urgency and concern. Panic set in for me as soon as I realized the distress in his voice.
Sprinting towards the door, I flung it open. “What's wrong?” I inquired softly.
Terry was seated on the edge of the bed, facing the door. His eyes shot up to meet mine. The look on Terry's face made my heart thump. My breath quickened anxiously. His eyes were red, and his face was flushed. His head swayed on his shoulders as his breathing quieted. His fingers dug into the bed with a ferocious grip.
I approached him slowly. Softening my voice before speaking, I raised my hand to stroke his cheek. “Baby, are you okay?” I asked him.
Terry's eyes darted from my face to the floor. The worried look on his face cut deep as his eyes seemed to search for mine. This was not a look of simple anxiety or worry. His countenance was charged with— despair and desperation.
I leaned over to place kisses on his forehead. “Hey, I'm right here. Wh—,” I whispered as Terry threw his arms around my waist.
He pulled me into a fervent embrace. His arms felt like a second skin against my body. I felt his shoulders fall forward as his body went limp against mine. I couldn't understand the overwhelming range of emotions this man was displaying.
“I… I… I th-thought you were gone,” he said with his face pressed into my belly.
I squatted down in front of him. “Terry, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I told you that, honey,” I said, cupping his chin in my hand.
He slowly shook his head in understanding as if he was coming to terms with my words.
That's when it hit me. HE THOUGHT I HAD LEFT.
“Terry, look at me. I love you. You big baby,” I said, smiling at him somberly.
“I know. I just panicked I guess. I'm sorry about that,” he said, looking at the floor.
“Awww, don't apologize. I'm okay, papa,” I said, rising on my feet. “You hungry?” I asked him while softly caressing the side of his neck.
His head leaned up slowly as a slight grin spread across his face. “Hell yeah,” he laughed.
Later That Night
“You done, baby?” I asked Terry as I stood from the couch. I held my hand out to take his plate.
“Yeah, here—,” he started. “Wait! Give those here. I got it. You sit down,” he said, taking the plates from me.
“Terry, I could've washed them. It isn't that many.”
“Nah… I told you I got it,” he said, kissing my forehead as he walked past me.
I stood there in silence. This was so adorable to me. How could this man get any cuter?
“Ok. Fine. I'll sit, I guess.” I sat down on the arm of the couch.
Terry entered the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. I don't know why, but the sight of this man washing dishes was so… I could feel the butterflies in my tummy going wild.
As I watched his back muscles move, I felt something. I immediately felt my panties grow damp as his shirt clung to every curve and crevice of his body.
I bit my lip as I crossed my legs. Feeling my body come alive, I released a quiet sigh. I needed this man— on me, in me, with me, however.
I repositioned myself with my legs on both sides of the arm of the couch so that I was straddling it. I was losing a silent battle between my mind and my body. I could feel my hips move slowly. There was no way this man had me grinding my pussy against a fuckin' couch. The friction of my labia and clit rubbing against the couch through the thin material of my biker shorts aided in creating the slick pool in the seat of my shorts. I knew they were ruined, but I was too aroused to stop.
I gulped in desperation, trying to fight against whatever this was. I didn't want to attack this man just yet. I knew words needed to be said and feelings needed to be discussed. I looked down at my body, covering my face in shame. I was being betrayed by the only thing I thought I had control over— myself. Every movement I made and thought I had was overpowered by him.
I was suffering, and I knew it. There was only one way to stop it. I had to feed the beast.
With eyes stricken with defeat, I looked over at him. I feverishly hummed in desperation, “Terry. I… um… I-,”.
To my surprise, he was no longer facing the sink. He was looking directly at me. I froze in shame. I watched his eyes lower as his gaze dropped. I dropped my head and looked at the floor.
“You need something, ‘Vana?” Terry asked. His voice boomed through the air. The intense weight of that question landed right where I needed it— my heart and my pussy. I was past hot and bothered. I was in the middle of having a sexual crisis.
I looked back at him and nodded. At this point, I was a needy mess. If Terry so much as touched me, I'd cum. I wanted to speak, but I knew whatever sound my lips released would be lascivious.
“I’m going to ask you again. Do you need something?” Terry asked, leaning forward against the kitchen island.
“Yeessss,” I whined.
“And what do you need?” he asked, moving to the other side of the island.
I drew in a breath and spoke, “YOU! I NEED YOU!”.
The speed at which Terry made it to me was incredible. His movements were so swift and fluid that his feet never made a sound.
His arms wrapped around my body as he picked me up. My legs instantly found their home around his waist. As soon as his gaze met mine, our lips crashed into each other's. His tongue grazed the seam of my lips, begging for entry. I parted my lips and without pause, our tongues went to war. Each of us fighting for more.
