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slu7formen · 3 months ago

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luke castellan x fem!reader

luke finds you after you went missing in quest. on the way back home, luke’s determined to take care of you.

warnings: mention of weight loss, wounds, bl00d, just overall crying, reader and luke shower together 🫣, intimacy, kinda angst ???? idk it’s one of my first times writing this

₊˚⊹♡

There was a tense silence in the car. The cold night air hitting your face was refreshing yet you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of that nauseous feeling in your stomach and throat. Luke occasionally darted his gaze to you, but quickly looked back to the road, almost as if checking if you were still there or not.

"We´re almost there" he blurted out suddenly, glancing at you again. He´s been like this since he found you, trying to get you to talk, but you wouldn´t say a thing. It was ironic, how you used to spend so much time with Luke when you were younger and how he went through hell and back just to find you and yet, you were unable to form a word. Luke didn´t blame you though. He understood you more than anyone else. He didn´t want to talk to anyone when he came back from that quest that condemned him with more than one scar for the rest of his life.

And seeing you like this now, it was only like looking at his own reflection. He saw in you what everybody saw in him at seventeen.

The dirt on your clothes, or what was left of it, you were covered in a soft white blanket that Luke found in the back of the car. The dirt on your skin, your hair, under your nails. You didn´t have any old wounds visible, but fresh ones that were made just a few minutes ago when you and Luke had to fight your way out the cave of that cyclops. It stained the blanket.

You´ve lost weight, too much. Only you know how many hours or even days did that cyclops leave you to starve, weakening you more and more. Your skin seemed fragile, like a thin layer of glass, and that was your only protection.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

It took him time to find you, like a week or more. Chiron was convinced you´d find your way out of that mission, but when two weeks became three, and three became three more, that´s when camp started to get worried. No one dared to follow the same path you did, except Luke. What could he loose? Nothing but his own life. Chiron trusted him, and thank the Gods he did.

Luke couldn´t forget the sight of you when he found you, laying on the hard rocks, unconscious. If he hadn´t gotten there on time, you would have probably been eaten alive. When he lifted you up, he didn't want to admit the fact that you felt light, lighter than before. How weak he felt you.

He caught a glimpse of a tear when he got you into the car and put on your seatbelt, but again, he knew you wouldn´t make a sound. You both left the place silently, only trusting that Luke was driving you somewhere safe, that everything was over, that the cyclops stayed right in Tartarus where he belonged, and that Luke wasn´t going to be your second kidnapper.

At least the car, which was stolen, worked like wonders. The entire road trip was silent, sometimes broken by the sniffing of your nose or your uncomfortable movements. Luke couldn´t take you to camp, not yet at least, and as much as he wanted to, he also couldn´t. It was too far away now, and besides, you needed a proper rest.

"We´re here" he said as he parked the car. A solely motel stood there, on the side of the road, no sign of any other human or not human life around, just the dry and cold road, endless in the night. Luke knew this place was safe from any danger, he stayed there last night.

The receptionist didn´t even bother to look up and see that Luke was walking in with another person, wrapped in a white blanket and dirty. She just handed him the keys, her eyes glued to some fashion magazine.

The room was nothing special, just a small bed, a small table with two chairs, an old and uncomfortable looking sofa, a bathroom, and a closet. A tv was hanging on the wall, and a small fridge was standing in the corner. At least, you had a small balcony. You looked around, eyes trained and ready to decipher any type of danger, yet your head wouldn´t stop throbbing with pain, your eyes barely getting used to the artificial yellow light. Luke had placed his belongings on the bed, but as soon as your eyes caught them, he removed them and placed them over the table. "Sit" he demanded.

You obeyed, sitting on the bed and keeping a close eye on the older boy, watching as he opened the small fridge and brought out a bottle of water along with something wrapped in aluminum foil. "It´s what I have now" Luke stated, placing the wrapped food in your hands, if he was starved, he couldn´t imagine how your stomach was feeling. "I´ll get some more tomorrow, okay?"

You didn´t answer. Instead, you stared at the food. Luke was slightly startled when your fingers started to work rapidly around the foil, unwrapping the cold grilled cheese sandwich. You devoured it like a wild animal, taking big bites and barely even able to swallow before biting again. Luke chuckled slightly, placing a hand on your back, soothing slowly. "Easy there" he said, "It's all yours"

Your hands started to shake, your stomach protesting against the amount of food you were giving it after long weeks of starving. Tears started to prick your eyes, and Luke noticed. "Thank you, Luke" you sobbed out as soon as that sandwich disappeared. Your head crashed onto his shoulder, crying as Luke quickly wrapped an arm around you, "thank you" you kept repeating. Luke and you were close when you were younger, around fifteen or fourteen, but now a lot has changed. Yet, Luke never stopped looking after you.

It felt weird to cry on him. Your weeks of torture, pain, hunger and dirt and fear pressing onto Luke´s shoulders like a dark cloak, yet you couldn´t bring yourself to stop. You smelled the fresh air, clean one, how your back didn´t have goosebumps because you didn´t feel as if someone was behind you, waiting to attack. You felt safe and relaxed, but it was too overwhelming to feel thar way.

"Shh" Luke soothed, running a hand through your hair, "it's alright, I've got you"

And you stayed like that for a moment. You cried, and he held you. He knew how hard it was, and he didn't want to say anything that would hurt your feelings, so he remained quiet.

When your breathing evened out, your tears dried up and the shakiness of your hands died down, you brought yourself to stand up slowly. "I'm sorry" you whispered. You hated how your face got all red and puffy from crying, how the tears blurred your vision and how your voice sounded hoarse and shaky.

"No need," Luke smiled, "how about you take a shower?" he suggested, eyebrows rising softly.

You didn´t answer, Gods, you totally forgot what even a shower felt like. You suddenly felt embarrassed, what did you look like now? Your hair was probably way too dirty, all hard and tangled, not to mention the rest of your body. You were so disgusting, you didn't even know where to begin. That cyclops spat on you way too many times for you to not smell like his saliva, some of it even stuck to your clothes. Your breath must´ve been horrific, and you were sure you´d have to ask Luke for some extra underwear.

He stands up quick and jumps to the bathroom. You stand there, smelling your hair and immediately feeling as disgusted as ever. You hear the water running, Luke had turned on the shower for you. He must´ve noticed the way your eyes darted around nervously, a hundred thoughts and questions invading your mind in just a second. You wondered how much time you were there, standing like an idiot, for him to offer to turn on the water.

He came back quick, smiling softly and patting your shoulder. "It's all yours, don't worry, I won't watch"

You nod, a little embarrassed that you couldn´t even do the simplest tasks and he had to help you with it. "Thanks" you said again, removing the blanket over your shoulders and placing it over the bed. Luke watched as you walked away, the dried blood on your arms and fresh wounds decorating your pale skin like a canvas, he was sure he had some bandages or ambrosia to help you with that.

He sighed and threw himself on the bed, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv, trying his best not to think about you. He couldn't let his mind go back to the moment he found you, and the state you were in. It reminded him so much of him just a few years back. He promised himself to change, to not care, to foil his own heart with a thick layer of ice, but as soon as he realized how ugly things were turning after you didn´t come back, who was once his friend, that ice started to melt.

He wondered why were you even the one to leave in the first place, what were you thinking? Why did you accept the mission? Why didn't you say no? Luke couldn't bring himself to hate Chiron for sending you out there. It wasn't his fault, nor yours. You were young, and Luke knew it wasn't your first time either, but the danger was worse than any other mission you accomplished. He couldn´t stop thinking about you for some reason, maybe even way before you left, you were a part of his mind.

He was like an eagle, keeping an eye on you, watching, but never attacking. Never making his presence known. But then, the news of your missing broke his silence, his invisibility. It was just the same as if you were dead, and he was forced to watch as his friends cried over your absence.

"Luke?"

He jumped out of his position, startled by the sudden sound of your voice. The water was still running, he heard it, but you walked out of the bathroom with a towel around your fragile body. You were dripping little droplets, but you weren´t done, you weren´t clean. Still dirty, still bloody.

"What´s wrong?" he asked, maintaining his position on the bed.

"I-" you stuttered, embarrassed, "I can't do it"

Luke tilted his head in confusion "Do what?"

"Wash my hair, or- myself"

Your hair was wet, but not completely soaked, meaning you must´ve tried to wash it yourself but couldn't do it. "You can't reach it?" he asked, almost in disbelief rather than worry.

You shake your head, your cheeks red in embarrassment. You looked at Luke, and then at the ground, hoping that it would just open up and swallow you whole. "My arms hurt too much" you explain.

Luke stands up then, walking slowly towards you. As he does, you extend your arms to him, for him to see. Luke never noticed the purple rings that decorated your wrists, a clear sign of handcuffs or some type of chain. In the darkness of the night and the cave, he must´ve mistaken it with dirt on your skin, just as the rest of your body, covered in soot and dirt. He follows the path up to your forearms, which were a little better, but filled with cuts, fresh and old ones. He looks at your left bicep then, where a nasty purple bruise stood, three fat lines, just as fat as the cyclops’ hand.

Luke´s about to say something, that he understands, the he´ll help, but you turn around then. Luke sees the old wound on your other arm, your triceps, a clean deep cut probably executed with a knife or a pointy rock, the yellow, green and blue nebula-like image staining your skin.

His fingers tent to grab you softly, but he looks somewhere else. Slowly, he moves your hair out of the way, placing it over your shoulder softly. He stares then, looking at what the towel wasn´t able to cover. More bruises, although small, looked painful over your muscles. There were more cuts too. Scratches. Near your spine, a long pale pink stripe, stood proudly on your skin. It looked fine, but it must've hurt like hell, even more with such a slow healing. It would scar. If only Luke had come sooner.

"Get back in the shower" he demanded softly, placing his hands on your naked shoulders. "I´ll help you get clean"

You nod, not bothering to turn and look at him, but rather, just obeying. "Will you-, get in with me?"

Luke feels his heart race. He didn't mean to sound suggestive, no. His face was red. Your body was hot, he was sweaty, and the bathroom was filled with steam. His clothes started to stick to his skin, making him feel hotter and hotter, and the thought of being in the shower with you only made him want to slap himself and stay awake.

"Um-," he breathed out, trying to hide the way his voice cracked slightly, the way his throat went dry. "If you want to, I mean" he clears his throat, "I don´t want to make you uncomfortable"

"You won´t" you assure him. "But if it´s uncomfortable for you-"

"No" he interrupts you, way too quickly. "I mean, I´ll help you if that's what you want"

You don't bother to turn around, instead, you walk in the bathroom. Luke watches, his eyes trained on the back of your body, how some of your bones poked out slightly, the bruises, the cuts, the scratches. You close the door then, and Luke stands there, waiting. His heart starts to race and beat harder and harder, his hands sweat, his knees feel weak. He didn't even realize how bad his palms were sweating, and he rubs them over his shorts. Why was he so nervous? It wasn´t as if you were asking him to do anything weird, you just needed help and it was pitiful. You couldn´t even move properly, for God´s sake.

"You can come in" he hears you say.

He gulps, and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting the air fill his lungs. He opens the door then, and walks in. He sees the towel hanging on the doorknob when he begins to remove his clothes. He grabs the edge of his boxers, wondering if it was really necessary to take it off. He takes a look at the shower, the curtain closed, the water running, he barely saw a glimpse of your shadow. Just the thought of walking in there made cold sweat drip down his spine.

He takes a deep breath, and removes his underwear. He figures that if nothing was meant to happen, and that you were fine with him seeing you, then he didn´t have to worry about you seeing him.

When he enters, the hot steam hits his body like a soft cloud, enveloping him in a warm embrace, and the water feels hot. He sees you, under the shower, the water running down your body, though it looked unpleasant. He doesn´t dare to look down or somewhere else that isn´t your face, yet he doesn´t feel like it´s a forced action. You make him comfortable, even when you´re in the most vulnerable state you´ll ever be in your life, he doesn´t feel anything else other than comfort.

You smile softly at him then, and he steps behind you. You hear him breathe heavily once or twice, but neither of you say anything. "Can I?" he asks then, pointing at the cheap motel shampoo. You nod, and let him do whatever he has to. It felt weird, having someone else take care of you this way. You didn´t know why you felt the need of him protecting you this way, but it wasn´t bad.

He pours some in his hands and places it over your hair, slowly working his way through the knots. You relax, the feeling was strange yet welcome. You forgot how pleasant and orgasmic showers were. He massages softly, avoiding to pull at any strand, and it feels nice. Soothing, almost. Your head throbs less, and the headache that had been bothering you since Luke took you out of that cave started to disappear slowly. His hands were gentle, caring, and his breathing was soft behind your neck.

It was hard for him, though. To pretend as if nothing was happening. His heart was beating harder and faster with each second, the blood rushing through his veins, his palms sweaty and his eyes wanting to look elsewhere. But he was afraid, he couldn´t risk losing his cool and making you feel uncomfortable, so he didn´t dare. He was thankful you were facing away, that way, you couldn't see the way his cheeks blushed.

"Thank you" you whispered, the water running down your face and hair. Luke had managed to get rid of all the knots in your hair, and you felt so much better already.

"Don't thank me" he replied, letting the shampoo fall of your hair to cleanse. He took the little bottle again then, and repeated the process. He figured that just one round of shampoo wouldn´t be enough for you.

He followed the same path with the hair conditioner. He looked down briefly when he was done, careful not to go too low, but he noticed the dirt still lingering on your skin, the one that the splash of hot water couldn´t clean. He grabbed the soap then, and lathered it softly in his hands. His eyes lingered on the scars that decorated your body, he wondered what did they come from, where were you hit and how, why did you get them and how did they look like before.

He got close to your ear, "Let me know if anything hurts, okay?" he asked softly. You barely look at him over your shoulder, and you nod. It was more than obvious that everything would hurt, even the water splashing on your skin, yet you wouldn´t complain about it all.

He pressed the soap against your skin, but he didn’t dare to touch you any more than that. His free hand remained in his side, away from you. You didn´t know if he was doing it because he didn't want to touch you, or because he wanted you to tell him it was okay to do so, and that he was allowed to touch. His hands rubbed the soap, creating a thin layer over the dirt and grime. You closed your eyes. it was better to think of anything else other than the feeling of his hands on you, but you found your mind wandering to his body, only separated by air.

His hand rubbed circles on your shoulder almost as a kind gesture for you to warm up, but you couldn’t help but interpret it more than that. It was such a small kind gesture, but your body reacted in such ways to it ― goose bumps spreading like wildfire across your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

You hissed when he started rubbing your back, the soapy water stung your wounds, the smaller they where, the worse it hurt.

Luke stopped. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, but it wasn´t convincing. "It just burns a little" you explain, little tears stung your eyes.

He understood, and continued. He was careful not to press too hard or anything, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you more. He watched as the soap did its magic, how it got rid of the dirt and grime that stuck on your skin.

He dared to step a little closer when he reached your neck. He felt warm, his hands were soft, his grip gentle. You felt like you could fall asleep in the comfort of his embrace, warm and soft, not daring to harm. You closed your eyes, the water running down your face. Your breathing was soft, and you didn't have a clue of what you were doing to him.

His fingers on your neck tickle a little, yet it feels as if the most precious touch someone could ever give you. It felt sweet, tender, and you couldn't help but lean into the touch. Just slightly, just a little bit, you let your hair fall. It reaches Luke´s shoulder barely, yet Luke feels a wake of warm comfort over him.

He feels the need to grab you, to hold you. He wants to wrap his arms around you, he wants to tell you it's going to be alright, and that he's got you, but he can't. Not yet.

The soap´s smell impregnates in your body. Though cheap, it´s sweet. It smells like peaches, a deep artificial version of it at least. It was relaxing, almost like a lullaby. He stops then, his fingers lingering over the bruise on your triceps. The cut looks a little better without all the dirt and irritation, yet the bruise around it remains the same. He brushes it softly with his thumb, like a comforting caress. It doesn´t hurt, so you say nothing.

That same hand travels up then, careful not to brush any other wound, not allowing himself to hear a single cry come out from your lips. The water´s still hot when he reaches your shoulder, and your breathing has slowed down, yet his heart beats faster than ever.

He lets himself get lower, his torso leaning into you, his head lowering. His nose grazes your shoulder softly, just a slight movement, almost an innocent gesture. Your skin was soft, delicate. And he lets himself go lower, his lips placing a kiss on your shoulder.

It´s small and tender, lasted less than a few seconds. But he stays there, his hair getting wet, the water dripping down the side of your body, like you and him got frozen in time. The waters keeps on running but the room is filled with silence, as if it had to be broken by one of you. You say nothing, nor him.

Luke doesn´t have the heart to pull away. He doesn´t know why did he kiss you, he doesn´t know why did he allow himself to be this close, but he wanted to do it again, and he couldn´t bring himself to regret it. It felt like the most natural thing, and he wonders if he had gone mad, if he was still sane or not. But you did not reject him, nor did you pull away.

Your hand is tentative when you reach for his, the one placed on your shoulder. You feel his chest pressed onto your back, and you can feel the heat coming from him, how the water droplets run down his hair, his neck and his face, and how his breath is soft against your skin, warm, and it tickles a little.

He kisses again, the same spot, and then once more. Your hand is warm in his, and your fingers brush softly against his knuckles, like an encouraging gesture. He kisses once more, and then his lips travel further up, reaching your neck, and the next thing you feel is his lips on your pulse point. They press there, and stay still. It tingles your whole skin, goosebumps travelling from your ribs to your toes, the feeling exciting you.

He´s the one holding your hand then, flipping it and taking a soft hold of your wrist, careful not to squeeze your bruises around it. He lifts your hand close to his face, but his lips travel directly to your wrist, maybe a little lower, kissing your forearm. Over the tiny cuts, the scratches. He doesn´t press, and he doesn´t hurt. The warmth of his lips is inviting, and his tongue is soft, the way his mouth opens and closes over your skin like a delicate flower. When you dare to look a little closer, to look at him, his lips go to your knuckles, pressing softly over the dry blood that stained your hands. His lips were soft, like a cloud, and tender. He kisses them all, so gentle and soft that it makes you forget about the pain, how sore you are, and it makes you want to touch him too.

Just from one of his kisses on your hand.

He stops then, his sweet lips separating from your skin, but his hand still held yours. He wrapped his hand around yours, your fingers curling inside the grip of his own, trapping it in his warm embrace. Your body still faces the front, the water splashing both of your bodies as you lock eyes with him. He presses his forehead to yours, and his nose gently brushes against yours, the tip of it going up and down your own.

Your hear and feel his breath, even though it feels steady. Your heart beats a thousand miles, and you can´t help yourself but to close your eyes and feel. He leans closer then, his lips inches away from yours, and you can feel his breath and taste the water that runs down his lips and his chin, and suddenly, the space between your bodies doesn't feel big.

But it was. Because when the distance was about to be broken and Luke´s lips would finally press against yours, you had to pull away.

He doesn't look upset, he doesn't look hurt, his expression doesn't change. He knows. And that's the best part, how he doesn't feel bad for the mistake. You pull away almost as if you were pulling yourself away from him fully, yet you didn´t. You stayed close enough to feel his presence pressing behind you, yet far enough for him to not be able to reach your lips. He lets go of your hand, and you can´t help but think of yourself as someone stupid. Such a warm feeling, such a comfortable and protected embraced, destroyed by you, and your fears.

"I, uh..." you darted, facing the wall, your wet hands pressed to your face. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, it's fine" he said, his voice was still soft, yet the way his tone changed was noticeable. You could hear the embarrassment in his words. ¨You don't have to apologize, really. I'm sorry"

"No, don't-" you breathed out, trying to find the right words. You didn't want him to apologize for something he didn't do. It was all your fault. "I didn't mean to ruin the moment, it's just... I-"

"Really, don't worry about it" Luke insisted, trying to keep the situation calm. The water was starting to feel cold, and the room was getting less steamy, but neither of you bothered. He placed a hand on your shoulder again, careful not to startle you. "Can I still help you?" he asks.

You look down at yourself, how weird your body looked like this now. Almost clean. "It's fine, I can clean my... front"

You slapped yourself in your mind for that. Luke chuckled silently behind you. "Okay" he sighed. He opened the curtain and slowly stepped outside the shower, partly because he didn´t want to leave, and partly because he didn´t want to slip in the wet floor. "Let me know if you need me for when you're done"

You nodded, and then he was gone. As soon as he walked out the door, you leaned back, letting your head rest on the wall behind you. Your breathing was shaky, and your legs felt weak. The room was filled with the sound of the running water and the beating of your heart. It felt like a dream, yet you couldn't believe how stupid were you. The both of you naked? In the shower? You let him see you like this? What the hell were you thinking?

You felt a little desperate for human touch, that was a fact but, did you have to go this far? What if he thought you were easy? He probably felt pity, and that was why he was helping you. What if you made things weird between you two now?

You finished quickly, cleaning yourself up the best you could, but the process was long. Your body hurt, and no matter how hard you tried, there were still wounds that refused to be cleaned, and it only frustrated you more. You got out of the shower nicely though, wrapped in two surprisingly cozy towels. You noticed the unfamiliar clothes resting on a wooden chair that wasn´t there when you got in the shower. You recognized those sweatpants; Luke brought you clothes.

Luke was lying on the bed watching tv, some old crappy show that distracted him barely from the previous shower experience. You walked slowly, the pain on your legs was almost unbearable. "Um, I'm done"

Luke turned his head to look at you. He was dressed too, wearing a plain shirt and some old sweats. A toothy grin appeared on his lips, "Too big?" he asked, eyes darting down to your covered legs. You blushed a little, startled by the sudden confidence and embarrassed by the fact that you had to hold tight onto those sweats as you walked or else, they'd fall. You sat on the bed next to him, looking for some miracle hairbrush in the empty motel cabinets. You weren´t lucky enough. "I wanted to get you something to eat from the vending machine, but I didn't want to leave you alone" he explained.

You shook your head, "You said we were safe here but it only works when you're in the same room as me?" you suggest, jokingly.

Luke shrugged, "I was sent to find and protect you, so that's what I'll do" he simply replied.

You looked at him, and smiled. How could he be so nice after all the stupid things you've done?

"Don't worry, I'm not even hungry" you stated, completely ignoring his bravery. "I'm just tired, I wanna sleep"

"Sure" Luke smiled. "I'll just turn off the lights and-" he said as he stood up from the bed, walking towards the light switch. "I'll let you sleep"

You frowned your brows though. "Wait, you won't sleep here?" you asked, confused.

Luke reached the switch, yet he didn't touch it. Instead, he glared towards the other side of the room, where the old sofa laid. Now, it was covered in sheets and a pillow, a homemade bed. You noticed the way he tried to avoid your eyes. "I thought you wouldn't want to, you know..." he pointed the bed, followed by a quick scratch on the back of his neck.

You couldn't blame him, honestly. After what happened in the shower, he had all the rights to assume that. But that didn't mean you were okay with it. You didn't want him to sleep uncomfortably on the couch, nor did you want to kick him out of the bed. It was big enough for the two of you. Luke has been having quite rough days, you couldn't help but notice on his tired face. It was his first time resting properly since the mission and he was going to sleep in an old and creaky sofa?

You hissed with pain when you positioned yourself differently on the bed, Luke attempted to grab you as if you were falling, but you got yourself comfortable fast enough. "Don't be silly. Sleep on the bed" you said.

Luke frowned his brows, followed by a shook of his head in denial "I don't mind sleeping there" he reassured, pointing the couch. "It's not even uncomfortable" he lied, remembering the way he struggled to make it into a bed. ¨At least the sheets are clean, I made sure of that" he added.

"Luke, stop it" you said, behaving tough for a second, "I know you want to sleep here. It´s a bed"

Luke stared at you for a moment, thinking of the way his body was already screaming at him to lay down and sleep. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep there, it was that he wanted to. He knew the bed was big enough, but the shower incident had him doubting himself. Was it alright? Did you even want him there? Or was he invading your privacy? The questions invaded his mind like a disease, and the way you looked at him with pleading eyes was almost enough to convince him, but the last thing he wanted was for you to feel pressured.

"You saved me. It's the least I could do for you now"

Luke felt his heart melt, and he had the biggest urge to hold you and protect you. But instead, he nodded and smiled briefly. He pressed his sweaty hands against his sweatpants as he started walking, but quickly walked back again to do the previous task he didn't finish; turning off the light. You took the sheets of the bed and slipped in slowly, Luke helped you by holding your arms softly. He slipped after quietly, trying not to disturb the peace.

The silence hugged the room, the only sound erupting from a bunch of crickets outside and the low volume coming from the TV. It was a weird sensation, sharing a bed with someone else after being rescued from a cyclops’ cave, and not knowing what was okay or not. It felt wrong, yet you didn't want him to leave. It felt right, though.

"Good night" you whispered then, closing your eyes, the fatigue in your body screaming for a proper sleep.

"Good night" Luke replied, turning to his side, giving you his back. The bed wasn't small, but it wasn't that big either, yet he didn't dare to move a single inch.

You weren't asleep yet. You heard him for a couple minutes, his breathing, the way he moved slightly, how the sheets brushed against his skin. It was a little distracting, but you felt the tiredness take over you, the darkness surrounding you easily. Luke closed his eyes, but the only thing he could think about was your warmth. It was like an oven, and even if he was sweaty, his whole body was hot. He knew exactly what he had to do, what to say, and he stood there, in that abyss in which someone doesn't know what to do, if step forward or step back.

He needed to get it out of his chest, or else, he would regret it forever.

"I've always liked you"

His voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the room, it was loud. The air hitched on your throat. You turned your head to see him, but you only perceived he was turning his back to you.

"What?" you asked. Fearing that maybe, he was talking in his sleep.

Your heart began beating fast. It felt like the shower, a hot embrace.

"I've always liked you, yn" he repeated.

There was a moment of silence. Your eyes were trained on his figure, yet he didn't dare to look back at you. You felt a knot in your stomach, butterflies. Your breathing was calm, yet your heart was beating a thousand miles. Why was he telling you this now?

"I know you have a million things running through your mind right now and I know I'm being selfish, but" he said, words coming out like vomit, "I was so glad that I found you. I'm relieved that you're alive. I guess I'm letting all my emotions get in the way and that's why I'm telling you this now"

It was hard to formulate the right words. He didn't know what was going on, or what he was doing, he didn't know why. Maybe the heat had gotten into his head. It was stupid, the feeling, but he couldn't deny it. He knew that, sooner or later, he'd have to tell you.

Fuck, and if he was telling you this he was going to have to do it the right way.

He turned his body around once again, the bed creaking with his weight. You couldn't see much because of the dark, yet the tv light did just enough for you to see his glistening eyes.

"I know we haven't spoken in a while" he admitted, embarrassed. "But I've always cared for you and you know it. I realized why I cared so much after I lost you"

You stared at him, his brown eyes shining under the yellow light. He was right, the two of you didn't speak since a few years ago, but he was the one to blame. After his own mission, he blew everyone away, every person that tried to help him, including you. He though you did it for pity; he hates pity.

"So seeing you now, after nobody knew anything about you, it's just..." he continued, unable to find the right words. "I'm just glad I'm the one who found you. And I'm sorry about the shower, I-" he rushed himself to correct that mistake before you thought of him as a pervert. "I don't want you to think that I'm trying to do something with you. I wouldn't take advantage of you, and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know that-"

You cut him off, "I know" you said, reassuring him. You let your hand fall back, placing it over the mattress. "Gods, relax, Luke" you breath out.

You let your hand hover his for a second, until he took the initiative to brush his fingers against yours, carefully and slow. The warmth spread from his hand to yours, and soon, the contact was enough. His eyes darted down, and his thumb brushed softly over the bruises and cuts on your skin.

He had so many things he wanted to say, but none of them left his mouth. He'd have time to do it later.

"Thank you" you said once again. One more time before the day ended didn't hurt anybody.

The corner of his lip twitched in a small smile. "Let's get to sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah" you whispered, "But, can you still hold my hand?" you asked.

Luke chuckled softly, squeezing your hand softly, almost pressing it against his chest. "Anytime"

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan fic #pjo x you #pjo #pjo x reader #luke castellan x imagines #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan angst #angst #light angst #angst i guess

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biteyoubiteme · 4 months ago

Text

spilled drinks

taehyun x fem!reader x huening kai

synopsis: your now ex could never get you off, so they show you they can.

warnings: 🔞!!! threesome, fingering, oral (f!rec), sex toys, slight spit kink, double penetration (light mxm because of this) , no protection, creampie(s), overstimulation, subspace mention, bondage, reader called dumb/cockwhore/baby prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.5k (again me when I lie and say I could do these under 2k)

an: thank you so much for requesting @prince-jjae ! ily but I don't think I got exactly everything you asked for but I tried <333

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

The tear tracks on your cheeks burn from the frost tinted air. They weren't tears of sadness but pure unadulterated tears of anger. You hadn't even felt them slip until they turned cold, all your emotions bubbling up, the tears a direct reflection of that emotional pot making your skin hot. The dusting of snow in the air only added to the annoyance. Every step had to be watched as you made your way down the street, the dotting of couples and friends splitting up as you walked near, sensing your need to lash out at one bumped shoulder.

Although you weren't necessarily happy this morning, it was better than this. You could hear your now ex’s voice ringing in your head, that last little line that finally pushed you over the edge to end a relationship long overdue for the guillotine. You had stormed out of his apartment, phone already in hand when you texted the boys that you would in fact be able to make it to drinks.

The invitation was always open for you to join in a moment of changed plans, even ones as big as a breakup. You had sensed the end and felt a need to keep the monotonous relationship like a shirt you wore to summer camp six years ago. It had to be thrown out, but why throw out something that could be useful if you needed it? Even if you weren't spending time with your now ex he could be used as an excuse to get out of something, mostly when your coworkers invited you out for something you didn't want to do. And occasionally the sex was good enough to bring you back, but it was few and far between that you found yourself wanting to spend the night with him.

It's what started the conversation in the first place, your offer to try something new and his defensiveness that soured your mood. But it wasn’t only about sex, everything just started to come up without you being able to hold it back any longer. And now you’re here, standing at the bar waiting for a drink to calm you down before you went back and ripped your ex apart.

“You know if you’re sad-“

“I’m not sad,” you cut Kai off, “I’m pissed he probably thinks he came out on top in that argument because I needed to leave before I started breaking things,”

taehyun chuckled beside you, “You should have broken something. The guy was an asshole,”

“I don't even want to think about it anymore,” but it's only after the bartender places your drink down in front of you that you speak back up, “No actually if your girlfriend came to you and said ‘Oh the last few times we had sex I didn't finish we should fix that’ you don't just start listing things like she forgot to do the dishes once last month,”

“He couldn't get you off?” Kai lifts his brow, fully invested in your ranting. His drink is right at his lips when he asks, head tilted in the question.

“Not really but it wasn't the end all be all, I was willing to work around it and figure it out together, hell I started the conversation about wanting to try new things and yet I was completely shut down,” it's then that someone behind you bumps into your shoulder, the glass in your hand slick from the condensation slips from your hand.

The sound of the shattering glass is an echoing representation of your inability to keep yourself from lashing out. “Fuck him and his stupid short fingers that he didn't know how to use,”

“If you had said he couldn't get you off sooner I would have advised you to break up with him a year ago,” taehyun is quick to move you away from the bartender who comes to sweep up the mess made. “It's probably the same reason why you're so crabby right now,”

“Yeah, I think a few orgasms could fix you right up,” Kai’s gentle giggle calms you down for only a beat.

“I'm too angry to think about going home alone to my vibrator, the one I specifically bought so that I could use when we had sex and was told repeatedly that it wasn't important to use,”

“I can do most of the work if you wanted,” “I wouldn't mind helping.” you can't even remember who suggested leaving, you remember less the journey back to your apartment. Every fumbling move washed over in a sex-induced haze.

It wouldn't be the first time any of you had flirted with the idea, not even the first time you had kissed one of them, let alone one after the other. But it was nothing like this.

It was dizzying to have both of their mouths on you at the same time, kisses all down both sides of your neck, your hands twisting into their hair, moaning when Kai shoved his hand down your pants. His long fingers skillfully work over your now puffy clit. “You’re fucking soaked,” he moans, tongue lapping the trail of bruised marks he's sucked onto your skin.

“Am I?” It's a stupid question when the sound of your wetness is enough to hear the second he's slipped two fingers into you. Neither of them had ever heard sweeter sounds from you in all your years of friendship. That desperate plea to have them touch you slinked in with every soft whimper escaping your pink kissed lips.

Taehyun is the one to pull off your top, pushing you back against your bed so that he can have easier access to your chest. His nose follows the center of your body, mouth finding your pebbled nipples and taking slow turns between them. His teeth nip at the sensitive buds, tugging until you're whining, not only from the sensation but from Kai's third finger pushing into you. He's already gotten your pants down, reluctantly pulling away your panties slick with your arousal.

The duel sensations make it hard to feel anything but pleasure, their hands sliding over your skin, fingers stretching you open, and when Kai gives a tentative kiss to your clit it makes your body jolt alive. Taehyun chuckles, the rumble of it pressed right to the underside of your tit, his task of sucking marks onto your chest forgotten when you sound this good.

Taehyun pulls away asking, “Where is your vibrator?”

You almost get a response out, pointing in the direction of the nightstand before Kai wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and rubbing his tongue at an expert pace. Your legs fall open, melting into the mattress as he works your cunt.

The question didn't even fully process in your mind until you saw Taehyun behind Kai, a soft kiss to the head of your vibrator like a taunt. “Just look at you, already getting dumb on nothing but fingers,” your hips rolling down onto Kai's Hand, mewling at the way he curls the digits right against that perfect gummy spot inside you.

He doesn't even have to work hard for your orgasm to crash down on you, the perfect pressure mixed with his mouth is enough to have you trying to snap your legs closed. Freehand coming up to wrap around your thigh to push your legs open. When Kai finally pulls away his chin is dripping with your release, the back of his hand working it away as he groans, “fuck, you taste so good,”

You should feel exposed laying out on the bed like this in front of them, both of them just with their shirts off, looking down at your aching cunt, still fluttering around nothing, wishing to be stuffed with one or even both of them. Even just the thought has your hips moving, “please, I need you,”

“Who first?” Kai asks, but Taehyun is already unbuttoning his jeans with one hand.

“Me,” he leaves no room for argument, the slight demand going straight to your clit.

“But I want first,” the both of them are looking at each other like they could spend the next ten minutes arguing, the sound of your soft whines in the background to their stare down.

You feel so empty after having Kai’s fingers in you, the loss of both of their hands adding to the desperation circling your bloodstream.

“I want both of you, I need both of you,” your writhing form, drawing them back in, your hand slipping through your folds for only a second before taehyun is quick to push your hand away.

“do not touch what's mine, If I already have to share you I shouldn’t have to worry about you cumming early on your own fingers,”

“But you're not doing anything-” it's the last thing you say before he presses the vibrator to your clit, the little clicks made to turn it on ringing in your ears as you let out a squeak, the pressure on your already sensitive clit making your legs snap closed around his arm. His little smile is so teasing as he asks, “What was that? I don't think I heard you,”

Kai chuckles his belt sliding through the loops of his pants until it's held in fingers he has licked clean. You feel the pressure of your next orgasm coming too fast, the tremble in your legs telling them exactly what they need to know, and you try to push the vibrator away, getting just past the valley of your thighs before Huening grabs your wrists in his hands, stealing both of them away.

The leather of his belt is warm circling your skin, the tightness of your stomach matching that of your core seconds before you're cumming again. With your wrists now tied and in Kai's hands, you have nothing to hold onto when you arch off the bed, nails digging into his belt, his lips kissing your raised knuckles while you feel a gush of fresh release leave you.“Look at that, I don't think someone who's doing nothing could get you to squirt,” Taehyun teases, pulling away the vibrator from your throbbing clit.

You're trying to find your voice, stuttering over your words incoherently. It's then that Kai presses a swift kiss to your cheek, “Tell me if you want me to stop baby, I'll take this right off okay?” Your weak nod is answer enough before he pulls you up the bed, slotting himself behind you. Your thighs are a mess, all your slippery slick making him moan. Your back is pressed to his chest, every word spoken felt against your hot skin as you roll your head back on his shoulder. He's Got your bound hands in only one of his, keeping your arms in place while Taehyun tosses him the vibrator before slipping off his pants and leaving his standing before you.

Even just looking at his leaking cock was making you see stars, Kai’s cock already pressed to your thigh ready and red, begging to push into you at a moment's notice. When Taehyun climbs up on the mattress, knees digging into the sheets, he pushes your legs apart.

It's only a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime waiting for them both to get their cocks in place, Taehyun using his tip to circle your clit, tracing your folds like he plans to map them out, Kai prodding at your entrance. “Please, it hurts- I want you- I wanna be stuffed full of both of you,”

Taehyun spits on his fingers, needing as much lube as they can get if they are going to both slip into you. He gives a few loose pumps to his shaft meeting Kai right at your waiting hole. They both go slow as they push in, the stretch already having your eyes roll back in your head, it's unimaginable the way your body is feeling, the slight pressure mixed with the sting of being stretched so well around the both of them not even fully yet just their tips is making your brain short circuit.

