#mild eye trauma tw I guess

[iamthemain-character]

The Gold and the Rust

astarion x reader

she/her

TW: mild spice, almost dubcon (but nothing actually happens! we only believe in clear consent in this household!), mentions of canonical trauma

@ S.H. you better give me a big kiss for this one

One bright morning changes all things

Soft and easy as your breathing, you wake

Your eyes open, at first a thousand miles away

But turning, shoot a silver bullet point-blank range

And I can scarce believe what I'm believing in

Could this be how every day begins?

The grass was soft and cool under the scarred skin that stretched over Astarion’s shoulder blades. He was sure his body ached, but after thousands of years of this routine, he hardly even noticed it anymore. What he never got used to was the prick of guilt, making his heart bleed out into his stomach. 

He pushes himself off the ground, relying on his hands to keep his frame upright. He let his head drop back between his shoulders, the soft, bristle-like ends brushing over his skin. He couldn’t help but recall how your hands had grasped at those same hairs not but a few hours ago. It had stirred an unexpected feeling in him, that simple gesture in the heat of passion. It was not the first time someone had grabbed his hair while he pleasured them, nor did he expect it to be the last. Yet...it had felt different; the pulling certainly had left his scalp tingling from the force of it, but it wasn’t violent. It had felt like you needed him closer, needed to have his lips on yours, needed his skin to merge within your own. Your touches had felt like you needed to know every part of him, like your soft fingers could reach down into his damned soul and bring it back to life. 

He had never been needed before.

Astarion looked over to the side, his ruby eyes appreciative as he gazed at your body. Your skin looked so soft, the peaks and valleys of your frame swirling in the sunlight that shone through the leaves. You looked just like a treasure, glowing and priceless in your mere existence. Astarion’s mind kept replaying the sound of your voice as you had squirmed underneath him, the way your softness welcomed his tight grip. Heaven didn’t exist for vampires, but when you had called out his name he was sure he had found it. 

Something altogether too warm and fluttery stirred in his cold, undead heart, and Astarion pushed himself up off of the ground, stretching to his full height as his hands brushed the low-hanging leaves of the willow tree that covered the two of you. He wasted no time collecting his clothes, lacing up his leather trousers in a business-like manner. 

Just before he could don his shirt, however, he heard the rustling of the grass behind him; for some reason he could not fathom, he wanted to turn around. He wanted to watch you wake up, let his fingers lazily trace over your skin, pretending he was the artist who had fashioned this masterpiece. Then, perhaps when you woke up fully, he would create his own works of art upon your warm skin. 

With a start, he snapped himself out of his thoughts, realizing his shirt was hanging loosely in his hands, swaying in the breeze. He felt an unfamiliar rush to his ears, a sort of embarrassment at catching himself so lost in thought over you. He never had trouble like this with any of his other victims before, so why was he so sentimental over you? Astarion knew he couldn’t love anyone, it wasn’t who he was. So why did he yearn to lay back down in the soft grass again? 

Against his better judgment, he turned around, and he felt his resolve weaken. The sun now shone over your face, and you had instinctively turned away from the light, but the Sun’s hands still left its caress over your neck and hair. Astarion softly crossed the short distance, crouching down beside your sleeping body. His logic was screaming at him to leave, to make sure there was no chance of a confrontation between the two of you. That was how he was going to string you along, of course, keep you guessing, wanting more. But now he was the one guessing himself, and needing more. 

Slowly, he laid on the grass again, feeling the sun glint off his own paper-white skin. He kept his chin over his shoulder, his gaze unable to be pulled away from your features. His fingers nearly ached with the desire to reach out, to feel your jaw under them, or the way your shoulder felt through your hair. But he kept them still, not willing to chance disturbing your rest. 

This was good for his ultimate plot, he reasoned to himself. You would trust him so much more if he woke up beside you, showered you with flirtatious comments and sensual touches. Him staying behind was a good thing for him, so he wouldn’t have to wait as long to be able to manipulate you to his whims. 

Surely that was the reason he laid beside you in the morning light, his pinky just a hair away from touching yours. 

One bright morning goes so easy

Darkness always finds you either way

It creeps into the corners as the moment fades

A voice your body jumps to calling out your name

But after this I'm never gonna be the same

And I am never going back again

Astarion could see your hunger the moment you had come back into camp. Your eyes had that dark expression, your body tense in a way that he knew exactly how to relieve. It was beautiful, something he certainly appreciated, but his chest ached with the anxiety of having to perform. Just the thought of touching you in that way made him want to puke whatever little blood was in his stomach. Not because you yourself were repulsive, but because he knew he wouldn’t be able to feel your hands, but instead the claws of Cazador. 

But he didn’t want to lose you. Already, his perfect plan was in crumbles. He already had your protection, your blood that you offered willingly. Now it was just maintenance. But instead, he kept trying to be more, to have more with you, simply because he wanted to. He liked your subtle glances across the camp, he liked the way you’d brush your leg against his. He loved the way he was finally able to learn to sleep because you held him so tightly after your encounters. Despite his best efforts, he had gotten used to having you as his, having your sole attention and romantic interest. Even if the blond elf pretended to not care, he liked having you all to himself. 

So when you entered his tent, already looking like you were one breath away from shredding his clothes, he did what he always has. Kept his mouth shut, shutting off his brain and letting his body exist for the only thing he was good for. He felt like he was simply watching as you kissed him, lips hungry and needy as they sought to claim his. He simply followed the routine, touching where he knew you liked it, meaningless words murmured in a sickenly sultry tone. If he could just get through this, he would be fine. And besides, you always felt so good, so he was simply overreacting. He would be fine.  

He let you pull off his shirt, but while your hands rested over his heart, the memory of Cazador’s tightened around it, fear running through his ice cold veins. And when you pushed him down onto the bedroll, straddling his hips, he didn’t see your adoring smile, but rather the vampiric fangs that had doomed him so long ago. 

“Astarion?” 

Your gentle voice broke through his thoughts, though by the look on your face, you must have called for him few times before. 

He tried to gather himself, putting on his practiced wicked smile. “Yes, pretty girl?”

Your forehead was wrinkled from your furrowed brows, the desire in your eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?” Your voice was so soft, so sweet, and if Astarion didn’t know better, he would have thought you cared. 

“Of course pet. Please, I believe you were getting to something very important.”He purred, a little uncomfortable with the sudden attention to himself. 

Instead of continuing, however, you got off of him, kneeling beside the bedroll. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.” 

Astarion sits up, and opens his mouth to reassure you, but he pauses as he hears your words. For a moment, he wasn’t quite sure he had heard them properly, because no one ever asked what he wanted, or if he even wanted the things he was doing. Still, the fear that you’ll walk away, that you’ll find someone else to shower your attention on seizes him, and he knows he must double down on the lie. “Dearest, I could see you wanted me from the moment you came into camp. Let me take care of your needs, ease the weariness from the day.” 

You shook your head vehemently, a frown pulling at your mouth. “That’s not what I’m asking, Astarion. Do you want this right now, or would you rather not?”

Shame and guilt filled up his stomach, churning it into a stormy sea. Your eyes were so intense, as if you could see through him. He wasn’t sure his careful web of lies could protect him this time. “What does it matter what I want?” Astarion winces at how bitter his voice sounds, knowing that he’s not angry with you. He hesitates, wondering briefly if you were going to punish him for his impertinence. 

Your furrowed brows arch upwards, surprised at his tone, but you don’t move away, nor do you make any move to harm him. “I don’t want to sleep with you if you don’t want it as much as I do.” You say, your voice a little frustrated from how much Astarion is dodging your questions. 

Astarion huffs, looking guilty. “I can still give you what you want. I know how to make you feel-”

“That's not the point.” You cut him off, taking a deep breath to keep yourself calm. “Is that really what you think this is? You think I come to you just because of what you can give me?”

For the first time in his undead life, Astarion is speechless, a little bewildered by your reactions and your words. “What else would you come to me for?”

You run a hand through your hair, wishing you could shake this man of whatever terrible thoughts are under that silvery hair of his. Instead, you smooth out the edge of the blanket, keeping yourself calm. “Do you truly not have any idea how I feel about you?” You watch, but Astarion gives no reaction or indication of his thoughts. You soften, your heart aching a little. “I......I care about you so much Astarion. And I mean all of you.” 

You sigh, dropping your head back against your neck as you think. “I think about you all the time. I worry about if you’re safe or if you’re hungry. I get excited knowing I get to see your face, I long to make you smile. And not the one you always have, the real one where I can see one more fang more than the other because your lips go crooked when you’re trying not to smile.” You drop your gaze back down, looking into the depths of his ruby eyes. “I enjoy the sex, of course. But that’s because I enjoy every part of you. You have so many other amazing qualities.” 

Astarion sits very still and very quiet as he listens, only the tips of his ears twitching. He keeps playing the words on loop inside of his head. I care about you. And for the first time, he finds that he has no quips, no easy flattery or flirtation, nor any weapon to get out of this. You are just there, in front of him, your words raw and so saturated with honesty. And it terrifies him. 

But deep inside of him, in the heart he likes to pretend he doesn’t have, there's a small glimmer of light. A tiny flame of hope, burning through the cruelty of Cazador and the ghosts of past trysts, making him wonder if he could truly be so desired. To be wanted beyond his body. “...I have spent my life, being a body for people.” He says quietly, his eyes trained on your hands as he speaks. Everything in his rougish logic is cursing him for being vulnerable, but as he lifts his gaze to your eyes, he finds nothing but safety and acceptance. “I do not know what it is to be cared for. But…” He pauses, his eyes softening, round and doe-like. His hands are embarrassingly shaky, but he reaches out, taking yours into them all the same. “I would very much so like to find out.” 

A small, sweet smile curls on your face, fanning the hope inside of Astarion’s heart. You hold his hands gently but firmly, like you know he may pull away otherwise. “Then let me ask you again; do you, Astarion, want to continue what I was doing? And I want your genuine answer, not what you think I want.”

Astarion swallows the ball of nerves in his throat, his fingers tightening their grasp on you. “No.” He says, and he feels a surge of emotion within his heart. “No, I don’t.” he says again, astonished at how it feels to say the word. He watches you, but you’re still smiling, still looking at him like you adore him. Astarion wonders if perhaps you really do just care about him. “But I...I don’t want you to leave, either.” He admits, wondering if he’s pushing his luck. 

Your smile only grows, and you move a little closer to him. “Would you like me to grab my bedroll? Or...I could even hold you, if you’d like?” 

Astarion feels his own lips turn up, the idea of being close to you, warm and comfortable in his bed more enticing than he can express. “Yes please, darling. I’d like to keep you close.” 

You nod, and without a single hesitation, you move back over to the bedroll. Astarion feels a little giddy at the prospect, struggling to keep up his cool, nonchalant attitude. He lays down with you, watching your hair sprawl out over his pillow. Your head mirrors his, and for a while, the two of you just gaze into one another’s eyes. Astarion tries to subtly shift closer, pretending like he’s getting comfortable, when in reality he just wants to be closer to you. Knowingly, you smile at him, and you open your arms to invite him in. 

He practically swan dives into the junction of your shoulder and chest, nuzzling his head over your heart. He doesn’t even bother trying to hide the smile that pulls at his lips, all but purring as he melts against your side. You curve one arm over his shoulder, cradling his head as it rests over your breast, and you drape the other lightly over the valley of his waist. 

The little flame inside of Astarion’s heart bursts into a fire as he feels you hold him, and he gives up any attempts at being cool about your presence. His bicep presses into the underside of your breasts, squishing them a little from how tightly he holds you. His other arm snakes under you, resting at the natural curve of your back. Even with your body fully in his grasp, however, it's still not enough. He draws his knee up, hooking his leg over yours, resting it below your knee. A contented sigh brushed your hair as he relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut. You could see his soft white eyelashes over his cheeks, the skin lightly pink and matching the tips of his ears. 

Gently, your hand shifts upwards to the nape of his neck, lightly scratching at the hair where it grows out from his skin. The shorter strands loosen from where they were tucked between the two of you, twisting with every moment of your fingers. Astarion almost doesn’t want to believe this could be real, that you truly were so willing to simply lay with him, to hold him. And yet as he listened to the steady beat of your heart, so full of life, he was sure that he had found heaven.

The sky set to burst

The gold and the rust

The colour erupts

You filling my cup

The sun coming up

Like I lived my whole life

Before the first light

(Some bright morning comes)

Like I lived my whole life

Before the first light

Being an elf and a vampire meant that even when Astarion could sleep, he didn’t sleep for very long. It used to bother him, the long, lonely nights where he was left alone with the ghosts of his past. After falling in love with you, however, he adored the mornings. He would linger in the warmth of your shared bed, cuddled as close to you as he possibly could be. He would alternate between stroking your hair, or pressing delicate little kisses over your shoulder and arms. He loved watching you sleep, able to take his time studying your features without you blushing or hiding away. 

On the mornings where he was feeling needy, however, he took no issue waking you up. 

“My love.” He murmured, pressing a more insistent kiss to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist. He saw no response, however, and so he decided to be more persistent in his efforts. He began trailing his lips over your arm, nibbling at whatever softness was there, making his way up to your neck. He couldn’t resist pressing the point of his nose into the skin of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Sometimes he felt he could get drunk on your scent alone, the different aromas that collected on your skin melding into a fragrance that was entirely unique, and entirely his to enjoy. 

With that thought in mind, he nibbled gently at your neck, and was rewarded with the shifting of your body below his chest as you awoke. Your hands instinctively found their way to his back, soft and warm as they ran over his cool skin. He shivered, the sensation only serving to stir up the heat coiling in his lower abdomen. “There she is.” He hums, his tone dripping with satisfaction and barely controlled desire. 

“Good morning.” You say sleepily, your body already leaning up into him, not needing to be fully awake to know what it wants. Your touch crawls up to the nape of his neck, brushing the soft curls there at the base. Astarion nearly moans, the simple gesture only adding to the intense need he feels for you. 

He moves to get more fully on top of you, knees guiding your thighs apart as he finds his rightful place between them. Still, it's simply not enough, so his long fingers cup the slope where your ass met your thigh, nails digging into the soft flesh with a desperate claim. He knows that you’re still waking up, that he should be more gentle, but the smile on your lips is all the encouragement he needs to know his advancements are welcomed. His hands snap your hips up to meet his, and he presses his body intently against yours, letting you feel just how aroused he is. 

A soft moan leaves you, your mind waking up considerably as you feel heat rush straight to your core. You look down your body, seeing the way he’s practically grinding into you, his red eyes dark with lust and love. 

“Please.” The request carries an infinite well of want, his voice slightly breathless and husky, brushing invisible fingers along your spine. You nod, and that’s all it takes for Astarion to give into exactly what he’s wanting. Your bed becomes a paradise, both skin and sheets marked as he savors the way he can be this way with you, his past nothing more than a distant whisper. 

Heaven didn’t exist for vampires. 

But you did. And for Astarion, that was everything. 

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Regina George X Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute, and Fluffy Prompt [Full Version - Part 2 due to Tumblr’s text block limit]

• Takes place after the occurrence of the film [2024 ver. with Reneé Rapp]

• Some mild changes made to some elements of the story

• This is the entirety of the prompt/instalment, as promised!

• There will be more!

!TW: Being stuck in a toxic relationship, insult(s), mention of previously being kidnapped, implied suffering from PTSD + Depression + Separation Anxiety + Anxiety in general, mention of previously being abused (physically and verbally) + injury detail, jealousy, mention of divorce + poor relationship with family/family members, elements of self-doubt + presence of self put-downs, panic-attacks/mention of them, swearing, presence of weaponry, threat(s), suicide attempt(s) + suicidal intentions + consideration, implied/mention of previous elements of homophobia, mention of having nightmares linked to trauma, drug-taking (medication), mention of substance abuse (alcohol addiction), mention of miscarrying, breaking up, sense of drowning - if I’ve missed any, let me know!

Birds’ Eye View/Heart’s Desire

You tried to make it a memorable night; you randomly decided to dance upon your bed with her, for most of it, not sure why, before she had to hide within your closet from your Uncle, Cal, whenever he came into check on you. After he’d got the horses back into the stable, you and her were laying upon your backs, still on the bed, giggling breathlessly alongside each other after you’d had to rescue her from falling off, wrapping your arms around her, before your action brought you both down, luckily still on the bed, rather than off of it, though - you were sure, no matter what happened between you both - you were take such a blow like that for her, any day.

It got you to thinking about your and her previous conversation; how you’d left her side, earlier, only making you feel guilty - what if something had happened to her, on her way back? What if Sunrise had bucked her off? What if she got a concussion, or worse - broke her neck? You tensed up, a pained expression on your face as you glanced over at her, your eyes darkening as you did, but by the time she glanced over at you, she was still smiling, until her heart dropped as soon as she noticed you were trying not to cry, beside her.

“Y/n?” She cooed, her voice gentle, and still sounding a little breathless. “A-Are you-”

“I’m sorry,” you managed weakly, “I-..” You winced, before hastily looking away from her, even as if she intertwined the fingers of her left hand with the fingers of your right one. “I’m so-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she reassured you, “I promise; I-.. you haven’t hurt me, in any way, shape, or form - you know that, right?”

You hesitated, timidly glancing over at her as you wondered if the electrical current within live wires was stronger than the current passing between your and her hands, right now.

“I know,” you reassured her gently, “I just-.. I guess I just-.. I don’t know; I’m fine, don’t - don’t worry about me.”

“You aren’t fine,” she contradicted; she could heart, as well as see that you weren’t, and it pained her to see that you were still trying to hide things from her the way that you were, “Y/n-”

“Reg,” you interjected shakily, small tears leaking from your eyes, but she wouldn’t give in; she wanted to try and do all she could to help, you, somehow; she hated seeing you upset, the way that you currently were for a reason unbeknownst to her.

“If you’re fine, why are you crying? Aren’t you happy, y’know, to - to be with me?” She asked, and you would falter, a pained expression on your face as you looked over at her, not wanting her to think that you weren’t happy to be with her like you were, right now.

“Of course I am,” you answered, this time without any hesitation at all, because it was true; you were always happy, to be with her whenever you were both together, the way that you were, now, your hands still linked together, and bodies almost touching, only a few paces away from each other - if only you could move just one bit closer to her, and maybe they would be-

“Then what’s wrong? And don’t try and tell me that you’re fine again, because I can see that you’re anything, but fine, right now,” she pried, desperate to find out what was currently plaguing your mind; she hated to think that you were suffering, and wished she could take away anything that was hurting you, the way that this was; it was unbearable, but the worst part of it was that she couldn’t see into your mind, beautiful as she imagined it to be, regardless of the damage it had been dealt, when you were younger than you were, now.

“I-It’s nothing, I swear, I just-..” You fell quiet, your heart pounding, and breathing pattern growing to be a little staggered and uneven, as if you were trying not to panic, only worrying her even more, but before she could protest, or lift her free right hand up to your left cheek, you continued. “It - It’s you,” you managed, your voice briefly trembling, and she would falter, her expression softening a little as she tilted her head partially, trying to hide that your response had worried her, as well as disheartened her; she’d never intended to hurt you the way she assumed she had, until you spoke up again, your voice barely audible, and close to cracking even more than it ever had been, before, “y-your ability, to - to distract me, it - it’s unmatched, a-and - and I - I can’t-”

“It’s okay,” she cooed, trying to hide that she was trying not to panic, alongside you, hearing your voice shaking as you tried not to break down; struggled to breathe, even as she cradled your body close to her own, and eased you up onto your knees to help you try and recompose yourself, as well as to allow herself to connect her forehead to your own, trying her best to provide as much comfort to you as she possibly could, before you could have a panic or heart attack on her, “e-everything’s okay, I promise; you’re safe, here - I’ve got you, and I’m never going to let you go, you know that, right?”

You would appear taken aback, your heart skipping a beat as you glanced up at her, your eyes glinting as soon as they locked with her own.

“I - I know,” you reassured her, smiling timidly over at her as she express relief, evidently glad to hear that you felt safe with her, and for a moment you found yourself trying not to glance down at her lips again, prompting you to wince, and bury your face into her left shoulder; it was just too tempting, having her this close to you - it was unbearable, “I think I heard wolves outside.”

“Wolves?” Regina inquired, appearing confused, as well as concerned; she’d not heard anything out there, except for the wind, and the sound of the horses in the barn, taking a little while to settle down, as usual. “Y/n, there are no wolves here,” she reminded you gently, “are you okay?”

“I - I’m fine, I just-”

“Look at me,” she demanded, her voice ever so soft and inviting, but you didn’t dare lift your head, even as she began to plead with you, “Y/n, please, I need to see your face-”

“I don’t want to,” you interjected weakly, your voice a little strained; you tried not to sniffle, and tried to steady your breathing, but nothing was working as it should, “y-you smell nice, a-and I want to stay like this forever, s-so please don’t-.. don’t let me go.”

“I - I won’t, just please - look at me, just for a second,” she continued, desperate, and for a moment you felt like giving in, your heart aching excruciatingly alongside her own, whilst it also strangely felt like it was soaring, beside her’s, “I need to see you.”

You faltered, and didn’t hesitate to glance up at her, cheeks warming up even more, now that your eyes were meeting again, your faces inches apart.

“Why?” You asked, your voice close to a whisper, but you couldn’t quite remove the awe in your voice as you admired her again, the new light on her face only making everything about her seem so much more divine than you’d ever seen her, and you couldn’t tell if it was just because she was in your room, now, somehow, or if it was just because of how sleepy you were getting, considering your Uncle had recently given you another sleeping pill to try and ward the nightmares away, for the night.

For a moment, Regina found that she couldn’t speak, her heart pounding again so loudly; too loud, against her rib-cage, to the point she feared you might be able to hear it, somehow, but it relieved her that you weren’t teasing her about any noises like that coming from her chest, right now.

“Because you’re fucking amazing,” she answered, without even thinking, the words just slipping from her lips absentmindedly, and for a moment, you loved them, revelling in how it felt, to hear such words from her, until such thoughts were wiped from your mind completely, as soon as her lips were against your’s again, and - for the first time, in what felt like a long time - neither of you could bring yourselves to pull away.

🜚🜸🜚

You wondered how long two people could spend making out, before they passed away from a lack of oxygen; it must have been a few minutes, at least, before you and Regina had had to pull away from each other, that night, giggling breathlessly together as you lovingly admired one another. It was perfect, and you’d give anything to relive that moment - that’s why you’d bought her some flowers, a pretty pink bouquet of roses, hoping she’d like them, more than anything, to the point your hands were shaking, as long as they didn’t steal her affection for you away; it still struck you as being weird, and unusual, that she had feelings for you, too, considering you’d always seen yourself as being a nobody, whilst she was everything, even after all you’d heard about her last year, before the bus had hit her the way it did.

Of course, everything you’d heard about her saying homophobic things made you tense up, the day she’d first joined as a stablehand for your Uncle’s riding centre, but now the very thought of her just made you feel safe; warm and fuzzy, as well as light - so light, that you felt as if you could just take off, right here, right now, and disappear into the sky, except, the thought of never seeing her again kept you grounded enough to stop such a possibility from happening; you couldn’t risk doing anything that might drive her away from you.

You warily stopped at the pathway leading up to her and her mother’s home, your heart skipping so many beats; too many - it was overwhelming, but still you pressed on, trying to take measured breaths, but nothing could calm you down as much as you wished it could - nothing had ever been this important to you, before, but this - this moment was. What was stood before you; in your hands, and heart - it was everything, and you hoped you could keep it that way, no matter what the future held for you both.

You stopped by the door, next, drawing in a shaky breath as you tried to stop your hands from trembling; tried to swallow the lump in your throat as your heart pounded in your ears; blood sounding as if it were pulsing through them - everything was so loud around you, but you wouldn’t let it stop you, as you lifted your right hand, and knocked upon the door.

🜸

“I - love you, Regina,” Shane Olman claimed, stood a few paces away from her in her room, but she didn’t believe him, not that it would make much of a difference if she did, now; he couldn’t even say it, without wincing, and hastily looking away from her, making it so much harder not to hate him, as she fought back a scowl, a notion next to impossible after everything that had happened between them both, recently.

“Oh, do you? ‘Cause I don’t believe you ever did,” she retorted, and Shane would grimace over at her subconsciously, surprised she was even bothering to argue with him over something like this, “let’s face it, I’m nothing to you, but to Y/n-”

“What could she give you, that I don’t?” He questioned sharply, raising his voice a little as he did. Regina would have tried to continue, if he didn’t interject before she could do so. “She is nothing; she will never be anything, but me? I’ve always been so much more, you know that - let’s face it, she’s just a pathetic little brat, who likes clinging to walls everywhere she goes-”

“You shut your mouth, before I shut it, for you!” Regina threatened; she wouldn’t let him insult you like that, especially when he didn’t even know anything about you. You were so much more, and it hurt her to think that other people couldn’t see that, the way she, and your Uncle could. “She is everything, and so much more than you could ever be,” she retorted, standing defensively a few inches away from him, “I won’t let anyone say otherwise, especially when they don’t even know anything about her!”

“Maybe I would know something, if there was anything to be known,” he contradicted, and god did her blood boil - there was so much to be known about you, and it was lingering upon her tongue, everything you’d had to endure; things she believed he would never be able to handle. She even thought she would struggle more in a situation like the kidnapping you’d gone through, a few years ago, now. Your fingers were broken; your wrists were broken - by the time the cops actually found you, you were covered almost everywhere in bruises; her heart dropped, at the thought, whilst she subconsciously balled her hands into fists, wishing she could make your kidnapper pay for what he had done to you.

“I’m warning you, Olman,” she continued dangerously, “you say another word, and you’re gonna get it!”

Shane couldn’t help, but smirk, prompting her to wince; he’d evidently taken that the wrong way, judging by the looks of his demeanour as he inched closer to her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What if I want it?” He questioned, and before he could get any closer, she would shove him away from her, without any hesitation whatsoever.

“You’re disgusting,” she spat, “I wish I’d never got with you, in the first place - I - I don’t know what I ever even saw in you!”

“That’s easy,” he replied, not giving in, “you saw something you wanted in me, and maybe you still want it? If you’d just let me-”

“Regina?” Mrs. George spoke up, lingering by the door of her daughter’s bedroom.

Regina tensed up, wincing as she looked over at her mother, whilst still ensuring that she had a few paces of distance away from Shane, especially now that she felt safer to do so, with June in the room, besides her.

“What? Can’t you see that I’m trying to handle something, here?” She snapped, unintentionally; she just wanted to have done with him, now; she was sick of dealing with his bullshit, every time they spoke - it still struck her how perfect things had seemed, last year, only for them to end like this, between him and her.

“I know that, and I’m sorry, but-..” Mrs. George appeared hesitant, her gaze briefly flicking over to Shane, before she looked back at Regina. “There’s - There’s someone here to see you,” she informed gently, before lowering her voice even more, not that it made much of a difference, “it’s Y/n.”

🜸

Your hands were still shaking, by the time Mrs. George had opened the door, your words stumbling over themselves, at first, as Regina’s mother smiled softly upon noticing that it was you, timidly holding flowers still in your left hand; she was glad Regina had you, especially after her experience with Shane. She then winced, subconsciously, remembering Shane was here, with Regina, and you tried not to appear disheartened, taking the look on her face the wrong way, but you tried to hide it, regardless of how much your heart squeezed.

“I - I’m here, for - for Regina,” you stated, your voice close to a whisper, and sounding a little exasperated; you’d never done anything like this, before, and it was terrifying, to think that - if you somehow did, or said something wrong - you might lose her, somehow, “I, e-erm-.. I..”

“She’s here, but-..” Mrs. George sighed, hating that she had to do this to you, especially when you’d been so good to her daughter recently. “I’m afraid, sweetie, that - that this might not be-.. a good time; she, erm-.. she’s-”

Your blood ran cold, your eyes widening as you anxiously awaited for her to continue, your heart pounding even more overwhelmingly than it had been, before, but you couldn’t stop yourself, as the next questions rolled off your tongue.

“Where is she? W-What’s going on? Is she okay?” You asked, maybe too hastily, your voice shaking, and June would frown, feeling a little guilty; she’d not intended to scare you the way she could tell she had, and she couldn’t help, but let her heart melt in response to your reaction.

“She’s fine,” Mrs. George hastily reassured you, her voice gentle, and eyes warm as she lifted her hands up to your shoulders, trying her best to provide comfort to you before you could panic anymore than you already were, “she’s okay, I promise; don’t worry, I just-.. it’s an awkward time, right now-.. I’m sorry, honey, but-.. she’s with Shane, at the moment, and she might not want to be interrupted, but I can always go and try to get her to come down here, for you?”

🜸

“She’s what?” Regina replied, and Mrs. George would wince, noticing that she’d startled her daughter as Regina warily looked toward Shane, who scowled as he looked between her, and her mother for a moment, before he continued, sounding more hateful than he ever had before.

“What, so you’re inviting her over without telling me, now?” He assumed, and Regina couldn’t help, but grunt, grimacing in his direction again as he silently fumed, wishing he could go down there, now, and show you what he thought of you, if only it weren’t something that would land him in prison, if he didn’t escape in time.

“First of all, I didn’t invite her,” she began, though she felt bad for saying it, her heart aching a little; she didn’t want to make it sound like you weren’t welcome, when you were anything, but, “second of all, even if I did, why would I have to tell you about it? You’re here because I’m breaking up with you, Shane, not because I want to continue anything with you!”

“I hate you, you know that?” Shane spat, before he stormed toward the door, and brushed past her mother, but Regina didn’t hesitate to rush after him, worried about what he might do to you if he passed you by - well, she would have been as worried as she was, until she noticed that you were gone from where you were standing, before.

🜸

Pain was all you felt, as you dragged yourself along the street, walking back toward your motorcycle. You’d made sure to leave the bouquet behind; you still wanted her to have it, regardless of her still being with Shane; you couldn’t bear to stick around, being reminded of their relationship. You tried not to blame her for any of it; you couldn’t, all you could do, was curse yourself for even thinking that maybe you and Regina would become anything more than what you already were.

🜸

“M-Mom? What are you talking about? She isn’t here, she’s-”

Regina faltered, noticing the bouquet on the ground, a pained expression on her face as Shane walked up to the doorway behind her, appearing smugger than he should.

“She left you,” he remarked, but Regina ignored him, shaking her head subconsciously as she crouched down to pick up the bouquet, her eyes darkening, “she doesn’t care about you-”

“Get out, Shane,” Mrs. George instructed, sick of his antics, by now, especially after all he and Regina had been through, and said to each other recently; she thought back to how nervous you seemed, holding the flowers as she opened the door, her heart sinking again - she could tell you cared about her, more than she’d ever presumed Shane to do so, even after how things had seemed between them last year, “you don’t need to be here, right now!”

“Fine,” he retorted, “because I don’t want to be here! We’re done, Regina.”

She wasn’t perturbed, at all, only worried about you, right now - where you would have gone, specifically; she was getting a bad feeling, and it scared her to think that maybe she’d never see you again, after today, her right hand shaking as she lifted the bouquet up off of the ground, her heart pounding all over again, the way it was, the day before, except this time with more dread than anticipation, her remembering how close your lips were to her’s, before today - if only that could be the case, right now; if only you’d not run away, believing she didn’t want you anymore.

🜸

You’d trusted many people in your lifetime; you thought maybe there were still some good ones, besides Cal - your Uncle - and Regina, but sometimes you still feared that maybe there’d never be a true place for you, with them. You remembered times from the dark rooms, and your broken bones, that there was a man you’d briefly considered to be more of a father figure, than your biological father was; he had often been the one to bring you your food; your water, no matter how disgusting it turned out being. He brought you a scratchy blanket, whenever you were cold, and you felt a little safer around him, until one night he’d had a fight with your kidnapper, before he came into your room, red-faced, and drunk, exactly like your father usually was, even more so after the divorce.

You swerved out of the way of an approaching car, wincing, but you didn’t let it phase you too much that it had almost hit you, small tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. In fact, you sped the motorbike up a tad, remembering how you cried when the man you thought you could trust within the kidnapper’s basement abused you; he did things to you, until your throat was raw, and burning from your screams - it was a little while, before the police had got to you.

You remembered Cal saying that you’d been brought back a shell of yourself, hardly ever smiling anymore; hardly ever talking, unless your voice was necessary, though you hated to hear it, now, before you’d met Regina. You remembered the phone call he had, between him and one of the officers involved in your case; how he’d told them - his voice shaking, but firm - that they better find the man, and kill him for what he’d done to you; for having you return to him, as if you’d already had everything carved out within you; you were better off, dying - it was like you’d only just come back to life, he said, but were now merely a zombie; you didn’t stick around for the call, and that’s why you didn’t intend to stick around anymore, now - not for much longer, anyway.

🜸

“But why would she-..?” Regina murmured, a pained expression on her face as she stared dejectedly down at the bouquet, wishing you’d stayed a little while longer, but her mother didn’t want to let things go like that, as she lifted her left hand up to her daughter’s right shoulder, a flicker of determination behind her loving gaze.

“I don’t know - she was right here, a couple of minutes ago,” June mused, whilst Regina subconsciously scowled at the thought of Shane again; how he’d driven you away, like her mother had informed her that he must have, considering she’d only told you that he and her were upstairs together, at the time, “but - judging by the looks of things - we shouldn’t stay to find out.”

Her mother’s decision took her aback as her heart skipped a beat, and she warily glanced up at June, her hands trying not to shake anymore than they were, currently, only to fail at the thought of you in danger, somehow, after what had just happened a brief moment ago, now.

“What?” Regina replied, shocked, whilst June grabbed her bag, coat, and car keys, sensing that she’d need them, tonight, like she had done the day you’d had a nightmare, and needed her daughter with you to stabilise you, somehow - it almost felt like a repeat of it, somehow, except this time neither of them knew where they were going to end up going, considering you’d taken off without letting either of them know regarding where your whereabouts might end up being, tonight.

“Just get in the car, Regina,” her mother instructed confidently; firmly, as she stepped out into the cold, “Olman’s already taken you away from me once, before - he will not do it again, do you understand me?”

“But-”

“Do you want to get Y/n back, or what?” She continued, desperate to get Regina out, before you could do anything stupid, like she feared you would, but before they could begin their search, June insisted that they check on Cal, first, just in case you really had gone back home, and weren’t anywhere out there when you shouldn’t be, but she guessed maybe it would have been better that she drop her daughter off at your Uncle’s first, considering it didn’t take you long to begin losing yourself, again, shortly after they’d arrived at his riding centre, in the first place.

🜸

You parked your motorcycle a little off road, your heart still pounding regardless of how much it felt as if it were currently being squeezed, right now. You dragged yourself along the sidewalk, not too far away from Northshore High, but still not very populated - you guessed that it being late helped that, as well; there weren’t often cars driving down this road at this time of night. You sighed heavily, your breathing pattern a little staggered and shaky; you’d still not been able to recompose yourself, your blood boiling, and entire body aching as if it were forgetting how to function completely, just because of Mrs. George’s revelation regarding Shane being there, with Regina.

You knew you probably shouldn’t be angry; dejected and a little jealous, sure, but angry? Your heart sank; you guessed you’d just been hoping that they would have been broken up, by now; she’d promised you she’d do it, as soon as she could, the day before, and you’d seen them talking during the school day, earlier. You didn’t dare break out the question, as soon as she arrived to work on your Uncle’s ranch again, simply smiling over at her as she passed by, and she couldn’t help, but smile timidly back at you, her eyes glinting a little as soon as they’d locked with your own.

You thought that smile had confirmed what you were hoping; it confirmed so many things to you - the main things being that you were definitely at risk of a lack of oxygen, whenever you were around her, as well as that you were definitely gayer than you thought you were, before, but the smile also made you feel like you were finally safe; finally happy, and free, as long as she were there beside you. You were elated, as soon as you felt her beside you, your heart pounding as you forgot how to breathe, her hair brushing against your left shoulder.

Just that memory, was enough to take you back to that moment, entirely, you envisioning the stable within your mind, as the wind picked up a little around you, a stray car passing by, but nothing stopped you, your vision clouding a little as you were brought back to a few hours ago, forgetting how to breathe yet again - if only you could live within moments like those; you knew you’d give anything to try.

•

You were mucking up the stalls again, by the time she’d got to you, lingering by the door anxiously for a moment, only for her expression to soften as soon as she saw you, her heart skipping a beat; she couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, everywhere she saw you. She didn’t realise she’d stopped breathing, until she heard Firenze snorting to her right; he was still in his stall, you in the one opposite him. She smiled softly, making to go over to him and Felicity, before she slowly walked up to you, once she’d greeted both of them with a gentle stroke, and ear scratch; they were steadily getting used to her being around, and she loved it - she loved everything about being here; loved everything about you.

Her heart staggered again, her breath catching in her throat at the thought, but she tried to recompose herself, before she continued forward, and was finally stood beside you, her hair tickling your left shoulder blissfully as your own heart skipped a beat, your own lungs forgetting how to breathe, alongside her’s, until you realised you should respond, if you didn’t want her to think of you as being strange, at all.