I leaned back to catch my breath. I was shocked to discover that we were now standing in my bedroom. I was too wrapped up in that kiss to notice our location changed.
Terry softly placed me in the center of the bed. He slowly lifted his shirt above his head before tossing it across the room. His hands dropped to the top of his waistband.
I watched intently as his hands moved to remove his clothes. I was practically salivating in anticipation for his pants to fall. I knew what I wanted to see. Terry sensed my eagerness and released a rumbly laugh. “Patience, baby,” he said, removing his pants.
My eyes locked into the large tent at the front of his boxers. I reached out to palm the ever-growing bulge in need and desperation. My neediness had slowly built up in the pit of my stomach becoming a slow churning ache. Terry’s hand grabbed mine and brought it to his lips. He began gingerly kissing my inner wrist.
“Daddy,” I whimpered, pulling my hand away.
Terry's demeanor shifted as his hand once again grabbed mine. Interlocking his fingers in mine, he pulled my hand towards his chest. He placed it over his heart while leaning over me.
“Nah…. Not Daddy. Terry. That's my name tonight. Okay?” he said, pressing me further into the mattress.
I stared straight into his eyes. Lost for words was an understatement. For some reason, I fully understood the intention behind his declaration. This was between Havana and Terry, and this was NOT a scene.
Moments Later
“Say it, baby. I wanna hear you say it,” Terry said, placing his mouth back on my nipple. Using nothing but the tip of his tongue, he flicked the overly sensitive bud repeatedly.
My body was growing more and more enraptured by nothing more than Terry's touch. The feeling of his tongue and hands all over my body was intoxicating. I was in love, love drunk, and high off him.
“I'm yours,” I moaned out quietly.
“And… What else?” Terry asked, switching to my other breast.
Pushing my chest up, I wrapped my hands around the back of his head. Fully enthralled in the moment, my grasp on reality slipped.
“I'm… I'm enough. I'm enough,” I rasped almost chanting into the air.
Terry's licks became suckles as one of his hands found a home between my legs.
He moaned as he found pleasure in his own sentiments. “Enough for who?” he asked back in reinforcement.
“For you!” I screamed, feeling myself come undone as two of Terry's fingers pushed into my pussy.
The gasp I let out became trapped in my throat, leaving me choking on air.
“Breathe, ‘Vana. Hey, take a deep breath for me,” Terry pleaded, knitting his eyebrows together in concern.
I swallowed hard and struggled to find air. This was too much. For the first time, I didn't know how to respond or react. The control of my body was no longer in my hands. Terry's voice quickly became the guiding light drawing me to whatever awaited me. Whether that was pleasure, happiness, or a combination of both, I would gratefully accept my fate after wholeheartedly surrendering to his every desire, urge, and craving. I was HIS, and his authority was absolute— there was no doubt about it.
“Look at me. Don't… you… ever… doubt… how much… I… love… you. Understood?” Terry demanded in between kisses as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of me.
“Y-yes. I'm sorry,” I whined, clenching around his fingers.
“All I want you to focus on is breathing. Let me handle everything else,” Terry whispered into my ear.
“Ughh….” I sobbed as tears rolled from the corners of my eyes.
“Baby, I missed you,” he cooed, resting his lips against my chin.
“I… I mi-missed you, too,” I panted breathlessly.
Terry's lips covered mine in a kiss fueled by desire, stealing my breath and filling me with his. A heavenly set of plush full lips left a soft trail of kisses along my chin until they reached the side of my neck. Tongue swiping back and forth over the supple skin. I gasped as I felt his teeth nip on the sensitive area.
Every action led to one conclusion— this was yearning in its purest form. LOVE.
“Talk to me, ‘Vana. I need to hear something,” he whispered into the side of my neck. All while his two fingers were stealing my soul— slowly.
Against my better judgment, I attempted to speak. I whimpered in delirium as my mouth released nothing but haphazard babbles. All poor attempts at speech as words slipped from my recollection. I just hoped, for my sake, that my body could tell Terry what my mouth couldn't.
As I was sinking and falling simultaneously to a place I had never been, a new question arose. Is this what being stripped raw felt like?
Without my permission, Terry had pulled me into a state of vulnerability and surrender. Using only his hands and his tongue, he had left me exposed with nowhere to hide. I was being forced to hand over my heart and soul. I was finding myself with every kiss.
To myself, I was Havana Rose Taylor. A black woman who deserved love in all forms. I was an exquisite piece of art— rare and invaluable. I was flawed yet virtuous, in my own right.