Kais rumbling moans are ringing in your ear, pressed to your back and fanning over your skin. Taehyun wants to take his time, but the second he's in far enough to let his hands fall away from himself and just hold your legs in place is his last straw, he's shoving into your warm walls, filling you out and needing more, the pressure from kai’s cock against his makes it feel like you're perfectly squeezing around him, sucking him in and wanting more. Kai is so still, trying to savor the way you feel around him but when he feels the movement of taehyun picking up his pace he can't help but move too.

They are uneven in their thrusts, when kai finds himself buried deep inside you, taehyun is only just pulling halfway out. It's a constant mind numbing feeling, being this stretched, this full, it's working over your bones and making you lose all proper thoughts. “Fuck your pussy feels so good baby,” Kai's mouth is hot on your ear when he says it, your legs twitch at the praise.

“Stretched around us so good and look at how dumb it made you, our little cock whore, I bet you want us both to stuff you with our cum too hum?”

Your back arches at the insinuation, the new angle making Kai hits your cervix just right, and when taehyun pushes in he's pressed right against your g-spot. “Pl-plea-,” Kai uses his free hand not wrapped around your tied wrists to reach for the vibrator next to him. Your soft pleas turn to sharp yelps as he presses onto your clit. The vibration is enough so that both of them feel it even shoved into you.

It's maddening to have you clenching so much around the both of them, sucking them in so much so that they can hardly pump in and out of you anymore. Both of them press so deep that when you finally cum it's a rush of pleasure taking over everything in you. Every little sensation building up to this moment as you break apart, the fluttering on your perfect pussy making the both of them moan, taehyun’s hold on your thighs tightening enough to bruise as he finishes, cock pulsing and filling you up only seconds before kai is adding him load into the mix.

The brain fog you're experiencing slips over your body as Kai clicks off the vibrator. Kais kisses the side of your neck, pepper down over your beating pulse. The weak whimper when Taehyun pulls out follows the jerking of your legs close, still stuffed on Kai and yet missing having them both already.

Huening unwraps his belt from you, tossing it, and giving you a rest, rubbing one hand on your tummy and the other on your thigh. Taehyun disappears for a second before climbing back into bed with a warm damp washcloth, used to clean up your aching cunt after Kai has pulled out, although not before they both admire the way your body pushes out their combined cream until it pools down to the duvet.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! and a thank you to my favorite person @hyukascampfire the light of my life, fire in my soul keeping me warm, the one who took the time to proof read/ beta read this for me.

#cams!1kevent #txt x reader #txt smut #taehyun x reader #txt taehyun #taehyun smut #huening kai x reader #txt huening kai #huening kai #hueningkai x reader #yeonjun #soobin #beomgyu

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daryltwdixon · 1 month ago

Text

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Tension at camp is nothing new, but after Daryl nearly takes a swing at Shane, you pull him away to the quarry, offering a distraction that quickly turns into something else entirely.

Tags: smut MDNI, pinv, fem reader, pullout method, kissing, public(ish) sex, outdoor sex, quickie, quarry!daryl, protective!daryl, husband!daryl, shane ‘tell ya what’ walsh is an ass what's new, little bit of praise kink, established relationship, sweet relationship, age gap mentioned but not specified

a/n: I’ve been watching season 1 on repeat too often. I remember when I didn’t think quarry Daryl was that cute and now I’m FERAL for the man. Top 3 fave versions of this man that’s for damn certain. thank you for reading!! lmk what you think!

The smell of campfire smoke was thick in the air, clinging to your clothes, your skin, following you no matter where you sat. It was the first time in a while you’d joined the others instead of sitting around the separate fire Merle usually built on the other side of camp. But with him gone on a recent run into the city with a few of the others, along with the sight of the pile of fish Andrea and Amy had hauled in, you told Daryl the best way to get a bite was to play nice and sit with the group—unless, of course, he wanted squirrel stew for the fifth night in a row.

But now, sitting there, you were starting to regret that decision.

Even with the world gone to hell and class lines erased overnight, some things hadn’t changed. They still shrank away from you, their discomfort as thick as the smoke curling through the air. And Daryl? They didn’t just avoid him. They dismissed him. Ignored him. Like he wasn’t worth a second glance.

You didn’t pay it any mind. You were used to people underestimating him, used to them not seeing him for who he really was. Beneath the sharp stares and sharper tongue, he was a good man. Your man. And these people—they’d never understand that.

The sun dipped lower, setting the valley in a wash of pink and orange, the glow of the fire growing brighter with every passing minute. Conversations murmured around you, voices low as they discussed camp security—how to reinforce their perimeter, how to keep the geeks out. So far, they’d been lucky, nestled deep in the woods with none of the dead stumbling through just yet.

Still, that luck wouldn’t last forever.

You shifted, glancing toward the tree line. “We could set up noise traps,” you offered. “Tin cans, broken glass—something to warn us if somethin’s comin’.”

The second the words left your mouth, Shane, a man with dark eyes and even darker scowl, scoffed as he paused mid conversation with another resident. You barely had time to blink before he turned on you, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you’d had the audacity to speak up.

“Yeah? That what you think?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Tell you what, next time I need advice on how to run this place, I’ll be sure to come find you, sweetheart.”

The word dripped with condescension, slow and deliberate.

Your lip curled, rolling your eyes as you turned away. “Dick,” you muttered under your breath.

Shane barely let a beat pass before he fired back, voice laced with smug amusement.

“Better watch your lil’ backwoods girl there, Dixon,” he sneered, dark eyes flicking toward Daryl. “Might just have to give her somethin’ to scoff about with that mouth on ‘er.”

Silence hushed over the group like an uneasy wave. The fire popped, the only sound in the sudden, tense stillness as the eyes of everyone in the camp turned to look at you.

There was a loud scrape of metal groaning, Daryl’s lawn chair shoving back under him as he stood abruptly.

“The hell d’you just say, asshole?” he snapped, voice sharp as steel.

Shane barely flinched. His jaw worked, tension coiled tight in his shoulders, but instead of rising to the fight, he let out a slow breath through his nose. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

“Christ, Dixon,” he muttered, voice low, measured, not even smug, just tired. “Ain’t gotta get all riled up. Was just a joke.”

Daryl’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah? Didn’t sound like one.”

Shane exhaled hard, eyes flicking around at the others watching before landing back on Daryl. His expression hardened.

"Ain't my fault you can't take a joke, Dixon. Least when your brother was here, we didn't have to listen to you run your mouth. He at least kept you on your side of camp.”

Daryl’s knuckles went white, his fists clenching tighter as he glared. Across the fire, Shane held his gaze, eyes steady—calm, almost—but there was a challenge in them, a quiet go on, do it lingering beneath the surface, prodding without a word.

You felt the fight still coiled tight in Daryl’s body as you wrapped your fingers around his upper arm, could feel the way his muscles flexed under your grip, the way his whole damn being was strung tight. You stepped in closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Come on,” you murmured, his body warm as your hand curled tighter around his bicep, firm but gentle. “Let’s get outta here.”

Daryl didn’t move at first, his breathing still uneven, his fists still clenched.

Then, finally, he exhaled sharply and let you pull him back, turning away from the fire, from the camp, from the people who would never understand either of you.

The sun's dying light stretched long over the jagged rocks of the valley below, the water rippling in deep, coppery hues as you walked down to the quarry to get your mind off the argument at the firepit.

When you finally got to the bottom, Daryl leaned against a boulder, his face half-lit in the glow of dusk. He'd been quiet most of the evening, despite his blow up earlier, deep blue eyes flicking to you like he was chewing on something he didn’t quite know how to spit out.

You stepped in front of him, close enough to smell the sweat and earth clinging to his shirt, the faint scent of pine from the day hunting. "I’m sorry about…about whatever that was,”

His jaw ticked. “Ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for,” he muttered, but he wasn’t looking at you, gaze fixed somewhere past your shoulder. “Dickhead don’t even know good advice if it hit ‘em upside the head.”

You sighed, reaching up to brush a short lock of hair from his forehead. He let out a breath, more like a huff than anything, barely audible, but you caught it.

“You always get like this when you’re thinking too hard,” you teased softly. “What is this really about?”

His lips pressed together, jaw working, like he was still chewing on the words. Then, as natural as breathing, his fingers found your waist, rough and certain, pulling you in just a little closer.

“Just don’t want ‘em talkin’ to ya like that,” he admitted, voice gruff, quieter than the night settling around you. “Like you ain’t worth listenin’ to. Like you ain’t got a damn brain in your head. They only do it ‘cause you’re with me.”

Your chest ached at the frustration in his voice, the way it came out stiff, like he hated even saying it out loud.

“Daryl…”

“They already look at me like I don’t belong here,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Ain’t gonna let ‘em do that to you too.”

You cupped his jaw, fingers grazing over the rough stubble, waiting until he finally looked at you. His blue eyes were sharp, searching, like he was waiting for you to tell him he was wrong.

“I don’t give a shit what they think,” you murmured. “I chose you. You get that, right?”

Daryl swallowed hard, something flickering across his face–vulnerable and open, his brute mask slipping now that it was just the two of you. His grip on you tightened, his body pressing just a little closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em make you feel small,” he muttered, almost more to himself than to you.

Your chest ached at the way he said it, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the way he cared. Like the thought of letting them think so little of you was gnawing at the edges of his mind. Your thumb traced over his skin as you held his face, grazing over his bottom lip, his chin, until you leaned in.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, lips barely ghosting over his. “I know who I am. And I know who you are. Even if they can’t see it.”

His blue eyes caught to yours, something different in them, something raw and sweet that no one else was ever allowed to see. Then, before you could say another word, his mouth was on yours, sweet and gentle, lips chapped but insistent. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the fast, unsteady rhythm of your heartbeats.

You melted into him, hands sliding around his neck, letting the kiss ignite into need and heat, letting him pour everything into it—his frustration, his fear, the love he wasn’t good at putting into words. The quarry was silent except for the quiet rush of the wind over the water and the uneven breaths you shared between kisses.

When he finally pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he took a long moment just to breathe as he closed his eyes. His hands stayed on you, gripping you tightly against him, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged across your lips.

"Thinkin' too hard again?" you whispered.

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Shut up," he muttered, but his lips brushed yours again, even softer this time, like he couldn’t help himself.

No one understood Daryl like you did. Not the folks at camp, not the people who side-eyed him like he was nothing but trouble, not even his own damn brother.

Thing was, no one really tried to know Daryl. They saw the brittle edges, the temper, the way he kept to himself. They saw the bickering between him and Merle, the way he came back from hunts with blood on his hands, all silent and brooding.

But you saw the man beneath all that.

Before the world turned upside down, you saw him for what he truly was. Gentle in ways he didn’t realize, kind in ways he never gave himself credit for. A man who had spent his whole life bracing for a fight, wearing his rough edges like armor, until you came along and showed him there was more to life than just surviving, even before the dead came back to life.

You were younger, but that never mattered to you. And once you finally convinced him that nothing—not even a pesky thing like an age gap, and definitely not his own doubts of whether he was good for you—was going to stop you from being with him, you watched him… soften. Let you in.

You saw him on lazy summer afternoons, stretched out in the bed of his truck, hands behind his head, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he stared up at the sky. You saw him when he picked you up for late-night drives, old country rock humming low from the radio, one hand on the wheel, the other resting warm on your thigh.

Back then, he was just a man trying to carve out a place in a world that had never been kind to him. A man with rough hands but a soft touch when they traced the curve of your back. A man who met the world with a scowl but looked at you like you were a miracle—something precious, something his, something he’d spend a lifetime trying to deserve.

You remembered the nights he’d come to you after a bad fight with Merle, his knuckles split, his jaw clenched. He’d never talk about it, never tell you what happened—but he’d let you run your fingers through his hair, let you patch him up in the glow of your bedside lamp.

“You’re too good for me,” he’d mutter sometimes, voice low, like he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear it. Like he was afraid that this time you’d believe him and run for the hills.

And you’d brush your fingers through his hair, tilt his chin so he had no choice but to meet your eyes.

"You don’t get to decide that," you’d tell him, voice warm, certain.

He never argued. Just pulled you close, held onto you like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

And now, here in the middle of the world ending, he still held onto you like that.

The way those rough, calloused hands could still be careful, still be tender when they touched you. The way he always put himself between you and trouble, whether it was a walker shambling too close or some asshole in camp running his mouth. The way he let you get near, let you see him in a way no one else did.

Some things hadn’t changed, even when everything else had.

Something about those memories had your lips crashing back onto his, pressing him against the boulder with a force that made him grunt softly into your mouth. His fingers dug into your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he should stop you or drag you closer, but you didn’t give him a choice.

You grabbed the collar of his dirty shirt, fisting the fabric as you kissed him deep, claiming, letting him feel the way you wanted him. He let you have it—let you take and take, let you push up on your toes and press into him like you couldn’t get close enough.

Then, when your hips rolled just right against his, he growled. Low, guttural, needy against your mouth.

His hands slid down, gripping the curve of your ass, dragging you closer until your hips fit against the hard press of him. You gasped against his lips, nails raking up the nape of his neck, and pulled the short hair that stuck there, and that was what made something snap in him.

He twisted you around so fast you barely had time to think, hands gripping your hips as he pressed you forward, your palms bracing against the boulder. The rough stone bit into your skin, but it barely registered. Not with the heat of him behind you, breath hot against your neck, hands dragging under your shirt, spanning wide over your ribs before sliding down.

“You want somethin’ from me, girl? Hmm?” His voice was ragged but taunting, sending goosebumps down your spine as he leaned his body over you.

A sharp breath left you when he pulled your hips back against him, grinding slow, measured, and the stiff press of his cock behind his jeans made your eyes roll, feeling just how much he wanted you too.

His lips dragged over the back of your neck, sucking in a breath like a hiss when you pressed your ass back into him.

“You, w–want you, Dare,” you murmured, the sound of his name breaking something open in him.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your denim shorts, yanking them down with a roughness that made your breath catch, the cooling night air biting against flushed skin.

After the clatter of his belt buckle and the sharp zip of his jeans, he was on you—kissing your shoulder where the strap of your shirt fell, your neck, anywhere his lips could reach. Then he was there—thick, warm, heady with a scent that made you dizzy. He pressed the tip of his cock into you with a need so desperate it made your knees weak. Your center was slick with wanton need just from his touch, his kisses, the way he took you like he had to—like it was instinct, carved into him, a hunger he could never ignore. His hands splayed over your stomach, dragging you back onto him with a solid thrust, his breath heavy against your shoulder as he took you to the hilt in one long press of his hips.

“I love you,” he said, voice hoarse as he continued to press open mouthed kisses to your skin, “Love you so god damn much,”

The sun dipped lower, its dying light casting everything in cool blue and shadow, the only warmth now rolling off Daryl’s body. You turned your head, reaching back to thread your fingers into his hair, tugging until his lips found yours in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. It was haphazard, messy in the way that made it real—the slide of tongues, the clash of breath, the moan that tore from your throat, loud and shameless against the quiet night.

He groaned into your mouth, swallowing the sound, pressing his forehead against yours for the briefest second before dragging his lips down your jaw, your neck, everywhere he could reach with his mouth. His hips rolled in steady, aching thrusts, sinking deep before dragging his cock out slow, teasing, making you squirm against the rock.

“I love you too,” you murmured, voice wrecked, sincere. “Always, Daryl.”

His jaw slacked and he rested his face against your shoulder, his pace growing rougher, more erratic, each thrust punctuated by the sharp slap of skin against skin, his groans mixing with the wet, sinful sounds of your bodies joining in the cool evening air.

“So good f’me, baby,” he whimpered, the sound raw, unraveling. His hand slipped between you and the rough stone in front of you, fingers seeking, finding, calloused fingertips pressing into the heat of you. He knew your body too damn well—knew exactly how to wind you up, knew what it took to have you gasping, shaking, screaming his name just the way he liked it.

“Daryl, it’s—too much—they’ll hear—” you choked, gasping as his fingers worked tight, slow circles over your swollen clit, a shudder wracking through your body.

His lips dragged up the side of your neck, breath hot, voice ragged.

“Fuck ‘em,” he murmured, his voice low and grinding. “Wanna hear every pretty sound you make for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock, just like you always do—c’mon now, baby, give it to me. Be a good girl now.”

A shudder rolled through you, his words sinking deep, making it impossible to fight the pleasure coiling hot in your belly. His fingers pressed harder, circling your clit with devastating precision, his thrusts turning sharp and frantic.

You bit your lip, trying to smother the cry threatening to break free, but he wasn’t having it.

Daryl’s free hand came up across your chest, fingers gripping your jaw, tilting your head so his lips were right against your ear. “Don’t you hold back on me,” he rasped. “Wanna hear you, feel you, know you’re mine.”

Your body tensed, the pleasure mounting too fast, too sharp, and when his teeth scraped down against your pulse point, it sent you flying.

Your moan broke free, loud and inhibited as your eyes rolled back, Daryl groaning in response, the noise tearing from his throat as his hips slammed in rhythm with his fingers against you.

“There it is,” he gritted out, voice strained. “That’s my girl, fuck—jus’ like that, baby.”

The pleasure tore through you like wildfire, your palms trembling against the rough stone. Your walls clenched tight around him, and Daryl let out a deep, wrecked fuck, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

With a sharp curse, he pulled his hand from your clit once he knew you were through, his breath hot and ragged against your shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, rougher, chasing his own release. At the last second, he pulled out, his fist working over his cock, a deep, guttural groan tearing from his throat as thick ropes of cum spilled onto your lower back, hot and slick against your skin.

For a long moment, all that filled the night air was the sound of heavy breathing, the cool breeze ghosting over sweat-slicked skin.

You turned your head, looking at him over your shoulder, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. “Come wash up with me?”

Daryl huffed, still catching his breath, his hands squeezing at your hips like he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. “Yeah? That what you want?”

You leaned back just enough for your ass to brush against him, teasing, knowing exactly what you were doing. “Well… we’re already dirty,” you mused, glancing at him with a glint in your eyes. “Might as well get clean together.”

Daryl let out a rough chuckle, his fingers dragging slow and deliberate over your skin. “You’re killin’ me, girl.”

You grinned, pulling off the rest of your clothes before taking his hand and tugging him towards the water’s edge.

“Well? You comin’?”

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frantic-fiction · 1 year ago

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Shattered Glass 18+

(Gif: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: Astarion finally makes do on a promise.

This is part 2 of Secluded Evening. (Could be read as a stand alone)

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, oral fem receiving, PnV sex, unprotected sex, biting (of course) Astarion being a lovesick fool

Word count: 2.6k

Astarion threw another log on the fire; a flurry of embers took flight, dancing in the cold night air. The rest of the camp had already settled in their tents. You were nestled between his knees about five feet away from the flames. A throw blanket cascaded down your shoulders—a notebook on your lap.

He studies the rapid strokes of your hand from over your shoulder. The rough lines of charcoal were blooming into an identical copy of Laz'eal. Astarion pulled a strand of hair away from your eyes and began to weave your locks into a simple braid. He doesn't have a hair tie, and knowing you, you've lost yours. So, he twists the pieces, and once done let's go, kissing the crown of your head.

You barely acknowledge him, and when you suddenly shove the pencil over your shoulder, Astarion chuckles, taking it from you. He watches you begin smudging the charcoal with the pad of your finger. You're adorable when your art consumes you. Every time, it captivates Astarion.

This was how most of your nights were spent. Not always precisely like this; sometimes Astarion brought a book, and sometimes your hand got too sore to draw, so Astarion read to you as you curled on his lap. But as long as it was spent in each other's company neither of you cared much for the activity.

Astarion adored these nights the most, primarily because he could feast his eyes on your beauty without you shying away or throwing a stupid joke at him to break the tension. You were perfect in every way, and when he opened his heart briefly and confessed the broken pieces of himself and the motivations that led him to you. All you did was look at him with unspoken love and hugged him.

Your relationship became something more after that. Sex was not what drew the two of you together. For the first time in 200 years, Astarion had someone he trusted with his every sense of the word. Someone who wanted more than his body and showed their love for him without words. Someone he wanted to spend every moment of his life with despite the fear that thought causes him.

Astarion thinks he loves you but can't find the words when his mouth opens. He's always struggled with expressing his true feelings, but he wants to try with you. He wants to bear his heart to you and show you all that you mean to him. And with all the trust you and Astarion have established, one thing has become a very big problem.

You have begun to treat Astarion like glass, as if one sexual touch will break him. And frankly, it's pissing him off. Astarion finally has complete control over his body and a partner who he trusts. A partner that can bring him to his knees with a simple giggle and to put it bluntly, gods you were fucking sexy.

He's frustrated, horny, and has no idea how to ask for anything he wants. And for fucks sake, if he wakes from a meditation to have you grinding against his erection again, he just might explode.

In his frustrated musing, he didn't notice that you had placed your sketch pad away. He only noticed when you cupped his jaw and moved his eyes to meet yours. "What are you thinking about, handsome?"

It takes a moment for Astarion to collect himself as he stares at your soft smile. "I was thinking it's about time we get you, my sweet, to bed," he pecks your lips before grabbing your wrist and entwining your fingers. You nod and press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

Astarion holds the flap open, and you duck inside. Kicking your pants off and into the corner, you unceremoniously plop down into the pile of cushions. You began sharing a tent in the shadow curse lands. Astarion found out pretty early on that nightmares of Cazador were less likely when you were in his arms. And thankfully, you slept better, too.

You prop yourself on your elbows and silently watch Astarion move about the small space, removing his outer clothing. He seemed to be stalling, almost like he was silently debating with himself. Astarion is in his underwear when he seems to come to a conclusion. He takes a deep breath and moves towards you. Kneeling by your feet, you watch as Astarion hesitates, his hand resting softly on your shin. Hesitation is soon replaced with a devilish smirk that stretches across his lips.

"Whatcha thinking about pretty boy?"

Astarion doesn't say anything, just slowly begins to crawl up your body before capturing you in a breathtaking kiss. His knee is between your legs; your hands are around his neck, pulling him flush against your body. You sigh softly into his mouth, moving your hands to caress his cheekbone.

He tongues the seam of your lips, and you are quick to gasp, giving him access to lick deeper. Astarion's hands are caressing up and down your curves, cupping your breast and tugging the metal bars of your nipple rings. His mouth moves to your throat, sucking hard at your jugular.

"W-wait!" You choke out, causing the elf above you to freeze. He's quick to remove himself from you, putting some distance between your bodies.

"Shit, did…did I do something wrong?" Astarion's voice cracks; you've never heard him so unsure of himself. You pant hard but are quick to sit up and fall into Astarion's lap, his arms instinctually wrapping around your waist.

"No, gods no," you sigh, cupping his jaw and pressing your forehead against his. The tension in Astarion's shoulders drops, and he squeezes you a bit harder.

"Then what is it, my sweet?"

That has you pausing to figure out the best way to say this. "What was your plan?" Shit, that didn't sound good

"My plan! Are you serious?" He's already pulling away, shutting off completely when you pull him back tightly.

"No! Th-that's fuck, that's not what I meant, Star," at least he's not trying to run, but he's as stiff as ever. "Astarion, I will be as blunt as possible because I care about you. Were you trying to have sex with me because you felt obligated?"

This isn't what Astarion expected you to say because he can't mask the look of surprise. He opens his mouth to speak before clamping it shut. He does this twice more, but you don't rush him, you push stray curls behind his ear and wait.

"No." His voice is small. He clears his throat before speaking again, stronger this time. "No, I want this, and I would appreciate you stop treating me like fucking glass."

“What?”

You're flipped over, and suddenly, on your back, Astarion's body pressed closely against yours. He ruts against you. His cock was hard, feeling painfully constricted in his underwear. "I appreciate your patience with me, darling, but I need to clarify one thing to you right now."

Astarion licks a long stripe up your collarbone, ending just under your ear. You moan softly, trying desperately to roll your hips up into Astarion. "I have never wanted someone more than I wanted you. So, if it's okay with you, my sweet, I'm going to take the rest of our clothes off, and you're going to finally let me feast upon the sweetness between your legs."

You whine and buck, trying to get anything from Astarion's unmoving body. "Tsk, no, no, my sweet. Use your words." He purred, nipping your ear.

"Please! Yes! Oh gods, Astarion,"

Once the words leave your lips, you're tearing at each other's clothes in desperation. After you are both fully undressed, Astarion shoves you back onto the cushions. You expect him to pounce but he hovers staring down at your naked body.

Astarion's deft fingers grab your foot, and he presses a soft kiss to your inner ankle. A pang of heat flared through your lower abdomen. He kisses up to the top of your calf before giving a playful bite. You release a soft yelp, and Astarions lavishes the bite with his tongue. He slowly moves up to your inner thigh, leaving various bruises in his wake.

You're gasping as he ghosted over the spot you wanted him most. His breath fans over your dripping cunt, and you swear he's about to give you what you want. Then he kisses you. Just one small peck on the public area just above your clit, before he retreats. You cry, and one of your hands card into Astarion's white locks.

“No! Please!”

He begins the same slow ascent up your other leg, paying just as much attention. "Now, as much as I love those beautiful noises you make for me. Remember that our camp members are trying to sleep; you can be a good girl for me, right?" He gazes up between your parted legs, and you nod and swear if he asked at this moment, you would have given him anything.

"I thought so," Astarion purred before licking up the entire length of your pussy. You moan out and swiftly clap your hand over your mouth. Then suddenly Astarion is a man starved.

His hand grips the underside of your thighs hard and pulls you down the bed as close as physically possible. He sucks, and licks, piercing his tongue sloppily at your dripping cunt, and you're a mess of pleasure. Your grind against Astarion's face, his nose rubbing beautifully against your clit. If it weren't for Astarion's hands keeping your thighs parted, you probably would be crushing his head in your desperation.

A low groan rumbles from Astarion's chest, and he focuses his attention, sucking tightly on the bundle of nerves. He slips his first and middle finger into your cunt and curls up, causing you to gasp for air.

"S-star…oh gods!" You cried, and he was ruthless with his assault. Astarion pumped his fingers quickly, the sloppy sounds of his mouth mixed with your muffled moan. Your stomach was coiling with pleasure, and you were embarrassed with how fast Astarion was picking you apart. "I'm close." you whimper, rolling your hips against his face.

Astarion, after a moment, releases your clit. Still pumping you with his fingers, he looks up at you, chin glistening with your arousal, a smug grin lazily plaster on his lips. "Come for me, love, be a good girl."

With the last few slips of his fingers, the coil snaps, and you're falling apart. Eyes unfocused, muscled tight, the silent gasp of ecstasy stuck in your throat. Astarion watches in amazement and arousal as you come apart so thoroughly with just his mouth and fingers. His cock is aching pre, now dribbling down the shaft.

Once your orgasm slows, you feel the immense need for more. And with Astarion still nestled between your legs, it has you moving without thought. You push Astarion back and plant yourself on his lap. You mash your mouth against him, chasing the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Astarion groans and cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Your palms roam down his chest, smoothing down his abs until you come to his neglected cock. It's swollen and red, and when you grip it softly, Astarions hisses into your mouth, bucking into your palm.

Smearing the pre-come around, you slowly work your hand up and down Astarion's dick in long, languid strokes. His eyes glaze over, and he moans, head dropping to your shoulder. Astarion's cold hands fondled your breast, and he leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. He pulls the metal piercing softly with his teeth.

You whine and tug on a fist full of Astarion's hair, rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock. "Fuck, darling." Astarion moans, moving to give your other breast equal attention. Your positive marks will be littering your body for days following. And the thought alone causes you to clench your thighs.

You pump your hand faster, and Astarion meets everyone with thrusts of his hips. He claims your lips again in a sloppy dance of wet tongues. Then suddenly Astarion stills your hand.

"If you keep this up, I'm not going to last much longer." Astarion's pants, nudging your nose with his.

"Isn't that kinda the point, handsome?"

"Not if I want to come apart feeling you clenching around me," Astarion's voice is breathless, and you moan at the thought. He kisses your cheek, then your jaw. Trailing his way to your neck. "Would you like that, my sweet,"

Whatever power you had over Astarion had just turned to dust. You bite your lip and nod quickly, letting Astarion push you on to your back. You part your hips, and Astarion slots right in.

"Words, my love. You do know how much I love your voice." Such a fucking tease.

Linking your arms around his neck, you pull him down, hitching one of your legs over Astarion's hips. "Please…I need you to fuck me."

"Shit…" Astarion groans. Taking himself in hand, he smears his dick with your arousal before filling you agonizing inch by inch.

The two of you let out a collective cry of pleasure, and you feel complete. Astarion pulls out and slams his hips back, ripping the oxygen from your lungs, and sets a steady pace. You clutch at his shoulders, digging your nails into exposed skin. The slick sounds of Astarions pumping in and out of you were depraved and did nothing but fill your lower abdomen with molten lava. Astarion wholly consumed your senses.

The coolness of his lips left lingering kisses on your arched neck. The smell of bergamot and rosemary flooded your nose with each shaky inhale. The saltiness of any skin you could taste. It was too much and not enough all at once.

The scrape of Astarion's fangs graze his favorite feeding spot, and you grab the back of his head. "Yes! P-please…" and soon, the icy pierce of his teeth is followed by the cool tingle of pleasure that flows through your body.

Astarion grunts as soon as the blood touches his tongue. He ruts faster against you, grinding you into the blankets. He has to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep your voice from waking the whole camp.

But what can you do? Nothing. Not when his other hand begins to roll your clit in tight circles matching his thrusts. Your hands trail down his back, legs hooking tightly around his torso. The angle of your hips changes, and Astarion is pounding into the spot that has you seeing stars. You're close, and you try to say so, but Astarion hand is still tight around your mouth.

After a last mouthful of blood, Astarions peppers kisses over the bite. "I know, my sweet, I'm…fuck I'm close to."

His fingers are rubbing your clit faster, and his hips aren't letting up the brutal pace. Your legs are quaking, and you feel like you might faint. You clench tightly around him, and then you fall apart. Suddenly, Astarion's hand is gone, and his tongue is in your mouth, capturing every whimper of pleasure you give. And with a few more swallow sloppy thrusts, Astarion falls over the edge with you, filling you with his spent.

Astarion continue to languidly kiss you, both hands cupping your face like you are the most precious creature on the plane. He barely grinds his hips, feeling the last of your orgasms fade until you are both too sensitive.

And it's like someone cut the puppet strings. Astarion falls limply onto you, blanketing your body with his. You comb softly through his hair, gently pulling out any knots. Astarion kisses your shoulder before rolling off of you.

It is silent for a while as you stare into each other's eyes. Astarions is the first to speak. "I love you," His words were barely above the whisper, and if you weren't staring intently at the man, you might have missed it.

You're speechless. Were you dreaming?

"I still believe you deserve more than the broken man before you. But you've chosen me, and I have felt true happiness for the first time since waking up in my grave. And well-"

You don't give him a moment to finish before you're in his lap and tackling him into an embrace. "I love you, Astarion."

The dopey grin on his face has you breaking into your own. You press your forehead to his, and he hugs you tightly. You don't know what tomorrow brings. But being here, seeing Astarion's smile, and knowing he loves you just as much as you love him. It feels like you can do anything.

Okay, friends, this was just so fun to write. Let me know what ya thought. I swear all the love and support I've received from my last few posts have been so amazing. I'm so excited to show you more!!!

If you liked this, maybe you'll like one of these?

Happy Birthday (fluffy)

Reoccurring Nightmares (hurt/comfort)

Tag list?: @heartfully10

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #reader insert #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #smut

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dragoneyes618 · 5 months ago

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During Hitler's first five years in power, the Nazis did a great deal to make the lives of Jews miserable. They revoked their citizenship, ejected Jewish students from German schools, boycotted Jewish stores, and banned Jews from a large number of professions. On occasion, individual Jews were sent to concentration camps; the Nazis, however, had not yet created death camps and, remarkably enough, people were sometimes released from concentration camps and allowed to go home.

On the night of November 9-10, 1938, the Nazis' discriminatory policy toward the Jews changed to wholesale violence as they carried out the largest pogrom in the history of the world. The official pretext for this action was the killing in Paris of a low-level Nazi diplomat by a seventeen-year-old Jewish boy, Herschel Grynspan. The boy's Polish-born parents had been deported several weeks earlier from Germany back to Poland. The Poles, however, refused to accept Grynspan's parents, along with seventeen thousand other Polish-born Jews deported by the Nazis. These unfortunate Jewish refugees were left to rot, penniless, in the no-man's land separating Germany and Poland. Cut off from contact with his parents, Gwynspan shot the German official in retaliation. When the man died, the Nazis decided to punish all of German Jewry for Grynspan's deed.

The pogrom that ensured became known as Kristallnacht, the night of the broken glass. On that night, the glass windows in almost every German synagogue, and in most Jewish-owned businesses, were shattered. Shattered, too, were the lives of almost all German Jews. Ninety-one Jews were murdered during Kristallnacht; thirty thousand more were arrested and sent to concentration camps, where hundreds of them died.

World leaders denounced the Nazi pogrom, and American Jewry reacted by forming the United Jewish Appeal, which soon became the greatest fundraising organization in Jewish history. The Nazis scoffed at the protests. They announced that Kristallnacht had been carried out in honor of the birthday of Martin Luther, the sixteenth century antisemitic religious reformer whom Hitler greatly admired. The Nazis also announced the imposition of a one-billion-mark fine against the Jews; they would be forced to pay for the damage the Germans had inflicted on their synagogues and property.

German Jewry now knew that their situation was hopeless. While large numbers of them had left Germany during the first five years of Nazi rule, half of the community of 600,000 had remained, hoping that Nazi antisemitism would moderate. After Kristallnacht, they recognized that such thinking was illusory; between that event and the outbreak of World War II, less than ten months later, virtually every Jew in Germany tried to emigrate. Few countries, however, were willing to accept them. The British imposed a White Paper in Palestine to ensure that it not become a haven for Jews fleeing Hitler. Some of the Jews who tried to emigrate to the United States succeeded; most did not. In Canada a high government official was asked how many Jewish immigrants the country could accommodate. "None is too many," he answered.

It is no coincidence that Kristallnacht brought about the formation of the United Jewish Appeal, later to become a major financial supporter of Israel. More than any other event of the time, Kristallnacht converted large numbers of Jews into Zionists; the price of not having a Jewish state, they realized, was too, too high.

- Jewish Literacy, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, pages 390-391

#antisemitism #history #jewish literacy #rabbi joseph telushkin #jewish history #kristallnacht

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enjakey · 8 days ago

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Me After Him

Pairing: [model!Jake x model!Fem!Reader]

Hello! This fic (25k) was posted in my old account that I have since deleted a long time ago. This is a new account so I’m reporting this here. I thought I’d never bring any of my old shit back but I love this series too much. If you’re wondering why this sounds familiar, it’s probably because you’ve read it a long time ago. Not because it’s plagiarized. None of my work is plagiarized, please understand that. My writing style is carefully curated from the many Japanese and Russian writers I engage with. This plot came to me after a horrible loss in my life- three years ago.

Please enjoy the read. There's a Sunghoon version that you can find, too.

Summary: Jake, who lived with his best of friends in New York, scores a jackpot- he made it in the modelling industry and now, he was one of the best of the best. He thinks his life is perfect- until he meets Y/N; mysterious, quiet and broken Y/N

JAKE WAS NEVER EXTROVERTED. He was ambitious and successful, but never extroverted. He chose to prioritise himself and decided to prioritise his dream of becoming the most successful model he could become. Then came his family and the six friends he made in summer camp when he was ten years old. That was all that was in the bubble he called home; his dog, his parents, his brother, his friends, himself, and his career.

At the beginning of his career, the boy’s character had been marred by the media more than most expected. He supposed that was what happened to most people that were on their road to success. Journalists claimed that he had an attitude, that his leading form of communication was glaring at others when they spoke or showing attitude to those that showed interest in conversing with him. Yet, on the other hand, the photographers he worked with argued that he had always been respectful and cooperative, and even a little innovative.

His career skyrocketed around the time he graduated high school. He went to a community college for the sake of education, but he rarely showed up. Photoshoots occupied his time, press meets, walking for runways of various fashion shows and meeting with designers. Jake was acquainted with most of the industry by the time he turned nineteen. He tried his best to be friendly, to not cuss at paparazzi that were just trying to be nice and to not show crudeness while answering selfish and personal questions- but he never made friends. He’d rather not.

At the age of twenty, the boy owned a small apartment in New York City and drove around with an Audi. The car was gifted to him by the company themselves because he had made an appearance in one of their advertisements.

As mentioned before, his career skyrocketed and it seemed like he had everything a young man like him could ask for… That is… Until he met Y/N.

The first time he saw her was at a party an acquaintance threw at a pub in the middle of the city. He was told it was just supposed to be a get-together of new and upcoming models of the industry and the models who seem to have been making a name for themselves. Jake assumed he fell into the latter category when he was invited. It wasn’t like his name was as popular as that of the Hadid sisters or Lucky Blue Smith but he was famous enough and he was successful enough and he received an income that was above the average of what models usually get.