“Hey,” she began, a little exasperatedly, her voice close to a whisper, and you would falter, your heart beginning to pound as you tried not to shudder, your skin feeling a little tingly in response to her voice.

“H-Hi,” you managed, timidly, in response, and she couldn’t help, but beam over at you, her eyes glinting even more as you both stood there together, for a moment, until she held her hand in your’s, and you felt safer than you ever had, before.

“I missed-” You both began accidentally, not realising you were speaking over each other, until you fell quiet, and locked gazes blissfully, the realisation only setting in shortly before you’d begun to giggle breathlessly alongside one another, evidently amused, as well as a little flustered, by what had just happened between you both.

“So you did miss me, huh?” Regina guessed, and you would wince, tensing up a little, evidently embarrassed; it wasn’t really something you were used to saying, yet, though it did feel right on your tongue, whenever it was directed at her.

“O-Of course I did,” you answered, a little quieter than before, whilst you avoided her gaze, with more than much difficulty, “why - why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” she corroborated, evidently teasing, now, as she leaned closer to you, her right shoulder bumping your left one, “why wouldn’t you?”

You grew redder; stammering a bit more as you tried to find the right words, but your heart pounding in your ears didn’t help, at all.

“I-.. I don’t know, why - er-” You managed, appearing puzzled as well as frustrated as she’d evidently caught your tongue, prompting you to wince again as you silently cursed yourself for being so weak around her, but she couldn’t help, but find you adorable; she loved to make you speechless, the way she could tell she just had, just by teasing you the way she did, a brief moment ago.

“You’re adorable,” she remarked, before she leaned over to delicately connect her lips to your’s, and you couldn’t help, but melt into her touch, smiling softly against her lips as more blood rushed to your cheeks, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world, even after all that had been done to you, years ago.

“You’re more adorable,” you mustered up, deciding it was your turn to be able to tease her, now that she’d done her own teasing, “I - you-.. did you miss me?”

She appeared taken aback by your question, her own heart skipping a beat, or two, as she affectionately connected her forehead to your own, her arms still around your waist, after you’d leaned the shovel against the wall to your right, deciding mucking up could wait, for a moment, or two, just because you’d not been able to talk to her all day, before now. A vision of you seeing Regina and Shane talking earlier invaded your mind, and your heart sank, your eyes darkening as you looked over at her, your eyes meeting her own again, but you tried to hide that it was paining you, not knowing yet if they’d broken up already, or were still together, despite your and her recent changes in relationship, lately.

“Duh, of course I did,” she answered, without hesitation, her eyes never leaving your own, “what kind of question even is that?”

“The same one you asked me, not too long ago, now,” you replied, and she would wince, remembering; the kiss had briefly disorientated her, until now, as she smiled sheepishly in your direction, her cheeks a little redder than they were, before.

“Right,” she mused, her voice ever so light, “I did, didn’t I?” You smirked over at her, evidently amused by her reaction as you held her even closer to you, hating any amount of distance between you both, right now. You hummed in response to what she already knew, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you did; you loved to see her flustered, that much was clear to her, right now - well, that and the fact that she was already missing your lips, against her own, but that was another story, right now. “And you really thought I forgot about that?” She teased, as if it weren’t true, and you couldn’t help, but simply allow your smile to grow, regardless of how warm your face felt, right now, just as a result of her teasing you the way that she was.

“Yes, ma’am,” you answered, simply, and she couldn’t explain how that made something switch within her, as she raised her eyebrows over at you, grinning again, before she leaned forward to kiss you once more - a little more of a passionate kiss, than the last one was; she couldn’t explain why in much detail, only that she’d liked you referring to her as ‘ma’am’ the way that she did, and your lips had been beckoning her own ever since the last had taken place. Let’s just say you both stayed in there for a little while, finishing up the mucking up of the stalls together, without anyone around to disturb you both, except the horses - you didn’t just spend the rest of that time making out again, but even if you did, who needed to know? You just wished it could’ve stayed the way that it was, before you’d heard about her and Shane being in her mother’s house together, regardless of what she’d promised to do for you, as soon as she possibly could.

🜸•🜸

This time, Cal was waiting on the porch. This time, the sound of gravel crackling under the tires didn’t soothe her. As soon as June pulled her car to a stop before the house, Regina hastily got out, her heart still pounding as she raced toward Cal, small tears streaming down her cheeks as the wind hit against her, but nothing could stop her as she rushed up the porch, and couldn’t stop herself as she threw her arms around him, crying quietly as she did. It didn’t make things any better, not seeing your motorcycle anywhere you tended to leave it, out here.

Cal would appear taken aback by Regina’s action, but his expression softened instantly when he heard her sniffling, prompting him to frown as he returned the hug, June walking hastily toward the porch with a worried expression on her face. That was when reality struck him; his eyes widened, and June nodded gravely, an apologetic look on her face - that night would be longer than they knew they could bear.

🜸

The cold was getting to you, at least a little bit. You bit against it, your mouth a thin line, but you didn’t hug yourself; you didn’t care to. You didn’t look back toward your motorcycle; you didn’t really care anymore - you just thought about Regina, and how you hoped she’d be happy, if you finally disappeared. You sighed heavily; a little dejectedly, like a light within you being extinguished; nothing felt the same anymore, and you knew that was probably stupid; that you shouldn’t be surprised about what had been happening recently, but it still hurt no matter what you thought about it; any of it - Regina and Shane; Regina and you.

In the end, you didn’t know why you cared; you’d been through worse, but - to be honest - the part of it that scared you was the one that told you you would rather be stuck in your kidnappers basement, than be here again, feeling as if you were just some play-thing. Maybe, it would have felt better - not that Regina would ever hurt you like that - if she’d just used you the way your kidnapper and his goons had; maybe your attachment to her then wouldn’t be hurting you so much, but you guessed it didn’t matter much anymore, anyway. What goes around, comes around, right? At least, that was all you could think, as you looked toward the bridge stood a few paces ahead of you.

🜸

“She’s gone,” Regina managed, her voice briefly trembling as Cal held her at arm’s length, a pained as well as terrified look on his face; he’d encountered you disappearing like this, before, and the last times it had happened - it wasn’t good.

He shivered, remembering how the police had often contacted him, saying they’d either found you in a makeshift puddle of your own blood, or fully submerged in water; they’d also found you one time, crying as they dragged you out of a store you’d attempted to rob, full of guns, and other weapons - you’d tried to openly steal one of the guns, and - upon noticing you’d been spotted - you tried to lift the gun to your head, only to be tackled to the ground, and have the shot be fired into the floor to your right. You’d tried many times to disappear, that much he knew.

He sighed heavily, as well as a little shakily, his breath showing in the cold air as June lifted her left hand to Regina’s back, a pained expression on her own face as she’d been hoping that maybe you’d be here, though she did get a bad feeling that you wouldn’t be, like you weren’t, now - invisible to the world, somewhere they feared you wouldn’t be found, until the phone ringed inside, and Cal didn’t hesitate to rush in, and answer the call.

🜸

It didn’t take you much, to be stood upon one of the railings of the bridge, looking down at the rushing water below; it didn’t scare you - not really. In fact, you thought it peaceful, your eyes darkening as you stared down at it, trying not to think of Regina; of Cal, and the horses, but you’d never stop believing that they didn’t need you; would never stop believing that you were pathetic - a presence to only burden them. You’d never be good enough, so why wait any longer?

You released the railing to your left, closed your eyes, and for once, all you could think about was falling, in another way.

🜸

Regina, and her mother anxiously awaited in the hallway as Cal spoke hastily on the phone, sounding as dejected and terrified as he looked, asking the person on the other side if they’d seen you, recently, earlier today, only for his eyes to darken, and expression to crumble as he replied with a dejected ‘thank you’, before setting the phone back down upon its stand. He prided himself on being a lover of old technology; he’d always had that phone, ever since he’d moved here, shortly before you’d been taken by your kidnapper, those years ago - you remembered how exited he’d got, seeing the place had a phone like that; you didn’t understand it at the time, but still it made you happy, to see that he was happy, being the only member of your family you felt you could trust whole-heartedly, the way you did him, even after you’d been taken the way you had, and abused as well as beaten almost to a pulp; to death - it was painful, thinking about how different things could have been.

Cal slowly turned toward them, and Regina faltered, a sense of dread taking over her as she shook her head hastily, and tried not to break down completely, no matter how hard it was to stay strong for you, as well as him, and herself, right now.

“It wasn’t Y/n, was it?” She guessed, before he could even open his mouth to say anything. Her voice cracked, but she didn’t give in. “Tell me it wasn’t her, please,” she begged, firmly; shakily, her blood boiling, and heart stuttering at the possibility of her never being able to see you, again, “please, Cal, just - just say something, anything, or - or I’ll-”

“It wasn’t her,” he confirmed slowly; half-heartedly, in a strained manner, “I’m sorry-”

“We have to go out, and look for her,” Regina stated, determined to bring you back, somehow, “we have to; we can’t just-”

“There’s nothing that can be done,” Cal contradicted gently, though it pained him as much to say it, wishing he could do more, “she’s unpredictable - if anything does happen, the police will tell me.” Before he added under his breath: ‘they always do’. He then gesticulated to the door of the living room, trying not to let his hands shake. “Please, come in; it’s gonna be a long night,” he requested, a silent urgency in his voice, “I-.. fear what I’ll do, if I’m to be alone, but-..”

June shook her head, before reassuringly lifting her right hand up to his left shoulder.

“You won’t be alone,” she promised, “because we’re here, and we always will be - for as long as you need us to be, won’t we, Regina?”

Regina hesitated, trying not to look toward the door, no matter how much she wished she could go out, and look for you, desperate to find you, and make sure that you’re okay, especially after you’d heard about her and Shane not breaking up yet, until now.

“Sure, I - I guess,” she answered, and Cal would express relied, glad to hear he wouldn’t be alone, whilst you were gone, before he smiled softly over at them both, and opened the door before him, the room too quiet, even as he led them into it - nothing would ever be the same, if you weren’t found, and fast; he just hoped it wasn’t too late, or it really would feel like the end of everything was near.

🜸

Regina was anxious; water flooded over you. It made your throat feel raw, as you struggled to breathe, the panic settling in. You didn’t know why you’d thought of her, as the water began to consume you; didn’t know why you wondered if she’d liked the roses, your heart sinking, and eyes darkening as your muscles slowly began to give in, even before the water had begun to tire you - there wasn’t much point to go on fighting, if you wouldn’t ever see her again.

You heard panicked voices; the squeaking of car’s braking as sunk slowly, staring dejectedly up at the surface until it stung your eyes enough to get you to close them tightly, but it didn’t make a difference - nothing ever would, until you were pulled up out of the water, and forced to start breathing again.

🜸

Regina couldn’t sit still - for the whole of the time it took, for the police to get in contact - she couldn’t calm herself down. She fidgeted with her hands, staring down at her lap, her right leg bouncing a little - that had never happened to her, before. She only occasionally glanced up at her mom, or at Cal, June trying to soothe her every once in a while by resting her hand gently upon her daughter’s knee; she hated seeing her like this, and wished she could do more for her, somehow, but neither she or Cal knew what to do with themselves.

They felt hopeless, knowing you were out there, somewhere, probably in an untrustworthy state of mind, after what you’d heard from June regarding Shane and her daughter, but no matter what they tried to say to each other; what they tried to think of to lighten the mood a little, the darkness was closing in, faster than they originally expected it to.

🜸

The light was unforgiving, as you were pulled out of the water, spluttering uncontrollably whilst you tried not to cry; the pain in your throat and chest was unbearable, and your muscles were weaker than you’d ever felt them. You squinted your eyes up at the sky - the starts were beautiful, tonight. You couldn’t help, but think about Regina again, wondering what it would be like, to lay beneath them, your arms around one another; fingers interlinked - nothing had ever looked so beautiful, before, as such a sight.

Your heart sank; you still feared maybe Regina would never want to do anything like that with you; she probably would rather not even see you, anymore, after today. That only made the feeling worse, as you scowled up at the sky, cursing the person who’d saved you, the way they did. You then remembered the police sirens; there were some steady approaching. You imagined a couple or so police cars, as well as an ambulance. It was exactly like the other time you’d tried to do this to yourself. Maybe even worse - this time, you were conscious, as you felt yourself failing yet again to take your life, the pain unbearably taunting, but it hadn’t extinguished the fire in your chest, yet; if you were going to end everything, it was going to be tonight, whether they liked it, or not.

🜸

“If she isn’t back in half an hour, I will be calling the police,” Cal stated - it was the first time he’d spoken, in a little while, now.

“I think that would be for the best,” June corroborated, her voice ever so gentle. Regina sank between them, feeling more helpless than she ever had before. She couldn’t believe she was just sitting there, her heart pounding, and face crumpling occasionally as she tried not to break down anymore than she already had, since they’d arrived here.

You were still at large, and she was terrified of what might happen to you; to her, after today - if she lost you, somehow, like she feared she would, soon, she didn’t know what she’d do to herself; didn’t know how she’d handle things, anymore, without you beside her; without being able to see you again, after school; after kisses; after every embrace you and her had ever shared. It was more painful than anything had ever felt, before, and she couldn’t take it, silently begging for you to come back, just so she could see that you were okay; just so she could tell you everything about how she felt about you, and could never want anything else, but to be with you, and you only.

She didn’t think anything of it, when the TV came to life.

🜸

You let yourself recompose, first, gathering at least some strength whilst someone spoke hastily on the phone a little further away from you, another person with a microphone, not too far away from them. You grimaced - how did they all get here, so fast? Though, you didn’t seem to have much concept of time, right now. You couldn’t remember how long you’d been unconscious when you were; it wasn’t for very long, that was all you could tell - you sighed barely audibly, still staring up at the sky whilst small white lights seemed to dance in your eye-line. The black spots were trying to deter them, but they wouldn’t go. You winced, a sharp pain shooting through your right side, as soon as you tried to move - this would be harder, than you thought it would be.

🜸

The remote shook in Cal’s right hand; he didn’t dare look over at his guests. Regina kept her eyes glued down to her hands, whilst June warily looked on at the TV screen, fidgeting with her own fingers as the usual news reporter read out all the recent headlines. If it weren’t for the next one being interrupted by the announcement of new breaking news, maybe they wouldn’t have found you, again.

🜸

“Don’t move,” one of the paramedics advised gently, whilst the police warded off any civilians crowding around the area, to give you space, you guessed. “You’re okay,” the woman continued, as you tried to scoot away from her, only to wince again, a quiet whimper escaping your lips; the pain was excruciating, and you didn’t notice that you were bleeding, until the paramedic carefully lifted your t-shirt, revealing a long scratch running down to your waist - you must have caught something, after jumping into the water; your skin must have been nicked by a rock at the bottom, or the side - you heard her say, to one of her peers; she was trying to speak quietly, but you knew.

You cursed barely audibly, your voice shaking as you glanced down at the scratch again, watching the blood seeping down slowly, almost covering your entire side as it went. You groaned, before letting your head drop back down onto the ground - concrete, of course; you cursed again.

“You’re going to be okay,” another of them said, as they held their hand carefully over your wound, and you winced, wishing you could slap it away, but you couldn’t feel much of yourself, right now. “We’ve got you-”

“Let go of me,” you uttered, your voice weak, and sounding strained, as if you were using all of your energy to talk to them, just as they began to carefully lift you off of the ground as soon as the stretcher was brought out for you.

“We can’t do that, I’m afraid,” the first paramedic began again, smiling sympathetically down at you as they laid you upon the stretcher, but this wasn’t it. You wouldn’t let them take you away. That’s why you kicked your legs out beneath you, before you got up off of the stretcher after startling the two women who’d been trying to help you, and tried to run as fast as you could toward the bridge again.

🜸

It started with the reporter mentioning something about the bridge nearby, almost on the way to Northshore high, but Regina didn’t lift her head, until June gasped, and Cal dropped the remote.

🜸

You climbed back up onto the railing, your heart racing as you stared back down at the water again, listening to the panicked shouts behind you, but nobody dared get any closer, worried about what you might do, if they tried.

“Miss, stop! Please!” One of them called, you shrugged, grimacing subconsciously in response to their voices.

“Get down!” Another demanded - probably one of the officers stood next to the paramedics, but still you remained perched upon the railing, not daring to move even an inch as you tensed up, your eyes beginning to water a little whilst a lump formed within your throat; the fear was starting to set in, now. You closed your eyes again; you were determined to make today the end of everything.

🜸

“Shit,” Cal spat, as he hastily got up off of his chair, before rushing out to the phone again, Regina hot on his heels whilst her mother followed behind her, shocked; she couldn’t believe what she’d seen on the screen - you in the background, stood on the railing of the bridge, whilst the reporter talked about the situation to the woman who had been speaking, earlier, giving the other pieces of news, before your situation had come up. “I-.. I need to call them; the - the police; I need to speak to her-”

“What if they don’t let you?” Regina questioned, terrified, her voice briefly trembling. “What if they don’t-”

“They will,” Cal interjected, determined to talk to you, “I will make them, if they don’t - I will drive right down there, and push through them if I have to - I’m not letting her jump; I - I can’t, I-”

“It’s okay,” June cooed, trying to soothe him as she rested her left hand upon his right shoulder; his hands shook, as he reached for the phone. This was going to be too hard to stay strong through, no matter how much he knew he should try and be as strong as he possibly could, for you, right now.

🜸

It started with the police talking in quiet, worried, and hushed voices. You didn’t dare look back at them, still, staring down at the water with slightly widened eyes; your legs shaking a little beneath you - you didn’t know why you couldn’t get yourself to jump, but you were terrified. Again, you thought about Regina, about Cal, and the horses. About all you could lose, even if you weren’t sure whether they still wanted you, after everything.

“We’re trying,” you heard one of them say behind you, their voices a little more raised than they were, before, “doing everything we can, Mr. L/n, but-”

You tensed up at the mention of your Uncle, your breath hitching in your throat as you subconsciously shook your head, before looking around behind you, until your gaze fell upon the woman holding a microphone, a few paces away from you, now, a camera filming every word she spoke, and every expression that appeared on her face. You didn’t know what to think; how to feel, you just stared ahead of you, a heavy lump in your throat as small tears began to cloud your vision all over again - you just wished they would give up on you; just wished they’d stop caring; even you knew you weren’t worth the hassle. You wished you could just throw yourself in, if only your muscles weren’t stopping you from doing so.

🜸

“You’re not trying hard enough!” Cal retorted, like a hiss, and the officer would scowl in response to his accusation.

“There’s not much that we can do, sir, please try and remember that - if you were in our situation-”

“Give me the phone,” Regina interjected, her voice firm; she was determined to get through to you, somehow.

Cal would appear taken aback, evidently shocked by her interjection as he looked back at her, a pained expression on his face again.

“But-”

“Please,” she begged, her voice briefly trembling as he appeared conflicted, not sure what to do with himself.

“I-”

“This might be good for her, Cal; to speak to Regina,” June corroborated gently, “if only for a minute, or two? Who knows? She might actually listen to her, and come back home?”

“She’s not going anywhere, after this,” Cal stated, before warily looking back toward Regina, and nodding determinedly, relieving her as she allowed a barely audible sigh to escape her lips, a small tear leaking down her right cheek; she only hoped she could do what she could, for you, no matter what it meant for your and her relationship, after today - she couldn’t let you go on any longer not knowing that it was you; that it had always been you, she just wished she could have told you that, before you’d turned up at her door, and heard from her mother that she and Shane were still together, before this moment in time.

🜸

You imagined dropping back into the water, your eyelids fluttering shut. The wind blew through your locks, and for a moment it felt like water, as you imagined yourself being submerged within it - how it had felt, before, until the person who’d saved you had pulled you out, though you’d not wanted to be saved, at all. You sighed dejectedly, your breath barely audible, and showing in the cold air. You watched it drift away from you, before it disappeared completely - maybe this night would have been nice, if not for what had brought you out here, in the first place.

“Miss L/n!” One of the officers called, and you tensed up again, your heart skipping a beat as your eyelids fluttered open again. “We have someone on the line who says they want to talk to you!” He continued, and you winced, before scoffing, shaking your head, and bowing it again.

“If it’s Cal, tell - tell him that - that I’m not stopping,” you spat, your voice weak, and shaky, as you yourself tried not to break down, alongside your waiting companions back at Cal’s ranch, “in fact, you can tell him to fuck off, for all I care! I can make my own decisions, now - I’m not a baby, anymore; I never was one.”

“That’s all very well, Y/n,” another of the officers spoke - a female voice you recognised; you’d had many dealings with her, like this one, but each time you seemed to forget her name, wincing as well as trying not to laugh at the irony of it all - so many times, you’d been saved by her as well as other officers, and paramedics, when all you could think of, was how you wished your kidnapper and his goons had killed you, whenever they got the chance, all those years ago. “But it isn’t Cal,” she revealed, and you would falter, evidently taken aback as you looked back at her, evidently shocked, as well as a little confused, your eyes full of a silent dread you couldn’t conceal, only to be heightened as soon as she continued with the words: “it’s a girl claiming to be a friend of your’s - do you know a Miss Regina George, by any chance?”

🜚

Your heart stuttered, before you crumpled before them, your eyes wide, and wet, a pained expression crossing your face all over again.

“I-.. W-What?” You managed, your voice weaker than the officer had ever heard it, before, prompting her expression to soften as she tilted her head partially, before making to come closer to you, only for you to hastily shake your head, and turn back toward the water, as if readying yourself to jump again.

She faltered in step, shaking her head alongside your own as she stopped in place, worried you might convince yourself to do something stupid, if she got any closer to you than she was, now.

“Okay,” she cooed gently, “it’s okay - I won’t come any closer; here-.. I’ll slide the phone over to you, and you can pick it up, if you want to - go ahead.”

She then crouched down low, before sliding her phone over to where you were, it stopping a few paces away from you as you stared dejectedly down at the water below you, wondering what Regina might be thinking of you, right now - how dejected, and disappointed she might be, but at the same time you doubted she’d be upset, if you disappeared, today. You drew in a shaky breath, before nodding gravely, and carefully getting down off of the railing, your heart aching more than it ever had before, no matter how much it elated you to think about hearing her voice again, the way you thought you would, soon, as long as you went ahead with answering the call.

You lingered by the phone, for a moment, warily looking up at her; the officer stood a few paces away from you, enduring yet another attempt to save your life, despite all the other times she’d done so, before. She nodded reassuringly, smiling softly as you narrowed your eyes in her direction, evidently skeptical of what she’d do, if you took the phone up, and looked away from her for at least a second, or two.

“If you even try to stop me from-”

“We won’t,” she interjected gently, before you could even finish your sentence, “not physically, anyway; that doesn’t help anyone.”

“Okay,” you replied slowly, still sounding a little unsure as you leaned down to pick up the phone, subconsciously wincing, and even flinching a little as you looked back up at them, only to discover they were all still where they were, before. You expressed relief, before backing a little further away from them, and then bowing your head, your heart feeling as if it were being squeezed as you turned away to glance back down at the water.

It took you more than a little strength, to bring yourself to lift the phone up to your ear.

🜸

“Hello?” Your voice prompted her heart to skip a beat, and her to forget how to breathe for a moment; she couldn’t explain it, but it was look a warm rush of relief ran through her - she liked to hear you were still there, with her; still existing, beside her, even if you weren’t anywhere near her, right now.

“Hey,” she managed, her voice cracking a little as she tried to hold herself together for you, no matter how hard it was for her to do so, especially now that she knew what you could do, if she and the others weren’t careful with you.

Cal warily watched her for a moment, until he expressed relief upon hearing her respond to you, reassuring him that you were still there; still alive, and breathing, despite your previous threats to jump, if ever the officers and paramedics got any closer to you than they were, now.

“I-..” You fell quiet, a pained expression on your face as you tried to get the words out, only to fail miserably, your throat closing up as you tried to swallow the lump within it.

“I’m sorry,” Regina managed, and you would falter again, a hurt look on your face as you hastily shook your head; you didn’t want her to feel as if she had to apologise, when you believed yourself to be the only problem, here. “Y/n, I-”

“They say heartbreak really fucks with you,” you mused, your voice briefly trembling, and she would falter, her heart sinking as she nodded slowly, her eyes darkening; she couldn’t stand hearing how she’d hurt you, the way she knew she had. “I-”

“The stars are pretty tonight, aren’t they?” Regina interjected gently, and you would appear taken aback, subconsciously looking up at them - they were always pretty, when you had someone like her to share them with.

Your heart skipped a beat, and she smiled softly, hearing you say ‘they are’ a little lighter, as if she were reigniting something within you, just by being there with you, the way that she was.

“They really are,” you added slowly; thoughtfully - heavily; so heavily that it hurt her more than anything else ever had, before, “I just-… I guess I just wish-”

“Stop,” she whispered shakily, and you would fall quiet again, swallowing thickly as another small tear leaked slowly down your right cheek, “I-.. I can’t-”

“But it’s true,” you stated, your heart sounding as if it were breaking several times over almost as much as your voice was, alongside her own, “I never-.. Regina, I-”

“You can’t,” she spat, her voice strained, “you just can’t, okay? I need you, I fucking love you, Y/n, okay!? I love you!”

Cal frowned, hearing it was hurting the both of you, to be talking like this; to be away from each other, when all you needed was to be together, like he’d always hoped you would be. You didn’t know what to say for a moment, your heart throbbing; jumping, as you thought, and clung to each of her words, imagining all you’d ever dreamt about - everything you’d ever wanted, living a life with her. You drew in another shaky, and slow breath, your blood pulsing in your ears as you tried to find the right words, to say; tried to hold yourself together, though every minute felt like an extra hour pulling your insides apart.

You focused on the water; the light glimmering upon its surface as you smiled softly down at the sight, but your smile didn’t last long - how could it, when she weren’t beside you? When you couldn’t stop thinking about everything bad; how you could never be good enough, for her, no matter how much you longed to be more, for her, and her only. Your eyes darkened, and you felt lost, again; it took a lot, not to let yourself drop then and there, if she weren’t on the other side of the phone line.

“I-.. I’m sorry, Reg, but-.. there’s nothing left for me, anymore; nothing left of me - I can’t let you live out your life wanting to spend it on something that’s been broken, rather than refurbished,” you uttered, and before she could even respond, you hung up the phone, and let yourself fall forward - you knew it probably wouldn’t work, but there was nothing left to do, but keep trying - right?

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it, and are looking forward to the next one! ❤️

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Cry For Me [24]

TW: SMUTTTTTTT 

------

"Then come here."

He didn't have to tell me. Not even once. 

I move my feet, quickly walking over to him. Sal watches me with those pretty, nearly translucent blue eyes and gently grabs my wrist once I make it to him. He yanks me into his room, my pursuit stopping when my chest slams into his.

His tattooed fingers squeeze my wrist a bit as he shuts his door behind us. My body reacts almost immediately, goosebumps forming along my skin.

For a moment, just a moment, Sal simply stands with my body pressed to his. Doesn't do anything else, doesn't move-- like he's contemplating.

I already know what he's contemplating, doesn't even take a full second for it to click in my head. It's about the prosthetic.

I breathe in shakily, gazing into the eyeholes of his mask that show me so little of him. "If you're uncomfortable," I whisper, "You can keep it on."

He takes a big, stuttering breath that I feel through my own chest. I can't tell if I should be flattered for nearly making him choke or if I should be nervous about being so upfront.

But then he releases my wrist, using the same skeleton-tatted hand to grab the chin of his prosthetic and lift it over his face. The action rustles up his hair to the point that he reaches back and pulls out the pony tail that had held up his hair for the day. And when he looks at me again, brandishing his handsomely marred face like my words gave him the little bit of confidence he needed to bare himself to me, I fear I may fall apart.

Big doe eyes, long lashes. Furrowed brows to accentuate the little bit of clear apprehension he still feels. Parted lips to show off the tips of his sharp canines that left bruises on my skin that haven't yet faded-- teeth that'll no doubt leave more bruises by the time we're finished. His would-be straight bridged nose that's missing certain parts and still littered with scars and freckles alike. The sunken in left side of his face and the long scar stretching up his cheek. The assortment of discolored skin and glistening scars all over him. 

I truly can't get enough of his unique beauty. 

He may be a total ass, but something about him-- something about the way he acted like a normal person today-- makes me want to kiss all the traumas on his body and let him know that it'll be okay. The same way he did for me today.

I don't. I refrain, if only for his peace of mind because intimacy as gentle as that would no doubt confuse both of us and probably put an end to our situation too. I have to fuck him at least once before something happens and we end up hating each other again.

Sal's vulnerable expression drops into one of mild aggravation; pinched lips and a lazy, uninterested gaze. He's tired of his least favorite part of himself being ogled I guess. 

I mirror his expression even if he can't fully see it with the mask, but stick my tongue in my cheek for added effect. His cobalt irises narrow in response and he smacks his lips to combat my attitude, which is his fault by the way.

"Aren't I lucky that we made a deal and you can't get snappy with me right now," I chirp, knowing that it's going to tick him off just a little more.

"I can disrespect you in more ways than one," he replies in his slightly raspy, smooth voice that feels like ice dripping down my spine. Oh, he's good.

"So do it," I tell him breathlessly, eyes glancing between his.

"I need to know what you want first," he cuts in before anything can begin, raising an eyebrow. He takes a little step backward, laying his prosthetic on top of a set of drawers. "We made an arrangement for tonight and I know it's a delicate one, so I don't want to do anything that'll make you uncomfortable."

Ever the gentleman. 

He did a lot for me today. It was completely out of character, but when I think about it, his actions could be his way of thanking me for not fearing him or treating him differently because of his face and disability. If I was suddenly revealed, like he was, I would appreciate not having it made into a big deal. Maybe he appreciates that too, and this is how he's showing it.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable either," I note rather awkwardly. It's weird to have to... care. 

I watch Sal grimace like he feels weird about this new dynamic we have going on too. "Shut up, y/n," he hisses out. "I'm..." He takes an audible breath, sorting through his words. "To bury myself in you is enough, don't worry." He says it with some truthful clarity, so I only purse my lips and nod to myself. Makes sense.

He fills in the minute empty space between us again and his hands lightly run up my sides, feeling what little of me that he can with our clothing separating us. "What do you want?" He asks, voice low and quiet while his eyes meet mine again.

Simply feeling the pressure of his hands on me makes my chest feel like it'll cave in, the lack of air in my lungs burning my throat. I can't form thoughts for a second, my mouth working but no sound coming out.

A little smug grin quirks Sal's rough lips at my silence. God, and the dimple on his right cheek has me folding like a fucking lawn chair on the inside. 

I swallow and force myself to take in some air. "I've been degraded enough today," is the first thing I say to him. 

That smile of his is gone in a moment, his lack of expression showing his seriousness. He nods, waiting for me to continue.

"But," I add, looking off to the side. I can't say this to his face. "Fuck me hard enough so that I can't remember that I had enough degradation." I chew on my bottom lip, nearly curse to myself before adding a forced, "Please."

"So polite," Sal coos, the light praise being the sole reason why I can't turn my head to look at him again. "Can you remind me of our safe word?"

Not demanding. Still dominant, but... gentler. 

I run my tongue over the surface of my teeth. "Twitterpated."

His hands leave my sides immediately. "Good," he purrs. "If you're in a position where you can't use your words-- which, at some point, you will be in this position-- tap me twice. I'll understand."

I finally find the willpower to look at him again, finding his hands hovering over me but never touching me and some kind of inebriated glint in his eyes. Like he's excited but won't allow himself to show it.

He doesn't move. Just watches me expectantly. Waiting. 

I release an impatient sigh. "Touch me, Sal."

I'm unable to see his reaction to my words, I only feel it when his hands fly back to my waist and grip me. He hides his face in my neck, those slightly crooked teeth nipping at my skin as he walks us backward.

I gulp, drunk on the feeling of his scarred lips against my throat and his teeth scratching at my skin-- his fingertips digging into my flesh.

I grab onto his shoulders to steel myself, a gasp falling from my lips when his hands find their way under my shirt, his cold palms a stark contrast to the warmth of my sides. Those same hands drag upward, reaching my ribcage and squeezing. 

"Jump," he rasps against my throat, pausing only to wait for me to do as he said.

I follow his command and he uses his grip on my ribs to help with lifting me up, quickly moving one arm under my thighs to catch me.

Sal's lips leave my neck, his head tilting sideways to watch where he's walking. He takes just three steps before throwing me onto his bed.

I suck in a breath, my eyes on him as he pushes his hair back with a hand, looking down at me with a predator's gaze. He tries to hide it, tries to be gentler to honor my wishes, but I can tell it's tough on him.

Makes me a little proud. His struggle is kind of cute.

"Stop smiling," he mumbles emotionlessly, leaning down to grab my hips and pull me toward him. 

I drop the unknown smile from my face. I didn't even realize I was doing it. "Sorry," I tell him, losing a couple braincells when he wraps my legs around his waist, his clothed cock pressing against me. Fuck. "Just amusing watching you try to be something you're not."

His hands, which had begun moving up my thighs and back to my waist, pause as he turns his gaze to me. Completely unimpressed. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, desperately trying to hold back a retort. "Just because I'm going easy on you doesn't mean you can act like that."

"There must be some miscommunication," I press, yearning for some bite from him. "I didn't tell you to go easy on me."

He breathes in slowly, eyes glued to me. I feel like a science experiment under scrutiny. So long as it's his scrutiny, I don't really... mind.

Sal looks like he has a lot to say, a lot to do. He looks utterly ravenous. But instead of acting on it like I want him to, he returns his gaze to my body and moves his hands to my jeans. He undoes the button, fingers dipping into the waistband to start moving the fabric down my legs.

"If we get interrupted again," he says in a gravelly tone, a bit of that dominance I'm aching for leaking into his words. "I'll fuck you in front of them."

Butterflies flutter around my tummy. He needs to stop talking or else I'll cum before we can even get to what he's talking about. 

Another reason he needs to stop talking is because he likes to predict shit. 

Oh, and his bedroom door just squeaked on its hinges.

My eyes go wide and my heart drops into my stomach just as Sal tilts his head up to me, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

And then a long, drawn out, pissed off meow echoes through his room. Now it's my turn to be confused.

Sal and I communicate through eye contact alone, his expression slackens and he lets out a relieved breath, blinking at the wall behind me.

"Gizmo," he says, tone gentle and sweet. I swear my eyes are about to pop out of my head as I watch his personality do a complete one-eighty. "Bad timing, buddy."

Sal backs away from me, moving to the side to reveal a chunky orange cat. Gizmo, if what Sal said tells me anything, stands in his doorway with all the might of a small army of men. His tail in the air, curled at the end like a question mark.

"You have a cat?" I ask exasperatedly, unsure of what, exactly, I'm witnessing.

Sal throws me a look that tells me he's not confirming the obvious.

He turns back to the cat and drops to his haunches. Gizmo bounds over to him, pushing his head into Sal's outstretched palm and purring excitedly. "Are you hungry?" Sal asks, voice baby-like in the same way a parent talks to their child. 

What the fuck is going on.

I think back to last night and being briefly woken out of a sleep-stupor to the feeling of purring at my feet. It must have been this little guy.

I watch Sal scratch behind the cat's ears, his other hand running along Gizmo's back. Gizmo chirps his response to Sal's question.

Sal turns his head over his shoulder, face angelic with all his features relaxed rather than harsh like they have been every time I've had a chance to see them. "Give me a second," he tells me, a bit of that tone he uses for Gizmo still evident. I blanch, mentally beating myself with a bat that has the words 'THAT TONE IS NOT FOR ME' etched onto the object. 

I don't say anything, too shocked to form actual words. 

Sal grabs Gizmo, lifting him into his arms and walking out of the room. 

I lean back onto his bed, blinking at the ceiling. I'm glad it was a cat that walked into his room and not an actual person. But regardless, seeing him be so sweet on purpose is odd. It reminds me of the time we ran into fans in Las Vegas. It's just so uncharacteristic of him to be nice... but then again, he was nice to me for nearly the entire day.

A few months ago, niceness coming from him was off-putting. Now, I don't really mind it. It's different, but not unwelcome. It shows me that he can be an actual person, not just an unfeeling asshole. In fact, it proves that he isn't an unfeeling asshole-- that his shitty persona is just a facade. Maybe a safety mechanism?

He feels the need to hide something. His vulnerability? Shield himself from betrayal? That would track if he's so nervous about his face. It's so frustrating that it took seeing his face for me to finally understand him. To make sense of his behavior and reactions and not immediately blame him for all of it. 

I chew on the inside of my cheek, pushing up and resting on my elbows. I glance around his room that's packed up for the most part-- it's just his bed frame, PC, and desk that are still set up. Proves that they've been planning on moving for at least a few weeks now. They probably had already decided to move when we were in Vegas.