To the man I loved, I was deserving and admirable. I was the world in human form. A woman capable of love— potent and everlasting. I was desirable and alluring in every facet of the terms. I was… HIS.
And most importantly, I was enough— for me and for Terry.
A/N: Remember, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.
Taglist: @brattyfics @persethegawd @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @jimmybutlrr @episodes-ff @kimuzostar @insidefeelingofanadult @kirayuki22 @nayaesworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @pocketsizedpanther @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @skyesthebomb @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @dabratzchronicles @pinkpantheris @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi @helloncrocs @lovey-3 @curvyambitions @iburias @geee3bayyybeee3 @ineedmyaccountback @rebelrel0987 @prettypink-princesss @teeresaresa @dxddykenn @simplyzeeka @theglamclosetsl @melaninadorned
#thee reina writes#terry richmond#aaron pierre#terry richmond fanfiction#terry richmond fic#aaron pierre fanfic#aaron pierre fic#terry richmond angst#terry richmond x black oc#terry richmond x black female oc#terry richmond x plus size oc#x black oc#x black fem oc#x black plus size oc#x black!oc#x black!fem!oc#black!oc#black!fem!oc#black female oc#black!plus size!oc#plus size!oc#angst
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DP x DMC interaction
haha okay so i have an interaction idea for my dmc and dp crossover with Patty and Danny with how they meet. (probably be only for me but hehe >w<) Danny after being stranded in dmc world, is living with Dante and being a part-time employee. They specify part time since he's still a minor. (just by a year and that's not even fully correct just easier to keep same birthday due to time shenanigans... Danny mostly upset because he was a four months away and now he has to wait eight. Not important just thought it be funny for Danny to fuss over it a little.) Dante is off on another gig not long after Danny starts crashing at his place. Danny had just gotten his citizenship started thanks to Morrison, and now settling in. He's borrowing Dante's clothes and cleaning up the place (since its still a mess from last Dante was there despite Lady n Trish having dropped in while he was stuck in underworld ) Imagine Dante actually giving Danny his better clothes, and they're baggy on Danny. Nero and Nico having promise to drop by at the end of the week, tying off loose ends to take Danny in for a bit.
Anyways. So Danny just finding something to do, since he isn't in a school ( and he doubts he will), and the business is slow, so he cleans the place. He gets it looking really nice and clean. That's when Patty drops in, expecting to go give Dante a piece of her mind for not checking in or answering her calls ( she's just worried about the geezer) then is shocked when she walks into the place and its SPOTLESS. And there in the middle of the office is someone in Dante's clothes but clearly not Dante. Which she exclaims in shock. And Danny, being Danny like.. uhh yeah I know. Need me to take a message? Wondering why a girl closer to his age looking for Dante. Did she have a job for them? Patty just shocked but then bombarding Danny with questions, suspicious of him. Which Danny just holding his hands like AHH chill chill =w=''' Then Danny explains the situation. Patty still suspicious if not a bit jealous or at least upset Dante never told her. Danny explaining how its pretty new. That's when someone else comes in fretting with an actual Job request. Immediately distraught when hearing Dante isn't in. Danny saying he can take the shift if its nearby- but the guy not wanting to hear it. Dismissing Danny before even knowing him, crumbling into the floor wailing. That's when Patty jumps in both curious of Danny's ability, while also not wanting anything to discourage going to Devil May Cry for services (pride in Dante's business). Patty convincing the man in almost scary manipulative way. She also insists on accompanying them. Danny learns more about Patty on their way over, she driving him up to the spot. Patty learning a little bit about Danny too. He goes into the infested manor, only to turn out the guy was the reason it was infested having made a deal only to turn tails... on more than one demon. Danny gets roughed up, still trying to get a hang of his limitations and powers here, but still manages to pull off a cool fight- especially if Patty ends up in direct line of fire. He sends all the demons packing. Leaving the asshole who started this mess, who tried not to pay them. Making a fuss about the destruction of the mansion, and how long it had taken Danny, as well as letting the demons get too close to him. (They never touched him) Patty is the one to give the guy hell, as well as scare him into paying Danny with bonus. Mentioning how upset Dante would be learning that he jibbed his son, and how next time a demon be hunting him down he won't be able to call on DMC for help. Danny's a bit shocked but pleasantly so with how fast the guy changes his tune as Patty offers to drive Danny out to get milkshakes, since they just got paid. "We?" "I did the negotiating, so I'll be taking a cut. Dante won't mind. uwu C'mon, I'm going to show you all the best hang outs around town. You're going to love them." Thus starts Danny and Patty hanging out. >w< Patty tries not to show it, but she was very impressed at how Danny handled things. Yeah he's not as cool as Dante, but he had his own flare. Plus he's closer to her age.