People showed him respect, which was rare in the industry he found himself thriving in.

He assumed Y/N fell in the former category of models when he laid eyes on her. She was standing at the end of the pub, leaning against the bar and sipping on a glass of what he made out to be wine. Her eyes were cold and observant, her gaze piercing through the heavy air of the party. Her hair was pin-straight and he wasn’t sure if it was natural. Her presence at the party, or any party at all, didn’t seem natural. But the way she wore her makeup and the way she walked away from the bar in her heels and the way her body looked in the sequined black dress made it seem like parties were all that her life revolved around.

Stolen glances of her were all he got that night. He saw her wandering the bar alone, only speaking to those that spoke to her first. He saw her speaking to a man with a goatee and glasses, who he assumed was her manager. He saw her sitting in booths alone and not entertaining any company that came by her. He didn’t know if she had an attitude problem like people painted of him, or if she was just shy. Jake didn’t even learn her name that night, nor did he put in the effort to ask anyone about her. Because he thought there was no point in enquiring about someone he was sure he’d never cross paths with again. He was sure he’d see her around in news articles any time soon. But for that night, all that he was left with of hers were her piercing eyes and her confident walk.

He didn’t think about her much after that day, though.

Around two weeks later, Jake was called in for a photo shoot for a semi-popular magazine. He was told he was to model along with another girl who was known to be all the rage recently. He was told she was in demand for a lot of photoshoots and runways for many fashion shows. He was told that she reminded a lot of people of him when he was just starting. He was told her name was Y/N.

Y/N Y/LN.

It wasn’t until ten minutes into entering the photo studio that he realised who he was modelling with. It was the girl he saw at that party, standing with the photographer, Dubois, and nodding at whatever information was being said to her. He stood frozen in his spot for a good ten seconds before he took his first step toward her.

Her hair was styled in a slicked-back ponytail, dressed in a tight black dress that showed off her collar bones and waist and her eyes looked just as sharp and piercing as he remembered. He didn’t know if it was the eyeliner or if it was just the gaze she held. Jake found himself being intimidated as he approached her… and he wondered if that was how people felt the first time they met him.

But apart from that, he thought her name suited her.

When he finally brought himself to stand in front of Dubois and Y/N, it took around ten seconds for either of them to notice his presence. Both their heads turned to him at the same time and Dubois was the first to speak. “Ah, you’re finally here,” he said and Y/N’s eyes softened, along with her expression.

Jake greeted him with a nod before turning his head and meeting his eyes with Y/N’s. It was like time slowed and the air in his lungs escaped when she smiled at his presence. It was like he was breathing and tasting the air for the first time again since he was born when he realised that she was smiling for him, because of him.

He wanted to know why she had that effect on him. And he wanted her. Somehow and someway, he wanted her.

And a part of him wanted the craving to go away because it was new. She was new. And it was scary.

Y/N stretched her hand towards him, expecting a handshake as her smile grew wider. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you.”

Her voice made Jake snap, eyes blinking and head shaking from side to side before forcing a smile out and stretching a hand out himself. “I’m Jake… Sim, good to have you here,” and their hands met in the middle and Jake thought he had just touched royalty. All he wanted to do was freeze time and stand there and admire her… He was too in awe to continue to smile.

“Now that the introductions are finished…” Jake started focusing on Dubois’ instructions, nevertheless continuing to observe Y/N from the corner of his eyes. Her piercing stare returned, as did the sober look on her face. He assumed it was just the way her face rested, or rather it was a look that grew on her. Because there was stress wrinkled into her forehead and the weight of some kind of pain resting on her shoulders. She just hid it well in the way she walked and talked.

It wasn’t Dubois’ first time working with Jake. In fact, he was very fond of working with the young model. He had always been cooperative and open about what he did and didn’t find comfortable doing. So it took him by surprise when he noticed the way Jake was almost shy to touch Y/N, as though she would run away if he put too much pressure on her with his touch. Dubois lowered his camera out of shock at a point but didn’t bother to mention the differences in his demeanour.

The pictures turned out beautiful regardless. A month after the photoshoot took place and after they were edited and airbrushed and filtered, they were published. The picture on the front cover of the magazine made Jake’s heart skip a beat. It was a simple picture if he had to be honest. They were sitting across from each other but their hands met in the middle, eyes looking into one another and knees touching. He didn’t remember the pose being as intimate as the pictures had turned out.

He chalked it up to the editing.

Chills went down his spine when he received a text from Y/N. It almost seemed coincidental, for him to be thinking about her and staring at the front cover of the magazine with a picture of them together and to get a message from her at the same time. Jake felt like he was in high school, pining over a stupid high school crush.

She had messaged him on Instagram to celebrate the publishing of their pictures. It was a simple text, really. A few words on how the pictures looked amazing and a few party popper emojis were thrown in with it. Jake took ten minutes to comprehend his thoughts and ten minutes to calm himself down before thinking of a response. He congratulated her back and agreed on how the pictures turned out great.

He waited for a response. He waited for five minutes, then ten, then twenty and by the thirty-minute mark, Jake had accepted that she wouldn’t text back. He wondered why. Perhaps it was because there wasn’t much she could say back, or maybe he responded too late and lost the chance of indulging in a nice conversation. But then it occurred to him that he would have normally done the same- he wouldn’t respond to most people that looked for small talk.

He threw his phone across the couch with a sigh and sulked.

It wouldn’t be until two months later that he’d see Y/N again, this time wearing a ruby red dress at another acquaintance’s birthday party. She looked exactly like how he remembered, the same piercing eyes scanning the room and the same confidence radiating off of her as she walked around and found herself a seat, a glass of red wine held between her red manicured nails. He thought she looked fiercely beautiful from afar, he could only imagine how he would feel if he went up to her.

Jake didn’t know why he found it so hard to simply walk up to a girl and speak, greet her with a handshake and smile and hope for the best. But this was the girl that refused to leave the end of every trail of his thoughts for the past two months. Every time he read about her or heard about her and every time he saw another one of her pictures published in a magazine or article, he suddenly felt unworthy of her.

From his point of view, she looked like the forbidden fruit, dressed in red and waiting for someone to chat her up as she sat alone and sipped on wine, continuing to observe everyone in the room. But the difference was, that Jake knew she wasn’t looking for small talk. It was clear how uninterested she seemed by the way she easily ended every conversation that anyone started with her and she looked like a pro in ending chit-chat without hurting anyone’s feelings.

Perhaps she liked her own company, perhaps she wanted to be alone and the thought almost made Jake back away and mind his own business. Almost. He strode up to her, hands in his pockets and head slightly tilted downwards as he reached her table, his heart beating faster by the second. He noticed her lips pull upwards as his presence came closer to her, but a part of him was wondering if she was smiling for him or if it was out of habit.

“Hi,” she said, settling her wine glass on the satin-covered table. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” she crossed one leg over the other, arms resting on her knee as she leaned towards him with a dopey smile.

“You’re gonna see me everywhere, darling,” he chuckled but his eyes widened when he noticed Y/N’s raised brows at his response. “Oh,” he breathed, realising his snarky remark. “I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Y/N laughed at him, lightly and softly as she hid her toothy grin behind her hand and leaned forward then leaned back into her chair- her entire demeanour seemed relaxed and she allowed herself to sit more comfortably. Jake didn’t know if it was because of him, or if she was simply being friendly.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I swear I’m not self-obsessed or narcissistic. It was just me joking-”

“Jake,” Y/N laughed again. “I get it, I get the humour. I like it,” she shook her head and her eyes seemed to sparkle as she looked at him with a soothing smile.

“Well, I’m glad you like my humour then,” his smile formed awkwardly but Y/N’s only grew wider.

She nodded her head towards the chair beside her and Jake almost stumbled on his feet and words as he sat there, pulling his seat closer to hers. But they didn’t speak, not for the first ten minutes or so before he found a conversation to start. And she spoke. Freely. And she didn’t seem to push him away like she did everyone else. Perhaps it was because he didn’t indulge her in any small talk which she seemed to hate so much but he found a part of himself wishing, praying that she was talking to him because she liked him or saw him as something special.

He wanted to be something special for her, and he wanted her to be something special for him.

Jake swore he never felt that way about someone in his entire life.

Yet as the party ended and Jake walked Y/N to her cab, he noticed just how closed off she had been while talking to him. Changing the topic of conversation every time it seemed to get personal or simply laughing at his words and forcing out responses that she didn’t seem to mean- she looked like she was keeping her walls up, like her emotions were on guard and like she was scared of being herself.

They exchanged numbers before her cab drove off and she gave him the brightest smile and waved her hand goodbye until her cab was out of sight and Jake thought that was the sweetest thing someone could ever do. And on his way back home, he replayed the entire night in his head, how they talked over wine and how the ruby and gold ring looked prettier on her finger when it was placed on her lips while concentrating on what he said.

Oh, how Jake loved the way she looked at him with such focus and attention, like he was the only person she cared about at the moment with her strikingly focused eyes and pursed lips. He knew he was romanticising the moment and painting it under a light that completely marred what must have actually happened but he couldn’t help it. He doesn’t remember the last time he had an actual conversation with someone that wasn’t part of his friend group or his family.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was basking in her attention. He felt alive when she seemed to be giving genuine responses to his questions and when she threw her head back in laughter along with him. The only thing missing was for her to open up, to be so carefree around him that she would speak whatever came to that pretty mind of hers.

He swore to himself that he’d make that happen. Someday.

Her laughter and her words were still stuck in his head as he fell onto his bed and while he stared at the wall, he imagined what their next conversation would sound like. He imagined what she’d wear and where they’d meet next. Would it be by chance, for another photoshoot, or maybe even for a date if he had enough courage to ask her?

He imagined what a date would look like with her- if she’d want to go star gazing with him just as much as he did or if she enjoyed the silence of an art museum. He wondered if she liked aquariums and he wondered if she liked picnics and board games. He wondered if they’d go shopping together or try new restaurants together. He wondered if she would ever open up to him and he wondered if she would ever let her walls down.

There was just something about her and Jake didn’t know what it was yet.

Just as the clock struck twelve and just as he was beginning to feel lonely, he called his insomniac friend, Sunghoon, who he knew wouldn’t pass up an opportunity of meeting up in the middle of the night. And Jake knew he was probably the only person willing to listen to him rant or willing to keep him company at an ungodly hour of a work day.

The boy showed up in no time, standing on the doorstep with a dozen cans of beer and chips.

Sunghoon was probably the first friend Jake made in that summer camp. They were first cabin mates, their bond starting with their childish love for making bracelets out of thread which turned into staying up late and sharing all the deep dark secrets their ten-year-old selves could possibly have had. Sunghoon was probably the one that understood him the most out of everyone and Sunghoon was the first to find out anything new about Jake and his life. This time was no different.

While he watched Jake sit on the floor and lean against the leg of his bed, drinking his beer while speaking of a girl with piercingly dreamy eyes and a soothing voice, he wondered what had gotten into his best friend. He wondered if he had ever heard him speak of someone that way and he realised this was the first time. The boy sulked deeper against the headboard and threw a pillow on his lap to lean his elbows on, deep in thought while Jake continued speaking.

“You know she’s still in high school?”

“Dude.”

“Chill, she’s eighteen,” Jake shook his head. “But she’s talented as fuck if she made it to this level of fame while still in high school.”

There wasn’t much Sunghoon, Jake or the internet knew about Y/N. Just the basics like where she grew up or what her favourite colour was. Her life was more private than Jake’s and no one thought that was possible. He didn’t know if it were a good thing, that Jake was falling for someone he knew nothing about and was starting to create a fantasy of her in his head. He didn’t know if it was possible to crush on someone so deeply, especially when they weren’t in high school anymore. He wondered if his best friend was going to end up hurt as he had been with every girl he had ever dated.

Sunghoon could swear that it was just Jake’s curiosity surrounding her mystery that was attracting him.

But a part of him thought Y/N was different. If she managed to get him to swoon over her like a school boy, then there must be something special about her, right?

Jake talked about her with so much admiration, you could see it in his smile and hear it in his voice. He talked about her until there was nothing else to say and he voiced every ‘what if’ until it wasn’t fantasising but just overthinking. He spoke about her until his excitement was gone and all that was left was why she was the way she was and why he liked her though he knew nothing of her.

“Do you just think she’s attractive or something?” He offered as Jake groaned once again. “What about her exactly are you so caught up with? What's so special about her?”

“I don’t know!” Jake flung his arms in the air, his foot nudging his empty can of beer that caused it to roll across the room. “There’s just something about her. It’s like she’s purposefully built up these walls and I want to know what’s behind it.”

“Maybe she’s going through something,” Sunghoon shrugged. “She seems closed off, right? People with trust issues are usually like that,” he took another sip of his beer and suddenly, all the cans were empty but both the boys were sober from frustration.

“But what’s causing those trust issues?” Jake thought out loud.

“I don’t know man, I guess we just have to wait and see.”

“She’s trying to save herself and I’ll figure out exactly from what.”

IN FACT, Y/N WAS saving herself from something- from heartbreak. Or, from another heartbreak, rather. She had enough at that point. From being used, replaced and lied to, she decided it was best to focus on herself and work towards making a better life for herself instead of being hung up on people that were not worth her time. And all of that was triggered by a boy named Sam whom she thought she would be with for the better part of her life.

Sam was good when she first met him. They were both just juniors in high school, oblivious to the bad that could come their way. She thought he was the perfect boy for her, the kind she saw in movies or read about in books, the kind she conjured up in her head before falling asleep. She gave him her all, gave him the time she would never give anyone else and let herself fall for him until he was the only person she felt safe around. Because he was truly worth it all and because he didn’t hurt her and promised to protect her and defend her no matter what. He told her she was his favourite person, he told her she was his number one choice. He was perfect… until he wasn't.

Until he changed himself and prioritised a good time over a good thing and until he took his girlfriend for granted and until she found herself crying over him every night before falling asleep. Sam left her at her lowest and then she was all alone.

It took her two months to get back on her feet and start trusting her friends again and it took her two months to realise that it was better not to wish for his return anymore. She accepted that she deserved better and she accepted that he wasn’t the right person for her. And, that’s when she started modelling.

It took three months for her career in modelling to become something to be proud of. Only she knew how much energy and effort it took to get to where she was and only she knew how trimerous and taxing it was to deal with depression, loneliness and heartbreak while trying to make herself successful at the same time.

By the time the first semester of her senior year started, Y/N had become a well-respected model, yet her friend circle shrunk to maybe two or three people.

The loneliness didn’t bother her as much anymore but the pain was still there. Hurt loomed over her every time she thought of Sam or herself and she wondered why she was never good enough or if she was lovable or if she could ever find true love. Her heart ached, but all she could do was distract herself.

Y/N was making more money than an average model. She was well known, and famous even, and she rarely showed up to school. Perhaps that was good, it would mean she wouldn’t have to be reminded of those who hurt her and left her. But at the same time, she didn’t know anyone outside of her school and her newfound trust issues made it hard for her to make new friends from the industry she thrived in.

So, she started making boundaries, saving herself from sabotage before anyone even got the chance to hurt her. She was nice to everyone, yes. But it wouldn’t go further than a friendly conversation. At that point, she was coming to terms with being by herself and only depending on herself… Until she met Jake.

When she met him at their photoshoot, Y/N felt more self-conscious than she usually did. To be fair, she was modelling with someone considered more famous and successful than her, someone who was pretty much out of her league- obviously, she felt self-conscious around him. But when she caught herself looking for stolen glances from him, smiling at him when he wasn’t looking at her and almost admiring his pale skin and rosy lips; she knew he had to be different.

Y/N didn’t think much of how she felt about him, though. After the photo shoot ended, she pretty much forgot about him and the loneliness and heartbreak entered her chest again and brought chills to her bones. That night, she remembered laying in bed with tears rolling down the sides of her face, thinking of what could have been instead of appreciating what was. She couldn’t even call someone to distract herself and just dwelled in her misery.

When she saw their pictures finally published on the front cover of a magazine, she found herself admiring them. She thought the picture looked stunning, mostly because she thought she looked pretty sitting beside Jake, like they made a good-looking couple. He was smiling and she was smiling and a part of her was hoping that his smile was genuine and not staged. A part of her hoped they could have more photo shoots again because the experience was genuinely much more fun with him compared to anyone else she had modelled with.

The entire week following the publishing of their pictures, Y/N remembered using the thought of Jake to distract herself from thinking about Sam. But it didn’t work and she had given up and suddenly Jake was the last thing she thought about as loneliness and despair reappeared in her life.

She wanted to feel something for Jake. She wanted to feel something for anyone but Sam.

So the next time she saw Jake, she didn’t force herself to push him away. She chose to sit with him and speak with him, just as he approached her when he could have been getting acquainted with the rest of the party attendees. He chose to sit with her and she noticed it. He chose not to leave her company and she appreciated it. And she tried her best to make sure he understood that he had her undivided attention though she would usually rather focus on her wine. She thought the outfit he wore by AMI Paris suited him well, complimenting his dewy eyes and hair and the nonchalant attitude he was trying to hide. She noticed how his responses were standing on the border between sarcastic and flirty and she saw how much effort he seemed to have been putting in to be nice to her.

He was trying. She thought that was the most anyone could do.

The issue was that she didn’t know why he was trying. She didn’t know why he was showing interest in her or why he was forcing himself to be nice to her. Was it a bet he was participating in? Or was it because she could provide him with something he needed? Nothing made sense in her head, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And as she laid on her bed that night, her favourite music playing in the background, Y/N thought about the way he laughed at her jokes and the way he was so eager to continue their conversation. She thought about how he had refused to leave her side, even when other party guests had come up to them and asked for a chat. She thought about the one time their hands had accidentally brushed against each other and she thought about the way he’d looked at her through his lashes and she thought about the way his skin glowed under the lighting of the chandelier.

Y/N felt butterflies for the first time in a long time and she didn’t know if she was prepared to face her emotions yet.

Tears spilt past her eyes that night too, and if she was keeping an accurate count, it would be the first time she was crying in a week. All her thoughts and emotions somehow led her back to thinking about Sam and how he’d moved on and how he was happy with the girl he told her not to worry about. Yet here she was, a semi-famous model and a rich teenager, weeping in sorrow and wondering if she’ll ever find someone to love her the way she wanted and deserved and if she would ever be good enough for anyone.

She spent the next day doing absolutely nothing. It was one of the rare days where she had no work to tend to and usually, she was expected to go to school. Her parents had pestered her and almost begged her to at least show up in school because she hadn’t been studying and they were convinced that she was going to fail her exams. Y/N saw no point in them anymore. She simply told them that she would study without the help of her teachers. Her parents snarled at her and went back to minding her own business.

It was unhealthy to stay in her room all day but she had no energy to do anything else. She watched a movie for a while, then listened to music and picked at the loose skin around her fingernails. At a point, she found herself sitting in silence, eyes spacing out and mind buzzing with thoughts that only made her heart pound and ache and come to the verge of ripping into two pieces.

Her phone didn’t buzz from any text or phone call from her friends and she knew they were all busy with studies and college applications but she had to wonder why her life always lead her to be lonely in whatever she did. She didn’t have any friends she could relate to or depend on or call to cry about how stressed she was from moving around from photoshoot to photoshoot all day. She didn’t have anyone to share her accomplishments and bliss with. And she didn’t have anyone she could laugh with or go out to parks with or watch movies with. She lost it all and she dealt with it all alone, not because she wanted to but because she had no other choice. And she accepted that she would be all alone and that it was about time she started controlling her emotions instead of letting them control her.

But it weighed too heavy on her heart- it hurt.

She didn’t know how much longer it was going to last- the brooding and the self-pity. Most importantly, she didn’t know how much more she could take. Yet every day, she found herself forcing on a smile and powering through her errands until she could come back home and be with her issues without hiding them, all alone yet again. Her days were interesting, but they felt so repetitive.

Y/N made her way down the hallways of GQ’s headquarters, the clicking of her heels ricocheting off the barren walls. Tony, her manager, guided her to the meeting room, where she was greeted by a group of models who were all there for the same reason- to read through their contracts.

Y/N was about to model for GQ, one of the most renowned magazines, yet not a bone in her body or fibre in her being could force itself to feel any ounce of happiness or excitement. This job would give her a paycheck pricey enough to let her, an eighteen-year-old high schooler, rent out an apartment of her own for a little while but she wasn’t thrilled. She simply faked eyes of glee and a smile of appreciation as she took her seat and was handed her contract for her to look through.

Tony assured her that he would be waiting at the reception for her.

If she thought about it, Tony would probably be the person that was there for her the most. She wasn’t planning on it, but one day when he had come to her house to pick her up for another errand to complete, he found her lying in the corner of her room, crying her eyes out while curling into herself and it was the first time she had told him anything personal about herself. The sight was gut-wrenching, enough for him to promise her that he would be there regardless of his circumstance and that he was her friend.

Though Y/N didn’t exactly call him when she was crying or was feeling lonely, it was clear how much he cared for her. Tony, though he was perhaps twice her age, quickly became somewhat of an uncle to her. He checked up on her frequently and ensured all her needs were taken care of. He would mentally and emotionally prepare her for situations he knew she would feel uncomfortable in and he would tell her all she needed to know for any new job.

But he was only human and humans made mistakes. Tony was no less because when Y/N realised that he didn’t tell her that Jake would be part of the GQ shoot as well, she almost wanted to hit him.

He could have told me sooner, she thought, because when Jake walked into the meeting room, she swore she felt her heart swell with something she would describe as anticipation and she felt excited. She was excited to work with him again, she was excited to be in the same room as him again. If she had known beforehand that she would work with him, perhaps she would have felt this delight for a little longer and maybe she would have looked forward to working with GQ.

It took Jake a few seconds to make eye contact with Y/N. He was in the middle of removing his coat and taking his seat when he saw her and the smile on his face looked brighter than the one she wore. They waved at each other enthusiastically for a brief moment before Jake's attention was pulled away by a man handing him his contract.

Once he settled, the room went quiet and everyone was back to minding their own business. They stayed in that room for a good hour. An hour that was filled with Y/N glancing at Jake through the corner of her eyes and Jake smirking every time they caught themselves looking at each other. The rest of the models were clueless and Jake thought that was the most amusing part.

They were told that the shooting would start the next day, somewhere on the outskirts of New York. Y/N just counted on Tony to take her where she was supposed to. Once they were all briefed on the timings, requirements and expectations of the shoot, they were piled out of the room and she was left to stand in front of Jake with an awkward smile as everyone walked past them, returning to their own lives.

She didn’t know exactly what to say or do. Her hands balled into fists and her foot tapped rhythmically on the tiled floor. She couldn’t even will herself to look him in the eyes and she was quickly reminded how she wasn’t usually like this. Being nervous and shy wasn’t how she portrayed herself to be, especially with the people she worked with.

Perhaps one day she would regret ever showing Jake the vulnerable side of her. Perhaps one day she would regret opening up to him or wanting to be something more than acquaintances with him. Perhaps she would regret putting herself in a position where she could easily get hurt again. But at that moment, as Jake stared her down with nervous eyes and a softened smile, she was convinced he would never hurt her.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be here,” he said, referring to the night at the party where she could have easily told him that she was booked for the GQ cover shoot. But then again, Jake didn’t have a chance to mention it either. “We could have come here together.”

At that, Y/N felt her heart flutter. Because Jake Sim, the model who had been popping into her thoughts unwelcomed and the pretty boy she thought was out of her league, basically said that he wished he had taken the chance to spend time with her, make memories with her, have her be a part of his schedule- even if it was just for a day.

“Maybe next time?” She offered, completely unsure of what to say, still taken aback.

“Or, if you’re free now…”

“Yeah, I’m free now,” nodding enthusiastically, her smile grew with expectation.

Jake chuckled. “We could do something together now?” His shoulders raised as though he was making a proposition.

He was almost convinced that she would bail on him but then she said, “I’d love that,” and the insecurities and nerves growing in his stomach disappeared and he allowed himself to take a breath of relief. He extended a hand for her to take and she meekly looped her arm with his and it didn’t feel as awkward as they thought it would be. The pair walked out of the building before telling their managers that they were heading off. Then they got into Jake’s car.

AND THAT’S HOW THEIR friendship began.

Jake took her to a cafe downtown that day and all they did was talk and sip on mugs of coffee. They talked about Y/N’s school and how Jake entering the modelling field was all out of pure luck. They talked about their lives and their family and friends they said they’d introduce each other to. They spoke about their interests, which then stemmed to Y/N ranting about true crime cases and that caused Jake to quickly realise it was her favourite form of entertainment.

That day, they didn’t take pictures or touch their social media but left the cafe when the sun started to set and when the stars were shining. Jake, being a concerned gentleman, had offered to drop Y/N home but she refused and assured him that it wouldn’t be her first time taking a cab home so late into the night. He asked her to text him when she reached home and she did as she was requested.

“I had fun today, we should do it again sometime,” he texted her too and Y/N was the first time in a long time that Y/N laid on her bed with glee rather than a frown and tears rolling past her cheeks.

For the first time in a long time, she fell asleep with a smile and she fell asleep looking forward to the next day because she would see him again. And she fell asleep with a smile because she didn’t think of Sam and didn’t wish the blood supply to her heart would be cut off. She fell asleep with a smile because perhaps her life wouldn’t feel so tedious and repetitive anymore.

It would be the first time in a while that Y/N had fun in a photo shoot. Because not only was Jake’s presence refreshing, but it was also encouraging. Jake being there, posing for the same camera as she was amid other models, brought her energy she didn’t think she had in her. It was like something in her lit up and her face gave off a glow that the photographer was almost astonished to see.

A few days after that photo shoot, there were rumours of GQ wanting Y/N to be their ambassador but they were deemed to be untrue.

Y/N and Jake talked a lot the following days. Mostly on text, but they still talked a lot. He would respond to her and update her every chance he could, even in between his most exhausting errands and Y/N found herself doing the same. Those texts soon turned into calls and within a month, they found themselves at each other's houses almost every weekend.

They helped each other grow and Y/N didn’t realise how much she needed someone like Jake until he started caring about her. He started caring about her in ways she didn’t think were possible because whenever he was at her place, he would make sure she ate enough and he would make sure she took her daily vitamins. He checked up on her every day and called her before he went to sleep like it was a ritual. On days she went to school, he would be there at the end of the day to pick her up, just in case she had a worse day than usual.

He asked about Sam a lot. He would ask about how their relationship started and how he treated her and what caused their falling apart. Y/N found herself answering his questions with no hesitation and no tears. A part of her, a huge part of her, felt more comfortable and safe around Jake- more than she felt around Sam or anyone else.

“He used to take care of me the way you are now, you know? Until we started hurting each other.”

“Anyone that loves you is gonna take care of you this way, Y/N. Anyone that loves you is gonna treat you the way he used to. There was nothing special about that. Do you know what makes it special? If the person keeps trying and realises that to build a relationship, it takes a lot of mistakes and lessons and effort. Do you know why he wasn’t the one? Because he stopped putting effort and because he gave up and went for someone easier.”

Y/N ignored what Jake insinuated on and his choice of wording. She turned her head to the side to hide her grin and bit her lips. This is what I needed to hear, she thought to herself. Hearing it from Jake simply made all the more sense.

“Is there anything that makes you special?” Through her lashes, she could see the way his lips parted into a smirk and his eyes flickered from her to the bowl of food in his hands.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out,” he said, and though the words came out teasingly, Y/N could make out the sincerity in his eyes. Jake brought another spoon of rice to her lips and she took the food into her mouth, gaze not leaving his.

Jake didn’t complain about having to take care of her. He didn’t complain about her behaviours or mood swings or needs. He accepted her. He accepted her enough not to want her to change. He accepted her enough to love her the way she was.

Y/N was learning that this was what love looked like. Romantic or not.

On a day standing between the border between spring and summer, Jake took her to Pier 62 Skatepark. He told her that it was a lucky day because all six of his friends were not burdened by packed schedules of internships or exams and he told her that he was excited to introduce her to them. He also told her, or rather warned her, not to believe any jokes they made about him or any weird childhood escapade of his that would be mentioned.

Somewhere on the curved ledges on the concrete, she saw six boys sitting in a row, all of whom had differentiating features of experience and maturity, their feet dangling off the edges as they laughed amongst whatever conversation they were having. She knew they were all of different ages and she could easily name who each was with how Jake had previously described them alone. And she wanted to show off and greet each boy herself by name but she didn’t. The need to give a good first impression dissolved as she got closer to them and all that was left was nerves and an awkward smile that compelled her to hide behind Jake’s shoulder.

Jake noticed her shying away and a huge part of him wondered where the confident girl he met all those months ago had disappeared. He wondered if the girl who always had her walls up at parties when she showed up wearing fancy dresses had died. He wondered if her pricking gaze and strut of a walk were all lies- but then he also realised that she was usually putting on a confident front and independent mask when she was alone. That look of judgment and observance was always there when she was alone, in a room filled with strangers, whose opinions she could manipulate just by the way she looked. She couldn’t do that now because she was sure Jake probably spoke about her and her character to his friends and she couldn’t do that now because these people were sitting there, waiting to get to know her. After all, their best friend, Jake Sim, wanted them to.

Y/N was terrified, to say the least, knowing she had no other choice but to speak about herself and think of witty responses to their words. She didn’t want to admit it but all those previous months of being depressed and lonely almost made her forget how to socialise and Jake was simply a blessing of a friend. There was a reason for her silence at parties and there was a reason why she pushed everyone away once she sensed that small talk was withering apart. She would rather keep to herself than give away that she was socially awkward and isolated through a forced conversation. In those times, Y/N had no other option but to hide behind a mask she created for herself and she did a damn well job at it.

But she didn’t have to hide behind herself now because she had Jake to hide behind and though his heart melted at the thought of her depending on him and though all he could think about was holding her in his arms and protecting her, he stopped in his tracks. Y/N, trailing behind him like a lost puppy, bumped into his back and blinked profusely, looking down at his hand that was flailing around, seeming to be looking for hers. Confused, she clasped her hand with his and she watched the way their fingers intertwined and allowed the warmth of the gesture to seep in. But before she could relish the moment, he had tugged his arm forward with enough force that made Y/N stumble in front of him.

She was no longer hiding behind his frame. Her eyes were directly in line with the six boys she was about to meet and from the distance she stood in, it seemed as though they were staring back at her.

She gulped.

Looking over her shoulder, she found Jake staring back at her with an encouraging grin and sparkling eyes covered by his floppy hair. With a nod toward his friends, he willed her to walk forward and she did. With her hands balled into fists, she took the first few steps, legs shaking at first but the more she walked without his aid, the faster her shoulders straightened and her tread turned confident. Though Jake could only see her back, he could easily tell she probably had a sly smirk playing on her lips with the way her hips started swaying. It was almost like she was slipping on a mask, one made entirely out of confidence, charm and perhaps even a little wit- the same mask Jake had watched her sport multitudes of times when they were both attending gatherings together or were invited to some launch party. But he could confidently say that the piercing eyes of hers he fell in love with were never a sham.

His steps slowed as his chest began filling with pride. His eyes glossed over as he watched Y/N approach his friends, her hair bouncing off her shoulders and arm stretching forward to shake hands with Heeseung first, then Jungwon and the rest of the boys. This would be the first time that Jake saw Y/N approach someone, rather than someone else approaching her.

Ruffling Y/N’s hair was the first thing he did when he finally approached the group. He could almost hear her heartbeat, louder than the gallops of a thousand horses, but then he saw the smile on her face and the way she was talking aloud with his friends and with him and he was convinced that she was filled with adrenaline. And he thought it was good. It was good because she was learning to love new experiences and she was learning to meet new people.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Sunghoon said as Jake hoisted himself to sit beside him. Y/N was left standing, looking up at the seven boys sitting together and the sight deemed complete with Jake among them. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Not a single part of her was surprised that Jake had spoken about her to his friends but she never questioned what it was that he said about her. She never wondered if he told them what they did together or spoke about and she was always confident that he wouldn’t just expose to them all the panic attacks and hysterical cries she’s had in front of him.

It was Jake and she trusted him.

Yet for the sake of conversation, she simply had to ask “What exactly does he say about me?”

There was a sharp silence that followed her question. Jake froze in his stance, his eyes darting from her to his friends in panic and Sunghoon pulled his lip between his teeth. Y/N was on the verge of panic, already feeling her legs tremble and hands quiver, convinced that she had ruined the day and that the following conversations and little time for bonding would become botched and robotic. As her eyes scanned the faces of each boy, wondering what everyone was thinking, she heard a snort from Niki, his lips fighting to stretch into a smile and his laughter beating its way out of his throat.

Sunoo’s smile followed next, though he didn’t find the need to hide it. He laughed freely, leaning forward as he clapped his hands and eased everyone's expressions. Y/N swore she saw everyone let out a relieved sigh. “You don’t have to worry,” the pink-haired boy giggled, holding his palms together in front of him. “He always just boasts about you and brags about how you're his new best friend,” it was obvious that he was trying to mimic the way Jake spoke and his lack of accuracy made Jay sneer.

“Oh, please,” Jay chuckled. “I’ve never heard Jake say he’s made a new friend so the second all of us found out, we started yelling and screaming and begged to meet you.”

With the few words Jay spoke, Y/N was able to figure out his mellow nature. He was laid back, silent while he was thinking and when he found the need to express his thoughts, they came out calm and organised. Throughout the fifteen minutes she was with them, he had his palms pressing flat behind him, his body leaning into his arms in a relaxed manner and his attention was fixated on the surroundings around him rather than the people he was with, but he was listening intently regardless.

“You guys make it a bigger deal than it is,” Jake waved his hand with a whine, his cheeks turning a shade of red with all the blood rushing to his face. His body leaned sideways in an attempt to hear everyone better, torso pressing into Sunghoon’s shoulder.

Jake seemed more fond of Sunghoon, Y/N realised. With every joke that was made, the pair would always look at each other first before laughing and they would usually glance at each other before speaking. While Heeseung told the story of how they all met, she learned that Jake and Sunghoon were the first among them to meet and become close. How the rest of them became friends and grew a bond strong enough to last so many years was beyond them but it was so clear how much they cared for each other. She saw it in the way Niki gave Sunoo his jacket when it got chilly and she saw it in the way Jay allowed Jungwon to lean his head on his shoulder when he got tired. She saw it in the way Heeseung offered Sunghon water when he simply cleared his throat and she saw it in the way Jake kept glancing at Niki to see if the boy was comfortable.

Y/N was brought to a state of melancholy as she watched these boys interact. Though she was happy that they had each other in this barren world, she wondered why she never found friends like that for herself.

What was she lacking? What was she doing wrong? She thought about that a lot.

“I have to ask,” she started as Jungwon finished telling his story of how he convinced his grandparents to enrol him into taekwondo classes. “You all have such different lives and interests that all seemed to have started in places other than New York,” her gaze immediately shifted to Jake. “How did all seven of you end up here?” her fingers pointed to the ground, the stress in her voice indicated the city they were all on.

Looking over their shoulders, Y/N could see a few boats tied to the docks of the lake, tinges of marigold and lavender hovering in the corners of the sky. The sun was setting and a majority of the kids that showed up at the park started leaving. There was this moment of tranquillity as dried-up leaves breezed past them and suddenly, all she could think about was New York City and its huge complexity, a city of diverse culture and fashion. Anybody would be lucky to live there and she wondered if she was asking the right questions.

“That’s a good question,” Jungwon thought aloud, subsiding Y/N’s doubts. “All of us ended up here because of Heeseung,” he stated as a matter of factly and he pointed towards the oldest.

Heeseung put on a dopey, almost embarrassed, smile as he scratched the nape of his neck and nodded. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed. “It was a huge process but I’m glad that at least everyone settled in just fine.”

Then each of the boys continued explaining their version of the story. They told her how Heeseung first sprung the idea when he got into New York University and didn’t want to leave everyone behind. He said that there was no way he would ever thrive at university without his best friends, his family, alongside him and he spent months convincing everyone’s families to let their children move across the seven oceans with him.

Niki and Jungwon had no other choice but to live with Heeseung because they were both minors and Heeseung was the oldest and automatically the most responsible. And because Sunoo and Niki were inseparable, he was thrown into the mix and currently, the four lived in a three-bedroom apartment that was convenient for them to go to their respective schools. Y/N could only imagine how much chaos their mornings would be filled with- four boys getting ready for school and every other errand. But the more she imagined it, the more she thought it was wholesome and heart-warming and the more she wished she had friends to move in with as well.

She learned that initially, Jay, Sunghoon and Jake were living together. The three lived in peace, Jay minding his own business in his room while he dealt with his part in running his dad’s company or leaving for college whenever he could. Sunghoon would leave every day to train for ice-skating and return by the night after he was done with community college. Jake’s schedule was the most flexible in the beginning, before his modelling career bloomed and when all he had to worry about was sending his portfolio and resume to various managers. He only moved out to the more bustling and lavish side of New York when he was deemed successful.