There's still a little bit of him here though. An assortment of medication bottles on top of the dresser he laid his prosthetic on, different masks on the wall above it. Probably there for when he wants something other than his every-day prosthetic, even though I've never seen him wear these other ones.

I almost feel inclined to walk around his room and inspect everything like it's a museum exhibit. But I can't-- at the end of the day, as nice as he's been lately, this is still Sal. One wrong move and he'll take it personally. Besides, these are his personal belongings. It would be a shitty move to go and pry into anything that isn't mine to begin with.

Sal walks through the doorway in the middle of my observing, shutting the door behind him but making sure it's completely closed this time.

He walks up to the bed-- up to me and grabs my hips again. There's a hint of a smile on his lips as he watches me with those bright eyes. "Let's try that again-- while he's distracted."

The dash of humor makes a guilty smile form on my face too, and Sal's ghost of a grin widens a bit in response.

That is, up until he yanks me to him. His dick is hard against me and I nearly groan at the feeling. I note the little upward tilt of Sal's head. He's proud, clearly.

"I want to see if you're all talk," Sal purrs, smile morphing into something more sensual, the sight of his teeth making a shiver run up my spine. 

He takes up the task he'd set out to do before he left the room, pulling my jeans off of my body. Then he's gripping at the flesh of my thighs, feeling and enjoying it.

"You told me to be nice, but that you don't want this easy, right?" Sal asks, tongue running over his torn bottom lip as he towers over me. I nod my confirmation, just a few words away from drooling all over this man.

He doesn't ask for any more. He carefully grabs onto my panties, fingertips teasing me with their gentle drag along my hips, and pulls them down my legs. He doesn't discard them the same way he did my jeans though; he bunches them into his fist and looks back to me, tilts his head.

"I have neighbors." That's his excuse before shoving my panties into my own mouth to undoubtedly keep me quiet. My eyes widen and I glare at him, but I don't move them. He seems to bathe in my aggravation and my willingness to cooperate, eyes lighting up at the prospect.

He pushes me farther onto the bed and drops to his knees. Damn. That's a pretty sight.

His grip tightens on my thighs, painted nails deliciously digging into my skin. "Any last words?" He asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. He's dragging this out on purpose-- I'm bare to him, he can see my arousal he's just being a dick. 

Despite it all, my heart is running a marathon and my limbs threaten to quake in exhilaration with each second he looks at me as if he knows he's going to be my undoing.

A muffled, aggravated groan leaves me in response and he only chuckles a bit, dipping his head down and rewarding me with his lips closing around my clit. He doesn't tease me like he did last time, just goes straight to what he intended.

I melt into the mattress, shutting my eyes and drowning in the bliss of his tongue caressing my clit, his teeth occasionally scraping over the bundle of nerves, and just the soft feel of his lips alone. 

His hands are so tight on my skin that it hurts, but it hurts so good-- the combination of pain and his tongue dipping past my folds makes tears well in my eyes. The fact that he's gone down on me twice in two days is heavenly. Who knew I'd get this lucky?

The best moan I can muster up fills the quiet room when he gets more aggressive, his tongue licking up my pussy before he bites into the flesh of my thighs, sucking on my skin and making it sting on purpose-- because he knows I like it.

His thumb rubs along the inside of my leg to soothe the pain when my back arches off the bed, his teeth releasing me a moment later. He licks at the bruised skin before returning to my slit with a singular, panted breath of obvious enjoyment.

His tongue dances between my folds, drawing patterns that I don't have the brainpower to distinguish along my clit. His mouth drives me to madness, only adds to a quick-building orgasm that I can't control because he's just so good with everything-- in words and actions.

He sucks my clit into his mouth one last time before standing up and leaning over me, huffing breaths between those parted, glistening lips. He uses his hands on my legs to wrap them around his waist again, but moves one between my thighs, replacing his mouth with his fingers that he buries into me easily. 

I squeeze my eyes shut despite wanting to watch the expression on his face. I tilt my head back as his fingers slide in and out of me, eliciting a deep pleasure that makes my body react of its own accord.

"You don't want me to tell you about how you're such a good slut for me," Sal says breathlessly, the hand that isn't at my pussy moving to my stomach. He pushes my shirt up until he's able to lean down and press his mouth to my warm skin. I tense beneath him at the contact, the delicate feeling of his lips moving roughly above my navel. "So how about," he pauses, licking up my torso to my ribs. "I pamper you with all the things any normal guy would tell the woman lying beneath him."

I suck in a breath, eyes still shut as he slams his fingers into my pussy, curling them to hit a spot that makes my body jolt. There's so much going on, his hand bringing me to climax and his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin of my ribcage. 

He uses the hand holding up my shirt to maneuver it over my chest, haphazardly lifting it past my neck and over my head. My hair is a mess as he chucks it somewhere into his room-- but I don't care. He doesn't care as he adds another digit into my cunt, his thumb expertly rubbing my clit. 

He reaches underneath me, miraculously unclipping my bra first try and yanking it off me-- all the gentleness he tried to flaunt minutes ago disappearing entirely. 

He doesn't bother taking a look at my chest, he only moves upward to lick my hardened nipple, his free hand palming the opposite breast all the while he keeps pounding his fingers into me. "Someone normal would tell you that you look pretty like this."

Holy hell, I'm going to cum before we can fuck.

"That you look stunning in the low lighting with my fingers filling you up, and your flushed cheeks-- the tears in your eyes." I feel myself falling apart underneath him, his fingers reaching deep within me and his mouth latching onto my nipple, his hand running down the length of my stomach. And he must know because his lips stretch against my skin, moving away from my breasts to glance up and send me an inebriating grin that's so full of equally evil and sensual promises. "That you look so beautiful when you're losing yourself."

I can't look at him anymore. Not when there's truth to those words hiding somewhere deep in his cerulean eyes. Not with his fingers curling into me again and his hand roaming over my stomach.

But that same hand grips my chin, shakes it a bit until I open my eyes and look at him. His jaw is clenched tight, something sinister in the eyes that were praising me just moments ago. "Cry for me," he says in a guttural, assertive tone. 

I cum all over his fingers, my hand grabbing onto his strong bicep as the tears he asked me for slip down my cheeks even if he can't see them. I can't control them, nor can I contain the muttered pleas for more, or less, or for him that tumble past my lips only to be muffled by the panties in my mouth. 

He helps me through the sudden orgasm, lips pressing little kisses between my breasts while his eyes never leave me. He removes his fingers from my pussy after I come down from my high. I pant at the ceiling, finding it harder to breathe with the fabric in my mouth.

Sal notices and plucks my panties from my lips, causing me to shut my eyes in ecstasy as a fresh wave of air invades my lungs. I almost choke on the first breath. 

In my peripheral, I watch Sal stick his soaked fingers into his mouth and lick up the excess of everything he couldn't taste when his tongue was on buried in me. I nearly choke again.

"Such a good girl for me," he praises, standing to his full height but never parting our bodies-- my legs still wrapped around his middle. He does lean over though, opening a drawer on his bedside table. 

He pulls out a foil packet and drops it onto my stomach. "We're doing it the right way this time," he informs me, nodding at the condom.

I swallow past the unbridled excitement building within me. "Why didn't you use one?" I pant, sucking in a big breath of air before continuing. "The last time?"

Sal tilts his head disappointedly in answer, averting his gaze. I watch the way his scarred lips move as he says, "Got ahead of myself. Couldn't wait."

"Oh," I breathe, snorting afterward. "Proud of myself for that one."

"Remember that you didn't insist on protection either. You're as guilty as I am," Sal informs me and I roll my eyes, an action that makes him smirk a bit-- all the pride I felt returning to him.

Sal and I have learned, at least by this point, to not waste time on arguing when we're in the middle of sex. Because something always gets in the way of us continuing. So Sal grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head, dropping the article behind him.

I soak up the sight of him, my gaze roving over the various tattoos on his body as he stands before me. The dagger on his neck, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The map of depictions along his left arm and the vines down his right. The moon and stars peaking past the waistband of his sweats.

He's just so fucking beautiful. I don't have words to describe him.

"One thing I'm going to ask of you," Sal says, using a tone I haven't heard all day. He was serious with me early, but this sounds vital. "Don't look past my stomach."

I freeze, eyes moving back to his. I try not to let my thoughts show through my reaction, but I'm sure he notices what I'm thinking because he pinches his lips. Doesn't let up that dominant gaze of telling me I have to follow through with this condition. 

It's because of the scars on his thighs. I won't press him again-- ever. His reaction when I brought it up the first time, followed by Larry unintentionally spelling out the truth, told me enough. He doesn't have to tell me, he isn't obligated. He's always done whatever I ask and taken care to make me comfortable. 

I gulp, regulate the features of my face that he can see and nod my confirmation to him. "I won't look."

Sal blinks, nodding back to me and loosing a little breath. I keep my eyes on his as he pushes his sweats down, kicking them off. His boxers follow moments later and I feel the moment his cock springs free, brushing along the inside of my thigh.

My chest rises with the heavy breath I take, my heart racing in my chest and my cheeks growing warm. Sal watches me with lidded blue eyes and grabs the condom off my stomach, bringing the packet to his mouth and ripping it open with his teeth.

My eyes roll back and I close them as soon as possible to keep at least a little of my dignity. Sal saw it anyway though and he laughs a bit, the pretty sound wrapping around me like the vines on his arm.

"Open your eyes, y/n," he rasps. And I have to; he used my name. "Watch me. Stop being shy. There's no room for that shit once I fuck you."

I open my eyes and watch him as he instructed, never looking lower than his chest even as I catch his arms rolling the condom onto himself in my peripheral. 

And he's done in a moment, leaning toward me and hovering with his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of me. His gaze falls to my chest before his eyes can meet mine. "You look scared," he mutters, filling me with deja vu at the repetition of our conversation yesterday.

I continue the memory with quiet, shaky words. "I am."

Yesterday, he asked me why. Today, his eyes dance over my masked face-- all nonchalance and a lion towering over a cornered bunny as he says lowly, "You should be."

I don't get time to sit and contemplate his words because one of his hands moves between my thighs. Then his dick presses against my folds, carefully and delicately pushing in just a bit. His nostrils flare as he sucks in a quick breath, eyes still holding my gaze. "Can you take all of me or do I have to go slow?"

My pussy dampens at his consideration and at the feeling of his warm cock gently pressing into me. "Slow," I answer him softly, feeling a fluttering in my chest. "For now. It's been a while."

Sal nods, taking his time pushing his length into me, allowing me time to adjust. I wince a bit at the burning feeling of his cock stretching me out, but I don't stop him. Regardless of the dull slice of pain, it feels good.

Good enough that I have to pant through how painstakingly slow he's taking this. Hell, I didn't mean this slow.

But he fills me up to the hilt and then stops, giving me extra time to simply feel him. Being so full and relishing in the throbbing warmth of his thick cock is otherworldly bliss. Even without him moving, having him buried in me is so pleasurable that a soft, satisfied moan leaves my throat. 

Sal takes that as his cue to move, pulling out of me before slowly-- not as slowly as before-- pushing in again. "You're okay?" he whispers, his furrowed brows saying more than enough about how good it feels for him. 

I nod, whimpering and shutting my eyes again.

"Fuck," he grounds out behind clenched teeth. "Thank God."

He unsheathes himself before slamming into me again, slow pace abandoned and replaced with something unchecked and monstrous. I nearly scream, only held back by the reminder that he has neighbors or what-fucking-ever.

His cocks pounds into me, his head dropping onto my chest as his hands grip my hips with brutal strength, no doubt leaving behind bruises that I can be proud of later.

The feeling of his hard dick sliding into me at such a fast pace so suddenly is heavenly, coating my insides with erotic pleasure that I haven't experienced before-- his hands on me and him panting against my chest, taking the moment and suffocating in it.

He lifts his head, a gratifying, sensual glare plastered onto his face as he watches me and picks up that barbaric pace. 

His lips part and he pants through each thrust, a hand moving away from my waist to wrap around my throat. My air is cut off as he squeezes and I feel myself falling apart again. Even more so when he uses his other hand to press down on my stomach as he continues to pound into me just to feel himself, feel his cock moving in and out of me.

My pussy clenches around him and he groans at the feeling, leaning his head down to nip at my stomach. "You feel so fucking good," he says breathlessly, licking at my skin. His lips skim along my flesh as he ruts against me, dick filling me up and showing me all the reasons why he swore I wouldn't be able to handle him. 

With a grunt, Sal stands up and pulls out of me, releasing my throat and wrapping an arm around my waist. He flips me onto my stomach with no hesitation or struggle and that alone is hot in and of itself. 

He grabs onto my hips, lifting them and pulling me against his waist. His cock, wet with my arousal, presses against my ass and he whimpers. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forehead into the mattress, gasping for air against the fabric. He's so vocal and it's so addicting that it hurts.

Sal adjusts himself, pushing his dick past my folds from behind. The change in position elicits a completely different kind of ecstasy compared to before. I moan loudly at the feeling, my fingertips digging into his bedsheets.

He doesn't give me a moment to recover; he grabs onto my hair and forcefully pulls me backward, causing my back to arch and my jaw to drop.

Sal slams into me again, one hand on my waist and the other gripping my hair tightly. There's no consideration in his fucking, no niceness. No gentleness. He's only chasing his own release and hoping I can reach it with him.

He uses that hand in my hair to jerk me back even more so that I have to get onto my knees. I fall back against his chest and he never relents in his fast, wicked pace. Sal grips onto my throat again, holding me to him and panting into my ear. "Do you like when I fuck you like this?"

I don't have the words to answer when he's fucking them out of me. I only groan in response, solely focused on the carnal feeling of his cock filling me up again and again.

"Still think you can handle me?" He whispers, lips brushing the skin of my neck since he can't speak any louder without his voice shaking. I can tell by the light tremor that's already in his tone, followed by the way his hands squeeze me tighter and his chest smacks into my back with the force of his harsh thrusting.

I can handle all of him. I told him he would be wrong about me. I was worried that maybe I was wrong for thinking I could take him. But I've never been so right.

I know he wants me to fall apart and beg him to go easier on me. So I tell him, "More." Moans erupt past my lips the moment I utter the word. I swear Sal stills-- but it's so brief that I can't be disappointed about it. He chokes on a laugh before sinking his teeth into the side of my neck and slamming into my pussy even harder than before. 

I cry out, grabbing onto his forearm with one hand and reaching back to grab onto his hair with the other. Sal sucks on the skin of my neck, grunting with each rough thrust into my cunt.

"My good girl," he moans softly, taking a deep breath to follow. "If you go and fuck another man, you're going to imagine me in his place for the rest of your life." I think he's right. 

His cock twitches in me and I groan, gripping his hair tighter while I try to hold myself together for at least a little longer, relish in his cock stretching me out and bringing me the most hedonistic feeling I've ever experienced. 

I don't know how the hell he's able to speak in these conditions. Maybe it's the pride of being in control.

Sal finally changes to a painstakingly slow pace. I feel every inch of him sink into me, every centimeter of his warm, throbbing cock fill me up and then leave me empty. Again and again and again until tears are sliding down my cheeks the way they were just moments ago. 

"I want the thought of me to plague you every time you fuck someone again," he hisses, every word separated by a quick breath that caresses my neck like a promise-- a secret that he and I alone will take to the grave. "You'll think of me every time. You'll taste me on your tongue like the most potent flavor to exist on this earth." He pauses, my heart slamming against my ribcage as his hand moves from my throat to brush my hair away from my face, his lips moving along my skin and his dick sliding into me so sweetly. The rest of me feels numb-- everything focused solely on my core and the second orgasm I'm about to have.

"You'll feel me on every inch of you like you're trapped in the strongest of spider webs." My thoughts are dizzying as he speaks, his teeth scraping at my neck and his thrusts so calculated. My mouth goes dry as he grabs onto my chin with his entire hand, keeping me still as a statue, controls me while he uses me. "See me even though I'm not there, haunting you every second."

This motherfucker is hexing me.

"Sal--" I say in a broken whimper, trying to speak past the chills that erupt along my body as the breath I'm trying to take catches in my throat.

"Shut up," he bites out, lips brushing along my jaw. "I want you to know that you're mine without me having to say a word," he begins, his voice raspy, deep, and wavering from the focus he puts into each sensuous thrust. So much animosity, so much destruction in his tone. 

His hand snakes down from my waist to my pussy, warm fingers working on my clit. I groan in response, throwing my head back onto his shoulder. "You don't get to cum until you accept that." And then his thrusts stop, my pussy clenching around nothing as emptiness ravages me, the loss of him disgustingly astounding.

I let out a disappointed, pained breath, gripping him tighter in my hands. "So," he purrs against my skin, marred lips stretching into a proud, feline smile. "Who do you belong to?"

I suck in a breath through my nose. There's a lot going on right now, and maybe he's just saying this for added effect, but I need to tread carefully regardless. We don't need to start something that shouldn't exist.

"What do I get," I start, trying to control the trembling in my voice. "If I tell you what you want to hear?"

"Anything you want," Sal whispers in response. I let out a breath, realizing that he's not even half as serious as he sounded. Being in control is just his kink. He needs me to give into that.

"Then," I start, gulping as pulsing heat and pain begin to take the place of his thrusts. I need him inside me, I need him to finish this. "I'm yours," I tell him sweetly, adding some sugar to my tone and loosening my grip on him to something more delicate. Becoming the puppet he desires.

Sal groans into my neck before shoving his length into me again, giving me the perfect pleasurable pain that I wanted from him. He keeps a steady, quick pace that makes me whimper, tightening my hold on him despite trying to submit. 

"Such a dirty girl," Sal says gruffly. "You're doing so good. Keep taking me."

I moan loud enough for the sound to echo off his bedroom walls and his fingers rub my clit faster in approval. 

"You let me fuck you so well, sweetheart," he utters the raspy words against my skin, his thrusts growing sloppier the more he talks. And, what the fuck, but all his yapping is pushing me closer.

"I'm going to cum," he warns me, "You better, too." His hand returns to my throat, gripping tightly as he growls, "Let the whole neighborhood know how good my cock feels."

I whimper at his command, luxuriating in the quickness of his harsh pace and his hands holding me so tightly, his fingers working me just as fast as his dick is.

The combination of his words and his hard cock sliding into me at such a bruising rate makes me go limp in his arms, the orgasm slamming into me out of nowhere. I cry out as Sal's grip tightens on me, both of us seemingly surprised by my sudden climax. But the second the warmth of my cum seeps onto him, he hums his approval, tongue lapping at my throat.

And yet he still says in a smooth, gentle, condescending tone, "You came before you were supposed to."

My breath stutters and I'm still seeing stars, my vision blackened in the corners and my thighs quivering. And he's still pounding into my pussy, overstimulating me with each thrust. It's so much, but it feels so good.

He seems to sense this, so he pulls his still rock hard cock out of me and steps away from the bed. I groan at the loss of him yet again, but don't have time to bitch and cry about it. 

He grabs onto my hair and yanks me onto the ground in front of him, pushing my shoulders down to put me on my knees. The entire action is so forceful, so careless and my already wet thighs dampen a bit more. 

Sal's request for me to not look below his waist is hard to honor in this position, but I keep my gaze angled at his face. 

Oh, his pretty face is flushed and sweaty, his hair sticking to his cheeks and neck. One of his pupils is blown out, the other normal. His lips are parted and he looks like he's about to explode.

I can't see it, but I can hear when Sal pulls the condom off and throws it into a trash can. He grabs me by the hair again, jerking me closer to him, the tip of his dick rubbing over my lips. "Suck," he orders, a glare on his handsome face. "And swallow everything that I give you."

Sal honors his only request better than I can by forcing his cock into my mouth. I struggle to take his length, but suck on what amount of him that enters me.

My tongue twists around him, licking up the excess pre-cum and sucking. My eyes stay focused on him the entire time and I take true pride in the way he hisses at the feeling, face contorting into one of immense pleasure. He bucks his hips, shoving himself deep into my throat and furrowing his brows, his mouth falling open. He watches his cock fill up my mouth like it's the best gift to ever be bestowed upon him.

I watch when Sal shuts his eyes and tilts his head back followed by a loud, pretty moan that leaves his open mouth. Such a beautiful sound-- I could cum all over again just from hearing him break like this.

His grip on my hair tightens and he continues thrusting into my mouth, not giving me a good opportunity to do any work for him. He uses me to chase his own orgasm, his hand in my hair to push me forward to meet each thrust. I take it, my gaze still glued to his face as he falls apart in front of me.

He whimpers before his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip. Without a word of warning, considering he already warned me, he bursts in my mouth.

This time, unlike our moment in Vegas, I swallow everything. None of his cum falls to the floor. I groan at the taste, tongue flicking over the tip of his dick. Sal flinches, releasing a shocked breath.

But after a moment of clarity, Sal lets go of my hair and pulls his cock from my mouth. I release him with a pop and he groans. The second we separate, I look up at him so as not to breach the little bit of trust between us.

He watches me, towers over me. He's still recovering clearly and I think he fucked the literacy out of both of us. I don't have words and he looks like he's short-circuiting. 

"Fuck," he finally breathes, struggling to draw out the word.

I give him a little upside down smile and try to stand on shaky legs. Sal, chivalrous as he is even with the whole post-nut clarity thing, grabs my elbows to help me up.

I sit on his bed, fully aware of the mess between my legs. Sal doesn't complain though. In fact, he sits down next to me and stares at the closed door in front of us. We both do.

This feels like a scene out of a movie. Neither of us know where to go from here. 

I sigh, giving myself a moment to think through my options. I need to clean myself and then I need to drink an entire gallon of water. He fucked me good. There's no coming back from this, I'm afraid. He knew that. He warned me.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I say quietly my voice coming out hoarse. If I'm quick, I can make it there without worrying about anyone walking in on me naked. Hopefully.

Sal distractedly hums his acknowledgement so I stand up, legs still jello-like, and grab all my clothes. And then I fucking book it out of his room and across the living room.

I take care of myself in the bathroom, feeling some kind of lucid numbness. I feel great, I just had really good sex. But at the same time, there's a difference between Sal and I. I don't know how to feel about it, nor do I want to address it. But something's just... off. Part of me is afraid that he'll end things because of it, but maybe that needs to happen. Maybe this needs to be the cut off.

Thinking about it fills me with anxiety. As much as things have progressed, I still see the image of me crying back in Vegas. The same would happen if he were to end things now.

But I take a breath, brush my teeth, take a quick shower, and prepare myself to walk out of the bathroom. He might still be in his room and he may stay there. That's probably what he will do actually-- he looked pretty out of it.

And you know what, I'll reward myself with his beloved string cheese. Because, hell, if he ends things I'll just fuck someone else. Maybe he's right-- maybe he'll haunt me and no one else will ever be as good as him, but I'll still get to have sex.

Things will be fine.

With a quick, revitalized breath, I open the bathroom door.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Sal is sitting at the table in the kitchen. Now I can't sneak a string cheese.

I blink at his back, watching him scroll through his phone from a distance. I'm still parched though, so I walk over to the kitchen and open the refrigerator, intent on ignoring him since any phrase from me would most likely be a bad decision.

"If you're hungry or something, you can take whatever you want," Sal says in a voice that's both void of tone but insisting. Like he wants me to take all the shit in his fridge.

Not like I'll tell him no. Guess I can't get away with ignoring him though.

"Thanks," I murmur, grabbing a string cheese, opening it, then stuffing it into my mouth. I glance around then grab a bottle of water. My eyes cut to the milk and I purse my lips, biting off a chunk of cheese. "Do you have cereal?"

"Mhm. Bowls are in the cabinet next to you, spoons right under it in the drawer, and cereal is in the pantry." Followed by his words is the sound of his chair moving. And then he says, "Grab double. I'm getting the cereal."

Pausing, I glance over my shoulder at him. A shock runs through me when I watch him get up, noting that he did't bother putting his prosthetic on. 

I blink as I watch his figure disappear from view. Ignore, ignore, ignore. I slowly turn back to the cabinet and grab two bowls, then two spoons, followed by the milk on my way over to the table.

Sal comes returns swiftly, taking a seat beside me of all places. He grabs a bowl and a spoon, pours a considerable amount of Trix cereal into his bowl, then pours the milk. 

I can't look at him. I really cannot look at him.

He hands me the cereal and I pour some into my bowl followed by milk.

This is so fucking awkward. It's too domestic. Too normal. He and I are not normal.

The house is quiet aside from the sound of us eating, and I watch Sal scroll through Twitter from the corner of my eye. I'm trying my hardest to eat my fruity soup as normally as possible even though the silence is really starting to get to me.

My thoughts are weighing on me. I thought I'd be fine, I thought it wouldn't bother me. But Sal isn't saying anything and now I'm scared. I'm scared that this will be it and he won't want me anymore-- and, fuck, why does it even matter?

"Do you still want to fuck me?"

The words tumble past my lips before I can even decide I want to say them.

Sal's head turns toward me, so I look over at him. His mouth is full, the cereal puffing out the cheek that's usually sunken in. His eyes are innocently wide, like he didn't expect me to say something-- that, of all things.

I gulp, the action reminding Sal of the situation. He snaps out of his stupor and covers his mouth, turning away from me to finish his bite of cereal. When he finally turns back to me though, he's recovered a bit and slapped a nonchalant expression onto his face.

"Yes, I still want to fuck you," he says as if it's the most obvious thing.

I glance between his pretty eyes, watching as he does the same to me. I try to ignore the relief that infects my veins, the giddiness that fills me with adrenaline.

"Okay," I respond, turning back to my cereal.

Sal looks at me for a bit longer before also returning to his cereal. Quiet ensues again and I'm honestly about to just ditch my cereal and turn on the TV. What's worse than constantly bickering is the silence between us.

And then Sal breaks that suffocating silence with, "I'm sorry."

My brows furrow and I face him again. He doesn't look at me, but I watch as he chews on his bottom lip, staring at his phone like he didn't just say something really important.

"What do you have to be sorry about?" I ask him.

Sal looks to me and sets his spoon down. "For what I said in Vegas." His voice is sincere, but as in control as he possibly can be. He doesn't want to admit quite how bad he feels about it, but it shows in the fact that he's apologizing for a second time.

"You already apologized for that," I inform him, my voice gentle. I know I hate feeling remorse and it's hard to apologize, so I appreciate that much from him at least.

"Then I'm doing it again," he says, looking off to the side. "You didn't deserve it. And I don't deserve so many chances."

I almost feel bad seeing him so sorrowful.

"Don't worry about it," I sigh halfheartedly, going back to my cereal. My spoon clinks against the side of my bowl. "You fucked me good. That makes up for it."

Sal hums his agreement, a short chuckle following. "I told you I would," he chirps. Proud bastard. "You weren't too bad yourself."

"I wasn't 'too bad?'" I snap, thankful for the sense of normalcy. "Says the man who literally could not shut up the entire time. 

Sal shrugs before sending me a glare. "I'm vocal. Do you want me to say nothing during sex like you? That shit's awkward."

"You should be honored by my silence," I scoff, pointing my spoon at him. "I couldn't talk because you fucked the ability out of me."

His azure gaze darkens at my words. "Careful with what you say or you'll get fucked again."

I gulp. The way he's watching me with that dominant stare, his tattooed hand gripping his spoon tighter. The fact he's put his phone down to put all his focus on me.

"I wish we could," I whisper, my voice coming out raspy.

Sal licks his lips and he blinks, remembering that our friends could come home any second. That it's not worth the risk. "Yea," he replies, looking away to pick up his spoon with a sigh. "Me too."

Almost as if fate wanted to confirm our thoughts rather than us think we had a shot at round two, the front door swings open.

Larry and Ash walk through the doorway, hanging on each other's arms and giggling like a pack of hyenas. I pause mid bite, mouth open and spoon hovering in the air as I watch them.

They've definitely been drinking, but they aren't drunk. Yet. 

Larry looks over at Sal and me and furrows his brows, eyes going wide. "The fuck are you two doing together?" His words express his shock better than his face can. "Sal do you not love me? You never take your prosthetic off around me. Is y/n a better brother than me?" The words are joking, of course, but by the narrowing of Larry's eyes, I can tell there's a brotherly quarrel that's about to break out.

I expect about as much when Sal sighs sarcastically, already tired of the rough night ahead and drops his spoon into his bowl. 

Milk splashes onto my arm in retaliation and my first instinct is to bark insults at him. "Come on, dickhead," I snap, glaring at him. Sal glares back-- and suddenly, we've started up the game that I missed so much. It's just so easy to fall back into old habits.

"Better for it to be milk than cum, right?" He grumbles, teeth peeking past his lips with each syllable. I'm torn between curling up like a dead spider at the insinuation and admiring the little bits of him I don't see often.

"Shut the fuck up," I hiss in warning, narrowing my eyes at him. The retort is half-assed but how can I come up with one when one wrong step will only aid in Larry and Ash figuring us out?

"What if I don't want to, huh?" He counters, brows raising and lips pressing together as if he's challenging me. A little glimmer of something in his cerulean gaze. Something that begs me to pounce.

We have a glare-off for a couple, quiet seconds and I'm trying to think up an insult, a response, a diversion. Anything. But I can't-- I can't because despite the fact that things feel so normal between us, the arguing is more for a reaction. The bickering is just a veil over the truth now.

"Well," Ash cuts in, saving my ass. "At least you're in a better mood now, y/n. We were worried about you." I pull my attention from Sal and focus it on Ash.

She's watching me with big, green doe eyes that are silently asking if she can know now that I've calmed down.

That familiar pit in my gut forms at the reminder of my mother. At least now, compared to when Sal and I first got back, I realize that I can figure something out. Ash and Larry can help me come up with a solution. But-- "Where the hell are Todd and Neil?" I ask. It feels like they've been gone the entire time we've been in Nockfell.

Ash rolls her eyes at the mention, switching her weight from her left foot to her right to put a hand on her hip. "Those two rapscallions would rather be anywhere but with us even thought they're getting their own apartment. They've never been social butterflies but, hell, still. I feel like a restless mother!" She answers with a little sneer, flicking her wrist toward the open expanse of the house to reinforce her point.

"At least you're a mother who cares," I snort, sending her a half-grin that's faker than my own mom's hot-shot persona.

Ash's expression drops followed by her stance slackening as realization dawns on her. "Is that why you were upset earlier? Heather being cum-guzzling bitch again?"

"Damn!" Larry exclaims with an approving glance at Ash. They're still tucked under each other's arms. If Ash didn't have such a strong preference for women, I have no doubt that these two would have ended up together.

Ash throws him a sensual smirk before turning back to me. "What did she say?"

I chew on my bottom lip as I recall the short phone call I had with her. "She knows that I'm VioletViolence. I don't know how-- I guess she recognized me in pictures."

Ash's face morphs into a more serious, angry expression. Larry follows suit, mimicking her with near perfection.

"She threatened to expose her identity and face, pretty much," Sal pipes up from his standing position beside me. I glance over, noting his hands perched on the surface of the table, his body leaned forward and his face tilted up to address Larry and Ash. Horrible positioning considering his dagger tattoo is on full display to me right now. 

Ash quirks a brow. "Okay, were you with her or did she tell you?"

Sal tips his head to the side, gaze scrutinizing to go with an unamused upward tilt of his lips. "You think she'd willingly tell me about her mommy issues?" He asks his own question, tone flat to accompany his sarcasm.

With a sigh and frustration curling in my gut, I hide my face in my palm and take a moment to remember the task at hand is not to beat this man to a bloody pulp but to figure out how to resolve this... mommy issue.

"We were in the middle of you and Larry's game whenever she called. It was... messy," I confirm Sal's claim, making sure they know that I'd rather eat a toe before going to him with my problems. Ever. Even if he did make those problems go away for a bit.

Hey, maybe he isn't good for nothing!

"What are you going to do?" Ash asks me warily, ignoring me and Sal's little hiccup.

I avert my gaze and purse my lips. I have the same question for myself. Anxiety at the prospect of being exposed wraps around me, constricts my airways and nerves. Disables my rational thought and the ability to breathe. 

A little body brushes along my leg, followed by a chirped greeting and the loudest purring I think I've ever heard.

Momentarily distracted, I look toward the floor and see Gizmo at my feet. He notices me, pushing up on his hind legs to make biscuits on the top of my thigh. A mixture of surprise and pure glee kicks the anxiety away as I lean over and scratch the top of his head.

"Pick him up," Sal murmurs. I turn my gaze up to him to find him looking down at Gizmo with furrowed brows. "You're anxious, he knows."

I suck in a quick breath before glancing down at Gizmo again. He came all the way over here because he sensed my distress?

But with Sal's permission, I do as he instructed and lift Gizmo into my arms. I plop him on top of my lap and the cat practically climbs up my torso like he's hugging me. He rubs his furry little head on my cheek and purrs against my chest. Oh my gosh, I might cry.

I turn my attention to Ash and Larry who have little smiles on their faces, meanwhile I'm fucking gaping at them. Where did this heaven-sent cat come from?

Sal scratches behind Gizmo's ear and sends the fur-ball a little smile. "You're such a hardworking guy," he coos, like the complete change in his character is nothing to be shocked about. In-fucking-sane. I can't get over the way he dad's his cat.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and blink at my friends. "I don't know," I finally force out, rubbing Gizmo's back. "I don't know what to do."

Ash's smile disappears upon returning to the topic we were previously discussing. "There are a couple things you could do. One, ignore it. She either will put you on blast or she won't. And if she does, what proof does she have that it truly is you?" She brings up a good point. "We haven't seen your face since you were a teenager. I'm sure she hasn't seen you in much longer."

I wince. "Actually..."

Ash's eyes widen with disbelief. "She's seen you more recently than I have!?"

"Not willingly," I rush to explain. "Split custody between my parents. I didn't have much of a choice. Last she saw me was when I was 17."

"Oh," Ash chirps, feeling a little less offended. "Okay." She sends me a pleased smile. "Here's your other option: move out."

I furrow my brows. That would solve absolutely nothing other than adding another bill to pay. "How would that fix anything?" I voice my internal thoughts.

Ash looks away from me, a little blush on her cheeks. "It wouldn't necessarily fix anything," she murmurs bashfully. "Maybe I just need a roommate, I dunno..."

She takes pride in making me cry, doesn't she?

"Hold on," I rush to say, cursing to myself when my voice wavers. I cut myself off so as to retain some dignity, but I'm sure the look in my eyes tells her enough. 

Gizmo hops off my lap, having done his job. So I stand up now that he's gone and push past Sal to get to Ash. "You need to--" I lick my lips as an excuse to take a moment to collect myself. "You need to warn me or something before you drop shit like that. What are you saying?"

Ash sends me her trademark puppy dog eyes and I already realize what's going on. "Fuck, fine," she forces the words out. "I bought a two-bedroom apartment. I need a roommate. Or, more like I want you as a roommate. I know I need to start double checking with you instead of loading you up with surprises... sorry."

I don't even know what to say, let alone think. I just gape at her, trying not to cry the way she seems to love making me do. Well, her and Sal. 

"Is rent expensive?" I whisper, voice hoarse with how tight my throat is. 

"Baby," she starts, giving me a stunning smile. "You don't have to pay a single thing. I'm just tired of being away from you."

"Don't hit me with that 'baby' bullshit," I choke out, smiling despite the challenge of having to speak. "I'm paying rent. I just need to know what I'm getting myself into. And I need to make sure dad is okay with living alone."

Ash's comforting smile turns into a wicked one full of sinister glee. If it was any other person, I'd probably be terrified. 

"It's a good thing I already asked your dad if I could steal you, then, isn't it?"

------------ A/N::::::: not gonna lie, i managed to type up this ENTIRE hoe in one sitting. don't ask me how i did it, i have no answer for you. girl math, guys. i've been living a lie ever since because this has been on my mind for DAYSSSS. shoutout to my dearest Autumn for running this chunk through an editor, like, THREE different times?? omfg. such a big help and much appreciated <33

ummm... enjoy this cuzzzz you know meeeee... probably won't update again for like another montthhhhh lololol o_o....

anyways, might look like a filler smut chap but ya girl HATES filler. i want plot, i want development. so if it looks like filler, just know that it has meaning that is deeper than surface level!! >.< a lot will be revealed verrryyyy soon

like always, leave me some feedback pretty pretty please so i can improve my writing! but ALSO like always, thank you for reading and for all the support. i love you all with everything i've got! have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night <333

[gtbutterfly]

Jen and Gabby: chapter five

hey, here's the fifth chapter of my first Gt story. I hope you like it! criticism is appreciated.