I did a doodle on paper too =w=' I was going to do something epic and cool but uh... nothing came to me
also a repost of this so you can get a better look at their designs.
#ghost will cry#ghost can cry#dmc#danny phantom#dp#devil may cry#dp crossover#dmc crossover#crossover#danny fenton#dmc patty#danny is dante's son in this
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Through blood and petals
Series masterlist
A/N: As previously stated this is my first ff ! All opinions and feedback is appreciated :)
Pairing : Mafia!San x reader (not written in this chapter though)
Warnings : angst, san gets traumatized, major character death (it all works out in the end tho i promise) , san is in the mafia n highkey a serial killer...
Word count: 1.3K
Series Summary : San let his guard down once, and it cost him everything. Now, he’s built his walls higher than ever.Living with the weight of his past. But when a kind hearted florist enters his life, his carefully guarded world starts to crack. He swears he won’t make the same mistake twice; but some things are impossible to resist.
Chapter 1: No surprises
“A heart that's full up like a landfill. A job that slowly kills you, bruises that won't heal.”
San didn’t really like his career, and not the typical “I hate my job, aarrgghh!!!” kind of complaints. He genuinely despised it. And not that he could back out, oh no. Everyone knew once you joined the mafia, the only way out was in a casket. Maybe that’s why he learned to dissociate during work, leaving all his feelings and emotions behind in his cozy, luxurious penthouse. But what did that make him? A killer without emotions? A machine? No, that’s what made him the perfect asset to the Velvet Dagger Cartel: fast, effective kills with no attachment to his victims. San was there to do his job and make the evidence disappear like it never even happened. Each life he took was like checking off another item on his checklist. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his targets as real people. That was, until he met her.
She was supposed to be like the rest, just another civilian to help expand their territory. But when San got his mission folder, something didn’t sit right. They never gave him undercover roles, let alone for a ridiculous three months. He was supposed to intern at the bakery where she worked, learn her schedule, poison her, and check her off the list. Simple. Clean. Efficient. But for some reason, everything about this felt wrong.
At first it was nothing. Just brief glances as she served pastries with a smile that was too warm for his liking, too much emotion, too much vulnerability. But as the hours merged into days, her laughter echoed in his mind when his shift was long over. How her voice would greet every customer with a level of kindness he doubted existed in this world, it started to tear him down. She was just a mission, nothing more.
But she had this refreshing feeling to her. She was nothing like the cold, calculating people he was used to. She had this aura that made everything feel softer. She’d talk about her dreams of opening a bakery, how she wanted to make the world a little sweeter, one pastry at a time. She shared stories of her childhood, how it was only her and her mom, but they managed. It was bittersuite she said, a loss of something to earn something else. Every detail about her life was wrapped in warmth, like the oven’s heat that surrounded the bakery. And the more San watched her, the more he saw her as something other than a target. She became a person, a real, breathing, beautiful person.
And suddenly it happened. He couldn't tell when the information he was supposed to extract turned into real interest. How he’d linger in the kitchen for too long, asking questions about ingredients or recipes, only to watch how her eyes lit up when she explained. Every smile she gave him felt like a small crack in the cold walls he’d built around himself. Not like she was blind to it, and he knew, they both knew the feeling between them wasn't platonic. Slowly the meetings discussing the bakeries turned into dates at a nearby cafe. And in those moments, san forgot all about his job. He was just … him. And she was just her. The more he fell for her, the harder it was for him to remember his purpose.
So, when the poison arrived, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even after he learnt everything he was supposed to know. The way she would come in at 8:00 every morning and leave at 5:30 with a cinnamon roll in her hand every time, always with a smile. That stupid smile, the one that made him melt. She didn't deserve to die. She didn't deserve to become yet another name on his stupid list. But the mafia isn't forgiving. They wanted her gone, and so he had to make her disappear. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.
San arrived home later than usual that night, the weight of his mission plaguing his mind. He had made up his mind. He would end it. He would walk away. He’d tell her everything, run away with her, leave it all behind. But the moment he walked through the door, the air was thick with something unfamiliar. The faint scent of roses. Her scent.
He froze in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat as he saw her.Her body was sprawled out in the middle of the living room. Her once vibrant eyes were open but lifeless, staring blankly ahead. A trail of blood pooled beneath her, the color stark against his white rugs. The delicate flowers she’d worn earlier were crushed under her body, petals scattered like remains of a dream that had never had a chance to bloom. She was gone. And it was all his fault.