Over time, everyone, despite living together, started having lives of their own and sometimes, some wouldn’t show their faces at home for days on end. But none of that was ever an issue and they never drifted because at the end of the day, they were all family and they grew up together. They all grew to love moments like these where they’d find themselves sitting together and basking under a sunset and salty breeze while laughing.

Rare moments were easier to cherish.

“Jay’s dad helped us through the moving process a lot,” Sunghoon nodded, weaving his fingers together on his lap. “We had to live in a hotel for a few months before finding apartments of our own. It was still fun though.”

“You know,” Jungwon started with a laugh, thumb pointing towards Niki. “His parents were too scared to let him shift with all of us so Heeseung and Jay stayed up all night making a PowerPoint presentation to convince them.”

Y/N gaped. “Did it work?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” Niki grinned proudly, brows wiggling as everyone else laughed at the memory.

Their lives seemed like an unconventional fairytale found in the unrealistic fantasies Y/N would sometimes make herself. She once dreamed about moving to Italy with her one true love and living in a cottage and selling fresh fruits and flowers their whole lives. She dreamed that their daily chores would consist of doing everything together and always ending their nights with homemade wine and cheese. She dreamed that it would just be her and her lover, alone and content with just each other's company because the rest of the world would be irrelevant. That was a dream, her dream, her childish dream.

These boys had a dream of their own- to move to New York City together and build independent lives, all the while enjoying each other's unchanging and unwavering company. They made it work. Luck was in their hands and all the stars aligned for them and here they were, living what she considered to be the teenage dream. She wondered what that must have felt like.

Y/N fell silent the rest of the time she spent with them, not because she was glum but rather because of a growing sense of comfort. The feather-like smile on her lips never left as she found herself sitting beside Jake, her cheek pressing into his shoulder while she listened to the boys talk and banter amongst themselves. She didn’t feel out of place and nor did she feel like she had to contribute to the conversation to feel wanted. At that moment, it was just her and them, two different worlds colliding.

Jake deemed it to be late once strokes of navy brushed the sky, the moon visible if he squinted his eyes just a little bit. A steady breeze ruffled their hair and sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. With the goosebumps protruding from her skin, she shuddered, hugging herself and grinning as Jake announced that it was time for everyone to go home but it was Niki that stopped them, whining about something not being fair and how he wanted to spend more time with everyone.

In a fleeting moment, as though a lightbulb appeared above her head, Y/N piped “should we all go for dinner together?” and Niki nodded enthusiastically with the brightest smile she had ever seen. It was enough to light up the entire park they were in. Jake, who stood beside her with a hand on her back, looked down at her with a smile, admiring eyes gleaming at the sight of her and her sudden enthusiasm.

Jake wished she would stay enthusiastic for the rest of their lives, believing that what he saw in front of him was her truest form, where she was laughing and joking around with everyone, answering questions about herself freely without fear or hesitation. Bliss was radiating off of her and if they were in a world of animation, he knew rays of sunshine would be protruding out of her body. He wondered if after today, the happiness and carefree nature she showed would stay and he wondered if she would feel juvenile enough to hold his arm and bounce up and down again like she was doing now, watching Niki pump his fists in the air and run towards his respective car with the same enthusiasm.

“Let’s go!” The boy hollered and everyone else followed.

The group found themselves sitting at a round table in a hotpot restaurant known as HaiDiLao that seemed to have been blowing up on TikTok recently. When Y/N suggested the place, Jake chuckled at her, knowing that she had taken this opportunity to finally satisfy her long-lasting craving for Asian cuisine. As they sat and waited around for their food, steady conversation flowing between them like before, Y/N grew to realise that Niki was much like her. He was naturally quiet, laughing within himself when someone made a measly joke and speaking his opinions softly. He only showed excitement in rare moments, making fun of his peers only when he found the perfect moment to. The boy was extremely independent, she learned when he spoke about his school life. He only had one friend outside of the group he was in, the rest of his classmates irrelevant to his conscience and he seemed to be more focused on his goals. An aspiring dancer he was, his talents being compared to Micheal Jackson by his coaches and teachers.

Jungwon showed her videos of Niki dancing and Sunghoon gliding on ice. She thought the two boys had many similarities, too. Both focused on their goals and both preferred to stay silent even around their best friends. She couldn’t tell if it was because they had nothing to say or if it were simply because they were shy, but their occasional jokes and accusations for comedic purpose told her that they were simply being themselves.

If she thought about it, most of the boys were similar but it was each other that brought out their chaotic and adolescent sides. Heeseung, the great musician studying to be a producer, was always laughed at about his food habits. Jungwon, who seemed to be the peacemaker of the group, had a way of raising Sunghoon and Jake’s brows with his bizarre statements. And Sunoo, aspiring to become the owner of a skincare brand someday, was the ray of sunshine that brought the group out of their pessimistic reflections. Jay liked to make fun of him a lot, she realised in between dipping her mutton into boiling broth and chewing on enoki mushrooms.

They were all like seven peas in a pod and Y/N was just there observing, hoping that someday, she would have close friendships of her own. She gazed at Jake, the ache in her heart easing when he looked back at her with a beaming smile and lovingly observant eyes.

Jake drove her home that night, a playlist of classical music playing in the background as light rain drizzled onto the windows. The street lights blurred, causing a bokeh effect and she felt the skid of the tires every time Jake drove into a puddle. It was a good day, she thought and she wished that the night didn’t have to end. She wished she could stay in the hotpot restaurant for the rest of her life and listen to the many life stories the group of seven boys had to offer. Because while she was with them, she could forget about the miserable aspects of her life and delve into this world of fantasy they created for themselves and maybe, just maybe, she would become part of it.

“Will I ever get to meet your friends?”

The car came to a screeching halt and Y/N’s apartment building came into view. A lone lamplight hung on its gate and she realised her parents must have been awaiting her return. The time read 11:07 pm and the music had been drowned by crashing rain. Tilting her head towards Jake, she saw his droopy eyes and a smile groggily maintained. He was sleepy and driving in the rain at such a late hour would be the worst idea so she thought of inviting him into her house for probably the millionth time in the past few months and letting him sleep over for the first time. She was sure her parents wouldn’t mind, they’ve seen the boy around enough to trust him around her and they’ve seen just how attentive he was towards her.

She decided she would answer his question first.

“I don’t think I want you to meet my friends.”

Jake’s heart dropped. In the span of a second, his thoughts wandered into replaying all the events of the night and finding where things went south and what caused Y/N to suddenly change her mind. Just a week ago, she was hell-bent on introducing him to her friends and she was adamant about him bonding with them because it was important for her. Now she was hesitant, almost cringing at the thought of letting her work-best-friend meet the people she clung to at school.

“Why?” Jake stuttered out, his cheeks flushing paler and sleep rinsing out of his system.

“I’m scared,” she sighed and his brows furrowed.

“Of what?”

“I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

Though he heard the quiver in her voice, he was confused about how she reached that conclusion. Every step he took forward on getting to know her, it was moments like these that took him three steps back. He thought he understood the way her mind worked and thoughts panned out and if he didn’t, Y/N would try her best to help him understand. At the end of the day, it was her fear and insecurities that panned her judgement on any situation.

“How will you lose me?”

“Because they’re all better people than me, they’re so much more interesting than I could ever be,” her hands moved animatedly as she explained, stray strands of hair covering the sides of her face. “What if you realise I’m boring and leave me for one of them.”

Y/N had spoken about her friends a lot. She told him about Sheila that had a meme or vine reference to throw for every conversation and Veronica, who was on her way to intern for NASA. She told him about Arnold, who was a master with stocks and went to the gym all the time, earning more than her, a model, at the age of seventeen. Then there was Jasper, who aspired to be a doctor and Tina, who seemed to have her life and morals all put together, aiming for some of the best art-history colleges in Europe. She spoke highly of Maya who was always down to Earth, had everyone's respect and was big on photography and fashion. She told him about many more people, all of her descriptions about them ending with, “We aren’t very close.”

She was right, these people she called friends all had their own stories that would peak many people's interests but Jake thought Y/N's life was no less profound or fascinating compared to anyone else's.

From the many stories her parents had indulged him in whenever he went to her house, he learned that she had always been independent in many things. Sure, she craved intimacy and codependency, but once she made a decision, it was final. At the ripe beginnings of her teenage years, she decided to move out of her parents' house to pursue an education in New York and live with her grandparents. To this date, no one understood how she came to this decision but she found herself moving from China to the States when she turned fourteen. She left behind her parents and friends and a country she had lived in for thirteen years to start anew and if she was asked if she regretted her decision, she would respond by saying she never had regrets in her life, not even decisions that lead to the biggest of heartbreaks.

At fifteen, a year after her parents had moved to the States to be with her, Y/N had easily learnt the ropes of moving around town on her own. She’d roam the streets alone, occasionally with a friend or two if she was allowed. She had no problem going places alone or making decisions on her own but when it came to meeting someone new, suddenly she was the most sheepish girl to exist. Her walls were easy to break down but that was a trait of hers she couldn't seem to mend.

At seventeen, when she and Sam had separated, Y/N started making and sending in her portfolios to various modelling agents and she didn't mention it to anyone until she was sure that she had a job secured. Her parents were infuriated by her antics, calling her careless, naive and various other adjectives that could describe a child to be a rotten egg. Her father, a man whose childhood was woven of orthodoxy morals, had spent over a month attempting to put a wall between her and her dreams of showing up on the cover page of a magazine or walking a runway. Her relationship with her parents had diminished until eventually, they came around when she started earning money and could essentially afford her basic needs.

Though her parents wouldn't admit to anyone that they only allowed their daughter to continue thriving in an industry they were so revolted by because of her large success in making money, Y/N was quick to point out that detail to Jake when she had the chance. She didn't feign any resentment towards her parents, but it wasn't as though she had a relationship with them in the first place. Since she was young, she depended on herself or whatever friends she had at the time. Her parents only saw her as a trophy to show off to the rest of the world, to boast about how well they raised her and to display her success via framed pictures and medals over the fireplace. At the end of the day, she knew nothing of them, not even their favourite food.

Jake also came to realise the plethora of people she met throughout her young age, forming connections that would eventually wither away into phone calls once in a blue moon or random texts of 'hi, how you been?' That in itself made him wonder about the amount of knowledge she had in human behaviours and if it were her many experiences with different personalities that planted the seed of curiosity towards psychology and sociology in her.

She seemed to forget small details about herself, details that Jake deemed compelling. Such as the random and exceptional pieces of information she had in marine biology, occasionally indulging him in a lesson on the variety of jellyfish or the phenomenon of deep-sea gigantism. He noticed her love for sharks, especially whale sharks when she mentioned that one of her biggest goals in life was to fly to the Philippines and swim with one of them. Her knack for languages, a skill she acquired from her mother, was the most daunting. It was fascinating to listen as she switched between languages, from English to Chinese to Spanish and then back to English again. On top of that, there were a myriad number of other languages she could understand. It was that dexterity of hers that led Jake to coax her into learning a little bit of Korean. He was also drawn to her love for true crime, especially the gruesome and grotesque details of murders she seemed to always remember to bring up in designated conversations while indulging in her favourite drink- boba tea.

Her love for the drink was almost comical and much too distinct. She’d be appalled if any variation of boba tea was ordered- the original was always preferred; iced milk tea with an extra serving of tapioca pearls that she loved chewing on. Countless amounts of instances included Y/N ranting about the drink- something so simple yet personal to her because it was all she drank while growing up in Shanghai- saying that no tea shop could replicate the delicate flavours of tapioca pearls and chai milk tea other than this particular boba shop she always used to purchase from in China.

“Y/N, you’re not boring,” Jake lulled, his hand instinctively reaching for hers, which were perched between her thighs. “How could you call yourself boring?” the word rolled off his tongue as though it was foreign. Of the many adjectives available in the Cambridge Dictionary, boring would be the last word he’d use to describe the mess of a beauty sitting beside him.

Her hair was now completely covering any view he had of her face and her torso leaned forward. He felt her shudder, her hands shaking as she visibly choked in a sob. No matter how much she tried keeping her emotions straight and harbouring her thoughts in the bay, the buzz in her head caused a single teardrop to escape the rim of her eye and roll off her cheek, falling right onto Jake’s knuckle.

In the past five or so months of Jake getting to know Y/N, the number of times he’d seen her cry could be counted with his fingers. He had always known she was emotional and she had always known that she was sensitive and he knew for a fact that she cried more when she was alone, but never did she allow herself to fully break down in front of Jake and this moment would not count either. It was just a single tear and a few heavy breaths that came out of her, her eyes now bloodshot.

In a second, a day that they thought would have a happy ending, ended in Y/N questioning herself and becoming insecure in her friendship with Jake.

Y/N had always been level-headed. She was the girl most of her friends turned to when they needed advice or consolation of some form and she was always there with her arms wide open, giving them a slice of her love and wisdom- yes, wisdom. That was the only word Jake could gather in his head as he thought about the many times he went to her for some form of advice. It was as though she always knew what to say and what to do and she gave away her guidance in words put in their simplest and most nonchalant form- she made things sound easy. Her way around deciphering other people’s emotions and steering between the angles of the moral compass was something to look up to.

But she could never use that talent of hers for her good.

It was moments like these that reminded Jake that she was truly just a troubled kid who was fighting to stay afloat despite the rocks bound to her feet. No matter how much maturity and independence she showed, she was just a kid, only starting to learn how to manoeuvre the world of an eighteen-year-old. She held so much baggage, all of which she somehow carried by helping others instead of herself- by trying to fix others and give others a safe space instead of giving it to herself. She used that as her coping method again and again, like fixing a broken tape record over and over again until it couldn’t be saved anymore and Y/N had reached that point- a pathetic and plebeian point in her life.

And now there she was, projecting the trauma, fear and insecurities she acquired from a messy break-up onto Jake, someone she could easily call her best friend.

“I am boring,” she stifled her nose, her knee jerking up and down as a way to soothe her nerves. Jake’s hand shifted from her hands to her knee, exerting enough pressure to stop her habit of fidgeting for the time being.

“You’re everything but boring, Y/N,” he insisted again, his grip on the steering wheel tightening enough to make his knuckles turn the shade of a cloud. “You’re everything- I mean, you’re a goddamn model and a goddamn successful one, too. All at the age of eighteen… How could you call yourself boring?”

“I don’t know,” her statement followed another sharply inhaled breath and he started rubbing circles over her knee with his thumb. “Everyone in my life leaves at a point and so will you,” tucking her hair behind her ears, she focused her gaze on Jake’s hand and the way it covered the entire span of her knee and a little bit of her thigh. Small splatters of red painted his knuckles and she wasn’t sure how he trophied them but somehow, it gave his hands somewhat of a character. Her attempt to distract herself, though, didn’t work.

“I’m not gonna leave you,” he breathed and Y/N pulled her lip between her teeth, eyes darting from what she was previously concentrating on and the innocent yet sincere look on his face.

She didn’t respond to him, letting deja vu wash over her like a bittersweet memory that she would rather be carried away by the tides. Everyone says that, she thought, literally everyone. She could only offer him a blank stare, eyes looking past his shoulder and at the lack of traffic on the roads. In that week, it would be the first time she let herself think of Sam again and her memories with him played in her mind the way home movies played. They were filled with nostalgia, moments she knew would never come back to her because not only was she out of his life, but out of his mind as well. His contact number had disappeared in a sea of other texts and phone numbers and the last time either of them had tried contacting each other was almost a year ago.

It had been a year, and he still had a hold on her emotions.

Jake waited for a response from her but it was the lack of emotion in her eyes and absence of expression on her lips that made him realise. “You’re thinking of Sam, aren’t you?"

With a prompt nod, sadness and grief made their way into the irises of her eyes and her lips quivered downwards into a frown. He promised her many things, all of which were broken but the last thing she expected him to do was completely excuse himself from her life. The thought was so repetitive; it was exasperating.

Jake knew, verbatim, all the false reassurance Sam had given her over the months of their dating.

“I mean it, though” the promise in his voice almost made the frown on her face disappear. “Y/N, I know you’re scared. But please believe me… I’m not gonna leave you. You’re my best friend.”

At that, Y/N lifted her head, eyes widening and mouth gaping. “I am?” She questioned, almost sceptical of his statement despite the way he was eagerly nodding. Her mind wandered to Sunghoon, recalling the way Jake interacted with him and remembering the way he always spoke so highly of him, telling her that he had always been the person he went to for every minuscule problem in his life.

She wanted to question it but decided she had not enough energy to do so.

“You are. Just as I am yours, I promise.”

A part of her wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and rip her hair apart because Sam used to say the same thing to her. Just believe me, just trust me and you’ll be happy- she wished she could erase the memories of her somehow and do justice to the words Jake was uttering to her with so much candour and probity. If it weren’t for the cold of the night digging itself into the depths of her heart, his words would have sparked a campfire to thaw her downcast.

“I don’t know how to make you believe me, but please,” he affirmed. “You don’t need to be scared of losing me. I know Sam said the same shit but please believe me.”

Another moment of silence passed and it was when Y/N cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders that he realised that she was accepting his words. She nodded steadily, forcing her lips into a straight line as she gazed at him through her lashes, his hand sneaking its way back towards hers.

“Do you still not want me to meet your friends?”

A wet laugh escaped from her lips, her eyes softly closing shut as her solemn chuckles filled the heavy air inside the car. Jake smiled with her, the glint in his eyes returning as soon as her mood lifted.

“I’ll introduce them to you on graduation day.”

MUSIC WAS THE GREATEST invention on Earth, according to Y/N. Regardless of whether it was blasting in speakers or flowing between earphones, she could allow herself to drown in the world of wistful vocals and calculated melodies. It was mainly music that aided her through her depressive and suicidal episodes and it was music that caressed her emotions as she fought to bring all the pieces of her personality together. She found that singing along to the songs she found most catchy and listening to them in the car with her friends- moments which only occurred once in a blue moon with her- was the most entertaining. And she also found that listening to orchestral music while studying, walking alone in public or on those rare times she had to take the New York Subway made her feel as though she were in another world, completely separated from everyone else’s opinions and judgements. It was the ultimate form of distraction.

As she sat somewhere in a crowd of students, some classmates of hers she couldn’t even recognise or name, it was the pop music playlist that Maya played through the speakers of the auditorium field that calmed her nerves and distracted her from everyone’s judgement. Though the songs didn’t quite match what a normal graduation ceremony was expected to entail, they brought hearty smiles to everyone’s faces and Y/N sang along with animated hand gestures along with Sheila. People were staring, eyeing their antics as if they were crazy but for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn’t care. It was the last day of school and the thought of everyone worrying about college while she, on the other hand, would delve deeper into her modelling career brought her pride and boosted her ego.

In the row in front of her sat Sam, his dark curls struggling to stay hidden under his graduation cap. The smile on his face brought a sickening churn to her stomach but it left as soon as her gaze landed on his best friend, sitting beside him and commenting on how boring the decorations were and how the entire event would have panned out much better if he and Sam planned it. Sam nodded enthusiastically at him, his cap almost falling off his head. Y/N rolled her eyes at the interaction that seemed all too familiar; all too predictable.

Her family was seated somewhere in the back amongst the other parents and family members that were attending. Jake sat with them, a camera in his hands ready to capture the moment Y/N would appear on stage, accepting her graduation certificate and shaking hands with the principal. Hues of purple and blue decorated the stage, the school principal- whom Y/N spoke concerningly low of- holding a mic and slowly speaking out a speech of gratitude towards the students, staff and education system, briefly speaking of how proud she was of her students.

Y/N fixed the ends of her graduation gown, its material matching the colours of the decorative balloons, streamers and banners. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as her eyes scanned the premises, vast four walls seemingly pulling closer and closer by the minute and she knew that this would be the last time she would ever sit in the auditorium. It would be the last time she would sit in the same room as the rest of her classmates and it would be the last time she saw the face of her insufferable principal. She remembered all the memories she made there- the shit-show of a performance her drama club put on for Shakespeare’s As You Like It, the many games of tag she played with her friends, the limited number of badminton games she played with Sam and the gut-wrenching exam papers she wrote in this very auditorium. She would never relive those memories again, all of them confined in the walls of this school- the same walls other students would make their own memories and history within. It was all too daunting at that moment but her attention was peeled away as the student body president was called on stage to give his speech.

The next few hours played out like a montage, each student walking up the stage and accepting their certificates with toothy smiles that couldn’t be differentiated between genuine and fake. Amongst the many waves of emotions- happiness, grief, excitement, nostalgia, dread, and so much more- pop music was replaced by an orchestra of violin and harp melodies. Flower petals of pink, white and purple were thrown in the air, followed by their graduation caps as their hollers reached a crescendo. Everyone was taking pictures, some with their friend groups and others in front of the huge banner that read CONGRATULATIONS CLASS OF 22’ and Y/N found herself amongst her classmates, hugging everyone and exchanging goodbyes. She wondered if they were genuine when they asked her to stay in touch and she wondered if they meant when they said they would miss her- because she knew she would put everyone she knew from high school behind and never look back. She knew whatever promises she made wouldn’t be kept and she assumed the same went for everyone else.

It was announced that the parents and students were expected to escort themselves to the football field and Y/N pushed her way through the crowd until she saw her parents, greeting them with a wide smile. She waved her rolled-up certificate above her head, almost as if she were saying look, I barely studied and graduated high school with flying colours! It was the same expression a boy would have while swinging on a swing and saying look mom, I can fly and it was the same expression a girl would have while dressing up and saying daddy, I look like a princess. Jake hugged her, whispering in her ear about how proud he was. He showed her the pictures he took of her while walking to the field, gripping the averagely-sized Canon camera her family had been using since she could remember, one that they bought while they were still in China.

There were designated round tables laid out around the field; Y/N and her family were quick to find their seats. As discussions about her future flowed through them, all Y/N could think about was that she would finally be free of exams and textbooks for a few more months, and maybe years until she decides to go to college.

“What do you plan on studying if you do end up going to college, then?” Her mother asked, intently looking at her daughter.

“Probably psychology,” Y/N nodded, the smile that entered her lips as she accepted her high school diploma never leaving.

Her parents didn’t know when the last time it was that they saw her smiling for such an extended period of time. They wondered if it was because she was proud of herself for doing so well in high school, garnering more recommendation letters than most students and scoring well in her final exams all the while juggling her squeaky-clean modelling career. From the outside, it looked like success was handed to her on a silver plate and a huge part of Y/N thought the same. There were students that were jealous of her and students that insisted that her recommendation letters were only written for her because she was famous- which, in all honesty, could have been true. But perhaps, that day, Jake was the only one that knew her happiness stemmed from the fact that she would never have to step foot into this school again and she would never have to see the faces of those who wronged her.

“Isn’t it better to study something worthwhile?” Her father offered. “Perhaps MBA?”

“Who said psychology wasn’t worthwhile?” Y/N let out an animated gasp, widening her eyes out of a sheer necessity to make a joke and her mother and Jake laughed.

Jake patted her back, fingers lingering on the smooth fabric of her graduation gown. “Whatever it is, it’s better to go to college in case you decide not to pursue modelling anymore.” His gaze lingered on her smile for a few minutes, strands of his hair falling onto his forehead and touching his lashes.

He had a point. Y/N's goal was never to come to the status she was at, thinking that modelling for local clothes shops or irrelevant runways would be enough. But in the past few months, she’d been showing up on the covers of famous magazines and Tony was telling her how she could be potentially booked for the next runway show displaying the upcoming designs of Supriya Lele, a designer whom tabloids described as bold and vibrant, mixing her heritage of Indian fashion with the modern preference. If there was one thing Y/N knew about herself, it was that her interests spanned, varied and changed throughout her life. When she was young, her dream was to become a geologist, fascinated by the world of minerals and precious stones she saw her mother wear on her neck and ears. Now, at eighteen, though she had confirmed that she would pursue psychology if she ever went to college, she also knew that pieces of her wanted to dwell deeper into the oceans of knowledge marine biology could offer her or the talents of what a major in English could epitomise in her. Who was to say that she wouldn’t lose interest in modelling?

“I promised I’d introduce you to my friends, didn’t I?” Y/N glanced towards Jake, voice deafening into a whisper as her parents drawled into their own conversation. Jake nodded with a little amount of glee, allowing her to clasp his hand and drag him away to various different tables.

The next half hour or so was filled with greetings and small talk and awkward confrontations from her friends. Jake found that there was a formula to introducing himself to each and every one of your friends. It would always start with a handshake and exaggerated smiles from both parties, followed by Y/N telling them his name and this is the guy I told you about. Then followed the basic questions of his age and where he was from and admiring his Korean heritage, some even being dumb enough to ask him if he knew any kpop stars personally. He had to fight off the urge to play tricks and make jokes and say “Oh yeah, I’m quite close with Stray Kids’ Hyunjin and BTS’ Taehyung.” Some even asked him to speak in Korean. Once Y/N felt that the conversation was fizzling away, she would drag him away to the next friend and hope that the exchange would be more engaging than the last.

It was like speed dating- but worse.

There were a few things Jake learned in between meeting her friends and subtly getting to know them. One was that apart from Sheila, no one else knew much about Y/N- not what she did on a daily basis, her interests or what was going on in her life, excluding what the media had to offer about her career. She knew more about them than vice versa. He learned that she only allowed people to see what she wanted them to see, everything tucked away under layers and layers of what could only be called distractions to what really comprised her. The second was that to whoever she guided him to, she would always avoid walking past Sam, always sucking in a breath when she did come too close to him or caught sight of him from the corner of her eye. But her smile never faltered and her voice never wavered as she continued speaking and willing herself to look in any direction but towards her ex. The third was that he didn’t see Y/N wearing that mask of hers, the one which caused her to walk so confidently and her eyes to be judgemental. Instead, on school grounds, amongst people that partially watched her grow up, she was almost childlike, her strut juvenile as it had a bounce to it and her laugh ringing louder than a school bell while she stood with those she claimed she trusted most.

Y/N dragged him towards Veronica, promising that she was the last person he had to meet and he followed her with a sigh. Veronica was headstrong, sass displayed in her mannerisms and body language and it paired with her innocent smiles and profound facial expressions, she could either be described as dangerous or laughable. Jake had asked what her plans were after graduation and though he already knew the answer through Y/N, he still listened to her blabber about NASA and her dilemma of choosing between two prestigious colleges.

“My parents think I should go to Cornell but I prefer…”

Her voice blew away with the passing wind, gaze focusing past Y/N’s shoulder with a slightly gaped mouth and quivering lips, but her expression straightened faster than it had faltered. The air visibly shifted as the group of three acknowledged Sam walking towards them, lips pursed in a thin line while waving his hand in the air. Y/N stiffened her arms, hands balling into fists as she sucked in a breath and forced out a smile and Veronica happily greeted him. The boy's steps were cautious, looking between Veronica, Y/N and Jake as he approached them. Jake followed every step he took, eyes sharpening and jaw clenching with a sudden surge of wrath.

The way Y/N shuffled closer to Jake didn’t go unnoticed by anyone and it was her fingers brushing over his bicep that made him take a deep breath and unclench his jaw, keeping his anger in control but God forbid Sam said or made her feel dolorous- the day wouldn’t end well.

“What’s up, guys?” Sam grinned forcibly, his hand resting on the table as he turned towards Veronica. “You’re coming for dinner with us later, right?”

Veronica nodded, shifting her head towards Y/N almost in a panicked manner. “Are you-”

“Arnold told me I could join, but I’d rather not,” Y/N grit her teeth, eyes boring a hole into Veronica and she almost flinched back, coaxing an expression of discomfort.

“Why?” Veronica cocked her head.

“Rather celebrate with Jake.”

“Who?” Sam’s brows pulled together, his gaze finally falling on Y/N. He looked her up and down, almost as though he was judging her in some way. Then, he looked at Jake, his expression contorting into realisation. His brows raised and said, “Oh, you’re Jake?” In an almost excited manner before stretching his hand in front of himself.

Jake didn’t reciprocate, moving to cross his arms instead and continue glaring at the boy, wondering what it was about him that made Y/N fall head over heels for him; what it was that caused such immense attachment with someone that only had to offer an attitude and arrogance. He didn’t seem to have an ounce of consideration within him, emitting only narcissism and self-gratification about him. Perhaps there was a time when he treated Y/N as though she was the most important thing in the world, but what could guarantee the authenticity of his actions? Especially knowing that he managed to get into another relationship within two weeks of their breakup, there was no way Jake would believe that the boy with curly hair and careless eyes that stood in front of him could take care of Y/N the way he did.

“Okay,” Sam trailed off, retrieving his arm and clasping his hands together to wave off the tension building amongst them. “What plans do you have then?” His gaze returned to Y/N, or rather, his gaze hovered amongst the surroundings around her but his voice was directed to her regardless.

Before Y/N even had a chance to put the words and letters in her head to form a response, Jake had already let out a scoff, glaring daggers in Sam’s direction. “It’s none of your business,” he seethed and everyone standing around the tables snapped their heads towards him in shock.

In all the months Y/N had spent time with Jake, this would be the first time she understood what the media and tabloids meant when they reported lowly on his personality. She realised what they recognised as attitude was, in reality, anger and she realised that he would rather be compliant to those that showed interest in him rather than expect a personal gain out of him for themselves. Speaking with reporters and paparazzi would bring out the worst in him, yet he was the most respectful and well-raised man around the people he worked alongside- the photographers, designers and many other models he worked with all had nothing but compliments to shower over his personality. She understood why different groups of people had different opinions and judgements concerning him.

“Dude, I was just trying to be nice,” Sam’s hands raised in defence, taking a step back as he tittered. His head tilted to the side, eyes widening as he saw him taking a step forward. Y/N did nothing to stop him, holding herself back and biting her lips, watching as if she wanted a scene to unfold.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?”

If it weren’t for Veronica’s cough and warning of teachers watching, perhaps Jake would have held Sam by his collar and punched his jaw. The girl waved him off, nudging his shoulder and pushing him back, almost begging him to go away before all the parents got themselves involved. The three students could almost sense the watchful eyes of their principal and counsellor and with the fear of getting in trouble on graduation day, especially when his parents were on school grounds, Sam walked away. His strides slow with his head hanging down, he made his way towards a group of few boys and girls sitting on the bleachers, phones raised in the air as they took pictures. It had always been a trait of his, to be scared of getting into trouble with the teachers. It was that very trait of his that had nettled Y/N to her bones, wondering why he cared so much because she, as a girl with parents that were stricter than most, couldn’t give much thought to them.

Veronica had excused herself, jogging towards the same group Sam found himself sitting in between. Y/N tugged at the sleeve of Jake’s shirt, wary eyes scanning over his face- his face that still housed an expression of fury and indignation. “We should go back to our table,” he heard her say and through his fit of white rage, he nodded and stomped to where her parents were.

“You were never part of that friend group?” Jake nodded towards where Veronica and Sam were, eyeing their group’s antics and deeming them as annoying only within a few seconds.

“Nope,” Y/N shook her head, pursing her lips as she looped her arm with his.

“They seem cringe,” he offered her a grin, lips tugging upwards ever so slightly as the anger in him slowly diminished at the sight of her smiling back at him. “Not worth it.”

“Agreed.”

Sheila left her parents and brothers at her table, bolting towards Y/N as though she had just been attacked. Even with the solemn smile Y/N assured her with, she still refused to leave her side and stayed chit-chatting with her for the rest of the ceremony, leaving Jake to converse with her parents. The fleeting incident of rage was forgotten, as far as Y/N was concerned. For a little while, just for a little while, she could enjoy the moment; a glass of watermelon juice in her hand, a nostalgic conversation shared with her best friend, the late summer breeze wafting the scent of freshly cut grass towards them as their graduation gowns blew with the wind, their hair tangling up. They were probably some of the last few people left on the field. People were already starting to clean the premises of discarded debris and the afternoon lurked closer with the decreasing temperature.

“Can we get something to eat?” Sheila asked, shielding the sun from her face with a hand over her head. “People are leaving now anyway.”

Y/N and Sheila found themselves peeking out of the sunroof of Jake”s car, their arms thrusting in the air in triumph and wind blowing their hair into a mess, screaming words of joy. Jake was driving towards a destination Sheila had requested. Take me to one of the restaurants the paparazzi always catch you at, and with a chuckle from the other two, they were off. This led to an afternoon of peace- which seemed to be what Jake, or anyone, felt under the shade of Y/N’s company- while sitting at a corner booth of an Italian restaurant that the pair had visited more than a couple of times and Sheila was thrilled.

Y/N and Jake discovered the restaurant on a night with stormy weather and were too tired to keep driving after a day spent at the gym and practising walking a runway. With the unfortunate luck of not having an umbrella, Jake held up his grey trench coat to cover their heads and ran across the street before they were drenched enough to catch any sickness. In front of them stood the cosy Italian cuisine restaurant which could easily be mistaken for a bar. It had empty bottles of beer strung with fairy lights across its roof and sets of white chairs and tables lining the ins and out of its small dimensions, a huge masonry oven greeting every customer as they walked it. The pair deemed the eatery as one of New York City’s many hidden gems and they were sure Sheila would feel the same once she tasted their Tortellini.

The afternoon consisted of the two girls taking many pictures while Jake joked about them, Sheila moaning about how sumptuous the food tasted, sharing jokes and riddles than made their stomachs clench with laughter and discussions on the many anecdotes and incidents that would go down in their high school’s history. Y/N and Sheila had sat there and broke down how and why their school was both the most magical yet hysterical and deplorable and it was a speech Jake had heard from Y/N many times but as she explained it with her best friend, he could almost see the auras of stress and hatred she held seeping out of her.

In that hour, he heard the stories of how the two girls became friends and how they drifted from people they thought would be in their lives forever. They told him about how there was once a time when their lives in school were so lively that they documented their days in books and how those interludes turned into a living hell. Yet, what made Jake happy was that at least they had each other to lean on, a familiar face to look for amongst a crown of inevitable strangers.

“You know, before this bitch become a hotshot model, we planned on going to the same university and everything,” Sheila wrapped her arms around Y/N’s shoulders and pulled her towards her until their cheeks touched.

Y/N’s smile turned into a toothy grin, her nose scrunching under Jake’s surprised gaze. This was surely something she hadn’t mentioned before and he wondered if wanting to know someone down to the atoms of their existence was even possible. No, he wasn’t mad, nor was he unhappy that there was such a mundane piece of information about her that he didn’t know of, but he wondered just how many plans she made in her life that could never fall through- how many plans in his life that never fell through. He supposed that was what life could be defined as; the things that were and the things that could have been; dreams, hopes and expectations crushed by reality from diamond to dust.

But was the dust really that bad? He ended up becoming a model, after all, one of the best up-and-coming models. Somewhere along the process, he met Y/N and in his opinion, there wasn’t much else he could ask for apart from hoping that whatever it was that he felt for her, she felt the same way. He was hoping she would reciprocate the longing stares and hope-filled compliments and he was hoping that someday, she would feel the warmth and serenity he felt around her. As he looked at her from across the table, his fork raised to fill his mouth with another piece of pasta, Y/N was holding her phone and leaning into Sheila’s side, laughing about some meme they could relate to and in that moment, he thought he could ask for nothing more than her hand for the rest of his life.

“It’s getting late, aren’t you supposed to be home soon?” Y/N piped, licking the white sauce of her carbonara off her lips and holding Sheila’s hand tighter, almost afraid to let go. But she would never say it out loud, willing herself to let another good day come to an end.

Sheila nodded, offering Y/N a hesitant smile. “Can’t we just stay for a little longer?” She whined.

Y/N chuckled, assuming that Sheila felt the same as she did at that moment. “You’re acting like we’re never gonna see each other again.”

“Who knows when we’re gonna meet again!”

“Your university isn’t that far away. We can literally meet up whenever we want.”

With the assurance and final hugs of we’re not in high school anymore, they dropped Sheila off at her house.

Y/N would spend the night at Jake’s apartment as an extended celebration of her graduation. Sunghoon and Jay showed up, regretful of the fact that they came bearing excuses from those who couldn’t arrive. Heeseung had an exam to prepare for, so risking a night drinking wouldn’t be responsible for him. Sunoo was in the middle of writing his college applications and essays, so with all the stress piling on his shoulders all day, he started passing out early and having longer nights of sleep- which sounded like heaven to them. Niki and Jungwon were on a school field trip to Boston to venture and explore the many museums and art galleries it housed- it was a humanities trip.

Jay brought Y/N a gift of a fancy bottle of wine, one from the eighties that he had taken from his dad’s wine cellar. Sunghoon had supplied an almost unlimited supply of cans of beer and it was on those that he, Jay and Jake indulged in and Y/N refused to drink alcohol before she hit legal age.

It rained that night, a soft drizzle of rain turning into droplets of water hitting the vast windows of Jake’s apartment as thunder started rumbling. The entire balcony was soaked, as was the growing plant of Devil’s Ivy- Y/N had forced him to buy it around two weeks ago, insisting that he start a collection of plants on his balcony and the Devil’s Ivy would be the first addition. He would let her pick the next plant to buy and the one after that and the one after that because something about seeing her decorating his apartment brought immense pleasure to him.