CW: character talking about past trauma, specifically witnessing and describing death. also, mild dehumanization (I guess?) but its differently less than the last chapter.

here's chapter four

heres chapter one

______________________________________________________________

It was after sunset. There was hardly any natural light outside. It was cloudy and drizzling, out the window was practically just blackness, minus any light that seeped out from houses and street lamps. Jen's vision and mind were blurry and groggy as she woke up in front of the window, lying on a dresser. Her body was sore and achy, and the back of her head had a splitting headache, and her arms and legs hurt to move. Slowly, Jen mustered the strength to sit up, looking at herself. Nothing seemed broken or bleeding from a glance, at least from the outside. Jen held her head in anguish and tried to remember what happened. She and Tim had gone here to save her sister, Gabby. They were discovered by Gabby's kidnapper, Tim was taken away, and Jen was kicked into a wall. That was the last thing Jen could remember, laying next to a wall, not able to move, slowly losing consciousness as she thought about how she failed Gabby and Tim. Jen looked through the window outside. The ground was wet, and everything was dark. The moon was hidden behind heavy clouds that could pour at any moment. Then, Jen looked at her reflection. There were bags under her eyes, dirt and dust on her clothes, mild scratches on her face, and tears in the fabric she wore. Her bag that she used to carry tools and items was taken off and placed next to her, on the dresser. Her sewing needle was still nowhere to be seen. Jen let her eyes wander upward. There was another reflection behind her in the window, one of a young human with green eyes and black hair.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the human said. Jen flinched and jumped around towards the human looming over her, stepping back and grabbing her bag.

“Get away from me!” Jen said, backing away from the human.

“Wait! Don’t be scared, don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you,” the human said, blocking Jen’s sides with her hands. Jen pulled out the fishing hook that she used to climb things. It was a worse weapon than the needle, but she had to have something. 

“What are you going to do to me, human?” Jen asked, holding the fishing hook by its string.

“Nothing, I’m not gonna hurt you, I want to help you, ok?” the human said.

“Help me?” Jen asked with disbelief, “What are you talking about? Where’s Gabby? Where's Tim?” she backed away more, holding the hook defensively. Truthfully, Jen had never used a fishing hook as a weapon, she was mainly hoping the human would be too worried about being attacked for her to actually have to use it.

“You know Gabby?” Sara asked.

“...yes…she's my sister…” Jen said, still defensive, “One of you stole her, now where is she?”

“You’re Jen, right?” Sara asked,

“How do you know my name?” Jen asked sternly.

“Gabby told me ...I was taking care of her since my brother kidnapped her, I didn’t want her to get hurt or anything,” Sara said. Jen looked at her skeptically.

“You were…watching her?” Jen looked up at the human, wondering if she was telling the truth. It couldn’t be possible, could it?

“Yes, I was. I took her away from my brother, and fed her those,” Sara pointed at a plate of strawberries, some half eaten, “and I comforted her. She missed you, a lot.” Jen looked confused. She slowly lowered the fishing hook.

“You fed her…strawberries?” Jen asked.

“Yes, she said it was her favorite food,” Sara said. “I….wanted her to be comfortable here…so I asked her…..” Jen didn’t know what to say. Why would this human do that for Gabby? Why would she care enough not just to feed her, but ask her what she wanted? This human, Sara, couldn’t be telling the truth, could she? No, of course not. But why would she have strawberries otherwise?

“....why? Why did you feed her, and take care of her? You’re…a human…” Jen finally asked.

“Yeah… but that doesn’t mean I’d hurt her,” Sara sighed looking down at Jen, “she was just so…” Sara stopped herself. She was going to say ‘small’ but didn’t want to offend Jen, “she was just so young,” Sara said, “just…a young, tiny girl, who looked practically human, crying by herself. I had to help her,” Jen was silent for a moment. Practically human? She thought, what could she mean by that? Does she really see us as the same as her?

“Where is she?” Jen asked.

“...my brother Danny… he found another one of you, I’m guessing he was Tim?” Sara asked,

“...yeah…Tim…” Jen said,

“He threatened to hurt Tim if I didn’t give Gabby to him, and Gabby revealed herself to save him, I couldn’t stop her.” Sara looked down. “...I’m sorry.”

“...Gabby gave herself up to stop Tim from being killed?” Jen asked, conflicted. She knew both Tim and Gabby were still in trouble, and Gabby almost made things worse for herself, but in a way, Jen felt…proud? Gabby saved Tim's life, even though it endangered her own. Gabby cared enough about another tiny to endanger herself to help someone. It probably wasn’t for the best, given that Jen still had to save her now, but it still felt commendable. “...so, your brother has both of them?” Jen asked, looking up at Sara.

“No…not anymore,” the human said, rubbing the back of her neck, “he gave them to our father, who’s going to…study and experiment on them,” 

“What?” Jen asked.

“Our father’s a scientist, he wants to do experiments on tinies because you’re so similar to humans,” Sara said.

“So where is he? Where’s Gabby and Tim?” Jen asked.

“He took them to his job, I’m pretty sure it's at a campus near here,” Sara said. She took out her phone to check. Jen stared at her while she typed something in. “Yeah, the biomedical institute, that's where he went.” Sara put her phone down.

“So they aren’t here,” Jen sighed, contemplating what to do. “Human….”

“Yes?” Sara asked.

“Uh, thank you…for not hurting Gabby…and treating her well…” Jen said sheepishly looking down. It felt weird to her, to thank a human genuinely, not out of fear or annoyance but out of genuine gratitude. Jen never did that before, she had never seen humans that way.

“Uh, you’re welcome, Jen,” Sara said, looking down at the four-inch borrower. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Really…I am really…glad for what you did,” Jen said, still sheepish, “where is this…university?”

“It's a couple miles from here, which I’m guessing is more than a little far for someone your size,” Sara said,

“How far is a mile?” Jen asked.

“Uh, you know the tree stump at the end of the street?” Sara asked.

“At the bottom of the hill?” Jen asked.

“Yeah, how long would it take you to get there?” Sara asked.

“From here, half of a day or so of travel,” Jen said. “Why?”

“The university is like…seven times that,” Sara said, rubbing the back of her neck. “You’ll never make it there on foot.”

“I don’t have any other option,” Jen said, stepping forward. “I need to save Gabby and Tim from wherever they are.”

“I can help get you there,” Sara said. “I mean, I don’t have a driver's license yet, but I can still find a way to bring you there,”

“No!” Jen exclaimed, “I mean, thank you, but, you’ve done enough.” Jen said, backtracking. She didn’t want the human who was actually being nice to her to get angry, but at the same time, Jen couldn’t trust her enough to let her help more. Another human, Rebecca, wanted to help Jen earlier. Why would she be any different than her?

“Oh, I get it.” Sara said, “Jen, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I honestly just want to help you,”

“It's fine, I don’t need help…” Jen said, her side facing Sara.

“Jen, you don’t even know how to get there.” Sara said, “Look, my father brings me and my brother to where he works sometimes. I can sneak you in, and you can save them. Ok?”

“It's fine, Sara, you really don’t have to.” Jen lied. She knew in the back of her mind she couldn’t get to Tim and Gabby without someone helping, but she couldn’t have that someone be a human. A human that towered over her could crush her at any moment, even if it was unlikely, even if Sara was being honest, even if she did want to help her, it was too much of a risk. It was too much of a risk even being this close to her. For all Jen knew, Sara could have been lying. Gabby could’ve been somewhere in that room, her screams being muffled by whatever she's trapped in, or she could be lying somewhere unconscious, or worse. Jen had no way of knowing, and no reason to trust Sara at all. But she couldn’t say any of that. She couldn’t accuse her of lying, or admit to any of her fears. She couldn’t make the human angry, or seem weak and helpless in front of them.

“Jen, is there anything I could do? Even to just make you more comfortable, anything at all?” Sara asked.

“...when your brother kicked me, I had a sewing needle,” Jen said. “And I lost it.”

“Oh, you need a new one?” Sara asked. “I’m pretty sure I have some sewing supplies around here. Hold on,” Sara got up and walked to herself. She started shuffling through the items and containers, looking for an old sewing kit.

Meanwhile, Jen took the fishing hook she had and stabbed it deep into the wood at the edge of the dresser. She threw the string attached to it over the side so she could climb down. Then, Sara returned holding a metal tin, and Jen acted like she didn’t do anything while Sara was gone. Sara opened the top of the tin and placed it on the dresser. It had wool and rolls of string and cloth and pin cushions in it. Sara took a needle out of the pin cushion and held it, pointing in the non-sharp end at Jen, who looked at it.

“Here, you can have this one,” Sara said, as Jen hesitantly took the needle, holding it in her grip the same way as the old one. Jen looked at the needle, as light from the bulbs above her shined off the metal. She looked at the tip. It was sharp, sharper than the old one even. Her entire life, the old needle was the only thing Jen had to defend herself against humans. It was the only thing she had that made it not matter that she was just four inches tall, she’d still have a chance to fight and get away, and she lost that, only for it to be given back to her by a human.

Jen was silent for a moment, before she finally put the needle into her belt, holstering it at her side. 

“Thanks,” Jen said to Sara while looking down, “this…really is a lot,

“Don’t mention it,” Sara said. 

“Thank you, for helping me…and Gabby,” Jen continued to stare downwards, unable to look the human in the eye. She didn’t know why, she just couldn’t. “...I’ll go on my own now,” Jen said. Sara looked at her, confused.

“What? Jen, how are you supposed to find your sister without someone to take you to where she is?” she asked. Jen slowly looked forward, while hesitantly stepping towards the rope she put at the end of the dresser.

“I’m not asking,” Jen said, a bit sternly. She took another step towards the string attached to the hook in the wood. Sara finally noticed it.

“Jen, I know you're scared,” Sara started,

“I’m not afraid of you…” Jen said, looking down again, her hand on the end of the needle. Sara looked at her dumbfounded for a moment and sighed.

“Look, I’m just…trying to think what's best for you. What the best for Gabby,” She said, 

“I’m Gabby's sister,” Jen said, “I know.” 

“But you’ll never be able to get to her, just let me help, please,” Sara pleaded.

“...do you see me as equal?” Jen asked, finally looking at Sara in her green eyes. Sara looked at her back. The borrower was holding back tears, still trying to look strong. Still trying to look intimidating.

“Yes,” Sara said softly, “of course I do,”

“Then let me leave,” Jen Demanded. Sara sighed. There was no other way around it, was there? Sara backed away a whole arm's length from the desk, letting Jen climb down from it from her grappling hook. When Jen’s feet touched the carpet, she yanked down the hook, leaving a small mark in the dresser's wood. The borrower and the human shared a glance before Jen finally scurried across the floor of Sara's room and left. Sara stared out the window. She kept staring as the minettes passed, and Jen had surely left the house altogether, beyond any help from the human. Raindrops hit the glass and thunder roared in the distance. It began to rain.

Jen wore her mask over her mouth and nose while trekking across the wet ground. Water fell from the sky and soaked into her clothes, and dripped off her body. She walked through the grass, droplets sliding down them, seeping into the dirt as she pushed the blades aside to walk through them. She knew she was walking aimlessly. She didn’t know where the college was, nor how to get there. Even if she did know what direction to go in, it would likely take days on foot, which wasn’t time Jen had. First, she would have to find where it was before starting to make her way there. She thought about the human's computers and phones, how they could supposedly find how to get anywhere with them, or so she was told by other borrowers. Unfortunately, Jen couldn’t use any of those things if she could find them, since, like most borrowers, she couldn’t really write. There were some words that Jen understood in writing, mostly words on food labels or words she’d seen humans read out, but for the most part, she was illiterate. She knew that using human tech would probably require typing something, so that was out of the question. She could find other borrowers for help, but what good would that do? None of the other tinies were likely to know where this lab was either, and it wasn’t like any of them were awake at the time either, the marketplace was more likely empty. Jen walked out of the towering grass onto the concrete sidewalk, which wasn’t any less wet than the grass was. Instead of seeping into the ground, the water splashed off the ground, getting on Jen's face and wetting her fabric mask. She wiped her face off with her hand, before holding herself. She was cold. The rain and wind blew, chilling her body in the coolness of the evening. She started to think leaving Sara was a bad decision, now being stuck in the pouring rain and cold air. She heard from the humans she used to borrow from that being in the cold during the rain could get one sick. Sick borrowers without help often never recovered, and here Jen was, in the condition to become sick, while all alone. Completely, utterly alone, with no friends or parents to help her, or even her sister for her to protect. It wasn’t like Jen could go back to Sara. She couldn’t go back to the human after escaping them. She couldn’t go back after running away and tell her she did need her help after all. She couldn’t let the human know that she only left out of fear. She couldn’t let them know how small and helpless she really was. Jen hated being helpless. She hated being pathetic. But there was nowhere for her to go. She just stood there, letting the rain fall on her and in her hair, standing on the sidewalk without a soul in sight. Standing completely and utterly alone, until she heard something in the distance.

It was large footsteps, a human walking down the sidewalk, water splashing under their shoes as they slowly walked towards Jen in the distance. They didn’t seem to notice her. Jen backed herself into the grass and pulled out her new needle from her belt. She peered at the approaching human between the blades of grass. They were walking slowly, looking down at the ground and in the grass often. They had an umbrella and a jacket and had light brown hair and fair skin. They looked worried about something. They were calling something out while looking at the ground. As the human got closer, Jen recognized the voice.

“Tim? Tim, where are you? Tim, are you out here?” The voice was feminine, speaking with a slight whisper. It sounded genuinely worried. As the massive human walked past her, Jen peered out from the grass again. The human was Rebecca, the same human Tim had lived with, the same human Jen met just the night before, the same human that was infantilizing, and talked down to her, and surely saw her and Tim and every other Tiny as cute little possessions. That human was walking down the street with an umbrella, looking in the grass, and calling Tim's name. Jen had an idea, though it was less of an idea and more of a knowing. She knew what she had to do, for her survival, and for Gabby and Tim's survival. But she didn’t know if she could do it. If she could bring herself to face the human that was walking away from her at the moment. Jen previously had no trust in Rebecca, and she still didn’t trust her. But she was desperate, desperate to save Gabby and herself. Jen clutched her needle and swallowed her spit and the rainwater that fell into her mouth, and her fear. She ran towards the towering human, yelling to get her attention.

“Rebecca!” Jen yelled, waving her arm in the air. The human looked behind herself, before looking down at the ground. She got on her knees to look at the borrower. Water from the ground soaked into her pants at her knees.

“Jen?” Rebecca said, looking at the soaked tiny, “What are you doing out here? Where's Tim and Gabby?”

“What are you doing here?” Jen asked, shaking the water off her arms while under Rebecca's umbrella, “you said you weren’t going out to look for Tim until tomorrow morning,”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Rebecca said, “but it started raining, and I couldn’t bear to think about you guys out here, walking in the cold rain.” Jen sighed, looking down at herself, the water dripping off of her. Rebecca looked down at Jen with pity, “Why are you all alone?”

“Tim and Gabby…” Jen sighed again, “They’re gone. Someone took both. The kid's dad, some…scientist or something…”

“Tim was kidnapped?” Rebecca exclaimed, worried. “No, oh no, where are they?”

“Some place called ‘the biomedical institute’, or so I’m told,” Jen said. “I need to get there…so…” she looked up at Rebecca, almost seeming embarrassed.

“You need my help?” Rebecca asked, looking at Jen's minuscule face as she rubbed her arm uncomfortably.

“I don’t need….” Jen sighed, “Look, I could find another way to get there, but… your help would be…” Jen couldn’t find the words to ask for help. Rebecca realized what she was saying, and put her hand near the ground.

“Come on, I’ll get us there,” Rebecca held her palm out for Jen to climb in. Of course, Jen was hesitant at first. She still didn’t trust the human completely. She didn’t know if she trusted her at all. But what other option did she have? Still clutching her needle, ready to strike at any moment if things went south, Jen stepped onto Rebecca's large hand, standing on her knees in the center of her palm. She nearly lost her balance when Rebecca lifted her up, she had to grab onto the human’s fingers to not fall over. There was a weird feeling in Jen’s stomach as Rebecca carried her above the ground. It felt like nervousness, but different from the nervousness she felt before. It was as if butterflies were in her stomach, it didn’t really feel nervous or dreadful, it almost felt pleasant being held off the ground this way. It was something Jen had never felt before, especially not so close to a human, especially not being held by one. It was confusing for her.

Soon, Rebecca reached her car and opened the door, stepping into the driver's seat and gently placing Jen on the seat next to her. Jen hurried off the human’s hand and ran to the edge of the seat away from Rebecca, not wanting to be so near her despite the feeling she had before.

“So, you said it was called the biomedical institute?” Rebecca asked, pulling out her phone. 

“Yeah,” Jen said, looking down with a nod. Rebecca typed something into her phone, Jen couldn’t see what it was. 

“Alright, I have directions, it's about…forty minutes away, so, this might be awhile,” Rebecca said.

“Go, now!” Jen exclaimed. “I can’t let Gabby be in danger any longer.”

“Alright, geez,” Rebecca said, starting the car. She buckled her seatbelt and turned on the windshield wipers. “Hold on,”

Jen fell onto her back as the car started moving forward. Luckily, the car seat was soft enough for her to not get hurt by the sudden force. Jen kept sitting down as Rebecca looked over at her.

“Heh, I told you to hold on,” Rebecca said. 

“Shut up, human,” Jen muttered.

“So,” Rebecca continued, “since we have some time before we get there, you want to, y’know, talk about anything?” there was a pause. Jen remained silent. “We could get to know each other better,” Rebecca said.

“Why would I want to know you?” Jen asked. 

“Because you might change your mind about me if you did,” Rebecca said.

“Change my mind?” Jen asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You think I’m keeping Tim as a pet or something, and that I want to hurt or do the same thing to you, right?” Rebecca asked, “Well, I wouldn’t do that, and I’m sorry if there's anything about me that would make you think I would,”

“Then what is Tim to you, then?” Jen asked, “What about you?”

“Oh, well, other than you and Tim, I haven’t really seen much of you little guys before,” Rebecca said, “but from what I can tell, you’re all tiny, in need, and adorable,” 

Jen scoffed. “Like animals?”

“No, of course not, I don’t see you like an animal, you’re way more intelligent than an animal is,” Rebecca said, “more like…uh, I dunno, like…”

“A child?” Jen asked. Rebecca was silent for a moment.

“...well,” Rebecca sighed, “I don’t know,”

“Well, we aren’t animals.” Jen said, “And we aren’t children.” 

“How old are you?” Rebecca asked casually,

“...eighteen or nineteen,” Jen said after a pause. “I don’t know specifically how many days or years ago, it's just somewhere in that area.”

“Wow, you are an adult,” Rebecca said, “you're so small, it's hard to tell sometimes.”

“Is that why you talk like that?” Jen asked.

“huh? “ Rebecca looked down at her. “What do you mean?” Jen was silent for a moment, looking nervous. “Aw, You don’t have to worry about me being mad or anything, little one, just be honest,” Rebecca said sweetly. Jen paused again, before sighing.

“It's that. What you just did.” Jen said. “Saying ‘aw’, calling me…’little one’, it's…” Jen sighed again, “It's like you're talking down to a child.”

“Oh, sorry.” Rebecca said, smiling “I just don’t want you to be scared, that's all.”

“I’m not…” Jen sighed again, calming herself down, “It's humiliating. We’re both adults, there is no reason for you to treat me like a child to get me to trust you.”

“Well, you won’t trust me even when I treat you like that,” Rebecca said. Jen turned to her.

“What are you talking about? I am trusting you,” Jen said, “I’m sitting in your car, within arm's length of you, where you can grab me and do anything you want to me, and trust that you're bringing me to my sister instead of going to lock me in some cage!” she exclaimed. “Is that not enough trust for you?”

“I mean, sure, but, you still think I might do any of those things,” Rebecca said, “if you fully trusted me, you’d know that those things would never happen,”

“I’m not trusting anyone I met last night fully,” Jen said, “especially not a human,” she muttered.

“What do you have against humans, anyways?” Rebecca asked. “I know you tiny's spend your entire lives hiding and stealing from us, but why can’t you just ask for help? There's nothing to be afraid of,”

“I’m not afraid,” Jen said, looking down, still holding her needle this whole time, “right now, we’re going to save Gabby and Tim from humans that want to experiment on them or whatever, that should be enough to answer your question.”

“You know that not all humans are like that,” Rebecca said defensively,

“...maybe, but it doesn’t matter,” Jen said, “I’m risking my life just being near you, you should be glad I trust you enough to do that.”

Rebecca looked down at Jen. The borrower’s arms were crossed. She was still facing away from her. 

“Fine, I won’t expect you to trust me right away,” Rebecca said. “But, I just want to know what's making you so worried.” 

“You wouldn’t be worried if you were next to something so much bigger than you?” Jen asked,

“Well, I see your point, but I haven’t done anything to hurt you so far,” Rebecca said. “Have any humans actually harmed you before, or are you just being paranoid?”

Jen didn’t respond at first. She was stuck thinking of what to say. She was mentally searching through all her memories until she came to that one. Rebecca looked down at the borrower again, worried from the silence.“Oh, uh, sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to…offend you or anything, I was just curious,”

“...my father was crushed and my mother was squeezed to death,” Jen said blankly, looking straight forward. There was another moment of silence between the two. “Both by a human.”

“Oh….” Rebecca gaped looking forward, dumbfounded by what Jen said. “I’m…..so sorry….. that's…. horrible. Why would anyone do something like that?”

“...I don’t know,” Jen said. She seemed emotionless. “I didn’t see it happen to Dad. he fell off a counter and we heard it. Then the human grabbed my mother.” Jen paused and sighed for a moment. “It was so slow. She couldn’t talk or breathe. There was no blood, no cracking we could hear, she was just…. Squeezed, and the light and water left her eyes until there was nothing left.” Jen said, staring down at herself. She paused again, still appearing emotionless. Truthfully, she was looking down to hide her face from the human. She was trying her hardest not to break down crying. Finally, she resumed talking. “I managed to escape with Gabby. We’ve been on our own since then.

They were both silent for a moment. The only sound was the sound of the car and the rain falling on it. Jen wiped her face off with her sleeve, still looking down, away from the human. Rebecca stopped at a red light before looking down at Jen again and sighing.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she said softly. “I promise that not all humans are like that. I promise I’m not like that.” she paused, thinking of what else to say. “It takes a really sick person to…kill two people in front of their kids like that.” Jen was still silent for a moment.

“People…” She said under her breath,

“Huh?” Rebecca glanced down at the borrower,

“Are we people?” Jen asked, “Are we people in the same way you are?”

“Yes of course you are,” Rebecca said, “of course, you're a person, you’re just smaller and weaker, and helpless, and,” she paused, realizing what she was saying. Jen turned away from her. The borrower spoke under her breath,

“Never mind,”

[ilovethetalkingclock]

Love Bites

GENRE: Horror, Romance

CHARACTERS: Kevin and Streber (Spooky Month)

SHIP: Candybats (Kevin x Streber)

TW: Blood, trauma, hallucination, animal death

SUMMARY: Streber wants to watch over Kevin during his night off, but Kevin isn't so sure... will Streber be safe from the wolf?

SEQUEL TIME, BABY!!! Expect more stories like this!!!

"Pleeeeeaaaase?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! At least for one night?"

"No!!!"

"Kev, I'll try and-"

"Christ almighty, Streber, ever since what happened last year I really don't think anything's worth the risk! You already lost an arm, I don't want you to lose the rest of yourself!"

Streber looked at his prosthetic with the mention of that. As much as he hated to admit it, Kevin had a valid point for the most part. 

Streber had known about Kevin's secret ever since high school. Specifically, it was during the school dance event.

---

Kevin had asked Streber to join him, to which he gladly said yes. Of course, due to the year, they couldn't exactly consider each other dates by the school, but they were at heart.

That being said, Kevin realized that he was making a mistake when he felt mild cramping… just when he and Streber were about to secretly kiss.

Of course, Kevin did his best to do the deed before deciding to tell.

"I… I need to… tell something."

"Yes? What is it?"

"I'm… a… we… we…"

"Hmm?"

"I'm a were…"

"Ooh?"

"I'm aware that it's a bit early to leave butIHAVETOGOSORRY!!!!"

And just like that, Kevin was off.

Streber was… actually not that upset about it. For one, they got to kiss and that was neat.

Second of all, one look at the rising full moon combined with a passion for monster movies and he was quick to make a first guess.

He was more than elated to hear a confirmation when the newspaper came that morning with the reports of what was allegedly an "out-of-control malamute" wreaking havoc around the neighborhood.

Much to Kevin's own surprise, Streber was already at his door, eager to hear everything.

With initial reluctance, Kevin told that while the full moon transformations and blackouts were true, the idea of the silver bullets and the curse being contagious were inventions of cinema. 

What he also told was that the wolf was not a vicious monster, but rather merely just… well… a wolf. A creature that while dangerous when approached improperly, was still simply an animal running on instinct.

"...so have you considered letting yourself transform in the woods more?"

"...not sure. You know how many hunters do their thing there."

---

"...regardless… I know you would never hurt me on purpose."

Kevin felt his eyes water. Gah, why'd that have to hit deeper than it should?! 

"...fuck it. You can watch over me for tonight."

"Yes!!!" Streber immediately felt his spark come back.

"Just… if anything happens… run. Run for your life." 

It tugged Streber's heartstrings to hear, but if it was for Kevin so be it.

---

Kevin awoke to the taste of blood… and the feeling of the wind's breeze. 

What nearly stopped his heart was that underneath him he felt not the cellar floor, but rather the feeling of grass and leaves.

Opening his eyes, he was nigh-blinded by the light of the daylight sky. He looked down to see his nude body splattered with the crimson juices.

"No… NONONONONO… NO!!!"

Immediately, he wandered through the woods in a tearful frantic huff, calling for his lover desperately.

"STREBER?!"

He ventured further, hoping that Streber would not only be still alive, but also the only one to see him naked.

What stopped him in his tracks was Streber's body. The prosthetic was gone, and there was blood coming right from the nub, as if he'd regrown his old arm only for it to be torn off again.

When Kevin blinked tears out, he saw that the still-fresh corpse was torn open with claw marks and bite wounds combined.

Just when Kevin closed his eyes to wail, he heard a voice.

"Kev!!!"

When his eyes opened the body was gone.

He turned to see Streber right behind him, completely unharmed.

Immediately, Kevin embraced him, his tears and snot dampening Streber's shirt. 

The only time Kevin had cried like this was when he realized the incident of last Halloween, and Streber knew. 

Immediately, Streber held him right back, not giving a fuck that his shirt was getting wet with saltwater, mucus, and blood.

After a while Kevin stopped crying and let go, his tears having given way to frustration.

"Streber, what the FUCK did you do?!"

Streber gave a nervous smile.

"Uhhhh… Iiiiiiii may have let you out into the woods??? I followed you and did my best to make sure you were safe!!!"

"Streber, I could have KILLED you."

"But ya didn't!"

Kevin calmed a bit.

"...not even try to?"

"Nope! You snarled at me when you first saw me but just a hold of my hand right in front of your muzzle, you gave a little sniff and we were all good!"

"...huh…"

"Yep!!!"

That alleviated Kevin's fears… but there was still something in his mind.

"This… this is fresher than what's in the minifridge. If I didn't kill you what did I kill?!"

"Oh, that's easy!"

Streber walked Kevin up to a bloodied deer carcass, throat torn out along with its insides and half of the skin gone.

"...ah. I see now."

---

Kevin used a nearby river to wash away the red. It was able to do a good job in making it look like nothing happened.

When he was done, Streber gave out his cape to both dry Kevin and cover him up.

"Do you have to carry this with you everywhere?"

"Why not?"

Couldn't argue with that logic. At least it helped here.

The two walked back to Kevin's house out of the forest and through the neighborhood backyards.

"Soooooo…"

"Hmm?" 

"With this in mind, can I watch you again next month?"

"As much as I want to say no… eh why not?"

"Yay!!!!!!"

The way Streber squealed warmed Kevin's heart. 

"I have a couple hours before work. You can stay in my house until the time comes."

"...can I give you a bunch of headpats first thing?"

Kevin gave Streber an unamused look.

"Sorry, I-"

The face became a smile, which prompted Streber to make one too.

"Obviously."

[gyubby99]

@disneyanddisneyships HAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHA

Trauma recap ig?

Tw: SA

So- i was born at a very young age

Jkjk ok so..

Once upon a time~

....

I was born with a congenital heart and ig one day my mom thought i was gonna die bc they said i did not cry when I came out of the womb.

Ha. Look who's surviving now.

Anywhoooo my parents separated (i live in the philippines divorce is not an option so they separated instead but still married on paper. Just an important note for an extremely important part.) Before I could comprehend what even a sun is.

So the couple therapist era began.

Peer pressure to get them back together was an understatement. I was FIVE when they told me I was the "key" for them to reconcile. So I tried so hard to make my mother tell me why exactly they separated. Dad said she fell out of love so I tried so hard to make mom love him again. I guess we don't always get what we want.

I was so confused because things wouldn't go my way. I thought happy endings existed. Guess not.

So I start to grow up and go to grade school.

That was the trigger.

I was apparently the ugliest creature they've ever seen. Like, kids my age would run away from me when they see me wanting to play with them on the street. They would call me "ugly duckling" or something whenever I have to go up front.

And then, the real trigger was this.

Apparently my father also works on the school I was in, and these girls pulled up to me thinking I was rich, then started STEALING MY WALLET. How do six year olds know how to blackmail now?

When I don't give them what they want, they "punish" me by making me carry books on both of my hands and get me on my knees. Mind you, I cannot carry heavy things back then because *cough* inborn heart condition *cough*

S O

I cried the first time after it was done to me.

That's what started my people-pleasing personality.

So long story short, I switch schools because it was fucked up.

AND THEEEEEEN 😍😍

The first few years were fine, the only issue that I was smart in the english subject.. and people only used me and pushed me around. They ignore me up until they need answers for english class. Stupid little me gave them what they wanted.

Haha.

Then another year. THE FUCKING BOMB.

I sit next to this girl in class.

We became bestfriends.

And then valentines day happened.

My very first kiss.

Was with her.

On valentines day because she thought it was funny.

But god-fucking-dammit.

It made me realize something about myself.

But I was still attracted to guys, so I thought I was straight. (Idk what bisexual was)

Then when I finally told them..

Remember the list of guys they made to "make me normal"?

..yeah.

They made a list of guys my age and wondered which one would make me stop liking girls.

My brain erased that memory for a while.. probably for a good reason.

OH! YOU THOUGHT IT WAS OVER??

BOOM.

Found out dad had a girlfriend. Didn't accept it at first, but she grew on me.

I WISHED SHE DIDNT!!

Because a month after my father died she called my mom a whore for having male friends. While SHE is the one moving on after five months to another guy with a lotta cash and stuff.

What's more effed up is that dad's siblings sided with her.

Also mind you, my biological parents are stil married on paper. So according to the law, she gets portion of dad's properties. The rest of em is mine and my brother's.

But NOOOOOO SHE STILL CALLED MY MOM A WHORE FOR STATING FACTS AND WANTED 500K FROM MY NOW DECEASED DAD

So long story short my broken family got a lot more broken. Yay!

Oh- this isn't over yet.

It keeps

Getting

Worse

As I grew up.. men started eyeing me which was never a problem to comprehend by younger me.

I turn eleven.

I was actually ELEVEN when my second father-figure by the name of fucking Ian Cruz, SA'D me. I lied about the thirteen.

To make it more mild I told you i was thirteen when it happened.

But no.

Eleven.

Two days after my 11th birthday.. I saw him sa'ing his wife while she was asleep and he started acting weird ever since.. to me.

I slept so late because I thought he might come and get me. Because he almost did. He almost pulled down my pants if I hadn't stopped pretending I was asleep. It could've almost been my first.

Then he starts watching explicit videos whenever he comes into my room. And he forces me to watch them.

Then he starts making eyes at me.. saying I've got a nice tiny little waist and everything..

Whenever I call him out on his shit he gaslights me. Every. Damn. Time.

He apologized to me by hugging me when I confronted him.. and while he was hugging me he.. he kissed my back? Without my consent?

I think.

I hyperventilated when he left after I pushed him off.

I started hinting at his wife about how he has the keys and she had NO idea.

So he finds the keys.

So me locking the doors..

It was all for nothing.

He did some more fucked up things but.. I'll leave it here.

So I told my mom..

And I thought she was gonna comfort me.

But she made it about herself.

She made it about how she was so hurt thet I lied to her. To everyone.

The worst part is that after I spoke up nothing happened.

I was still silent.

No one knew.

Just like how no one also knew back then.

It just repeated itself.

One of these days I just wanna scream..

But no.

Not anymore.

The age of thirteen i mentioned? That was the time I told her.

It's been years but holy shit

I still can't erase it.

He took my fucking girlhood. My innocence.

And the worst part is that he had no remorse and is still living his best life..

But not anymore. I'm not going through bullshit anymore.

Now I just.. I just figured out I had mother issues..

It kept

Getting

Worse

With the peer pressure and everything happening.. It's so hard. I wonder if I'm ever gonna make it past this year.

I wonder how long I can take before I finally shut down.

But.. the bright side of it all? I found people.

Can I also tell you the good side of my life? Not just the recap of bad things?

Well.. there was this jelsa meme account on instagram I found really funny.. so I liked their posts.

Then this said account messaged me.. saying she appreciates it.

Then we just.. talked.

The trigger was that someone had been flirting with her? And I stepped in and just..

It just happened. Few days she started calling me her girl..

And boy, oh boy.. was this a dream?

I was a mad woman. I couldn't sleep at night. I just needed to talk to her.. and everyday it kept getting better.

Even now.

After two years of it.

AND IM CONVINCING HER TO GET A TUMBLR!

God, I fucking love this girl.

Okay.. I'm name-dropping.

Her name is Kiara. Her ig acc is official__jelsa (up until now)

I hope she says yes hehe

Speaking of tumblr tho.

Weeeeell a certain SOMEONEEEE started liking and reblogging my jelsa incorrect quotes!

Hm I wonder who could that beeeeee

Dyk, Liana?

Someone by the tumblr user named disneyanddisneyships...

Hmmmmmmm

I think you know the rest...

Liana.

You know what happened.

I was there when you gave elsa a miscarriage.

I remember it all too well.

[fox-daddy]

A gloreioust fight P2 (Hunter x Muriel angst/fluff)

A gloreioust fight (Hunter x Muriel angst)

This fanfic is set around @xaharadesert's forced gladiator rebel mc headcanon

Read that before you read this fanfic as it has the whole situation set. While I was ordinally going to write it as Hunter x Julian following the Julian Hc, Hunter would've killed which would've changed the feeling around the ending. (Even if I didn't end up writing it all. Might update it with the ending might leave it here.)

(I didn't mean to post this I was trying to post another draft thing... I guess this is now going to be a three part thing since I'm too lazy to copy and past it into a new draft...

Part 1 here)

TW; blood, mild gore, past trauma and violence.

The sharp smell of blood filled the air as Hunter walked around an all too familiar house. Yet they couldn't tell where the smell was coming from. Only when they paused to look down did they notice they were the one dragging blood around. Looking behind them they could see the trail following where they had been like a small river cutting through the floor. A soft sickening feeling washed over Hunter as they looked back up at the almost infinite hallway. Yet something kept telling them to move forward. Was it the deep sense someone was waiting for them at the end? was it to avoid the blood that trailed behind them? was it the sickly sweet smell of food? or the harsh taste of fine wine on the air? maybe it was a bit of all the above as Hunter tried their hardest to keep their resolve about them. Turning a corner they were met with the back of a figure. He seemed to speak in a tongue unfamiliar to Hunter and yet they could almost feel in their heart what they were saying. Whoever this was had been waiting for them.

Any heat in the air seemed to vanish as Hunter felt a sharp deep seeded anger rising up inside of them. Almost instinctively they crouched down like a cat stalking a bird or a wolf hunting a fawn. Yet, as they moved forward to strike the figure turned around to face them. His face was blurred and almost completely melted into darkness. Yet their gaze pieced into the darkness as it was in that moment they realized they had misjudged the situation, they were the fawn. Shutting their eyes tightly the ground seemed to catch them as they rolled to the side. The harsh sunlight beating down on them as the person seemed to stand in the main booth. Between them and the person was a large figure covered in scars matching theirs and yet the icy blue eyes that stared them down was a far cry from their own blood red eyes.. blood red. Taking a deep slow breath they slowly stood up. Returning the cold glance they headed towards the figure in the box. In that moment only one thing mattered and that was getting to that figure. Walking through the large figure that blocked their way caused them to melt into fire as they made their way to stand above the figure the fire blazing higher behind them. For the first time they felt their body acting on it's own as they raised their hand above their head. Then the hand was down the next second. Red. The only thing they could see was red as they stood above what looked like a dead body. Yet the face kept it's void colour as the body changed shape. Small and slim, tall and lanky, bulky and chubby. It kept changing every time it left Hunters main point of focus. Stepping back they tried to regain their composer and yet a familiar figure took stage, Asra? no their face wasn't there. "what's wrong? can't remember what they look like?" a cold familiar voice sent a chill down Hunter's spine as a familiar body, Muriel's took center stage next to the Asra. Yet similar to the Asra his face wasn't there. Closing their eyes they tried to imagine Muriel's face and while some features stuck out, his green eyes deep enough to make the forest itself jealous others fuzzed together. A scar? did he, did he have a face scar? was that them? His hair his body it was all familiar so why couldn't they remember his face?