He couldn't take his eyes off her. Trying to memorize every detail, the way her hair framed her face, the soft curve of her lips, the faintest trace of a smile she’d given him just hours before, as if she had known nothing was wrong. But in her delicate hands, the ones that once held him so softly, was a piece of paper. Marked with a dagger. He recognized it all too well. The letters he once placed himself, now in the hands of the love of his life.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He couldn’t bear to face whoever was on the other end. He knew what they wanted. He knew what they would say. But then, it rang again. And this time, he answered it. “Did you think you could walk away, San?” The voice was cold, laced with amusement. “You let us down. We thought you were better than this. But you lowered your guard” he heard a spine chilling chuckle from the other side “ Your just like the rest of us. Disposable.” San’s grip tightened around the phone. His eyes never left her body. “You took her from me,” he said, his voice barely controlled. “You’ll pay for that.”
The rage inside him was a wildfire. He wasn’t the cold, emotionless machine anymore. She had turned him into something different. Something human. Without thinking, he grabbed his gun from the table and left the penthouse. Moving like a predator hunting down its prey. He made his way to the headquarters, each step fueled by the image of her lifeless face, her broken body. He didn’t care how many lives he had to take. He didn’t care who stood in his way. They wouldn't be able to stop him anyway. He cocked his gun before kicking the door in….
The heavy air in the room felt like it was pressing down on him. San stood in the doorway, the faintest tremor in his hand as he wiped a smear of blood from his collar. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the sound of his boots scraping the floor as he stepped forward. His gaze swept across the room, lingering on the men who had once called him a brother, now sprawled motionless, their expressions forever frozen.
Chapter 1.5 : Fourth of july OUT NOW!!
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Hey Tan! I wish you well! I tried to refrain from sending this but failed HELP, I dreamed of OFF Valley some days ago where it was a game and it messed with me. I only dreamed of two odd sections which piqued my interest and made me want to ask some things ay
One included a DOUBLE ?? character creation one more Stardew Valley style and one with the Player you made, so I wanted to ask about their appearance,, I know it is probably a design choice to make it fit for everyone and at the same time connect with the story you have in mind (or not?), but, where did this idea come from? In the "actual" game it could be an avatar that resembles our human nature, but then we have your design (which I love btw I hope this doesn't come off as offensive or anything I LOVELOVE everything about our little character JENDJSJA) which makes it slightly unsettling. Like, no one can tell what we are, can they? We're like a constant mystery to everyone (hehehe...) but it's also just. Yeah that's. That's just the new person in town... Makes good stuff lolol. Soo. what did you have in mind when thinking about them? (... Though, going back, I do remember you drawing a shot where the player was kind of covered in something that gave them that appearance? Is it actually a protection? Or maybe I'm looking too much into it and you just drew it for the funsies lolol)
Other section was about the glitching getting weird and we had to make sure our avatar didn't cease to exist in the game,, there were snippets of the other character we could make and they lacked actual oxygen and had trouble moving but there was no animation, like they weren't phased that much because. It's just an avatar and the real us is very much alive and our little extension of us is a means to get by in that world.
So there's the other question,, does our character... do anything at all? Like, do they. Work. Humanly. It connects back to the previous inquiry, all about your idea of them,, Are there oddities that some pick up on? You did mention suspicious in your asks, but... 👀👀 How suspicious. Who's starting to doubt us,, do we have to hide it. Chest going up and down while we "breathe" but then for a while it just doesn't? Do we even need to eat? Do we feel pain? Can we get a personality going or do we not have a lot of choices? Where do we even come from? There's OFF Valley but. What about everything else. Imagine we know everything about the characters we befriended or got to know and they know nothing about us. Ahrifbejdnei. This is more like gamey type of outlook but do you have that in mind orr is it more like. A story? Meta yes but with lore. Or is it even meta help
Sorry for the long talk,, I love your stuff and OFF if it wasn't clear, YAHAHAH I really want to hear your thoughts about them when you have the time! Anything that you can think of, really.
You have a lot of interesting observations! And what an honor to be in your dream.
The Player is just that. They're known as The Farmer that just moved into town. Nobody questions why they look void shaped. As for the design, I could've made them more human but the void felt like a better design choice that fit the narrative I'm planning.
That's an interesting idea! I want to try to maximize the roleplaying element, so The Player could breathe, eat, drink, feel pain, and emotions. They are afterall, supposed to be you. A blank slate to be filled up.
They're just a silly lil void who got tired of the city and moved to the country side to start a new life. ^-^
Unless you want to take that away from them. :) You choose the reality you want.
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