The four of them played various board games that night; Snakes and Ladders, Pictionary and even Monopoly. At one point, they were caught up in a screaming match while arguing about the rules of UNO which slowly transitioned into a messy game of dumb charades. Somewhere between Jake drawing a terrible rendition of a wolf in a tutu and sometime past midnight, Sunghoon had gotten shamelessly drunk and Jake had gotten tipsy, but he quickly sobered up with a single cup of coffee. Y/N and Jay were left to take care of Sunghoon while Jake lay beside him in bed, a massive headache eating away at his skull and banging against his temples.

Y/N knew Sunghoon as the quiet, shy and skittish boy everyone would admire from afar and his habit of drinking wasn’t exactly a surprise but seeing him laid in bed, pushing and kicking his blanket away while blabbering incoherent strings of words brought out a whole new perspective of him. It was an endless cycle of Jay covering his frame with a blanket, only for it to be flung off his body and Y/N was trying to talk the boy down with words that, in the end, meant nothing. Sunghoon blabbered about how his love life was so dry lately and how none of his relationships could last, even those that seemed perfect with women that he thought would be the love of his life. Though normally, it was a sight Y/N would laugh at, at that moment, she found herself empathising with him and her expression was glitching, faltering off her face.

“You know how moles have meanings?” Sunghoon babbled, slapping his hand onto his pale forehead.

“Yeah,” Jay sighed, giving up on the blanket and kneeling on the side of the bed. He rested his elbows on the mattress, hands holding his chin up.

“So, I have a mole on my right pinky toe,” he started and Y/N nodded as if she were amused. Jay hummed along to his words as if he were interested. “One day I was bored and I decided to google the meaning. Guess what it said?”

“What?” Jay asked.

“I said guess!”

With another sigh, Jay swallowed and made his best guess. “That you’ll get fortunate in life?”

“No!” Sunghoon flailed his arms in the air, then huffed as he fisted the ends of the blanket that was resting at his hips. “Google said that I’ll always face issues in my love life and marital life,” he frowned in an almost child-like manner, tilting his head towards Jay as though he was asking for pity. “So I’m basically never going to find true love.”

“‘Hoon,” Jay clicked his tongue. “Don’t believe what the internet says and just sleep will you?” He brought the blanket up to his chin again, only for it to be strewn across the room.

This time, Sunghoon yelled curses in Korean.

Y/N found herself chuckling, hiding her laugh behind her hand and Jay looked over his shoulder with eyes squinting to slits. She hurried out a few apologies, raising her arms in defence and taking a few steps back. Jay didn’t know how many times he sighed that night but if he had to be grateful for anything, it was Jake’s slumber and Y/N’s patience to deal with drunk people.

“You should try sleeping, Y/N,” he offered, noticing her eyelids fluttering shut every few minutes. “You’ve had a long day.”

“It’s alright,” she walked backwards until she reached the giant bean bag sitting at the corner of the room, beside the balcony. Her hands rested behind her head, her legs crossing as she smirked at Jay. “I’ll stay awake until Sunghoon and you fall asleep.”

Jay grinned. “Alright, hotshot.”

Her promise was broken because within five minutes, she had drifted asleep while curled up on the soft, cloudy bean bag.

It was due to a loud crack of thunder that Jake sprung out of bed, cold sweat trickling down the side of his face and his chest heaved with a lack of breath. He had just woken up from a dream, one where he was back at Y/N’s high school again and had fulfilled his urge to beat Sam to a pulp. In this dream, Y/N was crying in Sheila’s shoulder, crying about how she was scared she would never love another or another would never love her and then he was holding Sam by the collar, yelling profanities at him- profanities that begged why he broke a beautiful soul, why he tore the livelihood of a girl with so much potential for life. Just as Jake was about to confess his love for her, he woke up. It was a terrible, nerve-wracking dream.

Another bolt of thunder let him blink, his head turning to look around the room. Sunghoon snored beside him, his legs strewn in an awkward yet seemingly comfortable manner. Jay was asleep on a chair beside Sunghoon, holding a pillow close to his chest as his head nodded onto his shoulder. Y/N was sleeping on his beloved bean bag, one that she had grown fond of throughout the many times she had visited his apartment. She was curled up, hugging her knees to her chest and leaning her head onto the glass of the balcony window. Her brows were furrowed, though, as if she were caught up in a dream- her lips occasionally twitched. Jake didn’t think much of it and slipped out of his bed, ignoring the way Sunghoon mumbled nonsense in his sleep.

Jake padded towards his kitchen, preparing to make himself ramen as a midnight snack. He added spam and an egg and even added a slice of cheese to it because he knew Y/N liked her ramen that way and he also knew she always got happy when he ate something she liked. His ramen was accompanied by a cup of tea, holding a mug and a ramen bowl in either hand as he walked back to his room and set his food beside the bean bag Y/N was nuzzled in. He brought her a blanket, draping it over a frame and smiling as she pulled it closer to her with a hum- her brows unfurrowed. He pondered for a while, eyes never leaving her now peaceful state with crossed arms and debating what to do next until he was sleepy again.

He didn’t know what exactly he was thinking but he knew he was thinking about Y/N. She was a topic that occupied the many nooks and crannies of his brain for many months and he wasn’t complaining. He was just growing impatient now, praying harder and harder every day that someday, she would be his; that someday, he could call her his own. As he kneeled down to reach her level, taking her nimble hand in his, he leaned toward her forehead to plant a feather-like kiss. His lips stayed on her skin, a sensation so soft yet so warm it made him feel fuzzy and he finally understood what the poets meant with their word choice. It would be the first time he kissed her in any form and he decided he liked it- the feeling of her skin on his lips. And he decided he would do it more often and form it a habit.

Y/N had habits of her own to project on Jake. She refused to finish any chocolate she ate without asking if Jake wanted any and she always wished him a good morning and good night no matter the circumstances. Wherever she went without him, she’d buy him a bracelet or any small trinket as a souvenir. She had gone to a few beaches with her family for vacation and she brought him back sea shells- Jake still had everything she ever gave him, tucked away in a drawer or scattered across his shelves. Jake, out of love, had a few habits of his own like always calling her or sending her a few texts every day, even on days that they were too busy for themselves. Whenever he saw a vibrant flower, he would pluck it and slide it in her hair, behind her ear. He would never watch a movie or show without asking if she wanted to watch it with him because he knew how much she liked watching things with other people- and her answer was usually always yes. Jake always bought her rings or bracelets or necklaces- some type of jewellery- whenever he found the chance because her love for them was uncanny. One could never find Y/N Y/L/N without rings or bracelets on her hand and earrings dangling on her ears.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised his friendship with her sounded like what she described her and Sam used to be but a huge part of Jake couldn’t care. Because now, she didn’t wish for Sam back and she gave Jake what she couldn’t give anyone else and he was giving her what she didn’t get but craved and deserved. Consistency.

Anyone that loves you is gonna take care of you this way, Y/N. Anyone that loves you is gonna treat you the way he used to. There was nothing special about that. Jake was special because he refused to leave. No matter how much she hurt him and no matter how much he lost hope in finding requited love in her, he would never leave and he would never change.

As thunder decreased, he slid into the leftover space on the bean bag, draping the little amount of blanket left on his lap. With one hand holding his tea and the other his phone, he smiled to himself, feeling the warmth of her arm on his. He would stay in that position until he drifted asleep, his head leaning on her shoulder and arms intertwined.

WITHIN TWO WEEKS OF her graduation, Y/N moved out of her parents' house. She bought an apartment of her own, one that was closer to Jake’s apartment and Sheila’s university. With extensive help from Jay, whose dad had connections with house brokers and Tony, who bargained his way to a cheap amount, Y/N had managed to buy an apartment with her savings and a little more money from her parents. It had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large enough kitchen to fit three people. But most important of all was her balcony. Her huge balcony, which could fit an entire sofa set on its own, was her favourite aspect of her new home and she already knew she would spend most of her free time there.

She decided to paint her apartment on her own, deeming appointing painters from outside would be too expensive. Some days, she would paint alone and other days, Jake would be there to help, or Sheila or her parents. She didn’t let anyone else even know she had an apartment of her own, cutting off all contact with everyone from high school. Jake’s friends would come over sometimes too, bringing housewarming gifts in the form of new bed sheets, throw pillows or paintings found in flea markets. In about a month, her apartment would be ready, fully painted and furnished, decorated in a manner that fulfilled her dreams of having her own place to live.

The walls were painted a dark shade of brown, a shade so dark that it would be impossible to tell its colour unless the morning rays of sunshine hit the paint. The kitchen, on the other hand, stayed dull ivory and her average-sized fridge would always be stocked with drinks and cake, along with her favourite vegetables to cook. Her pantry was always filled with snacks and fruits, not because she would have guests around all the time but because she had a habit of eating when bored or stressed. She made a hobby of collecting different flavours of pop tarts and cereals and Jake even made fun of her for it.

The first few days of living alone were daunting. There were nights when Jake or her parents couldn’t stay over because they were busy or were too tired to drive and there were nights when she couldn’t even sleep. Y/N overthought a lot. Being alone didn’t do her any good but one day, Sheila called her in the middle of the night to check up on her and with that conversation, she knew that she could do it. She knew that being entirely independent of then on wouldn’t be an issue. Jake was half an hour away from her house and Sheila’s dorm was forty-five minutes away. Tony would regularly spend time with her while she worked and sometimes when she got back home, Jake would be sitting on her couch with two bowls of ramen, waiting for her company.

Life got better as she settled in. She wished life would stay as simple as this forever- her, her parents, a couple of friends and a well-paying job.

She had decorated her balcony with a few cushioned chairs and a swing, potted vine plants in the opposite corner. Sitting on the swing and reading became her favourite pass time when she was home alone. She would have her laptop with her sometimes, either watching something while sipping coffee or writing the next preposterous story she conjured up. She let the bustle of New York become the background music to her life and watched the sun set and rise sometimes and it quickly became a lifestyle. Jake would be with her sometimes, leaning against the railings and watching the moon rise and fall with her. Sometimes they would be talking, sometimes they stood in complete silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Niki and Jungwon visited her apartment a lot. Their dancing and karate classes were ten minutes away from where she lived and they would walk over to her apartment. They usually took naps to recharge before going back home and starting their school work. Other times, they would eat whatever food Y/N would graciously prepare for them. If they were feeling energetic, they’d ramble about their days, and tell her the most mundane things that happened and Y/N would listen to them like she were their guardian angel and she listened with a bright smile on her face and no complaints. Heeseung would pick them up to take home but other times it would be Jay, Sunghoon or Sunoo. It was rare that Jake was asked to pick them up and drop them home- he was only called in emergencies.

Once Y/N finally bought a car, she was the one dropping the kids home. She had to save up for a few more months but she bought a car and her life would be complete once she had enough money to buy a bike. She didn’t need Tony to pick her up for errands anymore and that brought her to the reality of becoming a full-fledged independent adult. It wasn’t the fact that she had to buy groceries alone, sleep alone and manage her schedule herself, shower and brush her teeth without her parents having to pester her for it- no, she realised she was growing up when Tony no longer had to pick her up anymore. Because she had a car and now she knew why everyone was furious over gas prices increasing and understood the frustration of traffic.

Suddenly, she was just a normal person with no baggage from failed relationships and drifted friendships. She was simply an adult with issues about gas and water bills and figuring out what to cook for dinner, all the while making ample amounts of money.

She felt normal. She felt great.

Going on late-night drives became another one of her acquired habits, easing into her nightly routines on times she couldn’t fall asleep. She would water her plants, close all the windows, prepare the ingredients of what she wanted for breakfast and respond to whatever emails Tony forwarded to her before mounting in her car and driving off into an abyss of lights, noise, a blanket of stars and a carpet of tar. That night would be no different, knuckles curling around the familiar steering wheel and she found herself on the highway amongst other cars and trucks and a few rare sightings of bike riders. She was smiling, laughing even as she sang along to the radio and enjoyed her own company. For the first time in a long time, she was able to enjoy doing things on her own and laugh on her own and she prayed to God nothing could take that away from her again. She was happy while reading and annotating her books alone, eating alone, watching shows and movies alone, watching the sunset alone and now, she was happy while driving and singing One Direction alone.

Though she was independent and could make reckless decisions, she concluded that driving out of town at an ungodly hour would be a trip uncalled for so she was on her way back home and sitting in the passenger's seat was a big box of chocolate cake she picked up in the only bakery open past midnight. She was stuck at a red light, humming her way through the sixty-second count down and nodding her head to the beat of whatever song played on the radio. She was living on a plane of oblivion until she opened her eyes and looked around the rest of the cars and the rose-coloured glasses slipped right off her view.

Beside hers was a matte black car and in it sat Sam, a grin on his face as he glanced at the girl sitting beside him, his girlfriend- the girl he told Y/N not to worry about.

Suddenly, the world around her came crashing in the form of stiffened bones and pressure beating against her skull. Her body was shaking but she couldn’t move and her hands were stuck to the steering wheel, a gulp tearing down her throat. She felt, to put it simply, awful and she wished she could forget about traffic rules and drive off but she couldn’t and she convinced herself that they were clueless about her presence beside them.

His girlfriend had a ring on her finger and they were kissing while holding hands. They were happy and they were in love and a quick check on Instagram confirmed that they were engaged. Y/N didn’t know how she ended up in front of Jake’s apartment but she was standing there with messy hair and in desperate need to fall into her definition of a perfect limbo again, like she was in only thirty minutes ago.

When Jake heard his doorbell ring, he knew exactly who was standing on the other side but he was never expecting the sudden visit. It was past midnight, he was half asleep and he had an early appointment with an editor in the morning but none of that mattered when his assumption was confirmed once he looked through the peephole. He was still in his sweatpants, a sweaty shirt covering his torso and flattened hair covering his forehead and though she had seen him in states much worse before, a wave of consciousness still took over him and he debated changing before answering the door but then it could be too late and he didn’t want her running off into the night.

He had terrible breath and his eyes could barely stay open due to his sore eyelids but he opened the door anyway and Y/N stood in front of him in all her glory. Her hair was messier than his, strands falling on the sides of her face in soft curls and the rest reaching her waist in waves that reminded him of a messy day at the beach. He knew her natural hair was his favourite style on her but it was the last thing he could focus on when he noticed the pain in her starry eyes. It was a kind of pain he had never seen on her before, it was a kind of pain that made him think she could die of heartbreak anytime soon. She chewed on her lips intensely and her gaze darted around everywhere until it landed on him, skin paled into the glow of a ghost.

“Jake,” she breathed and she sounded as though a shard of glass had pierced through her heart. “They’re engaged.”

“What?” His eyes could finally widen, following her as she walked through his apartment and into his room.

“What?” She exclaimed and her hands were in her hair, gripping the roots as her keys dangled off her index.

Jake stepped towards her, cautious hands in front of him as he attempted to wrap his arms around her. “Y/N-”

“It hurts!” She yelled, flinging the keys across the room and a crack echoed off the walls of his bedroom- it was either a hole in his wall or the break of her car keys.

In all the time Jake knew Y/N, it would be the first time she heard her yell until her voice shrilled. It was the first time he had ever seen her throw something- break something- in an attempt to ease her anger and pain. Since he had known her, she was always true to her belief in working through anger in the form of words rather than violence. The gym or sports was a healthy option she advised but breaking household items and punching other people was something she frowned upon. So, he was surprised when she didn’t stop him from taking another step toward Sam on graduation day, fully aware that he would have punched him if it weren’t for Veronica pushing them apart. And he was surprised now, that Y/N was gripping the roots of her hair and gritting between her teeth, her car keys laying broken in the corner of his bedroom.

The next ten minutes was a montage of her throwing hands and shoving him away as he clasped his arms around her frame. He didn’t know how, but they ended up on the floor, Y/N curled into his chest as she sobbed about how clueless she was about her emotions. She sobbed about how she wished she were a different person and she sobbed about everything she couldn't grieve over in ten minutes and Jake listened to it all while stroking her hair, shedding a few tears of his own as his lips buried in her hair. They didn’t move, simply stayed there as a permanent kiss, shuddering every time she did. And somehow, he carried her to his bed, seating her on the edge of the mattress and he kneeled in front of her while holding her hands in his palms- just the way he let her hold his heart in her palms without her even knowing it.

“I thought you were over him, Y/N,” he sighed, voice flowing in a broken whisper. His head tilted to the floor and he wet with pruned lips. Jake felt the tips of Y/N’s fingers brush over his hair, fixing its parting and nimbly trying to style it as a way of distraction.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” her voice was hoarse, having no other option but to speak lowly and her eyes were puffy. “He’s giving her what I’ve always wanted-”

“Getting engaged right after high school, that’s what you wanted?” He raised his brows, eyes almost judging the words that were slipping out of her mouth.

“No,” she whined, whipping off the stray tears off her cheek. “I wanted consistency, I wanted him to be true to his words and I wanted him to prioritise me but-”

“But he didn’t, Y/N, for fuck’s sake he didn’t,” Jake shifted to sit beside her, voice raising enough to make Y/N flinch. “What’s so special about him?”

“I don’t know, Jake,” she shook her head, sniffling her nose. “I don’t know, I don’t know. Maybe because he offered more to me than anyone in my life. Maybe it’s because I’m scared I’ll never find someone so fitting for me, someone who can read me. I’m scared I’m not capable of loving anyone else. I’m scared someone will never look at me and fall in love with me and I’m scared I’ll never be enough for someone. I’m scared I’m destined to die alone, Jake,” she heaved a breath. “I’m scared I’ll never be anyone's favourite person, I’m scared I’ll never be somebody’s number one. I’m scared I won’t find the person that’ll want to do everything with me.”

“What if that person is right in front of you?”

A little over a year ago, when Jake was introduced to Y/N, his biggest wish was to crumble the walls she had built so high to hide her true identity. His biggest wish was to know her, understand her, befriend her, and have her in some form or the other. Now he had her, crying to him and confiding in him and sharing everything including pieces of her happiness with him but it wasn’t enough. To brush her hair and hold her hands while she was crying over a broken past wasn’t enough but to kiss her lips and lull her to sleep felt more appropriate to him- he wanted more and he wanted to give her more. He craved it more than a kid craved cotton candy and he yearned for it more than a soldier waiting to come back home to family.

Now, she was looking at him with tears brimming her eyes, fresh tears meant for Jake rather than her history. Her lips were in a minuscule parting, teeth peeking out from behind her lips yet her breath was caught in her throat, failing to escape her lungs. She felt his every move, the way his fingers weaved with hers, the way his eyes darted between the changes in her features and the way his breaths were heavier as he moved to sit closer to her, anticipating a viable reaction from her. Y/N couldn’t help but feel deja vu as she let his stare weigh her down, bringing her back to the day they met at GQ’s headquarters and when he asked her to go to a cafe with him. At the time, she would admit that she expected more than friendship from him but as they grew closer and became increasingly important figures in each other's lives, whatever hopes and expectations she had in him were suppressed and the reassurance of a constant figure surfaced.

“I want to do everything with you, Y/N,” Jake continued, knowing that she was too in shock to give any response to him. “And it hurts me every time you think or talk or mention or cry about Sam because what is it that I don’t have? What has he given you that I couldn’t in the past year? What is so goddamn special about a guy that fucking left you? I stayed because you’re you and I stayed because you make me so damn happy. You’re my favourite person. You’re the person I want to be beside while doing everything, you’re the person I’m excited to talk to at the end of the day and you're the person I prioritise over anyone else-”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

There was so much desperation in his voice, an ample amount of fear that made Y/N’s knees weak. He was scared because there was a chance she could stand up and walk away without a word, there was a chance she would push him away and there was a chance she could laugh at his face and list out everything that made him unworthy of her but instead, all he got was glassy, doll-like eyes darting across his features robotically, as though she was reading every strand of DNA in his fibres. If it weren’t for the grazing sounds of the curtains dancing with the wind, he thought he could explode in the silence- perhaps the silence was a loud enough answer, which Jake refused to accept. In every beat of his heart, he could feel the essence of his soul slipping away from his being; like her response ruled his life or death.

The silver rays of the moon illuminated a purple hue on her face, reflecting the violets of the curtains. He thought, if they were in a photography studio, he would be quipping stills of her from all the angles she looked beautiful in and he would print his favourite picture out and hang it up on his wall. He could see her lips quiver as the wheels in her head turned, the fog in her eyes setting as though she was letting another wall crumble.

Jake felt the world around him spin and his bed suddenly felt like heavenly clouds and his room transformed into light blue skies as her hand tightened in his. He was floating, body suspended in thin air but Y/N was stuck to the same spot in his bed, unknown to the breeze he felt flowing through his floating hair and lifting shirt- it almost felt like he was in a cartoon, flying around between clouds and flocks of birds. He could see the line that drew between reality and fantasy, light blue contrasting with the darkness in his room, and he had to wait until he would be sucked back in again.

“Keep it that way,” she said.

“What?”

“Everything you just said. Keep it that way and I’m all yours,” her words were a timid whisper. A rush of blood gushed to her cheeks as she almost embarrassingly made eye contact with Jake. It sounded as though she had said those words millions of times before, as though she had rehearsed it, again and again, to be said at the perfect moment. Jake had to wonder if she thought about this, him, as much as he did her.

Nothing made sense to him, nor was he going to ask questions.

In a fleeting moment, Jake felt like his soul flung back into his body like he was waking up from a dream of falling off a building. He fell back, head nestled into the plethora of pillows near his headboard and back settling into the mattress and hovering above him was Y/N, a confused grin about her expression which she couldn’t control and her hands stuck to the pillow on either side of his head. He wasn’t sure how they found themselves in their predicament but his hands were gripping her waist like his life depended on it and if he wiggled his pinky finger, he would be able to feel her warm skin under her white shirt.

“Say that again,” Jake’s lips parted, his breath close enough to fan against her neck and his nose close enough to touch hers.

“Say what?” She asked, pulling her bottom lip between her top teeth while he wondered if the shade of innocence on her face was a simple act she put up.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he breathed.

“That I’m all yours?”

“Exactly.”

Jake was flipping them over, a light yelp of surprise as Y/N’s head hit the pillows and he hovered over her, positions exchanged between them. His breath was heaving, hair falling over his forehead and lips parting, then pursing in a continuous loop while she wondered what he was planning on doing. The world around them froze, the curtains floating in a ghastly position and the moon pausing its process of setting. They couldn’t hear cars or trucks and they couldn’t hear the air conditioning. All that mattered was their breath and the way their heartbeats synced along with their levels of anticipation.

She felt his hand on the side of her face, knuckles brushing away strands of coiled hair and exposing more of the fatigue in her eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you,” Jake whispered and Y/N gulped, nodding with hooded eyes. “And I’ll be damned if you think of anyone other than me,” and without thinking, letting a surge of adrenaline shoot up his spine, he leaned forward and their lips finally, finally, touched.

It was only a peck, a kiss long enough for Jake to feel the carve of her lips and for Y/N to relish in the feeling of butterflies and a foggy head. Her eyes fluttered shut and she stayed in her position as he pulled away, taking a moment to examine her features, soft and tranquil as she waited for more with a rising chest. Jake had been waiting for this moment since the day he laid his eyes on her, since the day he learned her name and since the day he had dubbed her an important person in his life. And the moment was perfect, regardless of the salt tracks on her cheeks and regardless of the hatred he held for the reason for her tears.

Then, he lowered his head again, eyes screwing shut and his lips touching hers for the second time and all sense of time was lost. They kissed like the act brought then oxygen, an intensity filled with sucked-in breaths and fighting tongues, lips refusing to part no matter who was pulling away. Their legs tangled and their hands held each other as though they were the last two people in an ending world. His fingers combed through her hair and he held her jaw, then wrapped his fingers around her neck as he adjusted himself to kiss her comfortably.

He held her softly like she were a feather, skimming the tips of his fingers over her skin before kissing every inch of her, parted lips painting pink and blue bruises onto parts of her chest that would be hidden later. She moaned for him and she moaned his name and he was proving to her that she was capable of loving him just as much as he loved her and he was proving to her just how much he worshipped her with cautious yet feral actions. They weren’t robotic, moving in a synced flow as if they knew exactly what the other was going to do.

And it was perfect, like how anyone would imagine their first time with their true loves to be. Only, these lovers were lucky enough to acquire it.

Words could not describe the euphoria Jake felt that night while he held her to his chest, her fingers drawing meaningless shapes on his shoulder with her hair sprawled across the pillow. His fingers trailed up and down her arm while he spoke about his year-long pining towards her, all his dreams and fantasies of taking her on dates and bringing her flowers and waking up to her every morning. Y/N hummed along, a soft smile on her face as she pressed her cheek into his chest, occasionally piping about how much she'd love to go to an art gallery or the aquarium with him because, in all honesty, she had also imagined rendezvousing to the same places with him. For Jake, having her bare and vulnerable on him and giving him her all was another dream come true.

"You know, I've been thinking of taking up photography," he mused, placing yet another kiss on her forehead.

"Oh, yeah?" Y/N grinned in glee, a twinkle in her eyes. "You should, you can become the next top photographer," she giggled.

The thought popped into his head a little while after Y/N's graduation day. The pictures he had taken of her and the ambience around were praised by everyone he had shown them to, especially Niki, an avid photography enthusiast himself. He had told him that the pictures were worthy enough to be published in magazines and made into billboards and if he mastered a few tricks on editing, he'd be a professional in no time. Since then, he wouldn’t go anywhere without his newly bought camera, taking pictures with the most effort he could. His muse was usually Y/N and other times, he would be taking pictures of Sunghoon or Jungwon.

Y/N had noticed his new interest and fondness for photography around a month ago when they went shopping for carpets and bedsheets. They were at a furniture store Jay had directed them to visit and he brought his camera, taking random pictures of people on the street and candid pictures of her picking through an array of carpets and fabrics. He had even asked her to model and strike a few poses, which she did with laughter as people eyed the pair with judgement. A few pictures later, it got awkward and they moved on to the next store but Y/n was not surprised at all that he was now thinking of studying photography. But, she was excited for him and they would celebrate it with the cake that was forgotten in her car.

Modelling didn't bring Jake the same thrill it did three years ago. It had become a norm for him, a lifestyle he had no plans of escaping for the next few years. Maybe he’d venture into the world of acting or singing or maybe even start a modelling firm of his own, but at the moment, as he thought about juggling between a modelling career and photography school, he felt giddy the way a kid would feel about a free lollipop at the dentists.

“I think I’m gonna go to college,” Y/N said, her voice soft and unmoving as though the decision she made had been written in stone for years.

“Psychology?” Jake confirmed.

“Yeah,” she sighed, smiling into his chest.

SCHEDULES WERE BECOMING HECTIC to remember and ever since Y/N started community college, forgetting her next errand to attend or perform became a habit. She drove home in a hurry, her hair a wild mess pleated away in a braid. She flung the door open and threw her bag over the first table she walked past and her wide blinking eyes spoke nothing but panic as she realised how she was late to yet another meeting with a designer she was supposed to meet and model for-

“Y/N?”

Tony and Sheila were seated on her couch, staring at their friend like she was possessed by an eccentric ghost. Her outfit, an untucked shirt and black tie and skirt, was unshoveled and it looked as though she had almost fallen off a high-speed rollercoaster. Y/N turned her head towards them with surprise, wide eyes softening just a smidge as she stopped emptying her pockets and purse in search of her ID card.

“What? Oh, hello!” She chuckled, moving stray strands of hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry, I can’t stay. I have a meeting I’m supposed to attend-”

“-Y/N,” Tony repeated, now more assertive. “That meeting is tomorrow,” he reminded her.

“Oh,” Y/N breathed, letting go of her purse with a thud. “Oh, thank God,” she celebrated with a gleaming smile. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I came to discuss a potential for a hand modelling contract?”

“Oh, no. I’m a terrible candidate for it, my nails never grow evenly and I have a few scabs and picked skin around my fingers,” she waved off and Tony nodded with pursed lips. She turned to look at Sheila, brows raising in question.

“Oh, I just came to visit because he said you’d be free for the rest of the day.”

Sheila and Tony met early into Y/N’s modelling career. It was an unexpected meeting- Y/N and Tony were on their way to a McDonald’s to grab a snack and Sheila was there with her brother, enjoying a cheap lunch before going to the movies. So the two groups merged into one and they spent the evening together. Tony and Sheila had grown to become friends since then, occasionally texting if they needed anything from each other or calling to see if it would a good day to meet and go to the movies again.

“I’m free for the rest of the day?” Y/N piped. “The day could not get any better, I swear I need a day off. I’m tired,” she sighed.

Just as she pulled herself towards the couch, Jake flung the door open with Heeseung and Sunghoon trailing behind him, each holding a plastic bag of take-out food. When Jake’s gaze landed on Y/N, his smile brightened and when he noticed Tony and Sheila, he raised the bag in his hand like he was presenting the food to them. “Everyone’s here!” He beamed. “We’re all gonna have lunch together.”

“Yeah, I gotta shower before that, though,” Heeseung beelined away from the group and ventured into Y/N’s house like he had been there a hundred times before- which was true.

Jake, before doing anything else, greeted Y/N with a kiss and walked toward the kitchen.

While Jake, Sunghoon and Tony set up the table together, Sheila dragged Y/N to sit with her so she could comb her hair. She was whining about how she was lazy to shower and change her clothes and would do her skin-care routine later in the night so the least she could do was fix her tangled and knotted hair. It was tranquil between everyone, the guys occasionally speaking a few phrases to catch up and Sheila catching Y/N up on how college was and how exam season was coming soon.

“Oh, yeah, Even I have to start studying for exams,” Y/N tutted, shaking her head as Sheila rounded the rubberband to her braid.

“You should have enrolled in my university, we could have helped each other!”

“I know, but community college is much easier!”

Everyone sat around the table for lunch when Heeseung finally showed up, rubbing a towel against his wet hair with a grin on his face at the sight of food. While they ate, Sunghoon explained how Jay couldn’t show up because he had a project to prepare for and Jungwon and Niki were in dancing and taekwondo classes. Sunoo was caught up with his chemistry professor, writing his next research paper.

“I haven’t met Sunoo yet,” Sheila mused while chewing on a piece of cabbage.

“Yeah, you have,” Y/N reminded her while pointing her fork towards her.

“Yeah, I have, but I didn’t properly talk him like this,” she referred to the impromptu lunch plans she was intertwined in.

“That’s because he’s always busy with classes or work or studies,” Jake said.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make you talk someday,” Heeseung assured while smirking and continuing to eat broccoli.

The group talked and talked and filled each other in about various aspects of their lives and steered to topics that didn’t even relate to themselves. Tony left soon as he had to meet his fiance and Sunghoon left to practise for his next ice-skating performance. Then Sheila left too because her dorm would close soon and it was just Heeseung, Jake and Y/N sitting on the couch and passing around the last glass of orange juice. They attempted to play cards but it got dull so they watched a movie together instead, a really old black and white movie that Y/N was itching to watch and even though it was boring too, their commentary and jokes made it all the better.

Eventually, it was only her awake, Jake and Heeseung passed out on the couch with a thin blanket shared between them. Y/N pondered about her life that night, realising that she had started a new chapter long before she even realised it. She thought about Sheila and how they had grown to become more like sisters over the past few months. She thought about Jake and how healthy their relationship was, how easy it was to be herself around him. She thought about Tony and the way he was part of her family before anyone else. She thought about Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon and Niki and how they treated her house like their own because they’ve visited so many times and spent the night so many times. They made memories there, the residue of beer on her ceiling caused by Sunghoon was never painted over and the crack on the corner of her coffee table caused by Jungwon who tried attempting a high kick in the middle of the hall never got fixed.

She thought about how her present was worthy enough to forget about her past. She thought about how she had everything she’d ever wanted.

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troublemakingrebel · 1 month ago

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it came to my attention that there is an alarming amount of people pulling out their hair and especially their poor bleeding hearts over the fact of Hans' arranged marriage. and while I respect and actually adore their ability to stomach broken glass and red hot nails, I also offer a completely opposite mentality as advised by a certain fellah over there:

see, him face?

the advice is as follows:

on top of that! when Hans reeeeeally doesn't want to do something, no one can force him.

"being responsible at Pirkstein? nuh, gonna go get abducted by Cumans while hunting with that blacksmith boy!"

"carrying sacks? nuh, gonna start a brawl and end up in a pillory with that blacksmith boy–"

"passageways? that my entire survival depends on? NU-UH."

look, he's already cooking:

besides! when Hans finds himself in the most desperate and hopeless neck-deep SHIT, something always happens to get him out of it (usually, it's Henry. Henry's job is to happen to Hans. yes)

camp slaughtered? Hans is not in the camp

no money, no rags? Hans steals a bow and becomes a poacher

imprisoned? Henry is working on it already

sent to the gallows? saved by von Bergow

ambushed and knocked out? Henry is there to protect him

imprisoned again?! Godwin for the rescue!

exhibit No. 1403, Hans jumping back to what he knows best right after a deadly bonk on the head:

at this point, I'm pretty sure the Great Eagles (summoned by Henry ofc) will quickly pop in to snatch him from the so much dreaded wedding

then, may I remind you whose company Hans and Henry are running in these days? do Žižka and Dry Devil look like they do weddings to forge new alliances? huh?

they do ambushes, raid Austrian borders and bring pistols to the knife fights, that's what they do! ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵒᵒᵗ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ʷʰᶦˡᵉ ᵈʳᵘⁿᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒᶦⁿᵗ⁻

finally, the argument about some real Hans (my bad, Jan) having a wife and a son hiStORicAlLy is completely invalid, because good for him, I guess, but hey, did that real Hans also have a blacksmith boy to kiss him goodnight? did he eat a demonic carrot as a child? caught an arrow with his backside? had shit spilled on his face, and noose put around his neck? exactly.

#Kingdom Come Deliverance 2 #KCD2 #Henry of Skalitz #Hans Capon #Hansry #Jindřich ze Skalice #Jan Ptáček #they're not doomed and not star-crossed guys relax #although i guess it does add a narrative spice can't take that away #Izzy does random thoughts

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netherfeildren · 11 months ago

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FABLE OF THE DOG : 1. The Two Headed Calf

Series Masterlist;

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Summary: Welcome home and buck up, cowgirl.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Slowburn(ish); Original Characters; Alcohol & Drug Use; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Graphic Descriptions of Vomiting; Description of a Dead Body; Death of a Parent; Parental Neglect; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Past Teenage Crush; Unrequited Pinning; Yearning and Longing Galore; Boss’s Daughter; Complicated Family Relationships; A Home is a Place but ALSO a Person!; Found Family

A/N: Disclaimer, I know nothing about Wyoming and it’s geography, ranching, or being a cowboy and just made all this up. Any and all misrepresentations are fallacy of my laziness.

The FMC tag was decided because she has a last name. It was just too difficult for me to speak in depth about her father without giving him a name, and thus her one too. After that decision was made, she kind of went away from me and devolved into her own person who I have come to be quite obsessed with. It’s still written in ‘you’ format, anyhow.

I’ve been having a whole lot of fun with this, I hope you do too.

Word Count: 10K

Read on AO3

1: The Two Headed Calf

“She’s been shut up in that house goin’ on three days now, Joel,” Tommy says as the two brothers make their way across the lawn.

The ride had been long and hard, and Joel is tired—he levels a dark look at him. “Just sayin’. Nothin’ you find in there’s gonna be pretty to look at.” He raises his hands in surrender at the brooding glare, that non-confrontational shrug that’s set Joel on edge since they were boys.

“One of you’s should’a gone in there. Made sure she’s okay.”

“The housekeepers’ve been keepin’ an eye. And Frank tried to go in there and check on her himself, but she’s angry as a barn cat. Hissin’ ‘nd yowlin’, and just bein’ downright scary as hell, to be honest. You should be prepared is all I’m tryin’ to say.”

“Her father just died, Tommy. I’m not expectin’ pretty sights right now,” Joel gruffs, trying to swallow the panic that flutters in his throat as they crest the final hill up to the big house.

The beautiful stone, oak, glass monstrosity that’s stood as monument to this place, this home that is not truly his, for over a decade now. The Kelly Ranch. The sky above is still a sultry, yawning blue, deep and tired, basking in the throes of dawn as the sun just now makes its way over the crest of the Tetons in the distance so that the house sits for just a moment longer in its pool of shadowed blues.

Joel pauses on the border of that somber darkness, afraid suddenly of what awaits him inside; boots glued to the ground with the gum of cowardice. He doesn’t want to see her broken. He doesn’t want to see her hurting. But there’s no other recourse, he knows this. The death of the estranged father she’d fought with all her life, the inheritance of this world that seems suddenly too big for just one orphaned girl, all alone now.

He’s afraid that he’ll walk into that house he’s always seen as other and home all wrapped into one—that Olympus that was so far removed and out of reach even when he walked through it’s halls to the man who’d given him sanctuary and salvation, to the man he knew mistreated her sometimes, didn’t love her enough—and not have the capacity to recognize her, this girl who’d always been familiar and stranger all in one also.

Joel Miller suddenly feels afraid of the memory she exists as in his mind, in the face of the woman he knows she is now.