A sudden cold hand on their shoulder caused them to tense up as they noticed an orange paw and those all too familiar Icey blue eyes, yet no they were different, they almost felt warm. "it's time to wake up. Sorry about this." The paw suddenly moved towards their back as a sharp pain almost sliced through their back.

The feeling of being held was the first thing to register after the sharp pain in their back. Looking around they were met with a familiar concerned face, Muriel. The familiar scars, the shape of his face, yet they couldn't help but feel a deep chill settling in as they tried to picture Asra's and Julian's faces in their mind. Their hair, their eye color and skin color everything else felt like trying to pick a shape out of an inky darkness. Yet, there was a calmness to being awake, they knew they couldn't remember faces so why was it suddenly getting to them? The feeling of Muriel's large hand gently rubbing circles on their back helped them snap back as the slow deliberate movement helped ground them in reality. "are you okay?" the gentle tone caused Hunter's eyes to start to tear up as the only thing they managed to do was shake their head, as they felt themselves being pulled into an overly cautious hug. Clinging to the familiar texture of his clothes and the smell of myrrh was almost as calming as Muriel there. "...It's going to be alright" deep down they knew what he was saying was true, it wasn't new they had been unable to remember faces since they first woke up and their wounds would heal. Yet, for right then it felt different. Like something had changed and they had no idea what. "I know" they finally found themselves barely able to reply. Their voice felt quiet and yet they felt no need to repeat themselves. Smiling softly at Muriel they leaned forward gently pushing their forehead against Muriel. "can we just stay like this for a bit?" they almost didn't notice the soft shuffle as Muriel gently changed how he was holding them. "I'm not going anywhere." Despite having just woken up the feeling of being held closely by Muriel seemed to bring back their tiredness as they allowed their eyes to slide shut.

When Hunter next woke up it was after a dreamless sleep. Looking up they noticed they were laying ontop of Muriel as they allowed themselves to fully relax again. Closing their eyes they thought back to their original dream as they shuffled a bit. Feeling a large hand move to the back of their head, a few months ago they would've flinched away and yet they found themselves learning into it. "I can't sleep" they softly answered the unasked question. Feeling Muriel's fingers gently scratching against their skull helped soothe them as they closed their eyes. "It's before sunrise" Hunter replied quickly with a quiet humm. "It would be rude to wake up Julian this early, anyway I'm fine to just lay here for a bit. Go back to sleep, Muri." They felt the head rubs grow slightly rougher in the best way. "I'm not going to leave you alone for that long." A part of Hunter couldn't help but feel a bit bad at the idea of keeping Muriel up and yet the rest of them remained quiet as they watched Muriel's face. "not like I can force you to sleep." they tried to softly joke getting a small amused snort out of Muriel in reply. The silence that followed was soothing as Hunter focused on just being there. Or at least that's what Hunter wanted to do it was hard when his mind kept going to how they had picked up the claws and how it had seemed too familiar. Then you had the dream that seemed to haunt Hunter like a forgotten secret. "Are you okay?" the simple question held more to it than on the surface. Their first reaction was to say something like 'I'm fine' or 'I will be' and yet there was something off about it. Trying to think of the 'right' reply left them unable to say anything. Feeling Muriel gently move their head they made no effort to pull away as they looked at Muriel.

"I just had a bad dream that made no sense" Hunter thought about adding more but when they thought about the weird person from their dream it left their blood feeling cold. "It's like you said nobody likes hearing about other people's dreams and I think I'd prefer to try and ignore it for now." Yet they couldn't, they could still taste the blood in their mouth, like an old addiction they had forgotten, like something held in only by strings and wires. They could tell Muriel wasn't fully convinced that it was just a bad dream and he wasn't entirely wrong, while the dream had brought it back up it had started before then. Had it started before that fight? had it always been there in the background like a dark shado- the feeling of a slightly rough head rub snapped them back as they realized they had missed what he had just said. "You don't have to tell me about it, but it's not your fault" Hunter couldn't help but think about that, they knew the fight wasn't their fault and yet did they have to bite the other person? How had they known theri adrenaline would kick in? what would've happened if it hadn't? Then there were the claws. "It's not about the- it kind of is but it's also not-" finding the right words to explain was hard. "Have you ever seen or felt something that as too similar? I don't think it has fully to do with my amnesia I didn't get a headache, or a pain in the back of my head, it just... My hands looked too familiar and I don't know why."

[feverdreamsanddelusions]

24

[tw relationship troubles, break up, past trauma, past kidnapping, very mild bdsm talk]

"Are you sure?" Caretaker didn't look like they were judging, per se. They looked... concerned. Whumpee wasn't sure which one was more difficult to handle. "This isn't, uh... Ah, I don't wanna say that, that sounds so gross... You're not trying to, uh... replace..."

"Whumper?" Whumpee blurted it out in a way too offended fashion, and Caretaker threw their hands up immediately. "You think I'm trying to replace Whumper?"

"No! I mean, I don't know, I just had to ask! I mean, this is so– it's, it's similar–"

"It's completely different!"

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it in a weird, jealous way or anything, I just know you have this tendency of... running head first into things that you know will hurt you." They averted their eyes and shrugged a little. "I'm just trying to make sure I'm not one of those things."

Whumpee scoffed. "That's... Well, that certainly made it less appealing. No, Caretaker, I'm not trying to replace the person who kidnapped me. I'm just looking to get a little roughed up in a fucking consensual way. How does that even sound similar to you?"

"I'm sorry for asking, okay? I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have asked."

"You shouldn't have," they confirmed coldly. "Whatever. If you're not into it, I guess it's fine. Or if you're gonna be distracted the entire time because you think I'm fantasising about–"

"No, no, Whumpee. I don't think that. Come on." Caretaker tried to reach out and take Whumpee by the hand, but they stepped away and folded their arms over their chest. "Whumpee... I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I was. Now I'm just pissed. That really was gross, you were right."

They just couldn't take it. They couldn't take this constant 'concern' and the never-ending pity. They had trauma, sure, whatever, but they also just had... needs and preferences. Should the trauma have erased those? Should they have come back changed? More changed?

"Maybe... Maybe we could talk about this again a bit later?" Caretaker tried. "Once you're less mad at me. I swear, I'm open to it. And I trust you. If you say you're fine, then I believe you, absolutely."

"I think we should just end it."

Caretaker's eyes widened in shock. "What...?"

"Clearly, you can't get over this stupid shit that happened to me. You're more hung up on it than I am. And I'm tired of these conversations."

"Whumpee–"

"I want to see someone who doesn't know shit about what happened."

Caretaker shook their head, desperation creeping into their voice. "I didn't... I didn't mean to be 'hung up on it', I... I just wanted... I didn't know it was so annoying, I'm so sorry. I can dial it back. As much as you want. I can, I can change that so easily."

"You can't!" they snapped. "You can't just unknow it! I fucking hate that I told you any of it. And that the stupid police officers did too. It's fucked up. I don't want my partner to know about all of that." Before Caretaker could've answered, they grabbed their phone from the counter and stormed off. "I'll fuck off before noon tomorrow. I don't want to drive at midnight."

[piecesofreeses]

I'm Sorry, I Can't Help It

This is PART 4 of I’m Sorry, I Can’t Help It.

I highly recommend going back to read part 3!

This is an age regression fanfic! Hate will not be tolerated, so take your bullshit somewhere else.

Awsten is struggling with his mental health and turns to age regression with a coping mechanism.

After failing to keep it a secret, what will happen between him and his band mates?

DISCLAIMER:

Age regression is a completely nonsexual coping skill. It is represented appropriately and correctly as it relates to my life. Regression can be positive in many circumstances, but not all. If you are struggling with your mental health or involuntary age regression, talking to a professional is always the best choice.

Chapter Four: The Sun on His Face

In which Awsten explains the origin of his regression.

Thanks for the support guys, all the comments and kudos really do mean the world! PLEASE read the trigger warnings in this chapter, because we really get into some childhood trauma. If you feel the need to skip this chapter, that’s okay! You’ll lose some character backstory but you’ll still be mostly in the loop for following chapters. 

I was listening to Bags by Clairo when I wrote this and I think you should too, but I can’t say they are totally connected by actual content, just vibes. 

TW: Discussion of childhood (14) sexual assault, discussion of past rape by deception, swearing, past cheating, discussion of PTSD, discussion of being called “stupid” while regressed, mild sex jokes

“So,” Geoff says, “You’re allowed to call me Dada, does that mean I can call you cute names too?” Awsten blushes at the mention of calling his friend Dada when he’s regressed, but recovers quickly.

“Yeah I guess. What are you considering?”

“I have a lot of ideas. Should I just list them?” Geoff laughs.

Awsten responds and Geoff can hear the eye roll in his voice, “I mean yeah, sure, go for it.” 

“Baby, bubba, bubs, sweetheart, little one, honey–”

“You already called me that,” Awsten cuts off the list.

“It was an accident! I was panicking!” Geoff says, exacerbated. 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s enough you can stop. Those are all fine and I’m sure any other shit you come up with will be too.”

“Can I ask how this started happening?”

“My regression?” Awsten tries to clarify.

“Yeah,” Geoff confirms.

“Yeah that’s fine. I mean I’ve gotta share so you can care? God, that was bad. Sorry,” Awsten says with a laugh. “I think I was maybe ten when it happened for the first time? That's kind of silly I know – a ten year old regressing even younger – anyway, I would just get stressed out, like the whole world was just way too big and I was way too small. And that's what would happen. Then I would all of a sudden be way too small. I didn't know what it was but my words wouldn't come out and I would feel like I was shrinking in on myself. When I was younger, it was all involuntary.”

“Not always now?” Geoff cuts in. “Oh shit sorry. I interrupted.”

“No it’s okay. Yeah I can do it on purpose sometimes. If I feel like I need it. I couldn't always do that because I didn't know what was happening before. I used to be so ashamed because I had no idea what was going on with my head. I would just get all fuzzy and feel stupid,” Awsten tries to explain. His eyes go soft and Geoff can see him remembering something.

“My mom is wonderful, but I’m thinking back to being thirteen years old at an amusement park. It was so late and I was so hungry and so tired and I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't get my words to come out right, so I guess I was kind of ‘baby-talking.’ She kept asking me questions that I knew I should know the answers to, but I was stuck so deep inside my head. She told me to “stop pretending to be dumb,” and it’s always stuck with me. It hurt so much because I knew the age appropriate part of me was in there somewhere, but he wasn't in control and there was no one who could tell me why. Even if there was, I don't think I would've asked. I was far, far too scared they would laugh or that I was permanently fucked up in some way. I guess I am, but I wasn’t ready to hear it when I was thirteen.”

Geoff almost wants to cry listening to the story. “Awsten. You’re not fucked up.”

“It's okay, Geoff,” Awsten scoffs. “I find it comforting to call myself fucked somehow, I think. It'd be hard to explain but I’m sure if I said that in an interview there would be people out there who knew what I meant.” Geoff just listens, sitting quiet and hoping the younger will continue. 

“When I was 14, I came across agere content on the internet for the first time. I knew it resonated, but I didn't want to encroach on a community I wasn't sure I was apart of, so I convinced myself I related the same way I would comment “same” on a TikTok of a piece of bread falling over, but soon after that, I met my first boyfriend and he regressed too. He was already well aware of what it was, so when it happened around him the first time, he took care of me and then after basically smacked some sense into me, telling me what was going on. The first time it happened was actually in our math class. I remember crying on the floor in his lap while they were going over systems of equations. That boy was an absolute piece of shit, but he never did fuck with my regression. I don't think I’ll ever be able to forgive him for what he did, but I’ll always be grateful he didn't hurt me while I was small.”

“Awsten…” Geoff fights against the cracks in his voice. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t you,” Awsten replies matter-of-factly. 

“Awsten? Can I ask what he did to you?”

It seems as though there may even be a glint of a tear in his eye as Awsten responds. “He was older. He didn’t… he didn’t do anything I didn't want– at least at first, but he lied to me about a lot of it,” He says quietly. “He didn’t listen when I told him he was hurting me during… things. I’m still not sure what to call what he did to me. I just didn’t want to lose my virginity to a hookup, so I made him promise he was going to stick around, but he was cheating on me the whole time.”

Geoff waits because it seems like Awsten has more to say. He does, but he continues just barely above a whisper. “One friend called it ‘rape by deception.’ I just– I feel like that’s too strong of a word for what happened, but anything else just discounts what he did. I have fucking PTSD from it, it must have been something.”

“Honey,” Geoff says. He stops after just the one word though, unsure how to continue. 

“It’s okay, Geoff. It’s been twenty years. I can get over myself. God, I’m sorry about this fucking tangent. you just asked how i started regressing.”

“I knew that might be a charged question, Aws. It's fine. Go ahead,” Geoff tries to reassure.

Awsten wipes any hint that he may have cried away and shakes his head as if trying to clear the thoughts. “After that, I regressed a lot. I couldn't help it. It happened for hours each day as I just tried anything to be okay again. Sometimes, it would happen in class and later I would find little drawings in my notebooks or chemistry notes that appeared to have been taken by a five year old. Since then, it just fluctuates. When times are tough, it happens more and it’s more likely to happen involuntarily. When things are okay, I don't need it as much. If I just want it, sometimes I’ll regress intentionally. That can be nice sometimes,” Awsten seems to finish.

“Oh wait,” he starts. “I wanted you to know you're the only person who's ever known about this other than that boyfriend.”

Oh my God. He must’ve been terrified when I found out originally. I can't believe he's letting me be his carer after what happened. Fuck, I’m never leaving this motherfuckers side. 

“Oh Aws. Thank you for trusting me.”

“You got it, man,” Awsten jokes. “Seriously though, thank you. The way you held me? I think you healed half my childhood trauma just like THAT,” he snaps his fingers and chuckles.

Lost in thoughts, Geoff asks another question. “Have you ever written a song about it?”

“Man, you're full of questions today,” Awsten teases. “I think I've referenced it, but never in a way you couldn't deny. In Peach when I say ‘hating myself for needing someone so bad and feeling dumb dumb dumb dumb?” Yeah, that's sort of about being clingy and desperate when I feel small. I think I talk about it a little in Hawaii? Yeah, yeah it's some line about feeling in slow motion or something. I think if the fans knew, they would think some stuff like Fruit Roll Ups or some shit is about it, but it’s not. I definitely write about it in ways people wouldn't notice or expect.”

“You know I’m going to start watching out for it now, right?” Geoff says.

“Yeah I know because you're a little bitch,” Awsten snaps back.

Pretending to smack Awsten in the back, Geoff laughs out a “Says you!”

Sarcastically, Awsten drags out the bit. “Okay, okay. How do you cope with your shit then, Geoff? If you don’t mentally return to the state of a child, how on earth are you dealing with your feelings?”

“Actually? You,” Geoff replies, slamming the door on any humor lacing their conversation. 

Maybe I shouldn't have said that. 

Processing what his best friend just said, Awsten watches how the sunlight strikes his face through the translucent curtains in their hotel room. He looks soft. He looks like there should be hands cupped around his jaw and a thumb stroking his cheek. His hair looks like someone should be running their fingers through it.

I wonder what runs through his head as he thinks about me, Geoff thinks as Awsten stares. Geoff watches how the sun hits the back of Awsten’s head and makes the rays filter through his colored hair. It makes the unruly bits appear to glow like embers and the fluff in the front casts pale orange onto the white hotel sheets.

It feels like hours they just sit and look at one another, but in reality, it's only seconds before Awsten responds. “I’m glad I help. I want to be there for you, you know.”

“I know,” Geoff says softly as he reaches a hand up to smooth the tufts of Awsten’s hair down, unable to resist. “After the shows on those few nights when you just talk and talk? I love those. I just get to sit back and listen. I love listening to you, Awsten. It gives my brain a break, I guess.” He tries to say it jokingly, but the truth shines through. Geoff knows Awsten can tell he wasn’t fucking around. “I really loved caring for you too. It was nice to feel needed.”

“It’s really not annoying? I understand that you care about me and you might do it anyway, but you genuinely enjoyed it?” Awsten questions almost incredulously. 

Geoff smiles. “Yes, Aws. I really liked it. You’ve got such big stuff going on all the time. It was so nice to see you relaxed and calm. Seeing you melt into my lap when I was holding you? You looked so at peace and I don't know if I’ve seen you like that since we were teenagers. And I could fix all your problems. You have no idea how much I hate when I know you’re dealing with something and I can’t do shit about it. When your biggest problem was wanting something in your mouth and I just needed to help you put your thumb in your mouth and you’d feel better? It was so great.”

Awsten’s eyes widen briefly before he gets it under control. “Jesus, that's embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah. You're cute small!” Geoff says and Awsten makes a whole show of his aversion to being called cute. 

“You’re worse than the fans calling me babygirl!”

“No, that's hilarious.”

“Oh you motherfucker,” Awsten shoots back. Then he pauses. “Do we need to get on the bus?”

Geoff checks his phone to find messages from Jawn, Lucas and Otto. “It appears so.”

Awsten laughs and flops back down on the bed. “Fuck, man!”

“Awsten! Why are you laying back down? We need to go!

“Carry me?” Awsten jokes, batting his eyelashes. 

“And you wonder why they call you babygirl,” Geoff responds, rolling his eyes. At that, Awsten drags himself out of bed and throws on a back tank and some gray jeans. “You’ll kill the fans if you let them see your arms, Awsten. Don’t you have any sympathy for them? They might not survive.”

“I know man! It’s hilarious because Jullian can perform shirtless and none of them bat an eye and as soon as they see my arms we’ve got people unconscious in the pit,” Awsten adds.

“Okay,” Geoff continues. “They definitely bat an eye when Julian takes his shirt off because I bat an eye when Julian takes his shirt off.”

“Geoff! Dude! Since when do you say that shit!?” Awsten yells, losing control of his volume while throwing his things into a bag to bring down to the tour bus. “I’m telling him you said that. No. Better yet, I’m going to tweet that you said that.”

“Go for it. You’ve ruined your credibility after tweeting that I was drawing selfcest of you and soulsucker,” Geoff quips. 

Awsten dramatically glares at the floor. “Damnit. If it isn't the consequences of my own actions.”

“Hey assholes, hurry it up, we're all waiting on you,” comes Jawn’s voice through the door. Sharing a glance, the two hurry out, Geoff apologizing profusely and Awsten explaining graphically the kind of sex they were [not] having with the utmost dramatic sarcasm. 

Geoff listens to the jokes and walks just a few steps behind, just content to watch how awstens mouth curls when he laughs at his own jokes. 

I’m screwed.

Two updates in 24 hours? I'm spoiling you guys!

Love you all!

Reese

[gravitren]

His smile and optimism? Gone

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

Headcanon time!

On the subject of onesided Albert>>William.

TW for canon-typical mental health issues, me piling my own religious trauma on Albert, and pseudo-incestuous stuff I guess.

This is probably projection tbh. I relate profoundly to my interpretation of young Albert. Having been an adolescent in a deeply religious subculture, most of my teenage crushes were retrospectively very weird and fraught. Always a combination of sexual angst and misdirected worship and a sort of maudlin reveling in my own misery.

Being like 13-16 and already aware that the goal of any interest should be marriage and children and (when you’re AFAB) finding someone to be the “spiritual head” of your household *zones out briefly, war documentaries playing behind my eyes* puts a lot of pressure on what would otherwise be mild crushes and attractions. And as funny as it might sound to say, I think young Albert’s feelings for young William are not dissimilar to those of a little girl raised deep in complementarianism. He is a literal child looking at another literal child and thinking “Are you the one who can lead me to God be my god?” And that’s always, always a disaster waiting to happen.

So yes, I do actually think that Albert had a thing for William in the early years. And while the neo-puritan tiktok kids would surely disagree, I don’t even think it’s really that weird. Stick two non-blood-related adolescents who were not raised as siblings into a house together and sprinkle in some trauma-bonding and I’d bet good money that it’s downright normal for one if not both to develop a crush. The age difference is actually the more potentially problematic element in those early years if we’re speculating on a sexual attraction -- three years is waaay more significant in the tweens/early teens than it is in later decades -- but given that (from my own experience with similar mental health issues) Albert was likely running a couple of years behind developmentally and William was a couple of years ahead, and that I am NOT suggesting anything actually happened between them, I’m not too worried about it.

Albert being Albert, though, I think he gnaws away at himself with guilt over his feelings as if they actually had been born and raised as brothers. I think he thinks of himself as perverse for those feelings. I think that even as an adult he is never entirely unattracted to William and that he loathes himself for that.

Anyway this is part of why I really like MycAl as a ship. Because Mycroft is so very staid and practical and grounded. So rooted in reality, while Albert is so easily lost in morbid fantasies of his own inherent wickedness. I really think Mycroft could just take all the wind out of Albert’s self-hatred sails. (I wrote a version of this in Meander.) There’s something very funny-sad about Albert tearfully confessing that his darkest secret isn’t the plotting and the vigilantism and the murders but rather that William was the first person he ever wanted to kiss, and Mycroft is like, “Yes and...??? Am I missing something here? You were a kid experiencing some degree of romantic and physical attraction to another kid, who you did not meet until you were an adolescent, and that is strange...how exactly?”

Which naturally makes Albert bluescreen.

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Barbie/Barbra Handler X Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute, and Fluffy Prompt

• Occurs after the events of the film

• There will be more!

!TW: Implied suffering from depression + anxiety + separation anxiety, mention of being threatened by an ex and family + of being previously assaulted (by them) + of previously being abused by family and ex + of previously being treated poorly by family and gaslit, self put-down(s) + hint(s) of self-doubt, having alcohol poisoning/mention of alcohol poisoning + being ill, implied having an alcohol addiction + mention of substance abuse (alcohol), presence of alcohol, implied previously attempting to commit suicide + elements of having suicidal intentions and suicidal consideration, insult, implied wanting to die, implied suffering from trauma/a form of PTSD due to past events, mild sexual references + implied sexual occurrence(s), having a panic attack, mention of liver failure + experiencing liver failure, presence of drugs (pills), hints of manipulation, throwing up, break-up(s) - If I’ve missed any, let me know ❤️!

“Hey,” Barbra cooed upon noticing you sitting alone in the kitchen, your face in your hands, prompting her to falter; she’d not been expecting to return home to you like this, and was evidently worried at you, though you couldn’t imagine why, quickly wiping your eyes whilst she warily approached you, a pained expression on her face; she hated seeing you like this, “Y-Y/n? What’s wrong, baby? Did you miss me?”

You couldn’t help, but smile softly up at her whilst she wrapped her arms around you, prompting you to subconsciously melt into her embrace whilst you rested your head comfortably upon her left shoulder, feeling better all of a sudden, as if you’d not recently received yet another threatening text from Jack after he’d found out about you talking to the police, and telling them that you had been attacked like he’d told you not to do, but you’d had no choice; Gloria and Sasha had heard your and Barbra’s previous conversation about you being attacked by your family - well, Jack, in particular, but you’d been too afraid to tell her that it was just him, guessing she’d confront him, if you did, and get hurt, alongside you. Just the thought of her getting hurt because of your own problem prompted your blood to run cold, and you to curse yourself for even allowing her to find out about your abusive ex-boyfriend and family.

“I always miss you when you aren’t here with me,” you mused, your voice briefly trembling whilst you did, and she would appear flustered for a moment, before smiling lovingly back down at you, and leaning down a little to press a kiss to the top of your head, somehow soothing you even further whilst you held her hands in both of your currently too pale ones, surprising her; your hands were so cold, but she wouldn’t even flinch, or make to pull her’s away; she was unperturbed by it, now; used to it - you’d been colder and paler than usual ever since you’d started developing alcohol poisoning, and she couldn’t bear to see it, her heart even now aching within her chest; she was terrified she might end up losing you, somehow, if you didn’t find a way to stop drinking like you had been continuing ‘secretly’ to do so; she’d unintentionally caught you a couple of times drinking whiskey outside in the garden of Gloria and her husband’s home as she often found herself waking up whenever she could feel or sense that you were no longer beside her in bed, but she found she couldn’t bring herself to confront you about it, worried about possibly encouraging you to drink even more by doing so. “I - I love you, Barb,” you whispered feebly, as if you were on the verge of breaking down again; you still couldn’t believe she was wasting her time on you like she had been ever since you’d both met outside of the Gynaecologists’ office, and fallen deeply in love with one another. She would frown upon hearing that you were trying not to cry again, wondering why; you were - unbeknownst to her, thinking about the new bottle of whiskey you’d bought, and hastily hid under the table upon hearing the front door open, and realising that Barbra had returned home earlier than she usually did from dropping Bailey off at Gloria’s mother’s house again - you weren’t exactly deemed fit to take much care of her yourself anymore ever since word had got out about you having alcohol poisoning yet again, and Barbra thought it the best thing to do as Gloria’s mother liked to have Bailey at her house with her, allowing Barbra to keep an eye on you a lot more recently to make sure that you were okay and to take care of you as best she could, wanting to try and prevent herself from losing you, somehow, to the best of her ability; she felt as if she couldn’t live without you, like you felt as if you couldn’t live without her, knowing that if you ever lost her you’d most likely try and take your life again, as you knew your life would most likely not be worth living if you found yourself without her again after your mother had revealed to you that you were a mistake, and had been abusing you alongside your father and ex ever since you’d been able to walk.

Barbra would blissfully entangle the fingers of her right hand within your hair whilst you subconsciously held her left hand within both of your’s, now; you loved to be making contact with her of any kind, finding you felt safe, warm, fuzzy, and more content than you’d ever been whenever you were with her, like you were, now, only quite a minimal gap between you both where the back of the chair was separating you from leaning against her completely. You then couldn’t help, but allow a strained sob to escape your lips whilst you buried your face into her left arm, beginning to cry quietly, prompting her heart to somehow sink even lower than it had, before - you wished you could be better for her, and knew you most likely never would be, considering how you believed yourself to be nothing, compared to her, and even now knew you were probably hurting her, and hated yourself for it; hated what you were doing to her. “Hey,” she cooed gently again, “b-babe, look at me-”

“You know I - I love you, r-right?” You mustered, your voice barely audible, and she would nod hastily whilst she buried her face into the crook of your neck to try and provide comfort to you; she was desperate to see you smile again; to hear you laugh again, and knew your neck was a ticklish area so she would playfully nuzzle it, and boop it with her nose occasionally, finally prompting a strained giggle to escape you whilst you connected the right side of your head to her left side affectionately, prompting her to beam over at you upon hearing you giggle; that she’d made you laugh again, and she would then take the opportunity to lean forward, and delicately connect her lips to your’s, prompting you to instantly melt into the kiss whilst butterflies began to flutter around in the depths of your stomach, and you loved it, your heart racing alongside her’s in the best way possible.

She would then connect her forehead to your’s once the kiss had sadly ended, her stunning icy blue eyes locking with your’s in a way that made you forget how to breathe for a moment whilst you admired her, wondering - like you always did - what you’d done to deserve someone as perfect as her. “Of course I do,” she she reassured you, “Y/n, you tell me you love me fifty times a day.”

You would wince, appearing embarrassed at yourself, before nodding faintly whilst you tried to hide that you had begun to blush alongside her, evidently flustered whilst she’d flustered herself by mentioning it; she couldn’t believe she’d found someone as good as you, and that she’d even managed to win you, like you couldn’t believe you’d found and scored her to love and to hold at your side until she had finally found someone better for her, prompting your heart to sink, but you would try and ignore the feeling by reminding yourself of how she deserved someone better than you; someone who could actually make her happy as you believed you were doing the opposite of that a lot of the time, instead burdening her even further and scaring her a lot more recently as a result of your seemingly worsening rather than improving health due to your still currently continual drinking habits and occasional threats from Jack as well as your abusive parents, only encouraging you to drink more than you ever had, before, hoping alcohol would finally take your life for Barbra and Bailey’s sake; they would both be free of you, then.

“Guess what?” She chimed, and you would be dragged out of your thoughts, expressing relief whilst you smiled warmly up at her, and would nod to show her that you were listening. “I love you, too, Snuggles,” she returned, and your heart would skip a beat; you’d still not got used to her saying that to you, and simply couldn’t believe it - how could someone perfect like her love a supposed nobody like you? She would then briefly connect her lips to your’s again, before recalling what she and Bailey had made together for you, beaming whilst she carefully took the daisy chain out of one of the pockets in her bag. “Here,” she offered it to you, and you would appear shocked, not expecting her to have done something like this for you, but you would allow her to carefully lay it on the palm of your right hand, knowing you couldn’t refuse it just because you believed you didn’t deserve it; you would no doubt upset her, if you tried, and you couldn’t allow yourself to upset her any further than you had, recently, “me and Bailey made it for you on the way to Gloria’s mother’s house; we saw that there were a few daisies so-”

“You need to stop doing things for me,” you managed faintly, your voice briefly trembling whilst you did, and Barbra would falter, a pained expression on her face, “I - I love it, but-.. it’s just.. I’m not-”

“No,” she interjected, before wrapping her arms around you again, and you would instantly melt into her embrace whilst she rubbed your back using her right hand, and found her eyes being invaded by tears; she couldn’t stand hearing you putting yourself down like you evidently had been about to, “w-whatever you were going to say, don’t do it, baby, please, because it isn’t true-”

“It is true, Barbie,” you contradicted dejectedly whilst her tears would slowly begin to stream down her cheeks, and she would find herself verging on breaking down into your right shoulder whilst she buried her face into it, “a-and everyone knows it: I’m not worthy of anything; n-not worthy of you, the love you give me; t-the time you decide to waste on me-”

“But I love wasting time on you,” she interrupted weakly, and you would falter, guessing that she had begun to cry, only making you feel worse about what you were doing to her again, “and you more than deserve me - you’re my soulmate, Y/n; I know you are, a-and I know that you find that hard to believe after everything your family and Jack did to you, but it’s true; we belong together, Snuggles, a-and we always will, I promise - I could never stop loving you the way that I do, now.”

You would subconsciously cling to her shoulders whilst you wondered what you’d done to deserve someone as good as her, a pained expression on your face whilst you did; you hated the way you were, and always had as you knew that you were hurting her, too, by putting yourself down like you constantly were, and drinking like you still were, except you weren’t aware that she knew, yet; you only knew that your health was still deteriorating as a result of it, and knew she’d have noticed that, by now, and would most likely be worried about it for what reason you couldn’t understand, finding yourself hoping that maybe she hadn’t noticed, and wasn’t worrying any more about you like she was, and was just trying not to tell you about her concerns for you to keep you happy to the best of her ability, hoping that maybe you being happy would deter you from drinking more than she knew you had been, recently.

“You’re warm,” you mustered feebly, and she would subconsciously smile softly against your shoulder, glad, “a-and do you want to know something else?”

“I’d love to,” she answered, and you would beam up at her whilst blood began to rush to your cheeks; she always had this effect on you, and you couldn’t help, but revel in it.

“Y-You’re my favourite person; you always have been,” you admitted, and she would begin to appear flustered again whilst she affectionately connected her forehead to your’s, finding she revelled in being as close to you as she possibly could be, “e-even before I realised that you’re my soulmate, Barb - and you always will be, n-no matter what.”

“I’m glad, because you are my favourite person, j-just don’t tell Gloria I said that-”

“Don’t worry, Barbie; Gloria can still be one of your favourite people - I don’t mind,” you reassured her, and she would express relief, prompting you to giggle softly, finding her reaction adorable.

“A-Are you sure? I don’t want to upset you-”

“Why would that upset me? Barb, you can have as many people as you like on your favourite list; I think it’s cute,” you insisted, and she would hesitantly give in, before smiling warmly over at you again, and leaning forward to kiss you, and you would instantly melt into the kiss. “So - what would you like to do today?” You inquired, and she would think about it for a moment, not sure, before growing to find herself flustered again at one suggestion she’d thought of. “They’ll all probably be out for a little while, so-”

“I - I have an idea,” she stated, and you would appear intrigued, tilting your head partially, “but we don’t have to do it if you feel like you can’t-”

“I feel like I’m up for anything - don’t worry about me,” you reassured her hastily, evidently desperate to hear her suggestion as she often only really got herself flustered like she was, now, over one specific thing - the possibility of fooling around together, and she would wince, embarrassed, before nodding timidly, and avoiding eye contact with you for a moment whilst she began to blush even more profusely, “what’s your idea? I’m sure I’ll love it, whatever it is; I couldn’t ever not love anything that involves me and you spending time together.”

“C-Can I whisper it in your ear?” She asked, and you would smirk, before nodding, and she would shyly bring herself to confirm your assumptions in a whisper, prompting you to nod whilst you grinned up at her again, before trying to effortlessly get up off of the chair you were currently perched upon, though you felt relatively weaker than usual, prompting Barbra to subconsciously wrap her arms around your waist to provide you with further support as she feared you possibly falling over, and getting yourself hurt again. “Are you sure you’re up for it; that you feel okay?” She pried, and you would nod hastily, whilst Barbra would try and force her doubts out of her mind.

“I feel fine, I promise,” you answered, and she would hesitantly give in, before beaming over at you again, “a-and if it makes you feel any better, I’ll tell you if there is something wrong.”

“You better,” she replied playfully, and you would lift an eyebrow, intrigued by what she would do, if you didn’t.

“What would you do, if I didn’t?” You questioned, and she would fluster you further by inching even closer to you, prompting you to forget how to breathe for a moment.

“Oh come on, Snuggles, don’t act like you don’t know,” she teased, and you would further try and appear puzzled though you longed to burst out laughing, amused by her teasing, and how it seemed to be something relatively quite new to her as her’s was the most adorable teasing you’d ever experienced, “I - I’d have to-.. erm..” She would then falter, beginning to stammer whilst she tried to hide her face from you; she’d evidently managed to fluster herself even more.

You would tilt your head again, before wrapping your arms around her once you’d inched closer to her, prompting her to fall quiet whilst she blissfully locked eyes with you. “What? Punish me?” You guessed, and she would wince, her cheeks redder than you had ever seen them before. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to saying it,” you cooed, before lifting your right hand up to her warm left cheek, prompting her to instantly melt into your touch whilst she smiled lovingly over at you, wondering what she’d done to deserve someone as good as you, though you believed yourself to be nothing, compared to her, “you’re adorable - you know that, right?”

“Not as adorable as you,” she answered, and you would make to protest, but before you could, she would surprise you by kissing you again a little more passionately whilst making sure it was still delicate; she was afraid of accidentally hurting you, somehow, and knew she would never be able to forgive herself if she did. Once the kiss had sadly ended, you would appear to be in a daze, your eyes glinting whilst they explored her’s in the best way possible. “And you’ll never convince me otherwise, so don’t even try,” she stated, certain of herself, and you would lift your eyebrows again, before affectionately connecting your forehead to her’s.

“Well guess what? You’ll never be able to convince me otherwise, either,” you replied, “but you’re welcome to try, like I know I will.”

“In that case - you’re on,” she remarked, before surprising you by managing to pick you up off of the ground as you were a little shorter than her, allowing her to carry you out of the room whilst you both occasionally giggled together and exchanged smaller as well as briefer kisses until you both had finally made it up the stairs, and could disappear into your and her bedroom together.

🜚🜸🜚

After you’d found yourself having a panic attack following a check up with your doctor, you would rush out of the building with tears streaming down your cheeks; you were terrified as she had basically informed you that your liver might soon end up failing if you continued the way you were, but you just felt as if you couldn’t stop; you had to keep drinking to try and rid yourself of the constant pain you found yourself in, especially when you were reminded of how you were basically nothing, compared to Barbra, and this would prompt you to look toward the road opposite the doctor’s office - it was tempting you. You could easily walk out onto it, and get yourself hit by a car, knowing Barbra would be able to find someone better than you if you did, but before you could begin to drag yourself toward it, determined to rid Barbra of you and the burdens you had been posing upon her, Bailey, and the others recently, your phone would begin to buzz, and you would falter, shakily taking your phone out of your bag to find that it was her calling you, surprising you; you didn’t think she would call so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, she’d actually got a bad feeling all of a sudden whilst she was out with Gloria, Sasha, and Bailey at the park; you’d insisted she go with them instead of you as you didn’t want to upset her, knowing that the news wouldn’t be good as you’d been continuously drinking, and hadn’t managed to stop like she’d been hoping you would. Your heart would sink upon even recalling how you had recently promised her that you would stop drinking completely, and had evidently broken your promise relatively easily shortly after you had offered it to her, making you feel even worse, and you would instantly begin to despise yourself even more for the way in which you had recently been behaving. Your thoughts would race to the road before you again, but your gaze wouldn’t drift away from her name on your phone, prompting a soft smile to play on your lips, before you allowed a strained sob to escape you, and would accept the call, hastily lifting your phone up to your right ear; you were desperate to hear her voice again, your heart racing whilst it also proceeded to ache at the same time as a result of your previous thoughts, and the question of why she was bothering to even call you like she currently was repeatedly circling your mind excruciatingly.