When he lets himself in the back kitchen door, it’s still nighttime within. The cool dryness of the AC cranked up to inhuman temperatures makes him shiver once while sprouting a damp sweat along his nape. He should’ve showered before coming, should’ve washed the ride and the days of camp off his skin before walking into her presence, but all he’d managed were his hands and face. There’d been panic to make sure she was well, if not then alive, at least. But he should be more presentable for her.

Hell, he should’ve been here for her when she came home for the first time in two years to the house where her father had died. He should’ve been here when the man died.

But the herd had needed moving. He hadn’t thought it’d all happen so quickly, thought he had more time, that they all had more time. He’d hoped she wouldn’t return at all, if he was being honest. There was nothing here for her. Nothing except memories of a gilded and loveless, already motherless childhood. The reality of all she was set to inherit. The truth of an aloneness Joel didn’t know if she was prepared for.

He moves through the house slowly, afraid to disturb the ghosts and the silence. The interior, immaculate and beautiful and solemn. Something out of a movie picture or the gloss of a magazine. Something covered not in dust but in sadness. The stairs are silent as his spinning mind makes up for the creak, the boots she’d sent him on his last birthday hit the richly piled rug at the top, and the hallway to the bedrooms yawns long and frightening in front of him. Two grand a pop, the boots—Lucchese, he’d looked them up on the iPhone she’d sent him the year before. A gift giver, generous to a fault, kind to a detriment. She sent something to all the ranch hands that’d worked for her father since she was a girl. Something for the entire ranch at Christmas. And all he managed each time was a perfunctory thank you card, like he did every year because he remembered, years ago, in her little voice, polite people send thank you notes, Joel, my grandmother told me so. Last year he’d written that they were too much, that she shouldn’t have, that he was grateful. There wasn’t much else to say.

That was the extent of their communication, familiar and stranger in one, the far removed golden child of the Kelly. They’d all called him that, the Kelly, for as long as he’d known the man. As if he was some Scottish laird of old, ruling over his clan and half the world. Egotistical, was what it really was. He’d thought himself a god among men, in the face of his only child. Ridiculous was what Joel saw it all for, a put on play, a farce.

And wonder of wonders, she was entirely unlike him because of course she would be. Of course a man ruled by nothing more than ego and narcissism had been sent his polar opposite in the form of his only child. Kind hearted, was what she was—sending him a birthday gift every year. Remembering them all here always no matter how far she’d gone. He sent her a thank you note for each benevolence in return, a word of respectful gratitude for the fact that a person like her could ever remember a dog like him.

Sometimes, Joel had wanted to go to him, the old man, Oswald Kelly, and ask him where his daughter was, why he wasn’t looking for her, keeping her closer, caring for her. He wasn’t the sort of man that could’ve ever understood such callous behavior towards one’s child.

The last time she’d been here, over two years ago: less than forty eight hours that had ended in screaming so terrible they’d all heard it down from the barn, sitting in uncomfortable, swollen silence, the spinning of tires ringing as she yelled at her father that he was never going to see her again, the man’s echoing laugh as she’d fled him.

Joel hadn’t seen her on that visit, it’d been so quick and angry. Flying down on the jet from New Haven for her father’s seventieth birthday and not even making it long enough for the festivities. This was what her life was, as he’d observed it from a distance for all these years, the singular daughter of this great house, coming to her father, attempting joy and finding nothing but disappointment at the end of him.

She’d been right, a knowing streak running through her. Kelly had never seen her again, and Joel didn’t know if the old man had regretted it or not, the anger and the estrangement and the lack of love. But the last time he’d spoken to him, hours before setting off on their move, the herd always came before everything else, the ranch was all that mattered is what the man had always said, with death scratching at the window, his frail and withered body licked down to almost nothing from the austere and imposing figure Joel had always known him as, he’d asked for her. His only child. Do you think she’ll come, Joel? The dying man had asked him. My girl, do you think she’ll come see me? Joel had lied a lie he hadn’t known was one, said she would, that he’d call her as soon as he was back.

In the end, he hadn’t even afforded her that decency, a personal call.

He comes to her open bedroom door now, pitch dark as grief within, and the stench of sorrow and liquor seeping from the living grave. He looks down the long and empty hall for a brief second, wishing it didn’t have to be him, that again, he didn't have to see her any way other than okay. And he realizes that there’s something about her, as she will exist now, that makes him cowardly. Something about this house without the man who’d granted him the absolution of a hiding place all those years ago, who’d understood and sheltered Joel in the midst of his own past grief, that makes him cowardly. The house feels wrong without Kelly within it, wrong with only her as its holder now.

Joel steps into her dark, and it’s a battleground—

—You are silent and motionless in the blue room.

Nothing of the gleaming splendor that dresses the rest of the home sleeps in here. There are clothes everywhere, an exploded suitcase lies open and massacred in the middle of the plush white rug, a turned over bottle of red wine bleeding into your clothes. Shredded pages with scratched on writing slashed across them, the dusted white mounds of crushed pills, as if you’d smashed each one individually beneath the thumb of your grief. The sight makes him more afraid, the scent of weed and cigarettes heavy in the air, as he takes the final step towards the wrecked bed, and a single small foot hangs limply from the edge.

He stares at it long and hard for a second, afraid, afraid again, still, of what he’ll find. He says your name once, short and gruff like a dog’s bark. It’s what he feels like. Animal, bestial, lacking any sort of cognizance amidst this minefield. His heart beats against his spine, and he thinks he should do something else, shake you, check for a pulse, his bones throb inside his skin. He needs to fucking move, but the smell of smoke is so cloying he’s choking on his own tongue.

Your ankle twitches.

And Joel sucks in a sigh of relieved air without panic, saying your name again. His voice is level now, maybe gentle, no more barking dog. His eyes move up the length of one pretty leg, and then quickly, he averts his gaze when he gets high up enough he’s met with soft-creased asscheek covered in silk. Swallowing his tongue, his eyes roll in their sockets, looking for anything else to look at besides the sight of panty clad ass. He steps closer again, gripping the edge of the sheet to pull it over your scantily clad body, eyes flitting to the silver spun clock on the nightstand, the warm glow of the hall light shows that they have two hours to get you sober and presentable before the funeral.

Joel should have been here. He does not feel that he is even here now. And the guilt eats at him like acid. The fear too.

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta get up now,” he says softly, taking hold of your shoulder, scalded by the feel of fragile skin, realizing with the suddenness of a gunshot that you’ll be the Kelly now. He gives you a gentle shake, “We’ve gotta get you ready,” and his heart pumps blood like a machine. The sight of the dry liquor bottle toppled on the nightstand, the shattered glass glittering the floor in crystal, the empty pill bottles, it all taunts him. His guilt is a cacophony in his mind. He knows he’s going to have to stick his fingers down your throat, make you spit it all up, that you’ll hate him for all of this afterwards, but when his gaze meets streaked rust, dark and shocking against the white sheets, he’s kicked into terrified action.

He turns you over, your head lolling sickeningly in unconscious stupor, hair a tangled mess strewn about your face so that he has to dig for your eyes, parting the curtains of your fringe to uncover you. He focuses on your closed eyes, the too long lashes clumped together, lips cracked and parched.

He should’ve fucking been here.

Smoothing his fingers along the lengths of your arms, he keeps his eyes on your face and averted from all the skin that keeps peeking out below, searching the divots and slopes of your arms for hurts. When he gets to your right hand, battleground of a long ago broken hurt, he finds the drying crust of blood, the ragged split in the soft, small palm, thankfully shallow.

His eyes smart, looking down at the broken glass, feeling the tear in you.

Gripping you gently below the elbows he pulls you into his arms, cradled like a child, light as loss. Your head lolls again, neck crooked at an unnatural angle as he carries you into the restroom, careful of your head, knocking the lights on and putting you down in front of the toilet bowl. He pulls your camisole to rights, making sure everything is covered, and gathers your mess of hair as carefully as he can, trying his best to not snag the fragile strands in his too rough hands, but gripping you firmly in position. And ignoring the sound of your awakening cry, he sticks two fingers into your slack jawed mouth and down your throat until he feels the hot rush of vomit.

Crouching behind you, his thighs bracket you, keeping your form from slumping over as you empty the poison from your belly, flushing the alcohol soaked bile as you struggle. He wipes his messy hand on the leg of his jeans and rubs soothing circles on your back, his fingers woven through the soft silk of your hair to keep your head in place and your face clear. His heart thumps in rhythm with your heaves, your too quick, panicked breathing. There seems to be not enough oxygen for the two of you and your grief in the too small room of the commode, and Joel gasps like a dying fish, trying to swallow calm breaths.

When you finally stop your heaving, you rest your arms at the edge of the gleaming porcelain, head hung low, defeated, wracked with shivers or silent sobs, he isn’t sure, a strange and horrible keening noise, so small he barely catches it, held in your throat. There’s the finest down of peach fuzz that covers the tender slope of your vulnerable nape, and it makes Joel feel suddenly, just as vulnerable, just as unprotected. At a complete loss for how to help you.

“Finally decided to show your face,” you croak, voice ragged with your sick.

His fingers tighten once around your shoulder, a panicked tick of reminder that he’s here now, that he’s him. “I was moving the herd. It had to be done. Your father, he—” he stutters, trying explain, tripping over his own guilt ridden words. “I didn’t think it’d happen now, so fast, that you’d get here so soon. I thought we had more time.”

We.

Your skin seems to cool by the second beneath his fingertips, and then you’re shrugging his touch away, huddling closer to the porcelain bowl, further away from him.

“Get out.”

“Let me explain. I—” And he’s begging now. He can hear the note of it in his voice. Begging for forgiveness. For a chance.

“I don’t want to see you.” You don’t say his name. “Get out.” It feels worse than anything.

“I’m here now. I didn’t know— I didn’t think.” He reaches to grab for you again, but you turn to face him suddenly. Wiping the back of your hand against your mouth, pushing your heels at his shins to kick him away. Your eyes are red rimmed, the hollows beneath bruised with lack of sleep. But fire spits from the deep color, all anger and hurt.

“Go deal with your fucking ranch,” you fling the words at him. “It’s all you care about anyways.” And they weren’t shivers, he sees now, they’re tears tracked as proof of all his guilt, all his lacking, along the slopes of your fine grained cheeks.

Your, you say. As if this place and anything in it has ever been his. He’s never wanted any of it like that, only ever seen a thing that needed taking care of, and him, with the ability to care for it.

“I needed you,” you whisper as if the thought comes along on a second wind of anger, a realization that sends your voice breaking, hitching, your chest caving in on itself as the tears come faster and faster now. “He’s dead, and I needed you.”

“I’m sorry,” he begs. “I’m so sorry.” His voice breaks now too. He thinks he’ll cry now too, for the man who he also lost, who despite it all meant something to him, as well. For you, who’s lost even more. For Joel’s own guilt.

But he doesn’t think you see any of that, not his apology, not his regret, not his own grief. You turn away from him again, laying your temple down again on your forearm. “Get out. I’ll be ready soon.”

And so he goes.

Your father is made small and withered in death.

One of the wealthiest men in the entire world. A stranger, a titan, a nightmare of a man.

It wasn’t something you’d ever considered, that a human body could look so colorless and frigid and not alive. Like a shock or a ringing bell, it’s a realization that you’re an orphan now. That you’re all alone.

You feel something like a memory of regret. Or something that’s like the idea that you should feel regret, that you should feel guilt for how it was between the two of you. But all that is overshadowed by the reality of what you weren’t. All you feel even more, or in actual reality, is the old loss of what you’d never been to each other. That, you realize, is the seed of your grief. That long ago wound, that child’s understanding that he wasn’t like all the other fathers, that he’d never care for you the way other children were cared for.

Looking down at the frozen face that looks nothing like the one he’d worn the last time you’d seen him, the wispy thatch of hair that hadn’t been so jarringly white before sickness had ravaged his body, you realize that this is no new loss, it is only a continuation, a reopening of a very old one.

The cavernous cathedral at your back is silent, vacated by the sea of people that had congregated here earlier. And with sickening curiosity, you uncoil an arm from where you’ve got it wrapped around yourself, reaching out to press a finger against the ice cold back of his hand. Shockingly not alive; he feels made of rubber.

Everyone that’d been here to bid farewell to this behemoth turned slip of a man, to catch a glimpse of you, packed like teeth into Jackson’s grandest cathedral; business men and heads of state from around the world, the oldest family names in the country, figures of the highest echelons of wealth and society, vipers circling the barrel—half the world here to see this person who was supposed to have been your father but was really only a stranger.

You take your hand back, and you don’t say goodbye as you turn away from his body. There’s no farewell to really tell.

And at the back of the church, hiding in a bright ream of sunlight, Joel stands propped against the face of a saint. Dark and silent and maybe even more far removed than your dead dad. Watching sentinel. Oswald Kelly’s hovering man—come to watch over him one last time.

The silk of your stockings slide against each other at the junction of your thighs, the hiss of your skirt around your calves as your reed thin heels click against the stone, and you pull your armor as tightly around yourself as you can. There’s a hollow echo inside of everywhere and everything, your mind like a gong, reverberating, and his gaze is so steady, hazel bright, deeply shaded by the lip of his dark hat, beckoning you towards him from beneath the brim.

Large and strong and steadfast, your heart gives a painful, longing thump—stupid, writhing thing—and you can only bear to look him in the eye for a second, and if you were to really think about saying goodbye to that father that never really was, lying behind you, slipping further and further away, you’d say it to the man that always stood as his shadow before the world, before you ever said it to the man himself.

The drive back home is cast in frigid silence and made all the more uncomfortable because you can practically hear Joel’s brain clicking and ticking away with worry.

He’d sent your car and driver away with a harsh word while you collected your final goodbyes and words of respect from the last smattering of people congregated and waiting for the newly birthed heir to one of the greatest fortunes in the world.

Hovering over your shoulder, he’d kept anyone from stepping too close or getting too friendly, so close you could feel the heat of his chest through the silk of your blouse, and then going suddenly full on aggressive when a reporter from the New York Times had approached, fishing for a quote on the future of the Kelly empire. Ushering you away with a hovering hand at the small of your back before the man could get half a question out, he’s opening the truck’s door for you as a haze descends over your eyes, the distant shutter and flash of cameras bursting in your peripherals, a latent hangover and sleep deprivation and not enough to eat in the last forty eight hours causing you to sag in his hold. Then it’s only his big fist wrapping around the span of your wrist as he lifts you into the truck, your eyes downcast and unable to take in sight or sound, vision all a blur. You murmur a barely there thank you with his hand fitting at the dip of your waist, big body blocking yours entirely from prying eyes trying to catch a glimpse or a stumble, and for a single second, your entire weight is suspended in his hold, allowing you to bypass the struggle of balancing your high heel on the step up, and then you’re sliding onto the leather of the seat, the whisper of your cashmere and silk rustling around you as he handles you like a child being spirited away from the scene of a crime.

The door shuts gently behind you, face turned away from the flashing lights, the watchful eyes of the whole world, and worst of all, the assessment of his concerned gaze. All you’re afforded are thirty seconds of privacy to let out a single gasping sob.

And now, an hour and a half of silent purgatory.

You slip your heels off, flexing your smarting toes against the damp of your stockings and tuck your folded legs beneath you on the seat. Paying the frantic energy of his anxiety and lodged words no mind, you consider instead: your new reality. The burden of it all means very little to you now. The last of your worries is being readied for entombing as the two of you speed down the eighty nine, zinging past the bright Wyoming green. The thrum of his truck drowns out your thoughts, brand new, probably over a hundred grand, only the best for your father’s right hand man, and the Kelly Ranch insignia emblazoned proudly on the sides. A brand for the whole world to see just who exactly is being whisked away to her old home turned brand spanking new grave.

You might be feeling a little bit dramatic. But then again— you’d just put your last remaining parent in an actual grave, surely that provides you some allowances.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his big paw gripping the leathered steering wheel in a death clutch, knuckles white with his frustration at the dilemma you pose, his own discomfort. You’re sure if he thought you wouldn’t catch him, he’d be squirming in his seat.

You do something to him sometimes, you know this. Not in any way you’d like, not in any interesting way, that of a woman affecting a man, but something respectfully harrowing. Maybe something a little bit like fear.

There has existed between the two of you, always, that strange intimacy of two people who’ve known each other for a very long time, and yet, have always remained at a far removed, arms length distance from one another.

A professional intimacy of sorts. Your father’s foreman, shadow, fixer. The man who guarded that treasure trove you’d inherit one day, today; the thing your father loved most in the world. Two people who’ve known each other a long time, and yet, don’t really know each other at all.

There has always been, however, the fact of the birthday.

The birthday. Your birthday.

The way you’d latched onto that small, immense, detail when you’d first discovered it at fourteen, when he’d newly arrived at the ranch and the true weight of your first real crush had really hit you, it was probably not entirely healthy. But you’d thought yourself in love with your father’s man, the first figure of the male species who’d ever drawn your attention in such a way.

He’d never paid you any mind; you were the boss's daughter, a figurehead or a responsibility, maybe a nuisance, although he’d never ever treated you as one. But the day someone had let slip it was his birthday, on the same day as yours, your teenage heart had swelled with the naive hope of fate. It was meant to be, the two of you were connected, so on and so forth, swallowed by girlish innocence and made buoyant by fantasy.

But you’d had something to share with someone, which was what really mattered. Something tangible, even if only in your inexperienced little mind, something to wield as comfort so that the first time your father had forgotten your special day, fifteen, and what a tender age it had been, you’d had something to cling to. That's when your gifts to him had started. It was your way of making sure there was at least one person in the whole world who’d remember that was your day too. That you were alive, that you mattered. A reminder of yourself. And as the years and birthdays passed, sometimes, when he sent those coldly gracious notes of his, you’d wished you could’ve written back with honesty. Said something like, I’m so lonely, wish you were here, wherever it was in the world you’d found yourself at the time.

And of course, he was gorgeous and older, strong and patient and capable, entirely unattainable. Impossible to forget. You’d gone so far, traveled wide, gotten yourself an overpriced education that would probably serve you for nothing, had lovers and parties and splendor, and always, you remembered your gifts for him, you remembered him. It was the single most important detail of your birthday every year.

The leather creaks beneath his fist again, chapped knuckles set to burst before he flexes his fingers out, long and straight. Thickly built hands, strong, made for working or hurting, on a man who you’ve never seen be anything but stoically patient.

He was strange in that way, neither wholly impulsive nor precisely intentional in his mannerisms. More so, it was that there was something extremely neutral about him, a middle buoyancy of personality. Strict with the cowboys, exacting, wielding his title as ranch foreman with an iron fist and your father’s blessing, and yet still, quiet, serious, with that patient gentleness about him. You’d seen it in the way he’d handled Ellie when she’d first come to the ranch, young and skinny with that hollow look of trauma kids who’d seen things they shouldn’t have shamed adults with. She’d been a little older than you, and with an air you’d not understood, a sort of lived past you’d been naive to the existence of, frightened when confronted by it, and yet inevitably, the two of you’d become fast friends eventually.

You’d even experienced it yourself, on two treasured occasions, that gentleness that you’d held onto for years. Nurturing the memory of him in your mind like a delusional bloom.

He stretches his hand again, wheel caught between his thumb and forefinger, cinching it there, back and forth. His nails are meticulously clean, cut to the quick, and you imagine he must spend a great deal of time cleaning himself up when he works so hard at getting himself so dirty most days.

You can see him sneaking glances at you, and he coughs once, a clearing of his nervous throat. Averting your gaze, you turn your face away so that you’ll be able to watch him through the reflection in the window. He monopolizes the space in the cabin of the truck, broad shoulders and hulking form, all the fine leather smell washed away in the scent of him. That bay rum aftershave he’s always worn, the one with the distinctive notes of bay leaf, cloves and citrus. An old fashioned scent, masculine and crisp.

You’d snuck into the bunk once with Ellie, before he’d moved into the foreman’s cabin, before Switzerland, when the two of you were still girls running rampant and free through the ranch, clutching desperately at the last vestiges of any sort of happy childhood you could scrounge up for one another. You’d peeked in his things, found a whole world of Joel shaped curiosities. The glass etched bottle of aftershave, a hole spotted t-shirt with a burnt orange longhorn across the front, Flannery O’Connor’s The Complete Stories—something you found comforting, knowing he could read about the small, the freakish, real life; thinking that perhaps he was homesick for the comfort of the South, hungering for a taste of the life he’d had then, through books. And then, in a spine cracked copy of Suttree, the pages almost falling apart beneath your fingertips, dog eared and well loved, her picture tucked between the pages.

It had been the first time you’d done something you knew you shouldn’t have and actually regretted it, looking down at that green eyed photograph.

You’d run back to your room after that, ashamed and something a little bit like jealous, desperate to know who she was, desperate for someone to keep a picture of you like that—as if they loved you. And years later, you’d found the scent for yourself. The little molasses glass bottle you still have and pull out on occasion, when you’re feeling extra bad, extra lonesome, extra far away from the whole world, just for a reminding of home.

Beside you, he sighs again, coughs again, brings you back to himself and the present. Just spit it out already, you think exasperatedly, say something, anything else besides how sorry you are.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he starts, and you roll your eyes, scoffing quietly.

“You already said that.” Sullen. Mullish. You wish you were a child who could still throw a tantrum and get away with it. Letting your eyes go unfocused from his reflection in the window, you brood at the sight of everything that’s yours now as he turns off the highway, passing below the iron eave of the Kelly Ranch entrance. Eight hundred thousand acres of pristine Wyoming land nestled into the deep valley surrounded by the Grand Tetons mountain range.

“Well, I’m sayin’ it again.” He’s driving too fast, and you refuse to turn and look at his face. Your heart beats blood in your ears, and you screw your eyes shut to the dizzying blur of green legacy, not wanting to see any of it—him.

Your belly swoops, going slightly nauseous and gurgling.

“I didn’t think you’d get here so quick.” He swallows, “Hell, I didn’t think it’d all happen so damn fast.”

“I was already in New York,” you tell him, voice clipped with breathlessness. “I left Paris last week.”

“What? I didn’t know— I—”

“Why would you?”

“I would’ve called you. I would’ve gotten you out here quicker.”

“Ellie called. It’s better like this, Joel.” Finally letting yourself say his name out loud, it feels wrong and molten on your tongue, a heaviness being spit up from the depths of your stomach. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. He’s dead now.”

“There’s no pretending. He wanted to see you—”

“Please, stop.”

But he urges on unheeded: “He told me so before I left. Told me—”

“Stop,” you snap. Finally turning to look at him and hating him for it. For how gorgeous he is, for all the things he’s always made you feel for as long as you can remember what it was to feel something for a man, for all he did or did not have with your father when you had none of it or so much of an entirely different thing. “Stop. I don’t want to hear any of it. It doesn't matter anymore, Joel.”

“But you should know. You deserve to know that—”

“What?” Because that one hurts. “I deserve to know what?” That he actually had loved you but had just never been able to show it? That now it was too late? That the only person the great Oswald Kelly had ever been able to speak to of the supposed care he had for his only daughter was the hired help? You’d read once that one should never let their parents anywhere near their real humiliations. You’d tried your damndest to follow that as soon as you’d grown up. “It’s not your place,” you seethe with teeth bared, an animal shoved into a corner and made to fight for its life, deciding you won’t ever let Joel near them either.

He spits a cursing, growled sound of frustration, but doesn’t continue. The two of you find yourselves at an impasse, and you turn back to your windowed mirror of him, eyes pinching hot, filling with tears. One of the things your father disliked most about you, your easy tears, and a single salt marred inadequacy tracks down the slope of your cheek, dripping off the edge of your jaw into the bandaged cup of your palm, and you breathe slow and measured through your open mouth, watching the fog cloud grow and shrink against the glass obscuring your vision of him.

The last time you’d missed your mother, the one you’d never known, in any sort of real and true way, you’d been eighteen. Returning to an empty house after celebrating your high school graduation in a far off school, alone.

In the midst of your sophomore year, you’d been sent away to a Swiss boarding school. It had been something worse than devastating, losing your life in Wyoming, the only home you’d ever know, Ellie, the other people on the ranch… But it was far removed enough that you couldn’t bother, where you couldn’t ask for things like attention or consideration. The education had been excellent, the upbringing desperately lonely ending on a whimpering sigh despite your many accomplishments. You’d wanted her very badly then indeed, your mother. To have been there, to have helped you pick your dress, kissed your cheek after watching you walk across the stage. To have wiped your tears when she told you that your father wasn’t there because he was busy managing the whole world, but that he was proud of you, that he’d have been there if he could. You’d wished she could’ve been there to lie to you so that you wouldn’t have needed to lie to yourself.

Peering down from your balanced perch atop the deck’s bannister, you survey the deep bed of Lily of the Valley, destroyed beneath the vindictive soles of your bare feet. He’d planted them for her all around the house after she’d died, her favorite flower.

You’d always hated them.

And that was the thing of it all, which you’d learned when you grew old enough to recognize such things like disdain. He couldn't stand you because you reminded him of her. Clichéd and old and tired. An excuse for being a neglectful father. The daughter who was too much like her dead mother, and thus did not deserve to be loved.

You tip your head back, nursing at the lip of fine aged Macallan, and the sky is a glass mirror of blackened silver streaks. You’re almost positive that all the stars in the Milky Way are visible from right here at this very spot in the heart of Wyoming. The sight makes your broken heart feel full and falsely mended.

You’re certain you’re painting a pretty picture right now: tipsy on a bottle of your dead dad’s sacredly hoarded whiskey that probably cost as much as someone’s house, staring up at the stars in your newly inherited home with a whole unappreciated life full of possibilities ahead of you. Basking in the title of your newly minted— orphan-hood? Orphan-ness? A peer of the orphans.

You snort softly, sucking on the bottle again, letting the heat of it settle in your belly, smolder in your heart. Your head feels full of bubbles and sugar and sad.

There’s a part of you that feels a little ridiculous, despite the circumstances. You’re good at compartmentalizing, good at being objective of your realities. Obviously: sad because your father is now dead, and it’d been nine months and eleven days since you’d last spoken to him. Sad because he’d never given a shit about you. Sad because you’re alone, dumped by the stupid French jockey boyfriend who you’d not even liked very much, just a few days before this whole pathetic ordeal of acquiring your orphan-hood, yeah, that’s what you’re sticking with, had occurred. Not to mention the army of looming lawyers and financial advisors and various heads of business vying for your attention, waiting for the what next?

And Joel.

A one man army of looming Joel.

So you’re feeling morose, blue, maybe a little spoiled, but brought low and cut short. Depressed and unsatisfied with your life thus far.

Poor little rich girl. Poor little orphan. Poor little me.

What you want?

Someone to care.

Someone to love you.

Hard to come by. Impossible to buy.

The stars gleam purple silver, winking at you. The bracketing black so dark it swallows the eye. Another taste of the nutty bouquet of smoked apple oranges, and soon you’ll be tipsy enough you won’t be able to balance your butt on the bannister’s ledge anymore. Maybe you’ll go humpty dumpty over the edge and crack your skull against your mother’s valley of destroyed Lily’s.

You laugh again with sound now, not crazy, only an orphan, ha, but you think that it’s only that it feels shockingly as if you’ve fallen through the surface of your life. As if you are still falling with nothing and no one to grab on to, to help stabilize you. A really terrible, shit-out-of-luck feeling.

Your eyes continue their infernal leaking, and you blow your nose loudly on the inside of your sweater. You’ve given yourself three days to do whatever the hell you want, be as disgusting as you may. When the three days are up you’ll plan to get your act together, take responsibility and hold of your life and become the woman you should be.

Who that is? Still being decided.

You think that maybe you’ll buy another jet before that time’s up. Or an island. Something ridiculous. Maybe you’ll sell the goddamn ranch.

You eye the dark rolling hills of the valley with seething suspicion. Let’s see what Joel says about that. You, marching up to the highway entrance and spearing a For Sale sign in the dirt of the largest privately owned cattle ranch in the continental United States. Way more than that God forsaken surly frown is what you’d get.

So long, Joel, it’s been swell. I’m done with this place. It’s time to pack it up and find some new hunk of land to care about more than you care about me or anything else.

Maybe you’ll be real funny and put up a Craigslist ad.

And it isn’t that you don’t love this place, the only home you’ve ever known. You do. In a way that is passionate and consuming and irreconcilable. Everything about it, the serenity, the guarding mountains and the deep woods, the home you’d been born in, that both your parents had died in. You do love it in your way.

It’s only that every man you’ve ever loved—loved—had always cared more about the place than he’d ever cared about you.

For the longest time, most of your youth until you’d decided that you officially felt an adult, you’d thought you’d hated your father. There was just so much anger and resentment and the resound of his ever furious words and insults and endless disappointment. The echo of no mother ringing so loudly in your ears that the confounding feelings had all been mistaken for hatred. But with age and distance and life, you’d realized you didn't hate him. You never had. You thought, actually, and this was a very good and mature thought of yours, that you were the only person in the whole world that had ever seen him as only a man and not a god.

He was only a man, full of greed and grief and missing the mother of the child he’d probably never wanted. Nothing more or less.

Maybe it was that you felt sorry for him. Not in the way of pity, but in the way of one person feeling empathy for another in a clinical and helpless sort of manner. And a numb, detached sort of sadness. A longing for something that you’d never had and had always wanted but eventually learned to live without.

Ultimately, his disappointment had turned on him, and now it was all you felt you had for him at the end of it all.

But, for some reason, and an annoying one at that, you do think that, if you try very, very hard, you could bring yourself to hate Joel Miller. There’s satisfaction in that possibility, vindication—resentment that even now, as practically strangers, you know he’d be able to pull that sort of feeling out of you which could result in hatred. Something strong and overwhelming and not easily escaped.

Your stomach rumbles, and you smile blithely at all your inherited legacy, filling the hollow with more drink. Three days to behave very badly, as badly as you can. The whiskey is so good, and swishing it around in your mouth, you tip your head back further, gurgling it loudly at the back of your throat.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You jerk, scrambling to keep your balance, choking a little on smokey apples and your own spit. A trickle of the golden amber liquor drips out of the corner of your mouth as you find him hiding in the dark across the deck. Accustomed to drooling over him, you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“Having a party. Would you like to join?”

“Are you drunk again?”

Tough crowd. Ugh. “Never mind. You’re not invited. Go away.”

“You need to go inside and go to bed.”

You tip your chin at him, putting on doe eyes. “Alright. And are you going to be my new daddy also?” You say in a baby voice.

Fucking Christ, you hear him whisper under his breath, turning away to run an exasperated palm over his mouth. Frustration seethes off of him like sulfur. He’s tired. Of you maybe. Of the whole circus this place has become in the past few days—and rightfully so.

“What do you want? I’m extremely busy, if you can’t tell.”

“Just thought I’d check on ya.” Courteous, always the gentleman, bullshit. You roll your eyes at him.

“I don’t need you to check on me.” And you, ever the child. One day you swear you’ll grow up.

But it can’t be said that you’re entirely selfish either. You have considered the fact of Joel’s own grief at the loss of your father. After all, they’d been much closer than you’d ever been to him for many years. And maybe, in his own cold and removed and superior way, your father had seen this man who you’ve thought yourself in love with since you were a teenager, as something like a son.

Probably, that’s just your own wishful thinking: that Oswald Kelly had ever been capable of such tender feelings.

Maybe the fact of Joel’s own grief is the thorn beneath your nail bed that’s making you so angry with him, so needing of his attention. Maybe it’s that he’d failed to fulfill your silly and girlish fantasy that upon receiving the news of your only remaining parents death, he’d have been here waiting for you, at this home he’d guarded for you for so long, ready to take you into his arms and console and care for you.

When instead, he’d been off doing what he’d always done for as long as you’d known him. Protecting your father’s interests, his legacy.

“Is this how it’s going to be?”

“How?”

“You, being difficult.” Driving me fuckin’ crazy— he adds again under his breath.

“I’m an orphan now, Joel.” You’re becoming quickly addicted to the word. “I think I should be afforded a tiny bit of leeway to drive people fuckin’ crazy,” you mock his Southern drawl. Enough of your time had been spent in Europe over the past two years, kissing Europeans, that you’d sloughed off the last of your American twang; something of a vaguely European lilt peppering your words every now and then that Ellie likes to tease you for whenever the two of you speak on occasion.

A muscle under his left eye twitches at the jab, and you take another deep swig of the bottle, provoking him with your gaze. Wishing you had whatever it is a woman needs to entice this man. Like the fucking vet. Fucking world renowned, brilliant, highly coveted, beautiful veterinarian. You know about her. You’re sure he thinks he’s been discreet over the years with their whatever they’ve had, Tess, but you know.

Maybe you’ll be insane and irrational and possessive, taking advantage of your three crazy days, and fire her with your new found power. See what he has to say about that. Ha.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Obviously not.

Despite your current hysteria, your goal is not to send the ranch head over heels into a tailspin.

But the imagining is soothing.

“Want some?” You hold the heavy crystal out towards him in a peace offering, held precariously between two sweaty knuckles. “It’s probably worth as much as your truck. Would be a waste for me to finish on my own.” You eye what’s left of it, about half, and give him a sheepish grin. It really is very good.

He looks at you for one long, solemn moment, always so silent and pensive, this strange enigma of a man. You get to watch in real time as he loses whatever fight it is he’s trying to fight against you, victorious when he shrugs and comes over slowly, resting his butt against the bannister—a carefully respectful distance away from you.

When he takes the bottle from your swinging clutch, gripped from the base, careful not to touch you in any way, you see the real sad in his eyes. The dim lights bleeding out through the big windows of the family room without a family shine on his face in strips and bursts. A shadow here, golden warmth there. He’s got more lines around his eyes than you remember from the last time you’d been this close to him. Smile lines made bright white in the center and gold burnished at the edges from too much sun. There’s little bursts of silver threaded at his temples now too, a gleam here and there in his dark beard. Forty four years old, he’d turned on your last birthday.

You dig your nails into the soft meat of your palms, and your belly smolders as he brings the bottle to his lips, tasting the exact place your own mouth had just been moments ago. You press your knees together as hard as you can, head a little woozy with the color of his eyes; the most gorgeous green, caramel hazel.

You’d graduated two years ago with a degree in art history and had done absolutely nothing with it since. It was just that everything appeared boring and pointless and shallow. Your whole life had one day suddenly seemed just a little silly. Useless, overpriced degree, nothing to be done with extensive knowledge in color theory when your world is expecting such different things from you now.

But you sure as hell can appreciate the color of his eyes in extensive and meticulous detail. There is that.

Watching the slow slide of the amber liquor down the bottle-neck, the long pull of his lush mouth, the ripple of his strong throat, and the way his eyes go a little wider, shocked at how good it is. You laugh soft: “I know, right.”

He takes another pull, another swallow. That’s what you want to be—swallowed just like that. “Damn, that’s good.” His mouth is a little wet, bottom lip shiny with thousands of dollars worth of your father’s favorite whiskey, and his eyes are sad.

You’d said you were going to be bad, but you don’t want to be bad to him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He swallows again, tipping his head towards you, trying to catch your too soft words—he’s got a bad ear, you know why—and turns to peer at you from beneath his low pulled brow, the tip of his tongue peeking out to swipe at the drop of liquor you wish you could suck off his tongue.

“You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

The first time he’d shown you that gentleness of his: You’d fallen from your horse at school in your junior year. Something had frightened the beast, and she’d bucked you, sent you flying ten feet in the air, ragdoll-like, before you’d landed badly on your right arm, a comminuted fracture in your radius that you’d needed surgery to fix. At your insistence, and with only a few weeks left to spare, you’d been sent home for the remainder of the semester. Your father had been incensed but eventually allowed it. He’d been away from the ranch on business, after all, at no risk of being truly disturbed by you. But when you’d been readying to return to Switzerland at the end of the summer, arm healed, courage not, you’d not been able to get back on a horse no matter what you tried. Joel had helped you, before they’d shipped you off again. Trotted the corral with you for hours and hours before you’d finally been able to relax and sit on your own without tears and vertigo. No questions or admonishments, nothing but the quiet burr of his deep voice, guiding you and the mare along.

It had been a kindness unlike any you’d experienced in maybe your whole life.

“I’ve been bad.”

“Nah. You couldn’t ever be.”

The second time: “Did today make you think of Sarah?” Years after you’d found that green eyed photograph, he’d shared her with you.

His gaze turns suddenly sharp, but you’re not worried you’ve stepped in unbreachable territory. “Yeah.” The echo of her name rings around the two of you.

“In a bad way or a good way?” He takes another long swig, a low whistle through his teeth and a shake of his head before he’s handing the bottle back to you—again, carefully.

“Both.”

You take your own swallow, slicking your tongue all around where his just was, and you’re drunk for real now. Drunk on a man.

“Do you ever regret telling me about her?”

“Nah.” He tips his head back, looking up at the thick beams of the deck’s awning. He’s got the longest lashes you’ve ever seen on a man, thick and curling. The deepest voice you’ve ever heard too, sultry, a bedroom voice. A voice for fucking. Your belly swirls and dips, and you want so much you’re dizzy with it.

Heart beating like it’s about to burst, out of breath on the verge of hyperventilating, you can taste his mouth in your mouth, the imagination flavor of it. This is what it must feel like to die. This is what your father must have felt like three days ago, this agony.

His Adam’s apple bobs, and it’s so pronounced, the skin of his throat sun pebbled. There isn’t an inch of him that isn’t all rough-hewn man. “You needed to hear about her then, I s’pose.”

Yes. “You told me when I needed you to.” After that lonely graduation, the last time you’d missed her really very badly, longed for a mother. Alone, alone, alone little girl.

“You were missin’ your momma somethin’ fierce. Needed to know you weren’t the only one that felt like that sometimes.”

You laugh a not-laugh, butt scraping against the railing, slipping off your perch, socked-feet thudding beside his gifted boots. The pleasure you feel whenever you see him use one of the things you’ve given him is indescribable.

“Silly,” you say with barely any sound, his bad ear reaches for your voice again. “At the time it felt like I was the only person in the whole world that had ever felt like that.”

“We all feel like that at one point or another, I reckon.”

“Will you miss him a lot?” You ask looking up at him, the beautiful profile, the strong jaw. You’ve always wondered how he sees you. If he’s ever thought you were beautiful. Other men do, it’s a common thing, a nothing sort of thing. There are always men, there will always be men. But this singular man—this one is not like the rest.

“Maybe. Can’t tell yet, don’t think. But it felt wrong earlier, walking through his house without him in it.” His house, not yours.

“Do you wish he’d been your father?” And he turns to look down at you at that, gaze snapping, and you can tell you’ve shocked him with the question. But you’d always wondered.

“No. Never,” he says with such assuredness, an uncompromising shake of his head.

And the answer doesn't necessarily shock you in turn. You don't think anyone could have ever wanted a father like that. But it also doesn't help you understand what it was that lived between them either.

He sighs, perhaps reading the confusion in your gaze. “He helped me at a time when I needed it real bad. Gave me a place and a purpose and a thing to do and take care of. You get me? It was gratitude—maybe. He saved me in a way, after Sarah. Nothing more.” He thinks for a moment, and then, “Perhaps it was that we understood each other about certain things.”

You gaze across the sprawl of dark land as far as the eye reaches, that point of no return where the earth shoots up into the sky, purple blue behemoths in the shape of mountains.

From this spot, rooted to the deck of your family home, it seems like the whole world is yours to keep. Also, like you’ll never be able to touch any of it with fingers or taste or meaning.

Your love for this place is complicated—tied up in the people, the memories, the could’ves and should’ves, the whole dreamscape idea of the monument of childhood and all it’d really never been. The time away had felt eternal, like you’d never really been here to begin with, like the young girl who’d grown up on this land had never really existed. But you’d not forgotten them, this, despite your distance. Your home, the father that wouldn’t want you, Wyoming and all its splendor, the people you’d left behind, Joel and Ellie and shared birthdays that meant a secret world to you. Morsels of small happinesses interloped amidst a largely lonely and sad childhood. That’s what it was at its core.

“Would you be angry with me if I gave it all away?”

He thinks for a moment, maybe you’re making him sadder, but then finally says with a swallow, “No. It’s yours to do with as you please.”

You eye the quarter of whiskey left, but your belly isn’t hungry for its warmth anymore. You want something heavier now.

“Could you even do that—legally—sell it or somethin’?”

“Probably not. He probably tied it to my fucking life. Sell and die.” You mime your name in an imitation of your fathers deep voice, frowning at yourself the way he’d always frowned when he looked at you, but it pulls a laugh from him, and the painful memory is worth it. “But I have a billion dollars to spend now. More?” You tap your chin—you want to make him laugh again. “Gotta think of something interesting to do with it all.”

His mouth slides into an easy half grin. Like the moon—that beautiful. And he turns to face you fully. “You’re gonna be just fine. You know that, right?”

You turn to face him too, gripping the bannister for dear life. “What? Will you make sure of it?”

“That’s my plan.”

“How’re you gonna do that, d’you reckon?” The American twang bleeds back into your voice, and you’re all swollen lush on the inside, heart a beating fist in your chest.

“Haven’t gotten that far, if I’m bein’ honest with you.” God. His eyes, the strong bridge of his nose, his mouth. He’s so tall your head has to crook back to look up at him. “I’ll figure something out.” And after another pensive second, and still with that soft, sloped eye smile, he asks, and nicely, “Will you stop drinking now—for me?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” you say with the same sort of smile in return.

And then suddenly, like vomit again but maybe more humiliating this time: “Did you respect him?” Because you don’t know all the things about him that there are to know, but you do know that Joel Miller’s respect is a thing hard earned.

He clicks his tongue, and you hear the pop of his jaw as he shifts it like he’s chewing on an honesty. His eyes, his eyes, they’re serious, mercurial, warm and deep also. You worry he won’t answer, that he wouldn’t want to disappoint you or something, but then: “No,” said real simple like.

“Why not?”

And the way he looks down at you, you know already, and it makes that falling through the surface of your own life feeling rise up inside you again, makes your ears pop with embarrassment. Ah. “He never did a very good job of hiding the way he treated you, sweetheart. I couldn’t ever respect a man like that.”

This is reality right here, this is you falling through your life, this is the realization that it wasn’t only you imposing yourself, your existence, on someone with gifts they didn’t want or ask for. Joel had seen. Joel had understood.

Someone else had noticed that you exist, and it had been him.

What else had you ever wanted?

And in the blink of a desperate, yearning eye, drunk on a man still, you’re throwing yourself at him, pressing your mouth hot and heavy to his, kissing him full on the way you’d dreamt of since you knew to dream of such things.

Chapter 2; Sugar, Not so Sweet

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#fable of the dog fic #vic fic #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller x FMC #joel miller smut #Joel miller angst #the last of us AU

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animatewarriorcats · 2 months ago

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Berryheart! This one contains a lot of spoilers, starting in paragraph 2. She is one of Snowbird and Scorchfur's kits in their first litter, alongside Cloverfoot, and Buster(rippletail). She is also Needletail's mom, and later has Sunbeam Spireclaw and Hollowflight. She was among the first shadowclan cats to defect to join Darktail, alongside Cloverfoot and her younger sister Beepaw, before the kin had taken over the camp and were just hunting on Shadowclan land. She eventually becomes disillusioned with Darktail and tries to leave the kin quietly with Beenose, but they are caught and the kin attempt to drown them both, killing Beenose. Berryheart manages to survive, (only shown on the bank after escaping in the manga after Tigerheart's shadow). She heads out of kin territory again, passing a message back to sparrowtail and Needletail through Slatefur (who she doesn't tell she was just attempted drowned? the pacing of the manga makes no sense but oh well!) Sparrowtail meets up with her and later so does Cloverfoot and Slatefur (who was replaced with Rippletail accidentally for the whole book) and they settle in an abandoned twoleg den. She and Sparrowtail have their second litter on the way back to shadowclan while traveling with Tigerheart's family and the cat's from Twolegplace, delaying Tigerheart's return by a couple weeks until her kits are weaned.

In the Broken code she makes a few limited appearances, but In the Starless Clan arc she becomes a very vocal Shadowclan conservative as a complete role reversal from her younger attitude in consequence to her experience with the kin. She is extremely disappointed that her son Spireclaw has taken up with Fringewhisker, a Skyclan cat who joines Shadowclan in River. She starts a faction of Shadowclan cats who meet in secret to speak out against 'clan-swappers' as they call them in Sky. She is the cat who alters the rule that cats must complete a trial to cats must complete three trials to be abe to switch clans. Berryheart is also vocally against 'helping' Riverclan with their leadership problems, and conspires with members of riverclan to remove the shadowclan occupation. She is extremely stubborn and arrogant and only becomes more so over time believing she knows best for her kits, her kin, and her clan. She goes as far as to try to use the new rule to replace corrupt leaders against Tigerstar at a gathering, but instead is turned on by her clan who-when the chips are down-don't believe that Tigerstar had abused his clan. Tigerstar recommends that she leave shadowclan, and offended at the idea she might join another clan Berryheart spits she'd rather be a rogue. Tigerstar is serious, and Berryheart leaves with Sparrowtail and Hollowflight.

Berryheart becomes injured by glass on a thunderpath and then battles infection. Sunbeam tries to convince her to accept clan help but her mother is too stubborn. Splash'star' takes her in, and uses the bitter she cat to intimidate his clanmates, making her his deputy once she recovers after he murders Harelight for suggesting he forgive dissenters. Together they trap Tigerstar on the gathering Island and invade Shadowclan. She tries to convince her former clanmates in shadowclan that she has a plan to restore their clan and rule it herself, but having just attacked them they don't trust her, and Splashtail discovers her treachery. She is killed facing Lizardtail, Nightsky and Owlnose, pushing Sunbeam out of the way before Owlnose strikes the final blow.

Listen I 100% agree with the assumption that she resides in the dark forest (I cannot for the life of me find an official source that says so?), but I also very much understand the direction they take with Sunbeam and her grief for her mother. Berryheart is complicated, she is kind of a dick but her motivations are to save her clan and kin, it makes sense that Sunbeam (and Sparrowtail) wants to save her to the end. Speaking from experience Its hard to know the horrible things that a parent can do in the name of love. It makes you believe in the better side you can see in a person despite all of the horrible things they can rationalize away for the greater good. Ultimately though the only person who can choose not to do hateful and controlling things is the person doing the hating and controlling, and some will never admit they might be wrong even if it destroys all trust. RIP Berryheart I hate her but also I do love her lmao.

#Berryheart #Shadowclan #Warrior #warriors #warriorcat #warriorcats #warriorcat designs #warriorcats designs #warrior cat designs #warrior cats designs #warriors designs #warrior cat #warrior cats #Loner #Rogue #Kin #riverclan #dark forest

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grippincash · 11 months ago

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𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.

john marston x f!reader

cw: john marston x reader, afab reader, smut 18+ mdni!, porn with little to no plot, slight dubcon, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), drunk sex, missionary/mating press… creampie, slight dark content

a/n: rdr2 brainrot… practicing smut… lots of thoughts… head NOT empty..

word count: 2k.

You can’t remember what led you to this mess.

Countless beer bottles laid beside a creaky old bed both you and John were sitting on, the owner of this cabin likely long gone by the state of the place. You don’t remember how you got here, or why you were here, or why you stayed. If you thought John only had the time to down endless amounts of liquor back at camp, you were dead wrong. You were almost disgusted by it, the scene upon walking inside the broken down hut making you scoff at the man leaning against the bed frame, bottle in hand. So, why did you stay?

More importantly, why did you pick up a beer bottle and crack one open for him? Why did you pick up another and chug it beside him? Why did the bitter taste of the beer gradually get so good the more you drank, and why didn’t you stop yourself?

You smiled drunkenly, the reason why you came to pick up the outlaw having completely slipped your mind. You cared less and less the more you drank, with his accepting gaze only encouraging you. If you thought about it for more than a second, maybe it was his conniving nature and ability to beautifully persuade you into drinking so much. Maybe he wanted something out of you, but none of these thoughts lasted. Not without being overridden by your own desires.

Eyeing the man beside you, a thought ran through your mind, and you couldn’t swipe it away. Your eyes ignored your mind’s pleas to think logically, when you could only stare at John in awe as he droned on about something you were sure neither of you could understand. You laughed when he laughed, your eyes flickering down to his unbuttoned v-neck almost instinctively. You wanted to run your fingers through his chest hair.

You couldn’t remember what you were going to bring John in for, when the throbbing of your core intensified as he’d rim the bore of his booze to catch any and every stray droplet rolling down the cold glass. His expertise in using his lips and tongue was something you've never seen before; not from him, unless it was to throw snappy remarks to whoever bothered going back and forth with him at camp.

You weren't sure if you were testing him or testing yourself, self-doubt leaving you hesitant as you flickered your gaze to his lips, and then to his calloused hands. Your heart dropped for a split second when John caught you staring in between your extensive silence, and in that moment you could’ve sworn he was testing you, too. So when your hand upon drunken impulsivity brought his to the warmth between your legs, both of you knew what the other wanted in an instant.

"Like.. This?"

His tongue dragged up against your clit with torturous sluggishness as his eyes remained locked onto your face throughout, your heart skipping at the shameless act.

Without waiting for an answer, John wordlessly inserted a finger before placing a kiss on the same bud, his eyes shutting out of what you could only think to be his own pleasure.

Breathing out at the unannounced contact, you couldn't help but nod in a rush, despite your mind spinning from both the alcohol in your system and the high you got from John finally on you.

"Like that.. L-Like that, John.."

His eyes fluttered open slightly, intrigue lacing on what little you could see of his face. Slipping his finger out before pumping it back in, he smirked against your inner thigh, his eyes squinting at your lustful expression.

"Mm, like this? Do I continue doin' this?"

He was clearly toying with you, but you didn't have half the mind to care nor fight against it, your lack of senses only wanting more. Even while tipsy and desperate, he couldn't resist pushing you to the edge as best he could. You nodded rapidly, your teeth digging into your finger as tears brimmed from the levels of pleasure he was slowly introducing to you, little by little.

"Yes.. Yes..!" You huffed, rutting your hips up slightly. He hummed with enjoyment.

"Aren't you just a sight for sore eyes."

John mused at your desperation, his lips moving against the sensitive skin of your pussy. You helplessly whined, a second finger inserting inside you before you could react. The rolling of your hips came to an abrupt stop when he curled the two pointers inside of you, rewarding him with a gasp and a moan from your lips. His lips locked onto your clit immediately, stimulating you in ways you didn’t think possible.

"You don't mind me speeding up, now, do you darling?" He teased as he sat up, his eyes for once flickering down to watch his digits move in and out of your cunt. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, his pants tightening at the crude sight. His other hand had his thumb pull back your flap to get a better look of the pink flesh beneath your bush, and with your heart pounding in your ears and your surroundings spinning, you moaned at his fingers expectedly increasing pace.

"N- mmh," you answered—if you could even call that an answer—and his smirk only widened. Jesus, it was just too good. Your contorted face only egged him on as he spit on the exiting fingers, the lewd sound of wetness working together inside your pussy making you flush with embarrassment.

Placing kisses all around your groin, he flickered his gaze back up to you, a dark look in his coffee-colored eyes.

“It's too much, isn't it? Y'want me to stop?"

He knew what you were going to say within that second, when your eyes widened and your head shook the other way. You were so drunk, but that question alone might’ve sobered you up quicker than any cold plunge would, when your blurry eyes glossed over the expectant, smug grin on John's face.

"No! It feels good, John, it does.. It feels.."

Panicking as his fingers fully slid out of you to leave you clenching around nothing, you looked up desperately as he towered over you. Were you the only one drunk?

"How good?"

You didn't waste any time answering, starting with a slurred "Really, really..-"

..Until you felt the sudden feeling of his fingers rim your lips, before they surely inserted themselves into your mouth. You hummed a moan as he let you suck on both your pussy juices and his saliva from his soaked digits.

Happily doing so, John snickered above you disparagingly. He absorbed the sight of you, took a mental picture of it with clear vision. You were so sexy drunk.

"My sweet, obedient angel.." He hummed mockingly, his other hand fidgeting with his belt.

Eyeing him with what little view you had of him, your stomach jumped excitedly at the distant sound of him sucking his teeth in and his belt hitting the wooden floor.

With your tongue swirling around to mop up all you could from the fingers still in your mouth, he then pulled them out, emitting a small "pop!"

Leaning down to replace them, his wet lips met with your drooling ones, your mouth hungrily accepting his into a deep kiss. The lingering taste of beer and your own fluids clouded your mind, enough to further you into your drunken state as John rubbed your clit with preparation.

Feeling his erection hit your entrance and slide up against it with teasing languor, you whined, the sound escaping the kiss for a brief moment.

As he rocked his hips back and forth for a moment, you writhed beneath him as his tip pressed against your clit with each motion, the movement alone driving you insane.

"You want it, baby?" He grunted, his voice peaking at the pet name as the adrenaline of being so close to fucking you letting his big and bad demeanor falter. Whether or not he was drunk, or at the very least less drunk than you, he couldn’t conceal his excitement to fuck you. It’s all he wanted. Today, last week, the last few months. He needed to fuck you, so inwardly, he thanked Dutch for sending you out here to find him. It all worked out.

You watched him through half-lidded eyes as tears threatened to fall for the pleasure he was withholding from you.

"Yes, John. Please.."

"How bad, darling? How bad y’want my cock inside you?"

You whined with arousal, your head cocking to the side with slight resistance to letting the man hear what he wants. For someone drunk, he was plenty self-aware, wasn’t he?

..You figured it was already too late to play coy, with John having seen and ruled you from below and how you squirmed for more of his touch from his tongue and fingers alone. Was he just that good?

"Really b-bad, fuck—I need it inside me so fucking bad, John!" You cried, leaving him with a satisfied feeling in his chest. John in departure left a trail of kisses on your neck and collarbones, before straightening his back.

Firmly placing his hands on both sides of your hip, he licked his lips in preparation as he looked down at his tip gently kissing your entrance. His tongue dragged along his bottom lip as he inserted himself with careful precision, your eyes fluttering shut slowly when he finally separated your walls and worked himself inside you with his length. Testing the slick of your pussy as he slowly pulled out, he couldn't help but release a whimper as you tightened around him.

"F-fuck, you're so—"

Sliding his hands to the back of your plush thighs and pushing them into your chest, he collapsed back down onto you, his hips almost immediately ramming back into your warmth. Yelping with pure bliss consuming you, you watched as John squeezed himself in between your legs, his cock burying so deep inside you that your vision doubled.

“Like this? Like this, (Y/n)? This what y’wanted? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

John was good at running his mouth. Maybe it was all he was good for, outside of fucking you like his life depended on it. But with words dripping with need for validation alongside jumbled obscenities rolling off his tongue like normal, your head spun from the repeated yeses that echoed in your mind.

“Mm, y-yes, John! Yes! Fuck!”

You gasped when your lower back rose from the warmth underneath you, before letting a drawled out moan escape your lips when John drove himself inside you again, his head hitting your cervix once, and then twice. Three times.

Feeling drool run down your chin as the smell of sweat and sex consumed your senses, you focused on the slapping of skin reverberating throughout the room, the dirty sound tightening the knot in your stomach. You were sure your high that was building up was close to crashing down.

So good.. It felt so good. The way John’s fingers dug deep into the flesh of your thighs as his movement became sporadic and desperate.. you could tell he was close, too.

Locking your eyes onto his concentrated ones, you clasped his hands with your own, pushing your knees deeper into your chest.

“Cum.. inside. Fill me up, Marston—“

Whether it was the alcohol or the fire in your loins talking, you couldn’t bring yourself to retract your statement as stars formed in your hazy vision. You could worry later; right now, the pleasure was so intense, you let whatever came to mind ride off your tongue without regret. Your moans echoed in the confines of the small cabin, and with John being more than happy to fulfill your request, a string of words he fantasized about leaving your lips for as long as he could remember, a whine droned through his lips as his cock hit a final thrust inside you. Your climax hit you like a truck when you squealed at the sensation of his cum filling you, John rocking back and forth slowly to ride out his orgasm.

Breathing in and out, you watched as John grunted while pulling out, seed somehow still spilling out and hitting the underside of your thighs, painting you.

You couldn’t move as you watched his hand stroke the final beads of cum out in between your framing legs, and with a satisfied sigh, John crashed down beside you. Staring at you as he slowly calmed down, he brushed a strand of hair away from your wet forehead.

“Did.. Did you like that?”

Still in between attempts to catch your breath, you stared at John, your vision hazy as it was since this started. You nodded slowly, your eyes fluttering shut from the sudden need to pass out from exhaustion.

“…Yeah.”

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #john marston x reader #john marston smut #john marston x reader smut #red dead redemption smut #18+ mdni #rdr smut

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vaatil · 3 months ago

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Insulting each others mum in Camp Broken Glass

#emmanellain de fortemps #sicard spence #final fantasy xiv #emmasica #ffxiv #art #alternate title: exploring holes

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curseofdelos · 7 months ago

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Hi my name is Nico Dark'ness Dementia Raven Di Angelo and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) and dark eyes like broken glass and a lot of people tell me I look like Gerard Way (AN: if u don't know who he is get da hades out of here!). I have pale olive skin. I'm also a demigod, and I go to a magic summer camp called Camp Half-Blood in North America where I have two camp beads (I'm fifteen). I'm a goth/emo/punk (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I steal all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a brown aviator jacket, black skinny jeans, a silver skull ring, and black combat boots. I was wearing a custom black camp t-shirt with a skeletal pegasus on it. I was walking outside Camp Half-Blood. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of demigods in orange t-shirts stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

#nico di angelo #mine #obligatory 'this is a joke I'm making fun of him out of love' disclaimer

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qwimblenorrisstan · 26 days ago

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(your girl is back and better than ever with a new chapter. took me a while to make this but please don’t hate simon💔 I think i accidentally made his internal monologue very conflicting, plus reader is going THROUGH IT, hate to leave yall on a cliffhanger but…enjoy?)

tw: mentions of rape, forced injection, punching, doctor, implied assault, panic attack, derealization, fighting, dysfunctional pack dynamic, omegaverse, lying, manipulating, illegal medicine, drugs??, mental breakdown/spiraling

Simon Riley was used to being alone.

It was the way he’d grown up, surrounded by nobody but his hateful father, his quiet mother, and his troubled brother.

He’d been the quieter one in school, though rowdy and easily riled up. Minding his business, for the most part. He didn’t need an unnecessary fight, especially not when he had too many at home already.

Broken glass at home stained the walls, seeping into the brick until not even the fresh start of his recruit days, the long bus ride to his very first training camp, where he stared out the window and wondered if this was the right path for him. The sky had been dark that day, raining hard, hitting the windows and slamming into them with a force beyond the punch his face took, the pain slamming him back into the moment suddenly.

“You left them!”

Johnny had come into his room late at night, not the nest, Ghost hadn’t slept there for a few days now. From what he heard, the alpha was still hiding away in the room, plagued by parasites of a weakness they couldn’t control.

Soap had almost been avoiding Simon.

Of course, he’d noticed, the previous bright-eyed smiles replaced with little glances, judging, piercing, as if trying to find the answer. The hugs and pats, the kisses, the little scenting, replaced by an eerie emptiness that made Simon, hell, made Ghost feel entirely alone.

Price was cooped up in his office. Working himself to death, doing background checks, and research, when he wasn’t hanging onto Kyle with a desperation Simon hadn’t seen before.

Kyle was maintaining a subtle distance from him. The two of them hadn’t always been the closest, but this was different, he knew.

At least Ghost tried telling himself Soap was simply affected by the bullet in his brain, that differences in behavior and cognitive functions had been put down as symptoms, that PTSD could play a role, panic attacks, that the Johnny he knew may never be back again.

He’d been assigned as the handler of Soap, with Price already under enough stress handling the aftermath of the mission.

“It’s likely he may have outbursts of violence, or sudden displays of unusual behavior or activity.”

The doctor’s voice had explained, monotone and flat, not particularly interested at all. As if this wasn’t a miracle. As if it wasn’t good enough.

Simon never liked doctors.

There was a difference, in his eyes, between being unaffected by death and killing, it was easy to kill someone, but then saving someone? It was incredible.

To bring a corpse with glossy eyes back to life and bring a human being back from wherever you go after you die, was a feat that Simon had never thought possible.

But they’d done it to his Johnny. And here this doctor was, acting as if it was his normal 9-5.

Simon had swallowed his feelings down, his pride down as well, as he found himself doing much too often these days, and nodded stiffly. Jaw clenched and fingers in tight fists, itching for something.

The man droned on, pulling a small card from his white coat pocket, the card having an email and number, something Simon could recognize as contact information, and handed it to him.

“If he has any serious episodes, where he poses a risk to himself or others, contact us and we’ll take him back into the hospital indefinitely.”

Simon had pocketed the card, later setting it under his thin mattress for later.

“They needed you! And you left!”

Soap’s fists pounded into Simon’s chest, the height difference almost laughable in any other situation.

Johnny’s scent was dark, deep like molasses, with a bit of a sour tang to it that made Simon’s nose wrinkle. He could still smell your scent wafting off of Soap, the man had spent nearly an entire day sitting in your room with you.

Too attached too quickly, if you asked him. You may never recover, at this rate. Not with the past trauma, or the consistent symptoms despite nearly a week having passed by now.

“They had a goddamn panic attack because I scented them, you think they wanted me there? They didn’t need me.”

Simon knew what he’d done was wrong. He’d been forcefully scented before and knew what it felt like to have handprints burned into your skin that would never leave. He didn’t know your full past, but he knew enough to understand your reaction.

You wouldn’t have wanted him there. Surely.

Price should’ve been there, he was their main omega, strongest scent, the leader of their pack. Price should’ve been there.

It snuck into his tone, the subtle accusation, and Johnny paused just to step back a moment, tear-stained eyes, that sent a pang through Simon’s heart he didn’t acknowledge, staring in disbelief.

“You’re blaming this on Price?”

The angry Scot yelled, launching a fist forward that Simon caught, carefully moved his arm to his side, and forcefully held it there. It was for his own good.

“Stop. You’ll rip a stitch.”

Simon muttered, glowering as he moved, looking around at where he knew by heart where the wounds were.

He knew he was overcompensating, doting, and looking strictly after Soap, watching his every move, because his instincts wanted him to make sure you were okay first and foremost. It was a truth he couldn’t ignore.

Except, well, he could ignore it.

“You’re worried about me? I’m not the one bedbound, hardly eating, that hasn’t left the same room in a week.”

A moment of silence as Johnny stared at him in fury, shoving him off, and turning to storm away.

Your scent was left lingering in his room. He’d grown to hate it. It wasn’t unpleasant, simply a harsh reminder of the fact that Soap, his Johnny was drifting away from him.

Simon was used to the bitter taste of loneliness on his tongue, but he wasn’t used to having something so sweet given to him, only to be stolen away.

It wasn’t fair.

He’d become friends with Soap through missions, saving each other’s asses, stupid jokes, bleeding wounds, and bullet holes, but you were drawing Johnny near just because you were some sad little alpha, taking advantage of his instincts.

Taking advantage of him.

And now Simon Riley was losing his friend, comrade, lover, all because of you.

If he thought about it, maybe that had been your plan all along. Plant the seeds against him, draw the others in by manipulating their instincts, till you slowly replace him.

The door slammed shut, and he was left alone in his room, thoughts spiraling in a harsh whirl until he stumbled over to his medicine cabinet, grabbing his heat suppressants, a blacked-out list of risks and symptoms (he didn’t ask questions, it wasn’t like he got them legally anyway), and popped some in his mouth.

The others thought he had simply had many of his omega qualities tortured out of him.

A lie.

Unimportant, though, compared to what they all faced now. Simon needed to stop this, whatever was happening between you and Johnny, whatever you were doing to him, changing him.

He walked to his mattress, the floor spinning slightly until it stopped, and lifted his mattress, grabbing the business card and giving it a closer look.

Grabbing his old, cracked phone, he decided he had a call to make.

Johnny had been coming to visit often, staying the night more often.

The thin military blanket was beginning to smell like him, it helped that he scented it as often as possible when he wasn’t busy gently inching his way closer to you, testing the limits.

The lights weren’t as bad now, but the primal part of your brain still itched and clawed at your every action, controlling and demanding, convinced you were in danger.

Constantly being in a state of fight or flight was exhausting.

Not to mention that the state of fight or flight meant reduced saliva production, deeper breathing, dilated pupils, increased heart rate, and more symptoms that made surviving harder than it had been before.

It was like you were hibernating. Sleeping all day, waking up in a haze with fog in your brain, drinking nearly a gallon, and eating as much as Kyle could get you to, before collapsing again.

Your Sympathetic nervous system was working overtime.

Johnny had stayed with you, told you stories to pass the time when you had been even semi-conscious and not trying to fight him.

“You know, Simon, the big assface who made you freak out in the first place?”

You vaguely remembered him. The big boy with the skull mask.

“He’s not tha’ bad, really. I mean, fuck, I’m pissed at the bastard, but I love ‘im, you know?”

It had made you shift up a little, foggy brain clearing a bit in the present moment as Johnny sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He looked like he’d been crying.

For some reason, you didn’t like that.

The emptiness of the room seemed to disappear for a moment, as you inched forward just a bit, moving towards him. You hadn’t been in control of yourself in quite a while, instincts running your body in order to survive.

Johnny didn’t seem to notice, sniffling, rubbing at his eyes, and leaning back as he stared at the concrete ceiling with 8,738 freckles of darker grey. You’d counted.

Being stuck in your head meant you had a lot of spare time.

“I just—he’s always tryin’ to act tough, never wants to talk with me, I just wanna help him, you know?”

The crushing atmosphere of the room seemed to lighten, like you’d been pulled suddenly from the bottom of the Marianas Trench, and were floating high above it all now, as you reached him, wrapped your hands around him.

This time, it wasn’t instincts making you do it. Protective mode kicked into overdrive by something you couldn’t control. No, this was because this was your friend, your family, your pack.

And he was hurt.

By “Simon”.

Your tongue lay uselessly in your mouth like lead, eyes sullen as they draped down onto the floor, eyelids slowly swooping down until you could simply smell his salty tears and his scent, upset, troubled, anxious.

It didn’t make you lean away, or wrinkle your nose in disgust or distaste. Your scent had been worse, you knew, and he’d never shown a lick of judgment for it.

It lifted for a moment, the haze, the feeling of being in danger and needing help, as he leaned into you, and you cradled his warm body, the slightly overgrown ridiculous mohawk, the scruff of his face rubbing gently against your arms. His warm tears pooled on your shirt, body leaning limply into you, sobs shaking his body.

For just a moment, everything felt all right.

Good, even.

A moment of silence came, where both of you seemed to simply melt into the world, only to be shattered moments later when he wiped his tears, going to try and hold you back, only for his brows to furrow when he touched your face.

Your head cocked slightly sideways at the confusion in his expression, and he moved, sitting up, seeming suddenly alert as he hurriedly wiped any remaining tears away and laid the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Hell’s bells, you’re burning up. Gotta call the doc’—“

You went to object, panic building up, scooting away from him. You didn’t want to see the doctor. You didn’t like doctors, how they poked and prodded, touched what wasn’t theirs, did their fancy tests with their gadgets, so desensitized to it all.

Before your mouth could even open, the door slammed open, and Johnny was on his feet in half a second, staring down the man in a lab coat, accompanied by two armed men.

“Sergeant MacTavish, we would appreciate your cooperation in this matter,”

Johnny sighed, running a hand through his hair, his other hand gesturing towards you.

“Good, you’re here, they’re burnin’ up, doc, something’s gotta be wrong, I mean with their sickness and all that shite—“

The look on Soap’s face visibly changed to confusion and a hint of anger when he saw Ghost lurking behind the three men up front, mask on, deep brown eyes watching everything happen as the armed men moved forward, taking Johnny by surprise as they shoved him against the wall.

He struggled, kicking and flailing, eyes widening as one of the men pulled out a syringe.

“The fuck is this-? Ghost, call ‘em off! I didn’t do a damn thing, tell them!”

He yelled frantically, struggling as the needle was pushed into his neck, fluid injected as he grunted. He glanced over at you, huddled in the corner of the room, watching with wide eyes and a hand over your mouth.

“Ghost!”

He glanced at Simon once again, confusion in his cloudy gaze as his limbs slowly began failing him. The doctor stepped forward, pressing a hand against your forehead, frowning when you clawed the hand off.

“Simon?”

His vision went blurry, shapes turning to blobs of color, until everything went black, the last thing he heard being,

“…them as well. We’ll need to find the cause of the fever.”

Kyle hadn’t seen either Ghost or Soap all day, which was odd, considering they were usually wondering about the base, especially Soap at this time.

Usually, Ghost would’ve hit the gym on base by now, maybe gone to Price’s office, where Kyle was currently seated, savoring the scent of his Captain before it faded in the coming week.

The door opened, and Ghost walked in, pace just a bit faster than normal. Kyle perked up, brows raising in surprise as he set down the file he’d been browsing over, the alpha’s extensive background, and psychological testing results. He’d read it until it was burned into his skull.

“Gaz.”

A gruff greeting, but a hint of surprise in it. Kyle studied Ghost for a minute, his stiff posture, clenched fists, the look in his eye. It was odd, but they all had their own ways of coping with the recent events, he supposed.

Everyone was stressed.

“Ghost.”

A tense moment of silence.

“Where’s the Captain?”

Gaz casually set the folder back in its designated filing cabinet, as if it hadn’t been high above his clearance, high enough to get him disciplinary action even from Price. A little snooping never hurt, after all.

“Out on a mission, surprised he didn’t tell you. Short notice, I guess, he’ll be gone for a week’s the word.”

He mentally reprimanded himself for making an excuse for Price. That wasn’t his job, nor his place.

Ghost gave a slow nod, clearing his throat, and almost seeming to hesitate before speaking.

“Soap’s been…admitted.”

Kyle raised a brow at that. Soap had been doing well up until now, as far as he’d seen. Bonding with their alpha, slowly healing pack relations.

“Any particular reason why?”

“Had an episode. A bad one.”

Kyle grimaced at that. They all had their fair share of PTSD, but he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to be shot in the head, maybe have an entirely different personality, to deal with the aftermath of that. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was on Ghost to have to make that call.

“Guess that means the rut-partner responsibility’s shifted.”

Price had originally been in charge of any rut a potential team-alpha went through, as long as both parties were comfortable with the arrangement. With Price gone, and your closest contact here, Soap, clearly not in the mental state to do anything, it was between Ghost and Gaz.

Ghost was a higher rank than Gaz, meaning the responsibility fell on his shoulders.

Kyle watched the realization dawn on the man, the way he unconsciously almost seemed to fiddle with his fingers, as if nervous. The Ghost was never nervous. He’d shared heats with Soap before, albeit after a bit of warming up to each other.

His behavior had been strange all day, for quite a few days, now that he thought of it.

Something was off. But he didn’t know what yet.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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anki-of-beleriand · 9 months ago

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A Heart Made of Glass ch.16

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - CarolxF!Reader

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

The end is near, Reader and Wanda finally had some common ground to work with and now the only thing left is a happily ever after.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 16

A leap of Faith, a simple request

The first meeting in Nepal would be the first meeting of a series of visits Y/N did for over four months.

Wanda had been confused at first, though she found herself pleasantly surprised to find you in her lodge every morning sharing a good story or a training session. Sometimes, the both of you would reach the closest camp in which you would see many alpinists and hikers, all of them getting ready for a summit on Mount Everest or K2. Wanda didn’t dare to press over the sudden relationship she had been building with you, she was happy to receive your words and your caress, to see your smile or feel your lips on hers whenever the mood struck.

Every weekend had become a highly expected moment in her life, Wanda prepared everything to welcome you while also trying to get the courage to have a serious conversation with you. Would you finally stay more than a couple of days? Would you want to stay with her? What exactly was happening between the both of you?

There were many questions that still haunted Wanda, but she had not dare to voice them in fear of breaking the relationship she had with you. So, she opted to keep quiet while enjoying the moments the both of you shared until she was ready to face the reality of her emotions and give the last step towards you.

For more than four months you two had been sharing a relationship through the distance, and Wanda knew she had sworn to fight for you and not let go, and whatever fears or insecurities that had built in her should be put aside in favour of that leap of faith. Wanda had been nervous, but she arranged everything to be ready for your visit and, this time around Wanda was ready to ask you to stay or take her with you.

But, just as she got ready to clear things up within the both of you, just as she got ready to leave herself expose and at your mercy…you didn’t show up.

At first she thought it was normal, your life was still happening right in the outside world and you had been quite busy at your work back in Norway while also with your mission as hero. Wanda checked her phone and her email, but you didn’t send a message and after two days of waiting for you she knew you wouldn’t come that weekend.

Disappointment came rushing inside her mind, she waited for an explanation but nothing came and soon her disappointment transformed in sadness and the old doubts and fears drown her thoughts until she just tried to focus on her routine waiting for you to come the next weekend with an explanation.

The explanation never came and you didn’t show on that weekend.

And then, you didn’t show the next one, or the one after that.

Wanda tried to rationalize the situation, she tried to convince herself that you were busy or perhaps in a highly secretive mission but so far she had not received any news or any big going on in the outside world. It was as if you had vanished, and with you, any form of contacting you. Your phone didn’t work, and there was no way for her to get into contact with Natasha; for a moment Wanda thought about America but then she thought herself desperate and while she was dying to know what happened to you, a little voice inside her head told her perhaps, you grew bored of her and decided to simply not continue her visits any more.

As easily as you had begun this routine, you had decided to cut it over.

This was just a single thought of the many that came rushing inside her mind day after day, Wanda found herself busying herself with different activities inside the compound, she gave herself to the training and to the distractions while finding odd jobs in the temple and the small towns surrounding Kamar-Taj.

It worked, for a little while.