“Babe!” She chimed as soon as you’d picked up the phone, evidently glad to see that you were okay; that she’d not lost you like she had feared she had after she’d got the bad feeling she had a brief moment ago, before rushing away from the others, and calling you to make sure that you were okay. “A-Are you okay? I felt-.. I don’t know what it was, but - I felt something, a-and I panicked because I thought something happened to you,” she admitted, her voice briefly trembling, and you would frown whilst another sob fought to escape you, but you would try and fight it back to the best of your ability, “n-nothing happened, did it? Y-You’re okay, right? Do you want me to come and get you, a-assuming your appointment is over now?”

You then found you couldn’t take it anymore as you began to cry, leaning heavily against the wall behind you again whilst you sniffled, and sobbed in a strangled manner; you were struggling to breathe and it was panicking you again - most likely due to your alcohol poisoning. Barbra would then falter upon hearing that you were crying on the other side of the phone, a hurt look on her face whilst her heart began to ache alongside your’s; she wished she could be there with you, and would anxiously shuffle on the spot whilst looking over at the others, wondering whether or not Gloria would allow her to use her car so she could get to you, and comfort you to the best of her ability; she couldn’t let you suffer like this alone, knowing she’d never be able to forgive herself if she did.

“B-Baby? What’s - What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice soothing you instantly whilst you tried to calm yourself down, but felt unable to do so without her by your side; you longed to cling to her whilst you cried into the crook of her neck, and she held you close to her, making you feel safe and content again as if you hadn’t received the bad news you had, earlier, about the possibility of your liver failing you. “Talk to me, babe, please,” she begged, “I need to know that you’re okay-”

“I miss - miss you so much,” you managed shakily, and she would falter upon hearing your voice, her eyes glinting a little whilst she did; she’d also been missing your voice alongside you as you, too, had been missing her voice, ever since you’d dragged yourself out of the front door in the morning, and found yourself painfully no longer by her side, “I-.. I need you, Barb, I’m scared, I-”

“O-Okay,” she cooed gently, “it’s gonna be okay, baby, I promise; I’m gonna come and get you, just stay right there - you’re outside of the local hospital, right?”

“No,” you whined, “d-don’t worry, Barbie, I’ll try and get to you; I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that for me - you’ve already done too much, a-and I don’t deserve it-”

“You more than deserve it,” she contradicted, “stop saying stuff like that about yourself, because it’s far from true-”

“But-”

Barbra would find herself trying not to cry alongside you, a hurt look on her face; she hated hearing you putting yourself down like that all the time, and wished she could do more to prove to you that you were more than deserving of her love for you, and more than deserving of everything that she and the others had done, and would always do for you. “I wish I had known you sooner,” she mused dejectedly, and you would fall quiet, your heart sinking whilst you stared down at the ground, “I would have tried to-.. tried to stop them from hurting you like this..”

You would shake your head gravely whilst she drew in a shaky breath, and you couldn’t take it; you hated hearing her upset like this, especially when you knew it was because of you, paining you more than anything ever had, before, whilst more tears began to stream down your cheeks though your eyes were already sore from crying as a result of how you’d realised you’d upset her the way you evidently had by letting yourself break down in front of her again. “You wouldn’t have been able to stop them, Barbie,” you managed weakly, “they would have hurt you, too-”

“They wouldn’t,” she contradicted, “Y/n-”

“Besides,” you continued to the best of your ability, though you knew you were on the verge of breaking down again, a lump forming in your throat which was making it hard for you to breathe again whilst your heart was radiating an excruciating pain throughout your body, “they can’t hurt me anymore, n-not whilst-.. not whilst you’re here with me.”

You would then take a moment to recompose yourself whilst Barbra would begin to feel warm and fuzzy again, smiling faintly down at the ground; she was glad to hear that she made you feel safe, as well as stronger than you were, before, but also hoped subconsciously that you knew you were stronger without her, too; that she wasn’t the one making you powerful, something you could never bring yourself to believe; you were nothing, without her, and of that fact you were certain.

“You’re right,” she agreed confidently, “because there’s no way in hell that I’m ever gonna let them hurt you again; I love you, Y/n, and that’s also why I’m not gonna let you make your way here by yourself - see you in a bit!” And that was it - before you could protest, she had hung up, and was rushing back toward Gloria, Sasha, and Bailey to ask Gloria if she could borrow her car to pick you up outside of the hospital, to which she simply answered ‘of course’ whilst giving her the keys, and before she could say anything else, Barbra would exasperatedly respond with a hasty ‘thank you’, and then run back toward the entrance of the park which led out into the car park, and finally to Gloria’s car.

“Dang it,” you mustered in a voice close to a whisper; you worried about how she might react finding you in this state, the thought prompting you to hastily brush away your tears, knowing that you should - to avoid upsetting or disappointing her any further - stay and wait for her, and this was exactly what you did.

🜚

As soon as your gaze had fallen upon her, you would briefly forget how to breathe, your heart racing overwhelmingly whilst you admired her, and she would beam over at you as soon as she’d noticed you after parking Gloria’s car within one of the side roads opposite the hospital building. You would then smile lovingly back at her, before rushing to meet the embrace she longed to give you, and as soon as you’d both got close enough to one another, you would cling to each other, and hold one another close to the point that there were blissfully no more gaps left between you.

More tears soon found themselves invading your eyes whilst you rubbed her back using your right hand, beginning to feel guilty again for how you planned to try and lie about what the doctor had told you almost an hour ago, now, but you would try and remind yourself that you were doing it to try and protect her, except this reminder wouldn’t stop the tears from slowly rolling down your cheeks whilst you buried your face into her left shoulder, trying desperately not to break down again as you knew she’d be able to tell that something was wrong, if you did.

“Y-You know - I was just thinking about you,” you mustered, your voice briefly trembling, and muffled against her shoulder whilst she smiled softly down at you, and would lift her right hand to play with your hair, soothing you instantly whilst you revelled in the feeling, and revelled in currently being so close to her like you were, now.

“Really?” Barbra replied, as if she were surprised, and you would nod hastily, before shyly glancing up at her after you’d quickly wiped your sore eyes again, and she would falter when she noticed them; you’d been crying for a while - this was what she now knew. “That’s crazy,” she remarked, before subconsciously connecting her forehead to your’s affectionately, allowing you both to lock eyes again in the best way possible, amazed by one another as you both found you couldn’t speak without stammering, for a moment, whilst you admired each other. “‘Cause I was just thinking about you, too,” she remarked, prompting you to giggle softly whilst she tried to hide that her previous discovery of your sore eyes was paining her, forcing a faint giggle alongside your’s; she couldn’t believe she’d let you talk her out of going with you, earlier, and wished she hadn’t, now; wished she could have been here to comfort you throughout your session, and after it as she could tell that something had gone a certain way to make you react the way you had; make you cry, and panic like you evidently had been, before she had arrived. “The whole way here I was,” she added, and you would lift your eyebrows whilst smirking over at her, flustering, as well as paying her a little as she didn’t like to see that you were trying to hide your pain from her, “how could I not when you’re honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me?”

You would then falter, appearing flustered, yourself, now, alongside her, whilst blood rushed to your cheeks, and she would grin over at you, finding your reaction adorable. “T-The best?” You mused, and she would nod hastily, certain of herself whilst she held you at arm’s length, and was beaming over at you again. “But-”

“N-No - don’t, babe; no buts are allowed - you’ll never be able to change my mind,” she interjected gently, and you would nod gravely whilst you smiled weakly up at her, prompting her heart to sink a little; she hated seeing you like this, like you had been the day she’d first met you; you’d appeared as if you were broken, weak, and had lost everything whilst you tried to collect the spillage of pills and paper from your bag, and she couldn’t bear it; couldn’t allow you to go on suffering like you were whilst she timidly walked up to you in the car park outside of the Gynaecologists’ office, and would falter as soon as she’d got a little closer to you - you had looked back at her, and your eyes would instantly lock with her’s for an unusual amount of time, until she winced, realising she’d been staring over at you for a while, now, and would smile softly, prompting your heart to instantly skip a beat whilst you shyly smiled back at her though you were crouched over the mess that was your bag, paper, and pill bottles on the ground. “Hey,” she cooed gently whilst she eased you closer to her, and would connect her forehead to your’s again, wishing she could do more for you, somehow, “I love you, a-and I always will, I promise; you’re always gonna be everything to me - you just have to learn to live with it, somehow.”

“Learn to live with how I’m basically nothing, compared to you? That someone as perfect as you is in love with a nobody like me? How?” You questioned, and Barbra would frown again whilst her heart would ache excruciatingly alongside your’s. “That’s too hard to do - especially whenever you decide to do these random nice things for me, and remind me of how you deserve so much better; I can’t make you happy-”

“But you do,” she contradicted, “just you being here with me, a-and loving me the way I love you makes me the happiest woman on the planet, I swear-”

“Stop lying to me, Barb-”

“I’m not-”

“C-Can we go home, now?” You requested, your voice close to a whisper, and briefly trembling whilst she found herself trying not to cry alongside you, wondering what and how long it would take for her to prove to you that you were more than good enough for her; that she could only ever want, and love you - nobody else.

She would smile warmly back at you whilst she nodded, not wanting to upset you any further, especially after your appointment, and the reminder would prompt her to falter a little; you’d not yet told her about what had happened, but she would try not to ask until you’d both got to Gloria’s car, no matter how hard it was not to as she constantly found herself wishing she could blurt out the question which would either confirm, or put down her fears - were you going to be okay; getting better, even? The thought of you possibly being worse would prompt her blood to begin running cold; she couldn’t imagine her life without you in it, and was terrified of losing you, like you - too - were terrified of losing her; you both seemed to complete one another somehow, and you revelled in it, when you weren’t finding yourself thinking about how you weren’t good enough for her, and would never be able to keep her happy with you for forever.

“Of course we can,” she answered, and you would express relief, relaxing within her embrace even further, prompting her smile to grow a little; she was glad to see that you felt better, now, “but f-first just - let me-..” She would then grow flustered, prompting you to subconsciously smirk up at her, finding her reaction adorable. “Y-Y’know-..” She added faintly, and you would nod, before wrapping your arms around her waist again, easing her closer to the point your face was inches from her’s in the best way possible.

“You can kiss me,” you reassured her, and she would wince, before hastily lowering her head a little to try and hide the fact that she had begun to blush, “how do you do it? B-Be as adorable as you always are every day?”

“I should be asking you the same question,” she managed, before beaming back up at you, and affectionately booping the tip of your nose with her’s, “like I said yesterday, you’ll never be able to convince me that you aren’t the more adorable one here.”

She would then - before you could protest - lean forward to delicately connect her lips to your’s, prompting you to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you forgot how to breathe for a moment, and forgot even how to think, forgetting what you’d been about to say before she had kissed you whilst your heart blissfully raced alongside her’s. “I love you so much,” you blurted out once the kiss had sadly ended, your right hand resting on her left cheek whilst you connected your forehead to her’s, wishing you could both stay like this forever, “a-and I always will, I promise, just-.. p-promise me something.”

“Anything,” she replied, and you would smile lovingly over at her again, “because I love you, too, Snuggles, and I would honestly do anything for you.”

You would try not to appear surprised whilst beginning to feel warm and fuzzy alongside her, your eyes glinting a little upon them locking with her’s again in the best way possible. “I - I would do anything for you, too,” you mustered, whilst you began to wonder what you had done to deserve her yet again, prompting your heart to ache even more, but you would try and hide that it was paining you as you didn’t want to upset her any further than you could tell you already had, “just-.. p-promise me you’ll-.. you’ll stay, b-because I-.. I honestly can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

She would smile warmly over at you again whilst she began to play with your hair using her right hand, soothing you even more, somehow, whilst you subconsciously let your head lean into her warm and soft touch. “Why wouldn’t I stay? I’m happiest only when I’m with you,” she reminded you, and you couldn’t help, but doubt that, though you hated yourself for doing so; hated that you thought she could never feel that way around you when that was all that you had ever wanted to do; you’d always wanted to make her happy, and to treat her like the princess you viewed her, and always would view her to be. “I love you, Snuggles, and I promise you’re never gonna have to try and live without me because I can’t imagine my life without you in it, either, a-and I don’t ever want to have to try, s-so-.. you’re never gonna lose me, ever - it’s me and you against the world, babe, and that’s never gonna change, o-okay? Ever - you trust me, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” you expressed, and she would express relief, glad that still trusted her as sometimes she feared you didn’t whenever you tried to hide things like what your family or ex had done to you, and also tried to hide from her anything about your recent drinking habits that you had been trying to partake in ‘secretly’, and were still unaware of her knowledge of them, “why wouldn’t I? You’re the best part of me, Barbie; you have been ever since I first met you.”

She would beam even more widely over at you upon hearing this, flattered, as well as a little flustered as she never had thought before that anyone would ever think of her the way that you did, and always would; your feelings for her were incapable of changing, unless they were growing stronger like they had been every day since you’d first met her in the car park outside of the Gynaecologists’ office a few months or so ago, now. “I’m glad,” she mustered, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did; her heart was racing overwhelmingly alongside your’s, and she was trying to fight back the small tears which had managed to invade her stunning icu blue eyes, worrying you; you feared that you had upset her somehow, and cursed yourself for it, “I’m sorry, I - I don’t know why I’m crying, I-..”

“I always find a way to upset you,” you mused dejectedly, and Barbra would then hastily shake her head, before holding both of your hands in her’s, soothing you whilst you glanced up at her, your eyes soon beginning to glisten alongside her’s, prompting her heart to sink; it pained her to see you trying not to cry like you were, now.

“You never upset me, baby, I promise; these are just happy tears,” she reassured you gently, and you would realise, appearing embarrassed as well as relieved, and glad to hear that she was happy again, though you still doubted it was you who had managed to make her happy like she was, now, as if you’d not recently managed to upset her again due to you putting yourself down in front of her like you had been ever since you’d first met her, and fallen deeply in love with her, “n-nothing more than that, I swear - I just-.. I’m not used to being treated as good as you treat me; it’s all new.”

“D-Don’t worry; it’s all new to me, too,” you admitted, and she would smile sadly over at you; she doubted Jack would ever treat you as if you were special, and her heart would sink to think about the ways he had abused you, before you’d fled from him and your family, and found her and the others, “and I love it, b-but I could never love anything more than I love you, Barb.” She would then wrap her arms around your waist again to ease you closer once more, allowing her to shyly connect her lips to your’s affectionately whilst you returned the embrace, and instantly melted into the kiss, clinging to her shoulders for stability as you still felt quite weak like you usually did, now, your skin growing to be somehow a little more paler than it had before, recently, another thing she couldn’t bear to see happening to you as it - alongside her catching you drinking occasionally - suggested to her that your health was only growing to be worse. Barbra had also recently noticed a slight yellowy complexion tainting your currently quite pale one, and was terrified by it though she wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

Once the kiss had sadly come to an end, she would connect her forehead to your’s, before giggling breathlessly alongside you whilst her eyes locked with your’s again in the best way possible, allowing you to both subconsciously admire one another occasionally between locking gazes, and quite profusely blushing in response to each other’s actions whenever you both got caught doing so, something which obviously happened frequently as you were close to one another, and offering each other completely undivided attention as you both only desired in this moment to get lost in one another completely, somehow. “S-So,” Barbra began timidly, “would you wanna go home now, or go and meet the others at the park?”

“Is the park quite busy, a-at this time? I just get a feeling that a few people don’t like me, here,” you expressed quietly, your voice briefly trembling whilst you did, and Barbra would falter, a pained expression on her face; she couldn’t believe you’d think something like that, “j-just the neighbours, really - they-.. obviously disapprove of me being Bailey’s mother because of the alcohol poisoning, but-”

“Don’t worry about them,” she cooed, trying to provide comfort to you whilst she rubbed your back using her right hand, and playfully booped the tip of your nose with the tip of her’s, “besides - they’ll get off our backs soon, right? I - I assume your doctor gave you good news, d-didn’t she?”

She would then wince; the question had just slipped out whilst you faltered, and would quickly try and recompose yourself as you were afraid of her finding out that things hadn’t improved, at all; afraid of her realising that you had still been drinking behind her back, and had basically broken your recent promise that you had made her, vowing to her that you would stop drinking, and get better for her and Bailey. “Y-Yeah, it was-.. it was good news,” you answered quite unconvincingly, and Barbra would try and fight back a frown whilst tears longed to escape her again, and her heart ached excruciatingly alongside your’s; she was terrified again that she might end up losing you, still, but wouldn’t dare question you any further as she didn’t want to upset you or worry you anymore than you evidently had been, recently, with your ex abusive family and Jack still threatening you, and your not-so-secret now bouts of drinking behind her back. “She said I’ll be better for you, soon,” you stated, and she would force a smile over at you whilst she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, prompting you to instantly melt into her touch, “I can’t wait.”

“N-Neither can I,” she mustered, trying hard not to let her voice shake as she feared upsetting you by doing so, not wanting you to realise that she knew you had been continuing to drink quite heavily recently, finding she couldn’t blame you for doing so after everything that had happened with your family recently; she knew she probably would have ended up doing the same thing, if she were in your situation, “b-babe, can-.. can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can,” you answered, and she would hesitate, before shaking her head, not wanting to upset you, or worry you, so she would try and hold the question back, she just wished, or hoped against hope that you knew you could talk to her about anything, and that you could always come to her if you needed her, especially if it meant that by doing so you wouldn’t go out drinking again, and further fuel your alcohol poisoning, making yourself even worse, “w-what is it, Barbie? You can ask me anything, y-you know that, right?”

“I know,” she reassured you hastily, not wanting you to think that she didn’t, “s-sorry, Snuggles, I just-.. I forgot it; I’ll try and remember it later, don’t worry.”

“Take your time,” you cooed, before timidly connecting your lips to her’s, and she would smile warmly against your lips whilst she did, “I love you, d-don’t ever forget that, okay?”

“Never; I - I never could, n-not that I’d ever want to,” she answered, “I promise - now - we better get back to the others, before they start thinking we’ve gone missing or are-.. e-er-.. you know.”

You would lift your eyebrows, before smirking over at her, and intertwining the fingers of your right hand with the fingers of her left whilst she began to blush again, and would giggle softly whilst she tried to hide this fact from you whilst her heart raced blissfully alongside your’s. “Would you want to be doing that?” You teased, and she would grow further flustered, before beginning to stammer whilst she tried to respond, and found she then couldn’t; she still wasn’t used to it, and you loved it; revelled in the effect you somehow had on her, and couldn’t believe you did at the same time. “Because I’m up for it as long as you are,” you continued, and she would return the smirk, before leaning forward to kiss you a little more passionately, prompting your heart to skip a beat, before it began to pound more overwhelmingly within your chest as if it were trying to escape, and jump out into her arms so it could be closer to her own heart, longing to be attached to it.

“Later, baby, I promise,” she reassured you, and you would grin over at her, before nodding, evidently elated and anticipating the night to come for you both, “so - s-shall we?”

“We shall,” you cooed, and she would walk you slowly to the car whilst you both never let go of one another’s hands the whole way, finding you didn’t want to disconnect from each other, only briefly doing so until you’d got into the car, and Barbra had quickly begun to hold your hand again, before begrudgingly letting go of it once she’d started the car, and begun the drive back to the park though you’d rather both go on holding each other’s hands, making sure you both were as close to one another as you possibly could be, with you resting your head on her left shoulder, and her occasionally - whenever she could at a red light - resting her head upon your own, wishing you could both stay like this forever.

🜸🜚🜸

Like you both had been in the car, you would stick to one another’s sides also whenever you went to the Primroses bar you were still somehow working at; your boss had not yet fired you for your excessive drinking for a reason unbeknownst to you, and luckily enough he made sure not to bring the subject up in front of Barbra, though she already knew, obviously also a current fact unknown to you as she still hadn’t yet confronted you about it, finding she couldn’t as she feared upsetting you or worrying you any further than you had been, recently, with everything going on with Jack and your abusive family threatening you the way they had been, recently.

“D-Do you want another drink?” You asked, and Barbra would think about it for a moment, before subconsciously holding your right hand in her left one, prompting you to smile lovingly over at her subconsciously whilst you began to feel warm and fuzzy alongside her; you loved how perfect it felt to have your hand fitting together in the best way possible with her’s, as if you really had been made for one another.

“Only if you’re having one, Snuggles,” she answered, and you would shrug, before nodding.

“Sure,” you replied, before making to get up, surprising her; she didn’t want you to feel as if you had to do everything for her, when that was something you loved doing; you felt as if you had been made to serve her, after all, “I’ll be right back-”

“Wait, b-babe, you - you don’t need to get them; I could get them for us, if you want me to?” She suggested, and you would frown, before shaking your head, and wrapping your arms around her, prompting her to instantly melt into your embrace whilst she returned it, hoping you weren’t about to put yourself down again, somehow.

“You’ve already bought too much for me, Barb,” you answered, and she would appear disappointed, evidently wanting to do more for you, somehow, “allow me to spoil you, now, because I live to spoil you-”

“But I live to spoil you, too,” she whined, and you couldn’t help, but giggle, amused by her reaction, “please just let me at least come with you; I hate being away from you.”

“I hate being away from you, too, and that’s why I’m gonna be speedy, I promise,” you tried to reassure her, lifting your right hand up to her left cheek, prompting her to subconsciously lean into your touch whilst her eyes locked with your’s in the best way possible, prompting you to stammer, before falling quiet for a moment whilst you admired her, even finding yourself forgetting how to breathe again whilst she smirked up at you; you had begun to blush quite quickly, and she evidently loved the effect she had on you, “d-don’t worry. G-God, I’m sorry, I love you so much I just have to-” You would then cut yourself off, leaning forward to delicately connect your lips to her’s, and she would instantly melt into the kiss whilst she eased your body closer to her’s, wanting to close the remaining gaps between you both to the best of her ability like you did, too.

Once the kiss had sadly ended, she would smirk up at you whilst holding you at arm’s length, and you would giggle breathlessly, her soon joining you; she couldn’t help, but be amused and a little flustered after you’d kissed her like that, and hoped you would soon do it again. “I love you, too,” she returned, and your smile would then grow even more somehow, scaring you a bit; you’d never felt this way for anyone before, and it was overwhelming, but she always managed to stabilise you, somehow, making you feel safe and more content than you had ever been before, and she would beam up at you upon noticing that your eyes had begun to glint a little whilst you couldn’t help, but stare into her own, fascinated by her, “you’re adorable, you - you know that, right?”

“Not as adorable as you,” you answered, and she would make to protest, before you connected your lips to her’s again, and a little more deeply kissed her, prompting her to forget instantly what she had been about to say, and you would grin back at her after begrudgingly pulling away before you could both run out of breath and suffocate one another. “Be back in a sec,” you stated whilst she longingly watched you, silently begging for you to come back, and you would smirk over at her again, “and then we’ll be able to continue where we left off just now, I promise.” You would then wink clumsily, prompting her to burst out laughing, flustering you a little whilst you giggled alongside her, and would drag yourself away from the table though your heart was cursing you for leaving her side; it longed to be as close to her as it possibly could be, and so did you; you just wanted to do all you could to try and repay her for making you happier than you’d ever been, before, by doing everything you possibly could for her, even if that meant dying for her; you knew you would try, if it ever came to her life being directly threatened, and knew you would also try if it meant that she would be safe as a result of you attempting to take your own life - you would do anything for her, even try and sober up for her, but you were only still drinking because you doubted that you’d ever be able to keep her happy, and knew that she’d be able to then someone better than you for her much easier and faster if you were out of the picture, no matter how much the idea pained you whenever you were reminded of it.

Whilst you were getting a coke for both you and her, no intention to try and drink any alcohol in front of her to avoid upsetting her, she would be surprised to find a woman she didn’t recognise looking over at her, and she would awkwardly smile, before lowering her gaze, and trying to distract herself by fidgeting with her hands whilst the woman approached the table, seeing that you were still waiting at the bar; it was quite busy today, and there were a few people waiting ahead of you.

“I notice you here all the time,” the woman stated, and Barbra would appear surprised, timidly glancing up at her whilst she leaned against the table, smirking.

“Really?” She asked, and the woman would nod whilst Barbra nervously looked toward the bar, silently begging you to come back; she wasn’t often good in situations like these, especially when she was worried that maybe you would get jealous if you saw her talking to another woman like you often did, terrified of losing her like she was scared of losing you, too, though you often found yourself thinking about how she would be better off without you, and hoped that your life would soon be taken by the alcohol you had been drinking a lot more recently, allowing her to finally try and find someone better than you, though she - unbeknownst to you - felt as if she could never love anyone else as much as she loved, and would always love you, feeling as if she couldn’t live without you, and couldn’t imagine her life without you in it as her forever soulmate.

“My name’s Hannah,” she introduced, and Barbra would manage a faint smile up at her, though she wasn’t sure why she was being more awkward than usual; it was simply because she feared you witnessing and making assumptions that would result in you drinking even more, and getting even worse, a thought which would set her further on edge, recalling how she’d heard one time that alcohol poisoning could be fatal, and she couldn’t imagine how much pain she would be in if she ever managed to lose you, and knew she would never be able to forgive herself if she did, making her feel worse about the fact that she hadn’t yet confronted you about your ‘secret’ drinking sessions that she had witnessed a few times without your knowledge, now, afraid of upsetting you or worrying you any further than you had been by doing so, recently, as she knew that her confronting you would also most likely make you drink more, something she couldn’t let happen, and knew she’d need to avoid to keep you with her. “What’s your name? Or should I just call you pretty girl?” Hannah continued, and Barbra would appear taken aback, not expecting that.

“N-No, that’s okay,” she answered, avoiding eye contact with Hannah to the best of her ability; she was worried about Hannah maybe being unintentionally misled by her, and knew she’d have to try and shut her down without hurting her, somehow; she’d evidently not seen her and you together a brief moment ago, now, “but thanks - my name is Barbra, and it’s nice to meet you - wanna be friends?”

“Friends? Sure,” Hannah answered whilst grinning over at Barbra, “hey - do you know what friends with benefits are?”

Barbra would appear confused, looking up at Hannah with a puzzled expression on her face; she’d never heard that phrase before. “No,” she admitted quietly, a little embarrassed, as well as nervous as whatever was going on felt wrong to her; she felt as if this was something, or a discussion that she should instead be having with you, and not anyone else, but she couldn’t imagine why as it seemed to be at least relatively normal to her, given that she’d never heard the phrase ‘friends with benefits’ before in her whole life. “W-What does it mean?” She inquired, and Hannah would appear surprised; she thought Barbra would know about it as many people seemed to.

“I’ll tell you, unless you’d want me to show you?” Hannah offered whilst smirking over at Barbra again, and she would tilt her head partially, wondering why she was currently sporting an expression like that; an expression like the one you would put on whenever you were both about to fool around together, or about to try and tease and tickle one another whilst you were cuddled up on the sofa watching a film together whilst the others were out, or in bed upstairs, worrying her even more, and even panicking her a little as she considered joining you at the bar, not wanting to be away from you any longer than she now had been.

“I - I don’t know; I’d rather you just tell me,” she answered, and Hannah would lift her right eyebrow, before nodding, and smiling sheepishly over at her.

“I’ll tell you if you go into the bathroom, ‘cause guess what? If you do it, I’ll do it, and nobody’ll bother us whilst I’m trying to explain it to you,” Hannah stated, and Barbra would appear restless whilst she looked over at the bar again only to find that you were still stuck in the queue, and she would fight back a sigh, hoping it wouldn’t take long as she didn’t want you to worry about her like she was sure you would if you found that she was gone all of a sudden, especially after all the threats you had been receiving from Jack and your family; she didn’t want you to think that she had been attacked, or taken away by them somehow as she knew it would panic you, and prompt you to blame yourself for whatever had happened whilst you frantically searched for her, and this was exactly what happened after Barbra had replied ‘sure’, and walked into the woman’s toilets with Hannah who grinned whilst she followed behind her, anticipating what she planned to try and do with Barbra, still unaware - obviously - of you being her girlfriend, and just outside, about to order your and Barbra’s glasses of coke.

🜚

As soon as you had noticed that Barbra was no longer sat at the table, the glasses would slip from your hands, and you would frantically look around, desperate to find her, and you weren’t even perturbed by the sound of the glasses shattering in front of you whilst you recalled the last text message Jack had sent you: ‘you better try and protect your blonde ‘friend’ if you really wanna spend the rest of your pathetic life with her’, panicking you; you feared that maybe Jack had managed to strike whilst you were stuck at the bar, a pained expression on your face whilst the others around you complained and stared after you’d dropped the glasses on the floor.

“What the hell, Y/n,” your boss spat behind you, and you would falter, trying not to break down whilst you turned to face him, tears invading your eyes whilst a lump formed in your throat, and your heart would ache excruciatingly; you’d never be able to forgive yourself if she had been taken by Jack, “your behaviour gets worse every day-”

“Did you see her leave?” You inquired shakily, and your boss would appear puzzled for a moment, wondering what had prompted you to begin acting like this whilst he also wondered if you had been drinking, again, before you’d arrived with Barbra.

“Who-?” He questioned, and you would grunt, impatient as you were desperate to find her, and make sure that she was okay; you couldn’t live without her, and the possibility of never seeing her again all of a sudden was excruciating, making you feel numb and empty all over again whilst it felt as if your insides were collapsing in on themselves to accompany the sensation of your heart shattering into tiny little pieces.

“Barbra!” You cried, and he would wince, realising. “Who else?” You hissed, frustrated, and further panicked by his demeanour of uncertainty, suggesting to you that he hadn’t seen her leaving the building, but at the same time it relieved you because his reaction was also implying that she was still inside, somewhere, and not far; it was quite a small building, so it would be easier to find her than it would be to try and locate her out on the streets.

“No, I didn’t see her, sorry, but-”

“I’m gonna check the women’s toilets,” you interrupted, before rushing away from him, infuriating him even further.

“You better pay for those glasses, Y/n!” He called after you, before dragging himself back to the booth he had previously been sitting within in one of the corners of the room whilst you rushed into the toilet, and would be shocked to find Barbra and another woman kissing, before Barbra would hastily pull away, and look over at you, a pained expression on her face whilst she blurted out the words: ‘it’s not what it looks like’, desperate to keep you with her as she’d never intended for it to happen, and wanted to relieve you of the pain she could see that you were in, and also of the pain that she, too, was in, as a result of being aware of the pain she’d caused you - something she hated doing whether it was intentional, or unintentional.

🜸

Before you had entered the room, Barbra had been finding herself backing away occasionally from Hannah whilst she explained to her what she had previously meant by the phrase: ‘friends with benefits’, and she would falter once she realised what Hannah had been hoping to do with her; had been hoping to become with her. “I’m - I’m sorry, Hannah, but I can’t-”

“You can’t? Why not?” She whined, evidently disappointed whilst Barbra would have to back away again; Hannah had inched even closer, seemingly still hopeful that Barbra might agree to her proposition. “Wow,” she mused before Barbra could explain herself, and would then lift her right hand up to Barbra’s left cheek, prompting her to tense up; it felt so wrong, and she hated it, wishing she had instead joined you at the bar though you had insisted upon going by yourself; this wouldn’t have happened, if she had, and she would curse herself for it, feeling as if she were betraying you for deciding to even allow Hannah to explain the phrase to her. “You’re really something magical up close, aren’t you?” She continued, whilst admiring Barbra’s facial features which were currently expressing pain, sadness, and fear.

“H-Hannah, please, don’t; I - I don’t wanna push you and hurt you-”

“Don’t worry - I’m gonna be gentle,” Hannah cooed, before leaning forward to connect her lips to Barbra’s soft ones, and you would then rush into the room, faltering when you noticed them together, and Barbra would hastily manage to pull out of the kiss, meandering around Hannah whilst she was startled by your entrance, and as soon as Barbra had noticed you, she would falter, her heart sinking and aching excruciatingly alongside your’s whilst you appeared to be trying not to break down, your eyes glistening, accompanying the shattered look on your face; you’d not felt this broken and empty since your family had begun to abuse you, gaslight you, and belittle you.

“Barb,” you whispered shakily, “w-who is-..?”

A strained sob would then manage to escape your lips; you couldn’t hold it back anymore, and Barbra would falter, feeling even worse; she hated seeing you like this, and cursed herself for allowing it to happen again.

“It’s - It’s not what it looks like, baby, I swear,” she began feebly, “I-”

“Wait - ‘baby’? Are you guys together?” Hannah interjected, appearing bewildered whilst Barbra would nod hastily, her gaze never straying from you, even whilst she mustered up a verbal answer to Hannah’s question.

“T-That’s what I was trying to tell you, Hannah,” she stated, before returning her focus back onto you, “Y/n, I - I’m so-”

“No, Barbie,” you managed, your voice barely audible whilst you tried, and failed to stop it from trembling, surprising her; you didn’t want her to feel as if she had to apologise, especially when you believed yourself to not be enough for her, and believed that you should be happy for her, assuming she’d already found someone better than you as you were sure that Hannah, as well as every other woman was prettier than you, and more perfect than you could ever be with Barbra being the most perfect in your eyes, “d-don’t apologise, okay? I get it - you-.. you deserve better than me; I’ve known that since I first met you, a-and fell in love with you, and finding the right person for you isn’t your fault, I promise, a-and I swear I’ll be, and am happy for you, no matter what you decide-”

“But-”

“I’ll see you back at home, o-okay?” You concluded in a strained manner as if you were struggling to hold yourself together even more, now, before dragging yourself toward the door whilst tears began to stream down your cheeks, and heart would ache overwhelmingly as if it were still in it’s place, and hadn’t shattered like you hoped it would - something that would most likely end your life if your heart being physically shattered was possible.

“No,” Barbra whined, making to rush after you; she couldn’t let you leave thinking that she no longer loved you, knowing that she could lose you, if she did, and that was something she’d never be able to forgive herself for; never be able to live with as she couldn’t ever stop loving you the way she did, always had, and always would, “d-don’t go, babe, please, I-”

She would then manage to gently catch your left arm in her right hand, and you would stop, no intention to break free from her hold as you didn’t want to hurt her by attempting to do so, and enjoyed how it made you feel to be making contact with her, instead quickly wiping away your tears to the best of your ability, before glancing up at her, and immediately locking eyes with her in the best way possible, allowing you to see that she had begun to cry alongside you, prompting you to falter, and a hurt look to cross your face; you hated seeing her upset, especially when you believed you had been made to do all you could to make her happy - something you were evidently failing consistently at doing, making you feel even more worthless and as if she and the others would be better off without you entirely again; that maybe if you simply disappeared, they would all forget about you, and be happy again like you assumed they must have been before you’d stumbled into each of their lives after fleeing from your abusive ex, Jack, and abusive family.

“I just-.. n-need some time to think about things, I guess,” you explained, and Barbra would fall quiet, before nodding gravely, and bowing her head whilst she sniffled quietly, and you couldn’t help, but think about how you wished you could hold her close to you, and kiss her delicately to try and provide comfort to her, feeling as if you didn’t deserve to; that someone of little worth like you didn’t deserve to make contact of any kind with someone as perfect as her, no matter how much you longed to, and had ever since you’d first met her, and fallen deeply in love with her in the car park outside of the Gynaecologists’ office building. “J-Just for a little while, I promise,” you added hastily to try and reassure her, but that wouldn’t ease her pain at all; it was still excruciating, especially whilst she was finding herself panicking over what might happen if she let go of you, and found that she would then never see you again; she couldn’t imagine her life without you in it, and was certain that she wouldn’t be able to go on living if you were no longer by her side, getting her through the day simply with one of your smiles, and the added bonus of the moments in which you snuggled up together on the sofa or in bed, shared a few either delicate or passionate kisses, possibly fooled around, and fell asleep within one another’s arms only to blissfully wake up still holding each other close in the morning.

The thought of having to wake up to an empty space beside her like she had, before she’d finally got together with you, only disheartened her, and filled her to the brim with an emptiness she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with, or ever see through unless you were with her, stuck to her side the way she hoped you always would be with every passing day she found herself alive, or even dead as she had often hoped - also - that she would be able to spend her life with you wherever she might find herself in the afterlife.

“Just-.. Just promise me that I won’t lose you; that you know I love you, and always will-”

You would draw in a shaky breath, before averting your gaze down to the ground; you hated yourself for doubting that she still wanted you, when she did; hated yourself for thinking that she was lying to you, when lying to you wasn’t something she had ever intended to do; something she felt was impossible for her to do, especially to you. “Barb-”

“Please, baby,” she begged, holding you at arm’s length whilst her now sore eyes pleaded with your’s; she couldn’t bear to think that you no longer believed that she felt the same way for you, like you had doubted she did, before you’d both admitted your feelings for one another some time ago, now, when you had been appearing to be more broken than you ever had been, before, especially after she’d been using Jack - like Gloria had suggested her to do - to confirm that you loved her the way she loved you, and had since she’d first met you, and was more confident and certain than anything else that she always would; you would always be her soulmate, no matter what, like you believed she always would be your’s, too. “I - I need to know because it’s true - I love you, Y/n, m-more than anything; I always have, and always will, I promise; you’re everything to me, and nobody could ever be more to me than you are, I swear, just promise me you know that, a-and won’t disappear, please.”

“I love you so much, Barbie,” you managed weakly whilst you connected your forehead to her’s, more tears managing to leak from your eyes, only paining and reddening them even more somehow whilst your heart raced and ached overwhelmingly alongside her’s, “and I could never stop - I just.. want you to be happy, and feel like that’s something you could never be, with me-”

“What are you talking about? S-Snuggles, you - you’ve made me the happiest woman in the world just by being with me,” she cooed, “a-and nothing elates me more than the possibility of someday being able to call you my wife.”

You would appear surprised; you never thought she’d want to actually marry you, and couldn’t help, but begin to to feel warm and fuzzy inside, a soft smile playing on your lips whilst blood began to rush up to your cheeks. “You’d-.. actually want to marry someone like me?” You mused in a thoughtful voice close to a whisper, and she would smile lovingly back at you whilst she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, prompting you to instantly melt into her touch whilst Hannah felt bad for not checking if Barbra was single, first, before trying to make a move on her like she had.

“Not someone like you; I want to marry you, Y/n, only you,” she answered, and you would appear flustered for a moment; you evidently hadn’t been expecting that, “s-so-.. do you promise you’ll stay, a-and know that I love you?”

“I promise I’ll stay, a-and-.. that I know that I love you,” you replied, and she would express relief, glad, “a-and no matter what you decide to do I’ll never disappear, okay? Ever, u-unless you ever find yourself wanting me to, in which case I will; I’d do anything for you, Barb; a-anything to make you happy, no matter what happens, because nothing could ever stop you from being the love of my life.”

“Nothing will ever stop you from being the love of my life, either,” she returned, “s-so don’t ever worry about that happening, because it never will, and for the record - I could never want you to disappear; my future has always included you in it, ever since I first met you; you’re my soulmate, a-and that’s all I’m certain of, now.”

“So-.. t-the kiss didn’t mean anything, since I’m your soulmate?” You asked, evidently nervous, though you weren’t sure why considering you had been constantly telling yourself that you would be happy for her, if ever she found someone better than you for her.

“Nothing, I promise,” she answered, and you would subconsciously express relief, your eyes glinting a little whilst you wrapped your arms around her waist, prompting her to smile warmly over at you again whilst she admired you, and you would subconsciously find yourself admiring her again, “I didn’t even know it was going to happen when it did.”

“She’s right,” Hannah corroborated, “I’m sorry - I didn’t realise she had someone already; it was my bad - I mean, I was basically the one to kiss her; she didn’t kiss me - c-could we be friends, at least? All of us?”

You would hesitate, not sure as you were still fearful of possibly losing Barbra, somehow, but at the same time you felt bad for being so jealous, anxious, and possessive over her; you’d just never been so happy before, and didn’t want to lose the way you felt with her; didn’t want to lose her as she basically was your only reason to go on living the way you were, now; the only person who could ever keep your heart beating, and you loved her more than you could ever love anyone else, certainly more than you could ever love yourself.

“What do you think, babe?” Barbra inquired, and you would hesitate, looking between them both for a moment; you didn’t want to upset her, somehow, by politely turning Hannah down, though you feared that you would lose her regardless by not doing so, though she had already tried to reassure you that she’d never stop loving you - a fact she was more than certain of. “I don’t want to decide without you,” she clarified, and you would manage a faint smile, before nodding.

“I don’t mind her being our friend, a-as long as you don’t mind,” you claimed, to try and avoid upsetting or worrying her by telling her otherwise; you knew she’d worry that maybe you still doubted her feelings for you if you turned Hannah’s request downs, and didn’t want to upset her anymore than you were sure you already had a brief moment ago upon your discovery of Hannah kissing her, and your reaction to it.

Hannah would then hopefully look over at Barbra, who would then naturally smile, and nod; she was too sweet and innocent for this world, and you couldn’t believe she still wanted someone like you - an alcohol addict suffering from the after effects of her abuse by her family and Jack, and the fact that she was still being threatened by them, and unintentionally putting Barbra’s life on the line whilst doing so.

“I don’t mind, either,” she chimed, “looks like you’re our new friend, Hannah!”

“Cool!” Hannah replied, evidently glad; she’d been worried you both would reject her as she didn’t wanna have to be alone again; she’d been lonely, recently, and was sick of not having anyone to talk to.

You would then wince, beginning to feel numb and faint all of a sudden, and Barbra would appear worried whilst you leaned heavily against her, a pained expression on your face whilst you did as if something was paining you, prompting her heart to ache again as she hated seeing you like this, and wished she could do more for you to rid you of the alcohol poisoning that was currently still burdening you. “Baby-? A-Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Barbra asked, and you would shake your head gravely, before smiling faintly up at her to try and reassure her that you were okay; you didn’t want to further worry her after already doing so a brief moment ago, but despite your attempts to feign stability, she could see through it, and see that you were in pain, and exhausted, prompting her to decide that she should take you back home, as fast as she possibly could - your complexion was also worrying her; you were quite pale again, and were unusually burning up though you often were quite cold when you weren’t in a nauseous state.

“I’m okay, Barb, I - I promise, I just-.. n-need to sit down, or something, and then I’ll be right as rain again,” you claimed, but Barbra would doubt it, prompting her heart to sink again; she hated that she doubted that you would go back to normal after sitting down, disheartening her as she wanted more than anything for you to feel better, but at the same time knew it would never be that easy, no matter how much she wished it could be.

“I think you need a nap, Snuggles, not just a sit-down,” she expressed in a strained manner, and you would frown, a pained expression on your face whilst you glanced up at her, guessing that you’d managed to worry her yet again, making you feel guilty whilst your heart began to ache alongside her’s once more; you were sick of burdening her like this, and having her see you in this poor state, knowing she was being pained by it, and terrified by the possibility of your condition taking you away from her, though you weren’t sure why as you’d believed - ever since you had met her, and fallen in love with her - that she would be happy if you disappeared, allowing her to find someone better than you for her.

“You guys can go home, if you want?” Hannah suggested, and Barbra would express relief; she’d been worried that maybe Hannah would be disappointed if she stated that she believed you both should leave. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay here, because of me - especially when you’re feeling sick-”

“I don’t feel sick,” you claimed uncertainly, “I just.. it’s nothing, j-just a fever-like cold.”

“A fever-like cold?” Hannah mused, whilst wincing, and Barbra would appear upset again; she wished your condition was only a more minor thing like a cold, and not something fatal like alcohol poisoning could be, but she would try not to allow her thoughts to escape her lips, feeling as if it would be wrong to reveal your alcohol poisoning to her, especially not so soon after only just meeting Hannah, today. “That’s horrible - I hope you feel better, soon,” she stated, and you would force a smile over at her though you still felt partially conflicted over what had happened a few moments or so ago, now, “and I agree with Barbra, you should definitely get some rest.”

“I’ll try,” you replied, “and thank you.”

“Well - we better get back,” Barbra spoke up again, evidently desperate to get you home, and into bed before you could pass out on her, “meet you here again soon? Maybe on Wednesday when me and Y/n have to come back for her next evening shift?”

“Sounds good,” Hannah remarked, whilst you would try and hide your dejection and fear again; you’d always been looking forward to your shifts recently because it was often only you and Barbra alone together, and worried that things might not be the same if a third party was introduced; you loved to spend time with her, and her alone, finding you felt more content than you had ever been when it was only you and her spending time together, whether Bailey was with you both, or with Gloria’s mother; you found you often struggled to connect with Bailey because you rarely ever saw her anymore, and despised yourself for it, knowing that it was because of how the neighbours evidently disapproved of you looking after Bailey whilst being burdened and struggling with alcohol poisoning as a result of your unhealthy drinking habits recently. “See you then,” she concluded brightly, before leaving the room, and Barbra would then return her attention to you whilst she smiled warmly over at you, and would play with your hair using her right hand to try and provide comfort to you whilst she hooked her left arm around your waist to try and stabilise you further.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she cooed, puzzling me as well as flustering me - had she somehow managed to tap into my thoughts and concerns? “You’ll always have the most of my undivided attention,” she reassured you whilst you began to blush, stammering a little, prompting her to giggle, evidently amused by your reaction, “now - let’s head back, shall we? My princess needs her beauty sleep, and whatever she needs, I organise or get for her.”

“You’re too good to me,” you whined, and she would smirk over at you whilst she led you slowly out of the room, and toward the entrance of the Primroses building, “stop, I’m not worthy-”

“Hey,” she interjected playfully, “you’re more than worthy of what I do for you - don’t ever think otherwise, okay?”

You would then grin over at her, before raising your eyebrows a little, flustering her; she knew you were about to tease her, and would soon begin to blush even before your teasing had begun. “What would you do to me, if I did?” You inquired, and she would grin over at you, before lowering her voice to avoid being overheard by the tables and booths you were both passing by to her to the entrance.

“I’d punish you, of course,” she answered, and you would appear surprised; you hadn’t been expecting her to manage to say it, but were proud of her for doing so none the less, “that’s what you’d want to happen, right?”

“More than anything,” you replied, and she would grin over at you, before nodding, remarking ‘knew it’, and leading you out of the Primroses building so she could return back home with you, desperate to get you rested, and hopefully well again as fast as she possibly could as she didn’t want to have to see you in pain anymore, nor did she want to have to fear the possibility of her losing you as a result of your alcohol poisoning.

🜸🜚🜸

Although rest did seem to be helping you, most likely because you hadn’t been able to drink since that day with her making sure she rarely ever left your side, your current condition was still worrying her; your complexion was noticeably quite a bit yellower than it was, before, and she couldn’t bear to see it, fearing that it meant you were only getting worse, somehow, and she often panicked over how your new demeanour a few days after had changed, suggesting to her that she could easily still lose you if something wasn’t done by a doctor to help you. Little did she know that your doctor had suggested - if you experienced any changes suggesting liver failure - that you book another appointment and they’ll try and fit you in for a liver transplant, though you doubted it would make much difference; you couldn’t stop drinking, not when you still believed yourself to be a burden on everyone around you, especially Barbra who you wished would give up on you though you knew it would pain you more than anything to lose her.

Whilst you were thinking about the situation with a pained expression on your face, and glistening as well as sore eyes allowing excruciatingly more small tears to escape, you would subconsciously snuggle up closer to Barbra for comfort, finding you felt unstable and quite panicked all of a sudden, as if the reality of you possibly dying had finally hit you, and she would instantly begin to cradle you even closer to her in response to your action, her stunning icy blue eyes full of the worry she was holding for you.

“You okay-?” She inquired, her voice close to a whisper, and briefly trembling whilst you would try not to break down in front of her, burying your face into the crook of her neck whilst you sniffled barely audibly, prompting Barbra’s heart to ache excruciatingly alongside your’s whilst she lifted her right hand up to your hair to stroke it, knowing her doing this tended to soothe you, and you would revel in the feeling whilst you leaned your head back a bit against her hand whilst she found herself trying not to cry; she wished she could do more for you, somehow, but wasn’t sure how, yet, especially when you had lied to her, and told her that you were getting better a few days ago, now.

“B-Better than ever, like I always am whenever you’re here with me, Barbie,” you managed, but she could tell that you were still trying to appear as if you were stronger than you currently were in your condition to try and reassure her that you were okay, and truly were getting better like you claimed you were following your recent appointment with your doctor.

She would then bite down on her tongue a little subconsciously, not wanting to accidentally blurt out her suspicions, instead replying: ‘I’m glad’ gently to avoid upsetting or worrying you, somehow; she didn’t want to accidentally end up making things worse by confronting you, and possibly encouraging you to drink more than you had been, recently, behind her back no doubt to try and protect her feelings, and to ease her worry though she would rather have you be honest with her to prevent her getting lost and terrified in the dark over the situation. Your face would then contort a little whilst the pain within your abdomen grew to be more excruciating, prompting you to whimper in a strained manner as if you were trying to hide your pain from her - something next to impossible for you to achieve.

“Fuck,” you blurted out in a shaky whisper, soon beginning to feel faint and nauseous whilst Barbra was now rubbing your back with her right hand, tears streaming down her cheeks at the same time; she couldn’t take the pain of seeing you like this for much longer, of that fact she was certain, “I - I think - I think I should go to the bathroom-..”

You would then make to get up, and she would hastily follow after you, glad that she had when she found herself having to catch you before you could fall over, feeling much too weak to even stay up for very long. “B-Be careful, baby, please,” she begged weakly, and you would frown, a pained expression on your face whilst you glanced up at her, feeling guilty for having her see you like this, especially when you noticed that she had begun to cry alongside you, as if she - too - were in as much pain as you currently were - something you’d never intended to happen ever since you’d first met and fallen deeply in love with her, vowing to do all you could to try and make her happy, rather than sad and anxious like she appeared to be, now, whilst she held your currently trembling body close to her own protectively, as if you were about to fall again, or could disappear if she let go of you. “I’m gonna take you to the bathroom, okay? You can’t go by yourself like this,” she stated, and you would hesitantly give in, nodding gravely as you didn’t want to further upset or worry her by protesting against her decision whilst she slowly led you out of your and her bedroom, and into the bathroom next door.

🜚

Once you felt as if you had emptied your system of all that had been fighting to escape you, you would lean heavily against Barbra whilst a pained expression crossed your face, and she would wrap her arms around your waist again, before picking off a piece of toilet paper with her left hand, and wiping your mouth clean with it gently.

“Do you feel like that was the last of it, now?” She asked whilst she binned the piece of toilet paper, and would stroke your hair again with her right hand, and you would nod whilst you leaned into her touch subconsciously, wondering why she was still bothering with you, whilst you did, a thought that would prompt your heart to sink a little; you hated wasting her time, and knew that any time she spent with you was most likely more of a waste than anything else ever could be, making you feel even worse whilst small tears began to cloud your vision again, only to be delicately brushed away by the thumb of her right hand once they had managed to escape, and to begin trailing slowly down your cheeks. “Good,” she cooed, her voice soothing you instantly, and even managing to gradually ease your pain, “I’m glad - would you wanna lie down again whilst I go and get you a glass of water from downstairs?”

“You’re doing too much for me,” you answered, your voice a little raspier than before, and it would prompt her heart to sink a little whilst she shook her head gravely, a hurt look on her face, “I just.. need you by my side, B-Barb - nothing else, I promise.”

“I don’t mind doing what I do for you,” she reassured whilst you would shake your head, evidently desperate to protest, and to stop her from doing anything more for you, feeling as if you didn’t deserve anything else from her after all that had happened recently with you drinking behind her back, lying about your doctor’s appointment, and hiding the fact that you had been getting more threats from your ex, Jack and your family - your mother in particular; they had always been your main abusers, whilst your father was often out, abusing you - however - whenever he got the chance to do so upon his return back home from work. “Don’t ever think that I would, okay? I want to do all that I can to get you better again,” she continued, “that’s what I believe I was made to do, now, and have believed ever since I first met you, a-as well as to shower you with all my love for you, and that’s why I’m getting you a glass of water, babe, and you’re not gonna stop me, so don’t try, or I swear I’ll tickle you for the rest of the day until you hate me.”

“That’s a good idea, but - I could never hate you, Barbie,” you stated, flustering her a little whilst blood began to rush to her cheeks, and she began to feel warm and fuzzy alongside you, “I love you too much to ever hate you - you know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” she answered, and you would express relief as you had been worried that maybe she’d forgot, something she could never let herself do, unbeknownst to you, “d-do you? Know that I love you, and - and could never hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You replied, smiling faintly up at her whilst she smiled lovingly back down at you, her eyes glinting whilst they locked blissfully with your’s.

“Good,” she responded, “now - you won’t stop me from trying to get water, will you?” You would hesitate, before begrudgingly shaking your head, not wanting to upset her by protesting any further than you previously had, prompting her to beam down at you, evidently pleased by your response indicating your surrender. “Perfect,” she cooed, “I’ll carry you back into our room now-”

“Wait-”

“Or maybe you would rather me tickle you?” She suggested again, and you would wince, before hastily shaking your head, and she would giggle softly in response to your reaction, evidently finding it adorable as well as amusing. “So it’s settled,” she continued, “I’m gonna carry you back to bed, and then get you a glass of water - sound like a good plan, baby?”

“The best,” you managed, though you’d rather try and do everything yourself so she wouldn’t have to whilst she picked you carefully up off of the ground, finding it a little easier due to you being somewhat shorter than her, and you would subconsciously cling to her shoulders whilst you buried your face into her left shoulder, feeling quite faint all of a sudden, worrying her, but she would try and hold you even closer to further stabilise you whilst she slowly carried you back into your and her bedroom, and would then slowly lower you back onto the bed whilst you appeared to be drifting off to sleep again, barely any energy left within you after you’d been violently sick in the toilet.

Barbra would then find herself longing to not leave your side whilst you were in this state, tears slowly running down her cheeks whilst she lifted her left hand up to your surprisingly warm right cheek; she thought it would be cold, but because you’d been blushing whilst she carried you back into your and her bedroom, it was warm after blood had rushed up to it. “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” she cooed, and you would manage a weak smile up at her, before nodding, and briefly holding her free right hand in your left one, “I hate being away from you.”

“Then you can stay and tickle me, instead?” You suggested, and she would giggle a little shakily, before shaking her head, and connecting her forehead to your’s affectionately for a moment so she could admire you, and get lost within your eyes, soothing both herself and you instantly whilst you stared at one another, wondering what you’d both done to deserve someone as perfect as you believed each other to be.

“Nice try, babe, but - I’m getting you water, and that’s that,” she insisted, before delicately connecting her lips to your’s, and you would instantly melt into the kiss, appearing sad once it had ended, and she would grin down at you, “don’t worry - there’ll be more kisses for you once I get back, I promise - don’t move, o-or do anything stupid until I’m here with you again, okay?”

“I’ll try not to,” you stated, and Barbra would hesitate, before dragging herself over to the door though she’d rather, now, stay and make sure that you were okay, “I promise.”

“Good,” she replied, “see you in a bit.” She would then hastily leave the room, determined to only take a minute, or so, until she ran into Gloria who had just discovered the bottle of whiskey you’d unintentionally left under the table a few days ago, now, stalling her previous mission.

🜚

“What’s that-?” Barbra inquired, noticing the bottle in her hand, and Gloria would appear surprised by her sudden entrance, a pained expression on her face; she couldn’t believe you and Barbra were having to go through stuff like this, and hoped that you would find a way out of it, knowing that you both deserved much better, especially after she had heard about what your family and ex had done to you ever since you were quite young, evidently somewhat traumatising you and prompting you to turn to drinking to try and ease your pain, and trauma, something you were used to doing, now, as told to her by Barbra the first day she’d met you, surprisingly; you had seemed to open up to her instantly, as if you felt as if you could trust her, which you did, and were certain that you always would, and could never trust anyone else the way you did her.

“A-Are you sure you want to know?” Gloria asked, wanting to make sure, first, and Barbra would nod hastily, evidently desperate whilst fear crossed her face, and Gloria would hesitate, before nodding, and deciding Barbra should know. “Well-.. this is a bottle of Whiskey, and I think it’s new,” she revealed, and Barbra would falter, a hurt look on her face whilst she found her mind subconsciously racing to you, “it was under the table; I’m worried that maybe Y/n hid it, and was intending to go back to it once she felt she could.”

“But-..” Barbra began weakly whilst tears threatened to escape her eyes again, and Gloria would try not to feel bad for telling her, knowing that it was the right thing to do, though Barbra already knew that you had still been drinking for a little while, now. “She-.. She said she was getting better, why-.. why would she still be drinking?” She mused, and Gloria would frown, prompting Barbra to begin to realise that you must have been lying to her to try and protect her, again, meaning - then - that your condition was only getting worse, and that she could still lose you if you went on drinking the way that you had been, recently. “No,” Barbra whispered shakily, before making to rush up the stairs, and Gloria would sigh, before setting the bottle down on the table, wishing she could also do more to help you both as she felt useless just standing there the way that she was whilst you both were in pain together, not sure how to escape it, or to tackle it properly the way that you should to get out of it alive together, and not apart whether that meant you would end up being either killed by your alcohol poisoning or liver failure, or losing Barbra by separating with her, something you knew you’d never be able to live with, and that Barbra would never be able - either - to live with; you’d both only ever imagined your lives together, and she intended to try and get you to stop drinking, somehow, to keep you with her as she couldn’t imagine never being able to see you again, and knew she couldn’t let your condition get any worse than it was, now, as she stopped outside of your and her room for a moment, drew in a shaky breath, and then walked in.

🜚

As soon as she’d entered the room, you would sit up though it further pained your abdomen to do so, your eyes glinting whilst you admired her, faltering when you noticed the hurt look on her face, worrying you; you hated seeing her like this, especially when you knew it was because of you, somehow, when you’d only ever intended to try and make her happy, until she could find someone else who was better for her, and could make her happier more than you ever had somehow managed to.

“I forgot your water, sorry, I just-..” She murmured, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, before she bowed her head, staring down at the ground whilst her tears would manage to leak from her stunning icy blue eyes again, and you wouldn’t hesitate to try and get up to provide comfort to her; you couldn’t let her suffer like this without trying to help her, desperate to see her smile again, but she would step back before you could get any closer, prompting you to falter, and a hurt look to cross your own face whilst your heart began to ache excruciatingly alongside her’s. Though she felt bad for what she was doing, she knew that she should try to go on with it to try and get you to stop drinking for her, as well as your own sake.

“B-Barb, what’s-?” You would manage in a strained manner, before wincing, and leaning heavily against the wall whilst you began to cough, feeling weak again, and Barbra would falter, for a moment making to rush up to you to embrace you, and hold you close to her; it felt wrong to be this far away from you, especially whilst you were in this state, and could easily fall over and hurt yourself, but she knew she had to try and resist her temptation, no matter how much it pained her and you to do so, reminding herself that it would be worth it if you decided to stop drinking, and maybe even sought further treatment if you needed it, by the time she’d mustered up her confrontation.

“You’re getting worse, Y/n,” she stated weakly, and you would frown, before glancing up at her again whilst you silently begged her to come closer to you; to wrap her arms around you - you felt mentally quite unstable again, and were terrified, feeling as if you could only ever feel safe and content within her arms, or glued to her side. You, too, felt that the distance was wrong, and found the gap between you both to be excruciating; you hated being away from her, and you would soon then find yourself beginning to panic - what if this was the moment? Was she about to tell you that she didn’t want you anymore, and instead wanted Hannah? Your blood would run cold; you couldn’t picture it, but you still feared that this might happen, one day; she deserved so much better than you - you’d never be able to stop believing that, not after everything your family had made you believe about yourself; you could never see yourself as anything more than what you were, now - nothing. You believed - even - that you were worth less than a speck of dust - how could you be anything more? But before you could go on, she would speak up again when she felt able to do so. “You need to lie down,” she advised, “you’ll fall over, if you don’t-”

“But-”

“Please, baby,” she begged feebly, and you would falter again, your tears being instantly shocked out of your eyes whilst she broke down alongside you, her face contorting whilst she cried, and you couldn’t take it; hated it - you’d hurt her, yet again, and you hated yourself for it, “j-just-.. lie down, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You would then nod gravely, wiping away your tears before she could notice them as you didn’t want to further upset her by crying in front of her again whilst you dragged yourself back over to the bed, and would sit back down on it unstably whilst you looked up at her, begging her to tell you what was burdening her silently with your currently wide, still glistening, and sore eyes as you wanted to try and ease her pain for her to the best of your ability.

“B-Barbie, you.. you’re scaring me-”

She would appear shocked, before shaking her head hastily, and scoffing whilst you found yourself struggling to fight back the sobs currently longing to escape you; the whole situation felt wrong, and you couldn’t stand how painful it was - neither could she, unbeknownst to you - this was all new, and overwhelmingly painful to her as she’d never experienced anything like it before with anyone, only you.

“I’m scaring you? Y/n, you are scaring me,” she interjected, and you would frown, a pained expression on your face again whilst you appeared taken aback by her revelation; you’d never intended to scare her, and wondered what had happened whilst she was gone to prompt this reaction from her. She would then draw in another shaky breath, before lifting her right hand to her face to brush away as many of her tears as she possibly could; she wanted to try and stay strong for you, and wanted to make sure that she kept her composure in a situation like this which was crucial in terms of determining whether she would be able to spend her life - and afterlife - with you, or not, a thought which would prompt her heart to overwhelmingly skip a beat again - what if you didn’t agree to stop drinking? Would she ever see you again? The reminder of this possibility would prompt another strained sob to escape her, and with every sob you heard from her came a pang of what felt like a knife being stabbed into your already fragile heart.

“You’re-.. leaving me, aren’t you?” You uttered dejectedly, as if you were on the verge of losing everything, and felt empty.

Barbra would be taken aback by the question, a hurt look on her face, and though she longed more than anything to cry ‘no’; to hold you close to her whilst she cooed sweet nothings to you, she knew she couldn’t, and that would prompt her heart to somehow sink even further than it already had, only contributing to the excruciating pain she was experiencing as a result of seeing you like this, as if you were broken, and only being held together by a thin thread like you had appeared to be, before, the day she had first met you, and fallen deeply in love with you, as if she’d been attached to you as soon as her gaze had blissfully fallen upon you, and you to her as soon as you had first seen her stepping out of Gloria and her husband’s car outside of the Gynaecologist’s office, her presence seeming to fill you to the brim with a hope you had never experienced before; she’d so easily given you a new reason to live, and you couldn’t believe - now - that you were so close to losing it; so close to losing her; the only person who had ever truly made you feel special, loved, and as if you weren’t broken; a freak - no, you wouldn’t live without her; you couldn’t, and knew that the moment in which you believed you would eventually lose her no matter what - would be the very moment you planned your next attempt at suicide, even though you knew that you’d still be filled to the brim with the pain of losing her in the afterlife, too, wherever it ended up taking you to.

“That depends,” she forced out, her voice briefly trembling, and cracking almost as consistently as her heart currently was alongside your’s whilst she slid her phone out of the right pocket on one of her pretty yellow dresses that you’d managed to find for her for her birthday, though she’d insisted that you not get her anything, not wanting you to feel as if you had to do that for her, but you couldn’t have just not spoiled her, feeling as if that was what you had been brought into the world to do; to shower her with your love and affection for her as an attempt to try and repay her for making you the happiest woman in the world just by being with you, and somehow loving you the way that you loved her. Yet here you were, somehow managing to hurt her over and over again, and you would nod gravely whilst you stared down at your hands, feeling empty all over again - you couldn’t hurt her anymore, and believed the only way to do that was to - no matter how painful it would be - free her of you; you doubted you’d ever be able to make her happy the way she deserved to be any other way, and would curse yourself for trying, and consistently failing supposedly each time you did.

“O-On what?” You inquired, though it was paining you even to speak; paining you to make the smallest of movements - this was it: you were going to be losing everything again, and it was overwhelming; you couldn’t, and yet could believe it at the same time; you’d always doubted whether you were enough for her, or not, and now knew you couldn’t be, not after you’d hurt her again, and broken yet another promise that you’d made to her; your promise that you’d stop drinking, and get better for her, as you hadn’t stopped drinking, and were only getting worse, being threatened now also by the possibility of your alcohol poisoning developing into the failure of your liver.

She would then try and take another breath to calm herself down, before unlocking her phone, and you would watch whilst you felt everything within you collapsing again as if you weren’t already broken enough, but you believed you deserved it, and would further curse yourself for everything you’d done to her, recently, though you’d been trying to protect her with every passing lie, and not-so-secret drinking sessions, whilst you had thought she was still asleep upstairs when really she soon woke up after you had, and witnessed you drinking in the garden through the window in your and her room a couple or so times, before this moment.

“First, I wanna show you something; this instrumental I found the other day reminds me of you,” she stated, and you would tense up, guessing that it was the one you’d both heard whilst waiting in the Gynaecologist’s office together, “I-.. I want you to listen to it, and think about whether you really see your future being with me, or not.”

“Barb,” you managed faintly, and she would begin to find herself growing desperate whilst she shook her head hastily, and would sit on the edge of the bed whilst more tears would begin to invade her eyes, “don’t-”

“It’s - It’s the one we heard when we first met-”

“Please, Barbie, just-”

“I need you to hear it, babe, please, I-”

“Barbra, stop!” You cried, instantly regretting it as soon as you had upon noticing that she’d begun to break down again, allowing her phone to slip from her hands whilst she cried into them, and you would curse yourself again, longing to wrap your arms around her; she was so close, and you could, now, but you felt as if you no longer deserved to, instead staring down at the cover whilst tears streamed down your cheeks, and you would be having to try and fight back your shaky sobs, wishing you’d never let her waste her time on you the way she did, the day you’d both first met and fallen in love with one another. “We both know that I’m not good enough for you,” you mustered shakily, and she would shake her head hastily again, desperate to keep you with her, “I’ll only ever hurt you; I can’t make you happy, n-no matter how much I-.. I.. love you, Barb-.. I want you to be happy, and I can’t do that for you; I never could - s-someone like me-”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she interrupted, not wanting you to put yourself down like that again, “Y/n, you’re-”

“No, Barbie,” you continued, certain of yourself, “you don’t need to lie to me, okay? N-Not anymore.” She would falter, whilst shaking her head gravely; she hadn’t thought that this would happen; that she would lose you like she felt as if she was, now, terrifying her. “I should go-”

“No!” She cried; she couldn’t let you leave, especially not whist you were like this. “You - You can’t go, babe, please - j-just - stay; I need you, I-”

“Why do you even want me to stay? I thought you were prepared for me to go, if I decided I couldn’t meet your expectations?” You reminded her in a disheartened manner, and she would fall quiet, before bowing her head; you were right, and she found she no longer knew what to say anymore, except the words-

“I want you to stay because I love you, Y/n,” she answered, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, and you would falter, looking over at her again, but you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to give in again, not wanting to ruin everything for her like you believed you had, before, so many times, now, since you’d both met and fallen in love with one another, “you’re everything to me; you always have been, I swear - I can’t do this without you-”

“Then it’s a good thing you have Hannah, right?” You reminded her faintly, and she would frown, shaking her head again whilst you forced yourself up off of the bed, making to begin packing your things as you didn’t want to get in her or the others’ way anymore.

“Hannah means nothing to me,” she expressed whilst watching you anxiously, feeling much too numb and weak all of a sudden to get up; she couldn’t believe she’d just lost you like that, and was trying not to panic whilst she tried to think of a way to win you back desperately; she’d never intended for this to happen, at all, and couldn’t let go of you, fearing what would happen if she did as her she felt as if she couldn’t live without you, not again, “baby, p-please, don’t go - just - just stay, a-and let me try and prove to you how much I love you-”

“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore, Barb,” you explained, whilst trying to avoid eye contact with her as you knew it would be even harder to not surrender to her if you met her gaze, and admired her features, “I can’t, and that means I can’t stay here anymore, because if I do, I - I’ll only end up hurting you again.”

“So that’s what you want? T-To-.. To go, and maybe never see me again? Never see Bailey again?” She questioned, and you would nod gravely, though the possibility of never being able to see them both again pained you more than anything else ever could - you hoped your suicide attempt, no matter how you executed it, would finally work this time, and that maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much to be away from them (though you doubted it) in the afterlife; you were sure you would always feel empty and as if you were lost without them, no matter what condition you found yourself in. “Y/n-”

“You’re both better off without me,” you uttered, whilst Barbra silently begged you to change your mind, desperate to get you to stay with her, but you couldn’t imagine burdening any of them any further, especially not Barbra, “g-goodbye, Barbie, and-.. I hope you’ll be happy with whoever you find, and decide to spend your life with.”

You would then open the door, panicking her whilst she managed to get up off of the bed, rushing after you. “Y/n, wait, please!” She begged, but you would manage to leave the room before she could catch your arm, instead unintentionally bumping into Gloria who had previously been listening in on her and your conversation.

Barbra would feel helpless all of a sudden, and lost, whilst Gloria tried to provide comfort to her by wrapping her arms around her, and she would instantly break down, and begin to cry into Gloria’s left shoulder; she couldn’t believe that this was happening; that she was really losing you after everything that you’d both already been through together, and dreamed of doing together; getting married, and spending eternity glued to one another’s sides, and now it seemed like you no longer would, paining her more than anything ever had, before, whilst she clung to Gloria’s shoulders for stability, not sure what else to do as she knew you’d most likely never change your mind, now; she knew you well enough to guess as much, and she despised herself for it, listening dejectedly to your footsteps approaching the front door. You would then hesitantly stop, before glancing up at them both, drawing in a shaky breath, and dragging yourself out, instantly making to go to the bar as you weren’t sure of anywhere else you could, or would rather go to in this moment as you knew you could no longer fall into Barbra’s arms again like you longed more than anything to do even after the previous moment between you both had occurred the way it had.

“I can’t do this without her, Gloria,” Barbra mustered shakily whilst her friend tried to provide comfort to her by rubbing her back with her right hand, but she found she couldn’t be consoled, not until you were back with her again, and happy the way she longed for you to be, “I - I need her here with me; I love her-.. What do I do?”

Gloria would then try and think of a plan, seeing that Barbra was desperate to win you back, somehow, and knew that you most likely longed to stay with her, yourself, after she’d heard the conversation, and seen the hurt as well as guilty expression on your face before you’d dragged yourself out of her and her husband’s house through the front door. Then, as soon as she’d thought of something, recalling how Barbra had told her about what had happened with her, you, and Hannah a few days ago, she would beam over at Barbra whilst she held her at arm’s length, filling her with hole again that maybe Gloria would be able to bring you both back together again like you both could feel that you were meant to be, though you doubted your worth, and doubted your ability to make her happy like you had been vowing to try and make her, and supposedly failing though she thought you had done anything, but fail in terms of making her happy.

“I have a plan,” she stated simply, “but it’s gonna need to be executed really carefully, okay?” Barbra would nod to show that she understood, and Gloria would grin over at her friend, before continuing. “Okay,” she began again, “do you know if Hannah’s free for Sasha’s birthday party this Sunday? ‘Cause she’s an essential part of the plan - you’ll see why, soon.”

“I guess I could ask,” Barbra replied, “but - could I tell her about the plan? I don’t want her to be upset, or anything, if - if I’m right in assuming that maybe we’re trying to make Y/n jealous?”

“Of course you can,” Gloria reassured her, “and you are right, but don’t worry; it’s gonna be worth it in the end, I promise - she’ll realise that she still wants to be with you, and after you and Hannah pretend to argue, and break up outside whilst she’s watching, either she or you will make a move, okay? But I have a good feeling that it’s gonna be her, you’ll see.” But it wasn’t, and once the day had arrived, Barbra would end up regretting what she had agreed to, and not just because of how she’d ended up inevitably hurting you with Hannah, but also because of what ended up happening to you after the party, prompting her to begin fearing for your life again.

🜸🜚🜸

Once the day of the party had arrived, Gloria would be relieved to find that you must have got the invitation, and had decided you should show up for Sasha, Barbra, and Bailey to make sure that they were as happy as you had believed that they would be since you’d left, and of course you weren’t exactly surprised to see Hannah there, but were taken aback by the pang of jealousy and sadness you experienced as a result of seeing them together, closer than they were before like you and Barbra had been, before you had both separated a couple of days ago, now. That was another fact that seemed to pain you - she and Hannah had got together quickly; you knew they had to be together, now, after having to painfully endure watching them kiss in the kitchen; you didn’t think it strange that they always seemed to be near you, at all, as you couldn’t focus on anything, but the excruciating pain currently residing within you, and the plan you had been slowly forming to try and commit suicide again.

Whilst you were all sitting in the living room together to watch one of Sasha’s favourite films, you also subconsciously found yourself glancing over at them, finding you couldn’t stop yourself though it was paining you more than anything else ever had to see them together, and the others would also occasionally look over at you when you weren’t paying attention to them, and they could all tell that it was having the desired effect on you to see Barbra and Hannah together like they were, now, in the corner of the room, and giggling as if they were teasing each other like you both used to do. Once they made to join the group, you would hastily drop your head whilst your heart ached excruciatingly, and tears would stream down your cheeks; you couldn’t take it, and wished now that you hadn’t come, even though you knew you would have felt bad not to, and knew that Sasha probably still didn’t enjoy your company after the incident with her school, and you leaving early had occurred. You would scowl, whilst cursing yourself again - you couldn’t be anything short of a horrible, and selfish person - how could Barbra have seen anything different and good within you the day you’d both first met, and fallen in love with one another?