But there was nothing much one would do to quiet down the doubts and growing anxiety inside the heart. Wanda wanted to be angry at you, she wanted to be furious at your sudden dismissal of her, at your silence and sudden disappearance; but she couldn’t. Instead of that, she was just sad, and found herself trying to ignore her emotions while trying to get control of her life.

For over a month, Wanda tried to forget about you.

And while Winter was approaching, and she stood at the edge of a cliff overseen the beautiful landscape surrounding the Himalayas she tried to get a hold of her thoughts and her emotions. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but not a single thought came through her mind, the only thing she could do was feel and that was enough for the time being.

Wanda sensed the approaching presence of someone powerful, she didn’t need to pounder too much to know who was coming her way. With a quick gesture, she tried to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

“You are quite difficult to locate when you decided to hide away, aren’t you, Wanda?”

Wanda tensed turning to the left, her green eyes gleaming with unshed tears furrowing her brows. Stephen was dressed in his fighting attire, he looked tired and a little dishevelled but otherwise untouched; the older man waved away the unasked question.

“Rough night, nothing important but I mess up and ended up with a house falling on top of me.” He offered a sheepish smile; Wanda raised a brow pressing her lips to hold back her smile.

“Right, what brings you here, Stephen?” Wanda finally asked tilting her head to focus her stare to the mountains. “I was trying to get some alone time, and I just…I don’t think I am a good company at the moment.”

Stephen nodded understanding the hint but ignoring it altogether, Wanda rolled her eyes not wanting to have any type of conversation with anyone. She scoffed when the man stood beside her, his hand reaching inside his pocket producing a single envelope. Wanda frowned tilting her head to the man who was trying really hard to keep his expression neutral.

“I understand, but I think I come here with news and perhaps to alleviate the turmoil you had been experimenting as of late.” The knowing glance he shot Wanda told the young with Stephen knew about her recent heartbreak.

She crossed her arms rolling her eyes while also getting a spark of curiosity, she squinted her eyes when Stephen waved away a single envelope, this time around he lost his smile and was showing a more serious façade.

“My mission took me to Florence, it was a last minute request by Stark and I decided to do so if only to shut the man up.” Stephen said talking a step closer to Wanda. “I met with some people there, and I was told to give you this.”

Now, Stephen had Wanda’s full attention, she grabbed the letter scrunching up her nose turning it around until her eyes fell on the familiar handwriting.

“This is…” Wanda trailed off, her frown deepening while the anger she had ignored up until then came back and she closed it almost throwing it away.

“She was hurt during a mission.” Stephen said before Wanda could speak or do something else, “It was supposed to be a routine safe and rescue mission but they found some troubles, she tried to play the hero role and got badly hurt.”

“She got hurt…” Wanda opened the letter missing the sympathetic glance Stephen sent her way.

“Nobody knew about her visits to you, Wanda.” Strange explained, “They found out as soon as she woke up and started asking for you, I think that may explain her absence as of late.”

“Hn, I didn’t even notice.” Wanda mumbled reading the letter you had tried to write to her, Stephen hid his snort behind a cough.

“Right, so you haven’t been mopping around and…”

“I wasn’t mopping!” Wanda exclaimed, her magic igniting in her hands while her cheeks coloured red. “I just…I was…I…”

“I know.” Stephen said nodding to the letter, “Tony sent a jet for you, it will be there until tomorrow morning, a car is waiting for you as well. Don’t be late.”

Wanda watched as Stephen turned around walking away, she played with her lips before calling out to the older man.

“Are you…I mean, late I’ve been…” Wanda sighed frustrated turning to Stephen. “I’m still trying to find myself, to do right and to get a hold of my emotions, are you sure I should go?”

“Wanda, you have been mopping around because you missed her,” Stephen cocked his head to the side, his eyes finding those of Wanda, “take the word of a man that lost everything for not being brave enough, Wanda, go after her and keep fighting for what you want, talk to her and don’t let any misunderstanding or lack of communication get in the way.”

With those last words, Stephen turned around and left.

Wanda stood there feeling the cold wind hitting her face, she grabbed the letter and went back to the words you had written for her. The explanations and the invitation to go to you, to stand beside you, to be a part of your life.

Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, she lowered her gaze and in a single moment of decision she went back to her cabin to get her things.

It was about time she stopped running from the things she wanted and start running after them.

The Amerigo Vespucci Airport was the second busiest airport in the Tuscany, located in the city of Florence it stood as a welcoming bacon to international travellers into a city that breath Renaissance, culture and history. The private section of the airport was a safe heaven for those who wanted to go incognito to the city, and Wanda soon found herself being attended as the jet landed in the city.

She glanced around while the customs and border protection agent came forth to speak with the pilot. She grabbed her backpack tightly, her eyes glancing around the place before they fell on a dark car waiting silently at the other end of the hangar. The officer spoke in broken English pointing at her then at the passport before nodding and giving back the document.

“It seems we are cleared, ma’am, the driver will take you to the agreed location.” The pilot said giving her the papers back before pointing to the car.

“Thank you.” Wanda offered a nervous smile before making her way to the car, once inside the driver merely gave a warm welcome before driving down the empty streets of the airport to the closest entrance.

Once they left the airport Wanda could enjoy the magnificent look that the city was offering her. She could see the Tuscan Cypress decorating the highway while the people drove without a care in the world. This kind of scenes always brought memories to Wanda, she couldn’t help but remembered being on the run without a chance of enjoying the places they visited or having a chance to actually have friends, go out, have a nice dinner.

Her world had been changing so much, she sometimes forgot there was another world right outside waiting to be discovered. Wanda smiled observing the busy streets with people coming in and out of work, the students enjoying the afternoon sun while running or walking around not a single tourist was on sight which told Wanda this was a part of the city reserved for the Italians living in the city.

She wondered if you were aware of her visit, if perhaps you had planned all of this just to get her out of the coldness that was Nepal into the warm that was the region of Tuscany at the moment. But so far she had not received a single call, and no body had come for her to the airport. She played with the idea of calling Tony but decided against it, if the man wanted to contact her he would have done so as soon as she entered the plane; a part of Wanda knew why they had kept silence, they were waiting to see how the story would end.

Wanda couldn’t blame them, she was also waiting patiently to see how her story with you would end.

Soon they left the busy streets to enter a more residential section of the city, Wanda watched as they went up the terrain with less people walking around and many houses protected by high fences and beautiful trees. She felt her heartbeat that tad bit faster, her hand sweating lightly while the tingles in her lower abdomen intensified.

The car turned around a corner and soon she found herself watching full properties, all guarded by wooden gates and walls protecting their inhabitants. She wondered just what kind of place where you located at, when the man turned one last time going up a hill until he reached a gate standing tall protected by a stoned arch and cypress sneaking out of a stoned wall. The man lowered the window while showing an ID to the gate’s security system, soon there was a small bell and the doors opened right in front of them.

Wanda could hardly wait to see you, she was glancing out of the window while playing with the words inside her head. The car stopped at the main gate, and Wanda couldn’t help but gasp.

“Wanda!” America came running wrapping her arms around the young woman who couldn’t help the shock from showing on her face.

“America?” Wanda returned the hug, stepping aside America gave her a weak smile.

“I missed you, you know?”

“I missed you too.” Wanda shrugged lightly, “I’m sorry I just…”

“I know, Y/N told me some things so…I get it.” America bounced on her feet running to where the bags were left. “But now, you’re here so I can forgive you for that.”

Wanda chuckled grabbing one of her bags and going with America inside the house.

The place was enormous, with two living rooms and a single dining room leading to the backyard and the pool Wanda could understand why they chose such location. America was talking non-stop, she told Wanda about school and the life in Norway; for Natasha and Yelena had been important that America learnt the basics while also learnt about her powers so whenever they had any easy mission America went with them.

“But this one, well it went out of control and…”

“Where is she?” Wanda finally asked when they reached the second floor.

America winced tilting her head, “she is asleep, pain medicine really takes a toll out of her.”

Wanda furrowed her brows; she glanced around trying to guess which one was your room but her eyes found those of America who was shooting her a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t worry, she will be up in no time.”

“I just…” Wanda brushed some hairs out of her face, “I just found out, after a month of not having any new from her I just…”

America pressed her lips together, after a moment of hesitation she pointed to the left to a long corridor leading to a single wooden door. Wanda hesitated for a moment but before she could move America placed a hand on her arm, her eyes twinkled strangely while she put on her best serious face.

“I’m glad to see you here, Wands, and I know you and Y/N had been seeing one another for some time,” Wanda could tell that in the last couple of months America had changed, no longer was she looking tired or scared, if anything she was looking more mature and relaxed, responsible as she grabbed the bags and stepped back.

“I really want for you guys to be happy, perhaps this could be your chance, you know?”

Wanda smiled nodding, “I know.”

“Good then, go before Natasha and Yelena get here, they get really overprotective of Y/N when she is in that state.” America turned around leaving Wanda alone.

With a sigh and wiggling hands, Wanda made her way to your room.

The place was covered in different shades of blue, the balcony faced the pool and the backyard, and the fresh wind of the afternoon was sneaking inside the room mixing the smell of flowers and nature inside your room. Wanda softened her features when her eyes fell on your sleeping form.

You were on your side, deeply asleep with your hand right above your face and one leg placed carefully on a pillow. It was protected by a cast, and your face and head were covered with bandages. You really were hurt, and soon Wanda realized all around the room there were medical implements to help out during the healing process.

With a knot on her throat, Wanda approached your bed her trembling fingers caressing your cheek while the tears blurred her vision for a moment. All this time, she should have looked for you, perhaps insist to try and see what happened instead of letting her own insecurities and her own fears to cloud her judgement.

“What took you so long?” Wanda almost fell down from the bed when you spoke, you offered a lazy smile your eyes fluttering opened.

“Y/N!”

“Wanda!” Your voice was hoarse, wincing as you turn on your back.

“You were awake?” Wanda asked with reproach in her voice.

You tried to sit down, it was taking some effort until Wanda came right in to help you out. Her arms wrapped around you, and she was close enough to feel your warmness against hers. You offered a smile shrugging.

“I was just resting not sleeping, thank you.” You rested your back on the wall, taking a good look at Wanda who decided to sit on the bed.

“You…” Wanda started finding the words strangled in her throat and her eyes filling up with tears.

“Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about this.” You started grabbing her hand in yours, your thumb drawing circles on the back of her hand.

“It’s okay, I…” Wanda trailed off, she didn’t want to sound foolish by telling you the million questions that came to her mind.

She was not ready to share with you her inadequacy and her self-doubt. You nodded lightly, softening your features while squeezing her hand tenderly.

“I should have said something, but I just…I wanted you for myself.” You said softly, trying to clear your throat.

Wanda leaned to the closest bedside table where a single glass of water was resting, you took the glass grateful before continuing.

“I didn’t want anyone saying anything at all, I just…”

“I get it, I know what you mean…” Wanda hesitated before lifting her hand to brush away some strands of hair, she leaned in her lips parting slightly. “Y/N…”

You lifted your hand cupping her cheek in your palm, leaning in closing the distance by brushing your lips against hers. The kiss was soft, a simple gesture of reassurance for you and her, it last but a few seconds but it was enough to leave Wanda trembling and you with a racing heart.

“I missed you, Little Witch.” You mumbled pecking her lips, Wanda smiled nuzzling her face on your neck.

“I missed you too.”

Wanda leaned back, glancing out of the window before returning her eyes to you.

“I thought you didn’t want to continue with your visits.” She finally revealed looking away from you. “I thought I messed it up all over again, and I just…Y/N, what are we doing? What does it mean this? I just…”

You could see the conflicting emotions in her green eyes, how confused she was about what had happened in the last couple of months in which, once more, your relationship with her had shifted. You made yourself that questions moments before the mission, you had been standing by Yelena’s side when you realized how deeply in love you were with Wanda, how your feelings for her were the same they had shifted and they had matured and at the moment they were more intense.

You weren’t the only one thinking that, or even experimenting it. Seeing the anguish in Wanda’s face told you she was just as deeply sensitive with the whole situation as you were.

“Walk with me?” You asked tenderly, Wanda furrowed her brows before nodding.

“Yes, sure I…” She stood up watching as you signalled the far wall where a single crutch was resting.

“You need help? I mean there is only one.”

“Yeah, I didn’t break the leg per se, but I did some serious damage to the muscle and the joint, so walking is difficult.” You explained standing up with her help and that of the crutch.

“So, you are at my mercy?” Wanda asked wiggling her brows, you raised a single eyebrow shooting a daring glance.

“You want to try that theory out?” The blush that form on Wanda’s face was beyond adorable and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Good, perhaps later we could see if I am or not at your mercy.”

“I know that I am at yours.” Wanda finally said walking past you and opening the door for you to come out of the room.

Your heart jumped happily, your smile growing at the sight of Wanda there with you once more. With a chuckled you limped engaging Wanda in a conversation about the mission that had left you out of commission for a while.

__________________

“When did she get here?” Yelena glanced out of the window of the kitchen, she squinted her eyes following you and Wanda as the both of you strolled through the yard.

“Uhm, around three?” America put the spoon on the gelato Yelena brought for her, “I think so, she came here in one of Tony’s cars.”

“Of course it was Stark.” Yelena huffed turning around, she lifted a hand pointing an accusing finger at America, “and you let her in!”

America rolled her eyes, she knew Yelena tended to be highly protective of Y/N but as of late her arguments against Wanda had worn thin and she was just trying to get a hold of what was really happening and how everything would end, Much like everyone in the life of Y/N and Wanda.

“Please, you and I both know they have been seeing one another for more than two months, nobody thought of telling Wanda about the mission and she was really affected by this.” America rested her cheek on her hand, her eyes on Yelena.

“What?” Yelena grabbed her own gelato shaking her head.

“Do you think they will go back to being together?”

Yelena leaned back against the counter, she thought about the things that had happened in the past. She had been there, and she had heard the story and the wounds, but after they learnt the full story and went through so much, forgiveness was not a crazy thought. You had been so happy as of late, singing and laughing, being a different kind of person and Yelena knew she owed it to Wanda coming back and wanting to be a part of your life.

“I think it is a possibility, but this time around if something were to go wrong…” Yelena left in the air the possibility of negative consequences, America tilted her head thoughtful.

“I think this time around could be different, and I think that’s the reason why they had been dancing around one another, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that if this time around everything goes well, they have seen how their lives could turn out to be. The twins, and the house and the married life, everything would be possible and happiness would be there.” America shrugged, “I just thing sometimes we are more open to the negative outcome instead of the positive one because we are afraid of getting hurt or getting lost in the feeling.”

“You don’t have a right to sound so wise,” Yelena scoffed shaking her head, America smirked.

“I learnt from the best.”

“Oh, thank you…”

“I mean, Natasha…”

“Brat.” Yelena threw a paper towel that America grabbed in the air, she was about to throw it again when a heavy hand rested on her shoulder.

“Children, please.” Natasha gave her sister a glance before turning to America, “what are you two discussing about?”

“Y/N and Wanda.”

Natasha lifted a brow, her eyes following the stare of Yelena until she found Wanda and Y/N standing in the far corner of the yard.

“When did Wanda get here?”

“This afternoon.” America explained, Natasha softened her features as she watched your smile and the easy conversation growing between the both of you.

“I guess that’s good, right?” Natasha ruffled America’s hair winking at Yelena who chuckled at the gesture.

“I guess, what do you think?” Yelena gauged Natasha’s face, she was waiting for a signal that revealed the real thoughts of Natasha but the woman was a tomb.

“I think we need to make more food, and you two have a mission tomorrow so no staying up late watching silly movies.”

“You know I am a highly functional adult and that I can go to bed whenever I want?”

“I think you are an adult, but the functional part is up for debate.” Natasha replied chuckling at the offended expression in Yelena’s face.

America laughed ignoring the mocking glare from Yelena.

“I am a trained assassin, you know, I can…”

“I’m just going to say two words,” America smirked in triumph lifting her hand and lifting a finger when she said those two words, “Kate Bishop.”

Yelena opened her mouth and then closed it again, her cheeks coloured red with her hands wiggling to try and make a point that was lost when Natasha came closer to her to close her mouth by putting two fingers under her chin.

“She got you there, sis.”

America laughed standing up before running away from the kitchen, Yelena screaming in Russian while going after her. Natasha shook her head taking a sip from the glass of juice she just poured for her. The day was getting old, the sun was already gone and the sky was changing into a darker version of blue, yet even with the drop of temperature and the sudden changed you and Wanda were still outside.

Natasha sighed.

Peace was so odd at times, but it was for moments like this that she lived for. With a final glance she turned around and went the living room her voice reaching out the two kids that were laughing and screaming on the second floor.

“America! Yelena! You have to prepare dinner!!”

You welcome the change in atmosphere from the confines of your room.

In the last couple of days, Natasha had done nothing more than babying you under the medical recommendations. It had been a necessary evil considering you were out of commission for over two weeks. Wanda listened carefully to your story, with each word her heart shrank making the very fibre of her emotions trembled under the possibility of you not surviving such an incident.

“It was really confusing at first, I woke up with everything hurting and in a hospital with Natasha and Yelena all over me,” you stopped walking turning to Wanda, your hand seeking out hers feeling the softness of her palm against yours, “I remembered right away that you probably were asking where I was and why I haven’t called at all.”

Wanda stiffened her eyes drifting away though her hand tightened lightly around yours.

“I just thought you would be busy, I knew you have your job and the occasional missions.” Wanda tried to downplay the turmoil she went through when you didn’t show on that first weekend, then the second one, and then the third one.

She was not ready to admit to you that she had been lost, and that the old insecurities came back to push her to the edge of feeling alone and not enough. You tilted your head taking a closer look to the young woman standing in front of you, observing how her lips tensed and her eyes refused to look at you directly; the way she kept a hold of your hand and the sudden softening of her voice told you all you needed to know at the moment.

“You know I would never walk away from you without telling you first, Wands.” You winced moving from one foot to the crutch on your right hand. “I never told anyone I was going over to Nepal to visit you because I didn’t want them snooping around in my things, I wanted this to be ours.”

There afternoon sun was fading away slowly, and the wind of the Tuscany region enveloped both of you in a warm embrace. Wanda lifted her free hand only to let it fall again, her eyes flickering to your face then to your lips and finally to your joined hands.

“I know.” She finally stated though her voice trembled, lacking the conviction your were looking for.

“Are you still doubting what is happening here, Wands?” You asked stepping a little closer, Wanda offered a weak smile shrugging.

“What is happening, Y/N? I’m still…You have come and go for over five months, and we have talked and we have shared amazing moments and still I am not sure as to where I stand eith you.” Wanda didn’t want to be so honest all of a sudden, she wasn’t looking to actually be honest and broke with such a tirade but the trip and the lack of sleep coupled with her worries about her own situation brought this over.

Your eyes dropped alongside your smile, your hand never let go of that of Wanda but you did tried to take a step closer. Wanda didn’t fight, instead she also came closer trying to get a hold of you to see if the questions she had would be answered.

“I thought everything had been clear, but I guess we never did talk about it clearly, did we?”

“Not really.” Wanda mumbled lifting her hand towards her hair, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t bring this over and…”

Wanda trailed off completely, her body stiffening when you leaned forward placing a peck at the corner of her lips. She could feel the heavy stare of someone watching them from the house, while you came at her without any shame or hesitation.

“I think I told you before, the same way you have told me, Wands. I don’t want this to be over without at least giving it a try.” You squeezed her hand offering a half smile, “I guess I wasn’t clear enough so, let me set the record straight and ensure there are no more doubts in you.”

Wanda opened her mouth to ask what exactly you mean by that, but at that moment the both of you heard Natasha calling out to you.

“Y/N!! Your medication! Now!”

You winced turning to see Natasha standing by the threshold, her hands on her hips and a knowing glare shot your way. Under that stare you understood Natasha had a second intention for the call out, you snorted turning to Wanda who had a glint of disappointment in her green eyes, you chuckled winking at her.

“Don’t worry, Little Witch, tomorrow we will have the house for ourselves and we can continue with this conversation.” You then nodded towards the house, “now let’s go, I really am feeling the pain kicking in and perhaps taking the medication won’t be as bad with you at my side.”

Wanda offered a half smile, her helped you out before taking a deep breath and speaking closer to your ear.

“You want me to play nurse?”

You almost fell down on your face, turning to the mischievous smirk she was now wearing. You chuckled nodding.

“I would like that very much, Little Witch, but Nats would probably kill you if we get sidetracked.”

Wanda snorted though whatever tension she had worn moments ago soon dissipated; she opened her mouth then closed again until she just shrugged turning to you.

“Well, we always have tomorrow, right? You did say we will have the house all for ourselves.”

Now, that comment hit you straight in your mind and core, and you couldn’t help but laugh while trying to cover up your flustered cheeks. Wanda sighed in relief, her doubts quieted down by your reassurance and the welcoming committee she had from your part, seeing you again had made her happy and Wanda soon realized there was no place on earth she would rather be as long as she was by your side.

Wanda just needed to let her last doubts aside to take a leap of faith and confessed this to you. There was nothing more she wanted that be yours for as long as you wanted her, and for you to be hers for as long as you allowed her to have you.

______________

You limped around the kitchen grabbing cups and bowls from the cabinets placing them carefully on the counter.

The music coming from your phone filled the silence in the kitchen, coffee was the very first thing you always prepared before anything else and the strong smell of the coffee was soon filling out the room. You limped to the fridge glancing around until you found the milk and the orange juice, putting them out you went to grab some of the strawberries almost falling on your face.

“You really love putting yourself in harm’s way, don’t you?” You chuckled feeling the arm around your waist making sure you were not hitting the floor, Wanda was smiling down at you helping you up on your feet.

“What can I say? I was just waiting for a cute hero to come and rescue me?” Wanda rolled her eyes but never lost her smile you grabbed the strawberries and then close the door.

“What were you doing?” Wanda finally asked looking around the kitchen then at you.

“Breakfast?” You tried limping towards the coffee maker, “I just thought I will make breakfast and then we can go into the city.”

Wanda tapped on the counter playfully, her smile just growing with her eyes following your every move.

“The city? You have plans for today?” Wanda leaned forward excitedly; you lifted your face blinking confusedly at Wanda.

“We have plans, Wands. You and Me.” You replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, Wanda tilted her head with her heart missing a beat at the sight of your grin.

“I…let me help you, I think it would be faster.” Wanda winked at you going to help with the fruit and the cereal.

You watched her out of the corner of your eyes, a shiver of pure pleasure and contentment went through your body and settled on your lower abdomen your heart twisting painfully your chest. You knew the moment you made the decision to go after Wanda that everything could turn out with the both of you, love had always been there but sometimes people needed more than love to build up a relationship.

The last couple of months you and Wanda had done just that, build a relationship that went beyond the initial passion and juvenile love you felt for one another. You chuckled when she put the bowl filled with cereal, milk and strawberries right in front of you before putting a chair closer so you could accommodate.

“I was supposed to be working on this and served you breakfast, you know?” You were about to stand up and go for your coffee but Wanda winked at you placing a mug filled with coffee.

“Black, two spoonful of sugars and, of course, enough coffee to kill you instead of waking you up.”

“Damn, you’re the best.” You were about to say something else but Wanda was faster than you and soon her lips when on yours giving you a soft kiss before stepping away. “Wha-what was that?”

“I like my breakfast with a kiss from you, I was getting use to it I just thought…” Wanda was losing her confidence as she started talking but whatever else she was going to say you took the chance to cut it out by another kiss.

“Shall we eat and then hit the road?” You asked putting a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds… nice.”

Ten years ago their relationship had been different.

It was filled with passion, sex was something you knew pretty well and took advantage of as a way to escape reality, a tool used for missions or in your leisure time. For Wanda it had been the first-time experimenting emotions and pleasure she had been forbidden to practice or to even think about during the war consuming her country. Your conversations had been everything, music and movies, books and hobbies, it had been an immature relationship that had meant the world to you.

Wanda taught you about being in love.

Your broken heart had bled for a very long time, not really understanding why after everything the both of you had shared it ended up with Wanda looking for comfort and love in another’s arms. With time, you understood why, and while you didn’t have to like the answer it was something you were trying to make peace with.

Now, ten years and some months later you stood right before the very same woman you had fallen in love within your teen years. Whatever love you held for her changed, and instead of diminished with time it slept until your paths crossed again and it grew into something different.

This time around your conversations were different and while passion was still present, it was not about the physical connection.

You found Wanda’s eyes across the room, her facial features completely relaxed wearing a soft smile while listening to the explanation done by the guide. You were sitting down on a bench brough specially for you, the discomfort on your leg had started almost ten minutes ago but you didn’t want to leave the city just yet, not when it was pretty obvious Wanda was happy.

“Where next?” Wanda asked slightly giddy, her eyes sweeping around the Piazza della Signoria admiring the architecture and the sculptures and the fountain of Neptuno.

It was a warm day, with sweet breeze and streets filled with people running around the busy streets of Florence’s downtown. The weather had been kind of warm accompanied by a sweet breeze that made it easier to walk around, the conversation was directed to meaningless subjects that brought laughter to Wanda with your heart missing a bet whenever you glance into her green eyes.

“Well, there is another place I want to show you but it is not the right time yet,” you watched at the time before turning to Wanda.

“Which place?”

“Oh, it is a surprised, Little Witch.” You winked at her taking her hand in yours, Wanda fixed her position so as to not bother the crutch and your leg.

“Okay, so far I have liked the surprises you have given me, so wherever you want to take me I’m all in.”

“Good then, next stop would be the Gardens Boboli.” You declared limping slowly towards the closest street leading to Ponte Vecchio and the Palazzo.

It was the moment the both of you stepped into the garden that you realized how well you knew Wanda.

She was completely stunned by the sight, her mouth hanged open and her eyes gleamed amazed by the architecture of the place. You smiled behind her, your heart skipping a beat under the charm of her smile and her stare. Wanda was standing right beside you forgetting about her doubts and her fears, and letting herself go enjoying the moments she had always dreamt to share with you.

You enjoyed taking her to new places, you heard her stories about being on the run while being completely lost and sometimes confined to a room or a place without the opportunity to enjoy the world out there. You always thought it was kind of sad, to be so afraid of what would happen to you if you showed yourself the way you were to not really enjoy what the world had to offer. One of the things you enjoyed the most was the expression on her face whenever you told her a new story or showed her a new place, it was a world of pure discovery and it told you exactly what you wanted and with whom you wanted to be with.

After eight hours of just walking and talking, spending most of the morning getting to visit the most important places in the historical Florence, you started feeling the pain in your leg and body. You concealed your pain taking deep breaths while limping heavily down the streets, Wanda stood by your side completely aware of your discomfort.

“Y/N, please I know you wanted to show me this place but…I mean, it can wait, you don’t look well.” She stood right before you, her free hand cupping your cheek with concern.

You winced trying to offer a smile but coming out with a grimace.

“I know, I know it’s just this is the best part.” You pouted letting out a huff while nodding to the hill that was just a few meters away.

“What can be so important that you’re risking this pain in your leg?” Wanda finally asked cleaning up some of the sweat in your forehead.

“You.” The answer came before you could stop it, but there was only honesty in your words.

Wanda stopped her movements locking her eyes with your, she felt her cheek colouring red while her lips curved into a tiny smile.

“You’re such a sweet talker.” She softened her tone, though the small frown of concern never left her features.

“Is it working?” You asked, Wanda snorted looking away.

“You know it is.” She finally said wrapping her arm around your waist and making sure to give you the much needed it support to hold your body.

“Good then, help me out and then I will do whatever you want.” You winked at Wanda who could merely rolled her eyes at your words.

“I will hold you to that.”

You chuckled holding back any exclamation of pain while walking the last few meters to the top.

“This, my dear Wanda is Piazza Michelangelo.” You presented the place with a flourish of your hand, your grin grew when you realized Wanda had been surprised by the sight.

She didn’t let go of your hand while stepping closer to the balcony, her head turned to you then back again before she caught sight of your grimace.

“This is beautiful.” She mumbled taking you to one of the steps overseeing the city.

“So, was it worth it?” You let go a breathy whimper, intertwining your hand with hers.

“It is worthy mostly because I’m with you.” Wanda confessed resting her head on your shoulder. “But I don’t think it will be enough to justify the pain you are going through at the moment.”

You snorted but said nothing else, for what seemed like hours the both of you sat in silence observing the buildings and the landscape that was Florence. The magnificence of the Duomo governing a city that had been the birthplace of the rebirth of mankind. You closed your eyes allowing the warm on Wanda’s hand to bring comfort to your heart.

“Yesterday you were questioning our relationship as of late.” You broke the silence, never taking your eyes from the city.

“I was just confused, and a little angry for not having heard from you in a while, Y/N.” Wanda started trying to explain her emotions. “These last months had been like a dream come true for me, I never thought I would be close to you again, or that we could be like this.”

“You never thought I would forgive you.” You stated, Wanda shook her head unable to answer to your words.

“I never thought I could forgive you, Wanda.” This time around Wanda lifted her head turning to face you, her hands on yours. “last year I finally understood many things about you and about me. I even got to understand our relationship and what exactly had happened to the both of us.”

The sound of muffled conversations filled the silence in between, you could see people laughing while enjoying their time together in such a place. The sun was starting to face, but the day was still far from over: to your left Wanda sat facing both the city and yourself, and you had to wonder if perhaps you were doing the right thing.

“When I started our visits I did so without any specific expectations,” you continued furrowing your brow, trying to have the conversation of your life with such a pain was not an easy task. “I thought it would be good for you and me to see where this really was going and if it was worth it.”

“And, is it?” Wanda inquired rather frightened by your answer.

You turned to her, your lips curving into a smile and your eyes gleaming with deep emotion.

“It is worth it, Wanda. I don’t want you to be alone anymore, and I don’t want to be away from you either.” You stated putting your hand in your pocket, Wanda held her breath when you pulled out a small box from it.

“What…” She remembered the box she opened all those months ago in which she discovered the plans you had made for your future with her. She was trembling by then, her heart almost leaving her chest and a horde of wild butterflies fluttering their winds inside her abdomen.

“It is not what you think it is, not yet anyway.” You lifted your free hand before opening lightly, inside was resting a single necklace made of white gold and a single Tourmaline stone matching Wanda’s eye.

“Why…I mean, what…” Wanda trailed off not really knowing what to say, you shrugged making sure you were putting it on her, your lips right beside her ear.

“With this necklace, Wanda, I want to promise myself to you.” Your whispered sent a shiver down her back, you sighed staying still gathering your strength to continue. “I don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past, and I want to believe that second chances mean a new chapter in our lives. So, please accept this as an offering for you to be with me and, this time around, let’s just see where it gets us.”

You found yourself being hugged by her, your eyes were wide open and your arms stood rigid at your sides. You could feel the wetness on your neck, the sign of her tears and the soft whimpers leaving her lips while she poured her answer in the embrace. After a while, your own arms moved to return it, closing your eyes while enjoying the closeness of the woman you had fallen in love with all those years ago and had not stopped loving ever since.

When Wanda leaned back, you could see those green eyes twinkling with the same love she had always showed you, the same one that had changed over the years but instead of diminished had transformed itself and had mature enough to love and let herself be loved.

“I love you.” Wanda whispered those words without any fear of rejection, she finally let go of what she had been holding all this time, all the pain, and the suffering had broken and now all that stood before her was a future you were proposing. “I just love you, I can’t imagine anybody else by my side, I just can hope this time around I don’t disappoint you, or hut you, I don’t want to I…”

“Hey, that’s fine, one step at a time, okay?” Wanda nodded holding your hand, at that moment a sharp electrifying pain went through your leg and abdomen making you gasp clenching your eyes closed.

You had been trying to hide the fat your leg had been killing you for quite some time, the position you were in had not been ideal and after a while the pain became far too much. You hated this only broke the moment you were living with Wanda, the young witch was on top of you right away checking over your leg and your body with a concern look.

“What is it? Does it hurt too bad?”

“It’s nothing.” You grumbled clenching your fists, Wanda dropped her stare frowning at you.

“You look in pain,” Wanda grabbed your hand stepping closer to you while crunching up her nose, she was examining you. “You have been walking all day, of course you’re not okay.”

You tried to wave away her concern, trying to stand up only for your legs to feel weak all of a sudden. She was right on you to hold you up.

“I think I can… ugh…” You sat down closing your eyes for a moment, Wanda knelt beside you brushing your hair and cupping your cheeks.

“I think it is enough, I can carry you and we can go to the car,” Wanda checked you over trying to remember how far away from the parking lot the both of you were.

“N-no, that won’t be necessary, we still have a lot to visit and…” You tried to stand up but Wanda put a hand on your shoulder shaking her head.

“Don’t be stubborn, I can see it hurt you.” Wanda cupped your face in her hands, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let me help you, please?”

She grabbed your hand in hers, her eyes pleading to you to stop your stubbornness. You closed one eye, the other one falling on the gemstone she was now wearing. With a grumbled, you nodded accepting her help.

“Okay, we can go home…I don’t have energy to take us there, but I can take us to the car.”

“Are you sure? I think I can help you out and we can make our way over there.” Wanda continued brushing your hair away and wiping your forehead.

“Yeah, it is close enough for me, and I don’t think I can actually walk.” You replied sheepishly, Wanda rolled her eyes already knowing you would act the tough act until you really felt helpless.

With a flicker of your hand and her help, the both of you crossed the shadows until you ended up right in front of the car. After that, the ride home was done in relatively silence, your pain increasing as the time passed by. Wanda couldn’t help but sent worried glances your way, her hand on yours trying to calm you down by distracting you with stories or questions you were ready to answer.

The Villa was still empty, Natasha had gone into the city on some sort of mission, and Yelena and America had left earlier without giving any sort of explanation. You grabbed Wanda tightly, almost falling on your face when another jolt of electricity went through your body.

“Sorry.” You mumbled; Wanda shook her head making sure you rest comfortably on your bed. “We were having a good moment, and I really wanted it to be more romantic, the sort of moment in which I will clear up your doubts but…”

Wanda sat facing you, her hands making quick work on your shirt and pants, her fingertips moving delicately with the frown still in place. You grabbed her hand in yours kissing her before helping her out in the process of getting you into more comfortable clothes.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that, I enjoyed our time together and we still have time for a conversation.” Wanda replied making sure you were quite comfortable on the bed.

“I don’t want you to think I left because I preferred the mission, or because I didn’t want to be anymore, you know?” You were breathing hard by then, the injury on your leg had been bad enough to let you feel useless while having one of those attacks.

“I know.”

“I was enjoying our little meetings; I think we never got a chance to do what we did on them.” This time around you smiled feeling the softness of a cotton towel on your face, fresh water touched your lips and you welcome the beverage while also trying to swallow the pills Wanda placed on your hand.

“I enjoyed them as well, I was afraid you have grown tired of me, that perhaps you had finally gotten what you wanted it before leaving.” Wanda confessed finally sitting down at your side, her hand on yours.

You shook your head putting her hand to your lips, the heavy doses of the pills alongside with the tiredness of the day was catching up with you.

“Thank you for coming here, and for not turning me away, Little Witch.”

Wanda softened lightly she leaning in placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t mention it, Love, I’m here.” The endearing term slipped her lips without noticing, you gave her a quick stare before smiling. “Let me give you the last pill and then I leave you to rest.”

You frowned shaking your head grabbing her hand, “no, please just…”

“Y/N you need to take the medication,” Wanda started but you cut it off shaking your head.

“No, I mean, don’t go.” You took a deep breath, your voice coming on short gasps, “Stay with me, please? I want to be with you.”

Wanda felt the warm on her cheeks, she broke into a timid smile that didn’t go away walking around your room grabbing the last of the pills before placing it on your tongue. You drank more water shifting slightly to leave an open space for the other woman.

With some hesitation, Wanda took her shoes off and her jeans, she grabbed a pair of shorts and then went right in with you on the bed. Wanda stayed still her back resting on the pillows chewing on her lips until you snuggled closer to her.

“You don’t have to be so tense; you know?” You closed your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. “I am not in the right physical state to offer you some interesting games to help you relax but I am not against them if it helps.”

“Y/N! I thought you were sleepy?” Wanda shifted her body to welcoming you in her arms, you chuckled observing her red cheeks and dilated pupils.

“I am but you were just so tense, let me just rest for a while and I promise you later on I will bite if that’s what you need.”

Wanda rolled her eyes finding adorable your chuckled and your expression just as you started falling asleep. She let her fingertips caress your head, while she too close her eyes.

This was all that she needed it.

This was all the comfort she was seeking out.

A day ago, she had been mad, but most of all, she had been heartbroken believing herself a fool for ever thinking you could forgive her past sins. Or for even entertained the idea you would want her back in your life, now she was just lying there with you in her arms, fast asleep and a necklace that sealed a promise between the both of you.

With a whispered, ‘I love you’, from her part Wanda too fall asleep with the same content smile you were wearing in your sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

Next Chapter: Reader and Wanda have some fun together, Natasha comes with news and Yelena and America had started a new secret group everyone knows about but they like the ilussion of secrecy. Reader and Wanda have stop running and as time passes they finally take one last step towards happiness.

#fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader

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