“Sit next to me?” Barbra requested, and you would begrudgingly watch whilst Hannah sat beside her, and hooked her left arm around her waist, before resting her head on her right shoulder comfortably. You would then bow your head again, before biting down a little on your bottom lip to stop it from trembling; you were trying desperately not to break down in front of them, but found that that was a next to impossible task for you, soon finding yourself sniffling barely audibly whilst you tried to secretly wipe your eyes without drawing too much attention to yourself, but Barbra could tell that you were in pain, and she hated it, wishing she could stop now, and tell you that she still loved you, and wanted you to stay with her, but she knew she’d have to try and continue to get the plan to work, like Gloria had told her she should.

“I’ve got to go to the toilet - I’ll be right back,” you managed, your voice briefly trembling whilst you did, prompting you to curse yourself again; you’d not been able to hide it like you hoped you would, rushing out of the room whilst you began to feel sick, and overwhelmed by your sadness again, locking yourself in the toilet whilst you were violently sick within it, and crying quietly; you’d never felt so lost before, and wished the whole time that Barbra were with you, rubbing your back whilst she held your hair, and even occasionally played with it like she had done a few times, before, whilst you found yourself being sick like you were, now, as a result of drinking more than you should have each time, until now - you were sober, but finding yourself being overwhelmed by your feelings, and effects of your alcohol poisoning, making you be sick like you currently were, now, sobbing uncontrollably over the toilet in a strained manner to try and stay quiet, and hide that you were struggling.

“Maybe you should try now, in the hallway?” Gloria suggested, and Barbra would nod hastily, desperate to make you happy again as she couldn’t bear to see you like this, hating what she was doing to you, and even cursing herself for agreeing to it as she could see that she was hurting you, and it was painful, especially when she’d always vowed to make you happy, rather than sad, ever since she had first met, and fallen in love with you blissfully. “Do you remember what you’re meant to be fighting about?” She asked, and Barbra would wince whilst she tried to remember what it was; she’d forgotten because she’d been distracted watching you, and wishing she could throw her arms around you every time she saw you as she hated having gaps between you both, and wanted to do all she could to make you smile again.

“Something about Y/n-?” Hannah suggested, and Gloria would wince, before shaking her head whilst Barbra would falter, a pained expression on her face; she didn’t want to upset you any further by fighting with Hannah about you, suggesting that Hannah disagreed partly with what she and Barbra were doing to try and win you back.

“No,” Gloria answered for Barbra as she could see that she had been about to protest against Hannah to try and defend you, “you’re supposed to argue about my mum’s birthday party next week, remember? ‘Cause you can’t go, and Barb is meant to be upset about it.”

“Right,” Hannah replied, “sorry - I remember, now - let’s go, Barbie.”

Barbra would nod, making to follow Hannah out whilst she wondered why Hannah calling her ‘Barbie’ felt wrong - she only felt happy whenever you or Gloria called her ‘Barbie’, and she had no clue why when Hannah was meant to be her friend, now.

“Barb, wait,” Gloria continued, and Barbra would then stop, before nodding, and looking back at her whilst she smiled faintly, and would not to show her that she was listening, “are you sure you’re ready? Because we don’t have to do it right now, I was just suggesting it, really-”

“I’m ready, don’t worry,” Barbra reassured her, “I need to get Y/n back, a-and the sooner I try, the better, b-before it’s too late.”

Gloria would then stand up so she could wrap her arms around Barbra; she could tell she was trying not to cry again, and was wondering how she was managing to hold herself together like she was, as if she weren’t even on the verge of breaking down though she often came close to doing so whenever she thought of you, and her gaze fell upon you like it often had, today, before this moment, whilst you luckily weren’t looking to catch her occasionally staring over at you subconsciously with glistening eyes that were silently pleading with you to look back at her, and to change your mind about leaving.

“I’m proud of you,” she replied, “you’re really brave, and have come a longer way than I ever could in a situation like your’s, just - be careful, okay? Y/n’s-.. unpredictable, to say the least, but if you really think it’s the right moment, then - go for it, and get your girl back; we wanna see you both together again, more than anything, don’t we guys?”

“That would be great,” Gloria’s husband corroborated, “but nobody could ever be cuter than we are, Glory.”

“That’s true,” Gloria remarked whilst she grinned back at him, before looking back at Barbra who would giggle, before playfully pouting, “but you and Y/n are definitely the second cutest couple I’ve ever seen - you guys that time we were at the cinema were adorable-..” She would then hastily fall quiet, noticing the pained expression on Barbra’s face. “Don’t worry, Barb,” she cooed whilst rubbing her Barbra’s left shoulder, “you’re gonna get her back, I promise, I can feel it; you’re great together, honestly.”

“You really are,” Sasha agreed, further reassuring Barbra who would smile over at her weakly, “just - please don’t kiss in front of me, it’s just - cringe.”

Barbra couldn’t help, but giggle, amused by Sasha’s request, whilst Gloria would grin, and shake her head in response to her daughter’s ask.

“Ignore her,” she replied quietly, and yet playfully, before she looked back at Sasha, “you’ll understand one day, don’t worry, when you find whoever your soulmate is, I promise.”

“Yuck,” Sasha commented, prompting them all to laugh again, “never.”

“We’ll see,” Gloria further teased, before returning her attention to Barbra, “anyway - good luck, and - we’re here, if you need us, okay?”

“Thank you,” Barbra responded, “I - honestly don’t know what I’d do without you guys; I’m so lucky to have you.”

“We’re lucky to have you,” Gloria returned, “and Y/n and Bailey - now go and work some magic before it’s too late.”

“You’ve got it,” she replied, before hastily walking out after Hannah to try and further execute the plan, determined to win you back.

🜚

“No,” you heard Barbra whine outside whilst you were leaning heavily against the wall to the left of the toilet, your face in your hands whilst you proceeded to cry quietly, only briefly stopping when you heard her voice, prompting your heart to skip a beat, as well as your hands to slowly lower themselves back down to the ground; only she could soothe you the way she had just indirectly done. “Come back here, Hannah,” she continued after you heard someone walking past in the hallway, wondering if they were already fighting, and why? “We need to talk about this-”

“It’s a birthday party - not a big deal if I can’t be there,” Hannah interjected, and you would subconsciously grimace - sure you might have understood her point in some cases if you knew where she worked, but in this scenario, you couldn’t help, but think: ‘take a day off’, and ‘don’t talk to Barbra like that’ whilst your heart began to ache excruciatingly again; you were fearing - now - the possibility of not being able to carry out your plan of attempting to take your life again, knowing you should be there for Barbra if they did end up breaking up eventually, or even today, somehow; you’d never heard them fight before, but - to be fair - this was the first time you had seen them together since you and Barbra had lost one another.

“It is a big deal,” Barbra contradicted, and Hannah would scoff, before shaking her head whilst you continued to listen to them though you felt bad for doing so, feeling as if what you were doing was wrong; that this was supposed to be a private conversation, and you were invading in on it like some eager predator desperate to find a reason to live, or life source to survive on, making you feel even worse, and as if you should stop, but you found you couldn’t, wanting to hear more of Barbra’s voice as you had been missing it recently, and it had been more painful to go on living than it ever had been for you before since you’d lost her.

“I don’t get why you’re so upset about it,” Hannah replied, and Barbra would falter, a hurt look on her face as if this argument were real, and she wasn’t just doing it to try and win you back, “like I said before - it’s just a birthday party, and I can’t go-”

“It’s not just about a birthday party, though - it’s about commitment,” Barbra interrupted, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, and you would frown when you heard it; you could tell she was upset, and wished you could leave the room, and hold her close to you to try and provide comfort to you, but you felt as if you didn’t deserve to, anymore. “What else are you not going to be here for - our own wedding day?” She questioned, and Hannah would appear taken aback by the mention of the words ‘wedding day’, especially so soon. You would then falter again, your heart sinking whilst you let yourself sink back from the door, a hurt look on your face; you evidently thought that they were either getting married, or considering it.

“Why are we talking about marriage? We only started seeing each other yesterday,” Hannah reminded her, and Barbra would wince, remembering the situation, “we don’t even know how far we’re gonna get yet, Barb - at this rate, we’re probably not even gonna make it through today.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, Hannah, you - you should just go,” Barbra replied, after recomposing herself as fast as she possibly could, desperate to not mess up, and lose you again, “I don’t know why we’re even bothering if you’re doubting us staying together even just after today.”

“Fine,” she responded, “I’ll see you around.”

“Fine,” Barbra managed to utter exasperatedly, “go and do whatever you wanna do, because I don’t care what it is anymore.”

“Sure - I will, thank you,” Hannah replied, before walking out of the front door after sneakily mouthing ‘bye’ to each of them as Gloria, her husband, and Sasha were each stood by the door watching them both, “bye!” She would then walk out the front door, whilst Barbra would nervously look toward the door of the toilet; she thought you would show yourself, by now, but you were still sunk down against the wall, staring ahead of you through sore, and still glistening eyes whilst you thought about everything you’d heard, your mind soon racing back to the two words - ‘wedding day’, instantly prompting a strained sob to escape your lips whilst you cried into your hands, unable to hold it back anymore, and as soon as Barbra had heard that you were crying, she would falter, a pained expression on her face whilst she looked toward the others, and toward Gloria who was shaking her head, worried that maybe you would put two and two together if she tried to speak to you again too soon, but she couldn’t walk away; couldn’t leave you to suffer like you evidently were, walking warily up to the door, before she lightly knocked on it, surprising you as you jumped a little, and would glance up at the door whilst you tried to calm yourself down, not wanting whoever it was, though you had a bad feeling that it was Barbra (bad because you didn’t want to upset her, especially not after hearing her fighting with Hannah like that, and then breaking up with her).

“Y-Y/n?” Barbra managed, and you would falter upon hearing her voice again, having to try and fight back another sob to the best of your ability; you couldn’t imagine what it would be like to never be able to hear her voice again, the thought enough to make your heart ache somehow even more excruciatingly than it had, before - you’d never be able to escape the pain; as long as she were no longer with you, you were doomed to suffer for the rest of your life, and however long you were going to be made to spend in the afterlife - you couldn’t help, but think: ‘please don’t let this go on for eternity,’ but something ached even more to tell you that you’d never be lucky enough to escape from the pain you experienced whenever you weren’t with her, and felt as if you had nothing left to live for. “Are you okay-? You’ve been in there for a little while, now,” she mused, and you would stare down at your hands, whilst you wondered why she was even bothering to check up on you, as if you still mattered to her.

“Sorry,” you mustered feebly whilst you tried to ignore the lump in your throat; you were on the verge of breaking down again already, and wondered if it would always be this way, now, even after you tried, and hopefully succeeded in taking your life, “I’ll - I’ll come out soon, I promise, I just-..”

“Were you sick again?” She asked, and you would frown, before nodding gravely as if she could see you, finding you couldn’t verbally answer; you felt too weak, and as if you should try and avoid burdening her again to the best of your ability. “It’s okay, Y/n, you - you can tell me,” she reminded you, and you would begin to feel even worse, cursing yourself for being the way that you were like you had found yourself doing more and more, recently, feeling as if you deserved it, “talk to me; I’m worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be focusing on me; you should be focusing on yourself,” you murmured, and Barbra would falter, a hurt look on her face, before she shook her head gravely, “Barb, you-.. you just.. broke up with Hannah; I heard you - I’m not important right now; not important ever, so - please stop wasting your time on me-”

“But I want to waste my time on you; I-..” She would then falter, hastily stopping herself from continuing. “Please just come out; I need to see you,” she pleaded, and you would draw in a shaky breath, before lifting your hands up to your face, brushing your tears away, and getting up to open the door, forgetting how to breathe as soon as your gaze had fallen upon her, and she would find herself forgetting how to breathe alongside you whilst she admired you, and would then timidly step forward to throw her arms around you, but you would step back before she could, prompting her heart to sink whilst her tears would get shocked out of her eyes, prompting you to begin feeling worse, but you knew you’d only make things even worse for her if you stayed, and gave into your feelings again.

“I’m not good for you,” you reminded her dejectedly, “Barbie, you-.. you deserve better, remember? If Hannah wasn’t that for you, and I wasn’t that for you-”

“You are that for me,” she interjected confidently, and you would fall quiet, before glancing up at her again after you’d briefly bowed your head to hide that you’d begun to cry again alongside her, “you always have been, I swear; Y/n, you’re everything to me; Hannah means nothing to me, okay? Nobody else could ever mean to me more than what you mean to me, and that’ll never change, I promise.”

“You were using her, weren’t you?” You guessed, surprised; you didn’t think you’d ever see her do something like that, for you.

“She knew,” Barbra added hastily, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, “Y/n - I - I didn’t know what else to do; I need you back - more than anything, s-so please-.. give me another chance; give us - another chance.”

Barbra would then timidly inch closer to you, prompting you to falter whilst you locked eyes with her in the best way possible, finding you couldn’t speak for a moment whilst you stammered quietly, before managing to recompose yourself.

“Can’t you see that what I’m doing to you is - is not good?” You asked, your voice close to a whisper, and she would shake her head hastily.

She would then lift her right hand up to your left cheek, prompting you to lean into her touch subconsciously whilst you admired her; you’d missed her so much, though it hadn’t been that long since you’d last left, and she couldn’t help, but glance down at your lips whilst she found herself longing to connect her’s to your’s, desperate to feel the butterflies you gave her every time you both found yourselves kissing, and she also longed to feel warm and fuzzy again like she always did with every kiss you both shared, as well as with every embrace and glance you’d both given one another ever since you’d both first met, and fallen in love with each other so blissfully easily and quickly as if the connection had been waiting to form since you were both created, and truly born as if you’d never lived before your gazes had fallen upon one another.

“What you’re doing to me is amazing, Y/n; I love who I am, because of you,” she answered whilst she inched even closer, “but not as much as I love you, and always will, n-no matter what happens, I promise.” She would then lean forward, and you found you couldn’t move away, or even wish to whilst she blissfully connected her lips to your’s in the best way possible, soothing you whilst you melted into the kiss, subconsciously wrapping your arms around her waist whilst you did, and she would return the hug whilst she held you close to her, allowing her to connect her forehead to your’s affectionately to further soothe both you, and herself in the best way possible whilst you both couldn’t help, but giggle breathlessly together, your hearts racing together like they should be, until your’s decide to overwhelmingly skip a beat, prompting you to begin to feel nauseous again whilst you leaned heavily against her weakly. “Baby?” She cooed, whilst holding you up, terrified all of a sudden; she’d picked up immediately on your change in demeanour. “Baby, what’s - what’s wrong?” She asked, and you would shake your head gravely once more whilst a pained expression crossed your face - the change had reminded you that you most likely would have little time left, anyway, if you didn’t go to the doctor, prompting you to feel worse whilst a strained sob would escape your lips.

“B-Barbie, I-.. I can’t stay,” you whispered shakily, and she would falter, your few words cutting her deeper than anything else ever could, “look at me; it’s never gonna get better for us-”

“You don’t know that,” she reminded you hastily, desperate for you to stay whilst she subconsciously clung to your arms whilst her wet eyes silently pleaded with you; she couldn’t let you go again, “please, babe, stay, f-for me, Bailey; us. We’re meant to be together, I can feel it, c-can’t you?”

“I’ve felt it ever since I first laid eyes on you,” you admitted barely audibly, and she couldn’t help, but smile lovingly back at you, until you staggered a little, your legs failing you, and Barbra would have to hold you up again, but she didn’t mind as she loved to hold you close to her, leaving no gaps between you both, “B-Barb, I-.. if anything ever happens to me, I just want you to know that I love you, m-more than I could ever love life itself.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she cooed gently whilst she stroked your hair with her right hand, trying not to panic whilst you seemed to be gradually falling unconscious within her arms, your skin pale again, and cold, with a faint tint of yellow the way it had been, recently, terrifying her even more - she knew she’d have to do it; she’d take you to the hospital - she couldn’t let you die on her, “you’re gonna be okay; I’m gonna take you to the hospital, okay? A-And they’re gonna fix you up for us; you’ll be good as new, I promise-”

“Barb? What’s going on? Is Y/n okay?” Gloria inquired upon her entry into the room; they’d briefly retreated back into the living room after she had knocked on the toilet door.

“N-No; she needs to go to the hospital,” Barbra answered, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, and you would wonder what they were saying, your ears ringing to the point you found you could no longer tell what it was that they were saying whilst you subconsciously clung to Barbra, feeling much safer and more content than you had ever been within her embrace though you were in this disorientated state, and feared that you might soon end up finding your life slipping away from you; this must be it - your liver must already be failing you the way your doctor had warned it could as a result of your recent excessive drinking sessions ever since you’d lost Barbra. “C-Can we take her, please?” She pleaded, and Gloria would nod hastily whilst also trying to remain calm, rushing back into the room to get her husband, and to try and make up an excuse for Sasha who she felt wasn’t ready to see you in a state like this. “You’re gonna be okay, babe, I promise,” she cooed, “just keep holding onto me, okay? A-At least until you feel like you can’t anymore, and then I’ll carry you when you feel too weak to continue, a-all the way if I have to, because-.. I love you, baby, a-and I hope you can hear me right now because-.. because I want to tell you I love you until my throat won’t let me anymore, because I do, and I always will; nothing’s ever gonna take us away from each other - it can’t, so don’t ever worry about it happening, because it’s impossible, n-no matter what; it’ll always be you and me against the world-”

“We’re ready,” Gloria stated after rushing her husband out of the living room, and closing the door; she’d managed to convince Sasha to stay, though she was worried, and longed to go with you, “how is she holding up, a-and how did it even happen?”

“I don’t know - she just-.. it just happened, I guess,” Barbra answered, “a-and I’m scared; I don’t think she can hear me - she’s not responding or even looking up at me anymore.”

“Is she unconscious?” Gloria’s husband suggested, and Barbra would shake her head; she could feel that you were still clinging to her for dear life as if you were afraid of her possibly disappearing somehow if you let go of her.

“She’s holding me; I can feel it, she’s just not responding, and I don’t know what to do,” she expressed a little shakily whilst she continued to stroke your hair, knowing it soothed you whenever she did it, as well as herself, “can they help her, d-do you think?”

“I’m sure they’ll be able to figure something out for her,” Gloria tried to reassure her, “c’mon - the faster we get her down there, the better.”

Barbra would nod, before carefully picking you up off of the ground whilst you continued to cling to her shoulders, a pained expression on your face; your abdomen was burdening you again, and she wished she could do more to try and relieve you of your pain, somehow; she couldn’t bear seeing you like this, and knowing that there was nothing else she could do.

“It’s okay, Snuggles,” she managed weakly, “we’re going, now - you’re going to be okay, I promise, just stay with me, baby, p-please.”

“We-.. We can’t go,” you rasped, finding yourself struggling to even breathe; it was excruciating to try, and Barbra would falter upon hearing your voice the way that it currently was whilst she carried you out to Gloria and her husband’s car behind them, “Sasha’s party-”

“We’re gonna make up for it tomorrow; she understands,” Gloria reassured you, but you wouldn’t respond, still finding you couldn’t hear them, so instead you would find yourself admiring Barbra again whilst you shakily lifted up your left hand to her right cheek, and she would smile warmly down at you whilst she leaned into your cold touch.

“She cares about you too, you know?” Barbra reminded you, and you would appear puzzled, as if you still didn’t understand. “Just relax, Snuggles - you need to rest, if you wanna get better,” she cooed, before carefully lowering you into the car, and getting in beside you, making sure to cradle you close to her the whole way to the best of her ability, though it was certainly awkward to do whilst you had the seatbelt on, “j-just-.. please don’t go to sleep, yet.”

Gloria would smile sadly back at you both, before starting the car. “She’s gonna be okay, Barb, I promise - don’t worry,” she spoke gently, and Barbra would nod slowly whilst she focused her attention back onto you, stroking your hair with her right hand whilst she affectionately rested her head upon your left shoulder, you leaning on her comfortably, breathing quite faintly whilst she silently begged you to keep breathing like you were; to never stop, and luckily she would find that - once you’d all reached the hospital - you were still breathing for her; trying your best to stay awake for her as you didn’t want to further worry her, but you soon found that you would fall unconscious as soon as you’d noticed the hospital outside, feeling much too weak and exhausted to stay awake any longer. This would - as expected by Gloria and her husband - panic Barbra, but they would try and distract her as much as they possibly could once they’d carried you inside, and luckily managed to find someone who could treat you, appearing surprisingly willing to as they could see that you were in a desperate state seeking immediate attention, somewhat relieving Barbra to know that you were in safe hands, especially when she heard not too long after you’d been taken in that you were stable, and would soon wake up, except she couldn’t help, but notice that the doctor who had taken you in appeared tense, evidently worried to share the next half of the news with her and the others - things were going to be difficult for all of you, especially you and Barbra for a little while, now that you found yourself in need of a new liver unbeknownst - currently - to the others, but she would try not to panic anymore than she already was, until they spoke up again, and gently requested for the group to follow them into their office, prompting her to break down, shake her head hastily, and then rush out; she couldn’t bear to possibly hear that she could still lose you, and intended not to, especially not whilst she’d already begun to feel sick, and found she couldn’t stay within the room any longer - not until the doctor was gone, and she could be alone with you again.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️

[seijorhi]

Reminiscent

i’m (semi) back, y’all, and i come bearing a fic!! fhdjhfjdk it’s for oikawa i won’t apologise

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW non-con, drunk/drugged reader, forced infidelity, emotional manipulation, angst, past trauma, coercion, mild(ish?) smut, nsfw

“F-fuck, cutie! Just like – hah– just like that!”

You weren’t the clubbing type.

Not usually, at least – but exams were over and one of your friends was fresh off a bad breakup, one night letting loose wouldn’t hurt.

Walking is… difficult, your steps are sloppy – there’s an arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung over a stranger’s shoulders. Why are you outside? Where are your friends – they… they promised they wouldn’t leave you. 

“She good, dude?”

A soft, pretty laugh rumbles at your side, “Yeah, she’s gonna be just fine.”

And you remember the bar, the overpriced cocktails and the saccharine sweetness of strawberry liquor on your tongue. The dizzying lights and the bass that thumped so loudly you felt it reverberate in your chest. You knew the rules; they’d been drilled into you since you were sixteen years old.

Stick together, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and watch the one in your hand like a hawk - it doesn’t leave your sight.

A tongue between the valley of your breasts, long fingers curling up inside of you. 

“You like that, huh pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?”

They wouldn’t have just abandoned you, right? Maybe you told them to go. Maybe they thought you wanted it; to go home with the handsome stranger.

You never had the guts to ask them, never spoke about that night again. Not to anyone.

Pain. Something thrusting inside of you, splitting you open while he moans and pants atop you. It hurts so much and you want it to stop. 

Please stop. Please. Please. Please.

You’re begging, at least you think you are, but the words come out jumbled and wrong, and he just laughs, hiking up your thigh so he can fuck you deeper.

Why won’t he stop?

When you wake up, bruised and sore and all alone in your bed, it feels like a bad dream. You know it’s not – not with cum still seeping from between your thighs, the scent of the stranger’s cologne clinging to your sheets.

And you scrub your skin raw in the shower, but it isn’t enough to rid you of his touch.

—

It’s nothing like what they show on tv.

There’s no sympathetic detective to pat you on your shoulder while you break down, swearing that they’ll find the man who did this and you’ll get your justice.

You don’t go to the cops because you’ll know what they’ll say. You were drunk, drugged, and even if you could remember what he looked like (his eyes were brown, you think, and there’s a flash of a smirk in your head but the moment you try to focus on it it slips away like smoke) any evidence of rape washed down the drain the moment you stepped into the steaming shower.

At least… that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier than admitting you’re terrified of judgemental eyes. 

Or worse; pitying ones.

So you pretend that nothing happened. You show up to your classes and throw yourself into studying, make the time to get coffee with your friends, you even pick up a part time job – it’s good to keep busy. 

The nightmares are just that; nightmares.

And things are fine, until they’re not.

—

“Baby, you’re here!!”

There’s barely time to drop your bags before she’s pulling you into a warm hug. “Hi mom,” you reply, squeezing her back.

When she draws back to take you in, one hand cupping your cheek, she frowns, “You look tired sweetheart. Have you been sleeping enough?”

“Yeah, just tired from exams and stuff.”

She looks unconvinced, but mercifully doesn’t push the issue. Of course, you don’t tell her that you missed your last two exams because you’d walked past some guy wearing that same cologne and just choked – that instead of finishing off your semester strong, you’d spent the day alternating between throwing up and crying in bed.

She doesn’t need to know that, because of that, you’ll probably fail both classes and have to retake them again next semester on top of an already full course load. It’s fine; you’ll figure it out.

For now, you work on matching her enthusiasm at having you home, grabbing your bags to bring them inside and into your old room.

“Oh, wait–”

Abruptly, you pause, gazing in confusion from the doorway of your bedroom. There’s a duffle bag lying open and empty atop your bed, a tangled jump rope, some weights, an empty bottle, a sweat towel – even what looks like a spare workout tee scattered haphazardly across the sheets.

“… I didn’t take you for a gym junkie, mom.”

She stops behind you, sighing. “It’s not mine it’s– Tooru said he was going to tidy it up, sorry sweetheart.” She sweeps past you to start tidying it up, but not before you catch sight of her wide eyed, deer in headlights expression.

And you can’t help the lone eyebrow that rises, falling back against the doorframe, arms folding across your chest. “Tooru, huh?” you grin, “And who might Tooru be?”

The flustered, almost guilty look she sends you makes you want to laugh – this is easy, comfortable, this you can do – but you restrain yourself. Just. “Tooru is… he’s– well, he’s the man I’m… seeing.”

She admits it like she’s confessing to a crime, eyes all wide and nervous; anticipating your reaction. And you suppose it’s not unwarranted. As far as you’re aware, she’s been alone ever since the day your dad walked out on you both – raising you was always the priority, or maybe the excuse. But you’re not fourteen anymore, you don’t need another father figure or every spare bit of her time and attention, and she doesn’t need your approval for this.

So you smile at her, “Is he nice?”

She lights up, her features – almost a mirror image of your own – softening as she beams, “He’s amazing, honey. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing really happened, or why he’s even interested in someone like me but… I lucked out with him.”

And so it goes, you prying little bits of information about the mysterious Tooru as the afternoon passes.

She tells you that they met a few months back, at the bakery she likes in town – and how she kept running into him; at the grocery store, and then at the park, and then on her way back from yoga that one night.

She tells you that he’s a terrible flirt, all smooth and charming with warm, pretty brown eyes, but he’s a good man beneath it all and she’s never met anyone like him. 

It strikes you, as you watch your mom animatedly talk about him, that you’ve never seen her look like this before. 

Happy. 

She can’t stop smiling, and when you look at her, really look, she’s almost a different person – younger somehow, a bit more care-free. It suits her, and you wonder with a slight pang in your heart how you never noticed how lonely she was before.

And she’s adamant that they’re taking things slowly, that he still has an apartment of his own in town – which to be honest, you really aren’t gonna judge her on either way – but it is kind of funny simply because whether your mom realises it or not, it’s clearly a lie.

The subtle reclaiming of your bedroom aside, there’s traces of Tooru scattered all around the house; the extra toothbrush and aftershave you’d spotted in the bathroom, the men’s  shoes and the jacket by the door, red wine in the cupboard when your mom’s only ever indulged in white.

You haven’t been into her bedroom, but at this point you’d hazard a guess that there’s at least one drawer full of Tooru’s clothes, probably half her closet cleared out for him as well.

“He’s coming for dinner, but I just wanted today to be just us,” she says, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. And you’re grateful for it, because you’re happy for her – you are – but you’re not so sure how you would’ve handled meeting the stranger holding your mother’s heart first thing. At least, not after the last few days.

Not when you still feel all… brittle. 

—

Tooru arrives a little after seven, and to say that he’s not entirely what you were expecting is kind of an understatement. 

She’d gushed about how tall and handsome he is – though personally, you think pretty’s the more accurate word, what with his soft, delicate features, perfect cupid’s bow lips and all. What she’d neglected to tell you was that the man in question, stepping through the front door with a faint smile on his face, has to be at least ten years younger than her, mid-thirties at most.

Suddenly, your mom’s initial reluctance to bring him up starts to make sense.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, stopping by your mom to drop a fleeting kiss to her cheek before warm brown eyes turn to you. 

Your heart stutters.

“Sweetheart,” your mom begins, slipping an arm around his waist and relaxing into his side, “this is Tooru– Oikawa,” she corrects herself.

He smiles at you, friendly and charming, “It’s great to finally meet you, your mom’s told me so much – all good things, of course!”

You force yourself to smile in return, “Yeah, you too.” 

There’s nothing overtly wrong with Oikawa, age difference aside – your mom’s clearly head over heels in love with the guy and on a surface level he seems nice enough, but you find yourself glad for the fact that he doesn’t make a move to step closer, try to shake your hand or god forbid hug you or something like that.

He’s nothing but a gentleman as your mom steps back into the kitchen to finish off dinner, setting the table without being prompted, pouring a glass of wine for your mom and one for himself before he offers a glass to you. 

“Oh, no I’m alright, thanks.”

You don’t drink so much anymore. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal but your mom pouts at you from the kitchen. “C’mon, sweetie. We’re celebrating tonight! One drink won’t hurt.”

“We’re celebrating?” you ask.

She throws you a wink, gaze softening as she turns to glance at Oikawa, already diligently pouring you a glass, ��Of course we are. It’s not every day my girl comes home, and it’s nice having you both here with me.”

Oikawa’s fingers brush against yours for a fleeting second as he passes you the glass, and you have to fight to keep yourself from ripping your hand away. It’s nothing, you just– you’re not good with strangers touching you, and as nice as he is and as much as your mom might be infatuated with him, he is still a stranger.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, a playful twinkle in his eye as he clinks his wine glass against yours. “So you’re at uni, right? What are you studying?”

Uni’s the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, but whether or not Oikawa genuinely cares, he’s obviously trying to make an effort to get to know you. For your mother’s sake, grinning innocuously in the kitchen as she adds the last little touches to dinner, you suck it up, plaster a smile across your face and ignore the twinge of discomfort in your gut.

You can handle one night of small talk.

—

You wake the following morning to the sound of voices carrying down the hall.  

Not your mother’s – both are too deep, and your mom left a few hours ago for work. Figuring that one of them at least is likely Oikawa, you pull on a thin, satin robe over your pajamas, tying the sash in a loose knot before you slip from the room.

Those suspicions are proven correct; you round the corner to find Oikawa sitting up at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. There’s another man, a touch shorter, but imposing with dark, spiky hair and olive green eyes standing on the other side, hands braced on the marble top, glaring at Oikawa.

They both look up at the sound of your hesitant approach, the stranger abruptly straightening up, while Oikawa merely grins.

“Ah, you’re up,” he observes cheerfully, taking a sip of his coffee.

Your eyes flicker between him and the stranger – clearly comfortable enough in your home and with Oikawa, despite the faint, lingering irritation still visible on his face – and as your cheeks warm, you find yourself wishing you’d put actual clothes on before coming out to investigate.

“I- I heard voices…” you trail off, awkwardly folding your arms over your chest. “Is mom–”

“At work,” he supplies. “Do you want some breakfast? Coffee, maybe?”

You risk another glance at the other man, watching you now with an unreadable expression, dark eyebrows furrowed. You swallow uncomfortably, shifting slightly as you shake your head. “No, I-I’m okay.”

And in an instant, a flash, something like recognition passes through those olive eyes. 

 Oikawa chuckles smoothly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to address his friend, “Iwa, stop being so rude. You’re scaring the poor thing.”

The stranger, Iwa, just scoffs. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?”

If he’s bothered by the scathing insult, Oikawa doesn’t show it, merely shrugging before turning his attention back to you with a smirk. “Ignore him, he’s just pissy this morning.”

You’d have to be a complete idiot not to sense the uncomfortable tension between the two of them – and now you. This is your home, but it feels like you’re intruding, like you’ve stumbled into a conversation you have no business hearing, but even if you wanted to leave your feet are rooted to the ground. 

“Besides,” Oikawa continues, “he was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Iwa?” It’s almost a purr, the way he speaks, but even the silken words can’t entirely mask the razor sharpness that lies beneath. 

Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

Staring at you, Iwa opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but seemingly thinks better of it, snapping it shut with an audible click. He huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

He spares you another glance on his way out, standing frozen by the hall. For a split second he slows, his scowl softening just a fraction–

“Iwa.”

It sounds like a warning, but he only rolls his eyes and huffs again. You think he’s going to walk out without another word to either of you, but he pauses once more, lingering by the entryway.

“You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that?”

He’s out the door before you can even think to reply, letting it slam shut in his wake. And you flinch at the harsh sound, something uneasy settling into the pit of your stomach–

“Hey,” Oikawa’s there by your side, his fingers entwining with yours. You hadn’t even heard him move. “Come sit, don’t worry about Iwa. He’ll get over it.”

His voice is soothing, you don’t pay attention to the words themselves, the implications there. You forget for a moment that you’re still in your pj’s, that you really don’t know him that well either, and mindlessly follow when he leads you to the couch and sits you down, taking the seat next to you.

And while your head’s still spinning, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in the pit of your gut, Oikawa seems entirely unbothered by the turn of events, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out, one arm sliding along the back of the couch behind you.

“Do your… friends usually just drop by like that?”

You don’t know where the words come from, or why that’s the first question on your mind, but when you glance over at him, Oikawa’s just watching you, an odd little half smirk playing on his lips. “Sometimes.”

His answer does little to soothe your unease. It’s really not a big deal, you know it’s not. Officially or not, this is his home too – you’re the one out of place. And if he wants to have people over when your mom’s not around, that’s fine, he can do whatever the hell he wants, but… 

You came home for peace. To hide away for a few days and pretend that everything’s just fine and you’re not one breakdown away from shattering entirely. You wanted your mom and the comfort of your old bedroom and safety and it’s fine – great, even – that she’s found somebody who makes her happy, but this– him and the weirdness with his friend and everything is just too much, and–

You don’t realise that your leg’s bouncing until Oikawa’s hand comes to rest on your bare thigh. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, an icy chill trickling down your spine as his thumb slowly strokes across the soft, plush skin. “Relax, cutie,” he coos, chuckling softly when you visibly flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

“P-please don’t call me that,” you choke out, fighting against the wave of nausea rising up your throat. And it’s just like last time, his cologne, notes of vanilla and cedar and spice, swirling thick and heady around you. That phantom touch, the warmth of hands gripping too tight, unwanted kisses hot and eager against your skin. 

“No?” he asks, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “Why not? I think it suits you, cutie.”

You want him to stop, to push him away, slap him – do anything really, but you’re frozen in place, shaking as the memories you’ve fought so hard to shove down come bubbling back to the surface. You can’t think straight, not with his hand sliding between your thighs, the warmth of his body pressing too closely against yours.

“Iwa was right, you know,” Oikawa murmurs, smoldering brown eyes drinking you in as you childishly shake your head, willing him away. His other hand catches your cheek, drawing your face back to him as tears well in your eyes, stubbornly clinging to your lashes. “She does look so much like you, the same eyes even.” 

He whispers it like a secret, nuzzling his nose against yours like a lover would as he sighs sweetly, “It’s the only reason I could stand it.”

And then he’s kissing you, the tenderness of his lips belied by iron fingers digging into your jaw when you whimper and try to wrench yourself free. 

It’s not like the nightmares that startle you awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air; hazy, broken recollections that fade the moment you try to reach for them. No, every touch, every moment of his assault passes in stark clarity.

The feel of Oikawa’s mouth as it trails greedily down your neck, his hand sliding under the cotton of your sleep shorts, even his pleased little hum when he realises you’re not wearing panties. “Such a good girl for me. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

This time there’s no drugs in your system keeping you pliant and helpless, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not when his words echo in your head, playing again and again until every awful, sickening piece falls into place.

Long, nimble fingers stroke at your folds, and you can’t help the shivery gasp that leaves you when the tip of his middle finger sweeps over your clit. 

“Please– please don’t do this,” you sniffle.

Oikawa presses another fleeting kiss to your shoulder, “Shh, none of that. Let me help you, baby.”

“N-no, I don’t, I don’t– Stop!”

Knocking away the hands that try to push him back, he hooks his fingers over the hem of your shorts and slides them down your legs, your pitifully weak struggles only making things easier for him. It’s only when Oikawa reaches for his own zipper that panic truly strikes home.

You can’t just lie here and let this happen again. You won’t.

And like a switch flipped, you start to trash like a wild thing beneath him, the scream you’ve kept buried inside of you for months ripping itself free from your throat–

Only for the fingers that had been toying with your pussy to be shoved down your throat, cutting you off with a choked gurgle. As you gag, fruitlessly try to tug yourself free, Oikawa leans in nice and close – except this time there’s no gentleness to his expression, nothing but viciousness as he grins and bares his teeth. 

“You wanna yell, pretty girl? Want the neighbours to come running, let them see me fuck you?” He grinds his hips against you, his breath shivery as he pants at the friction of his half hard cock against your side. Nausea twists at your gut, acrid and bitter – you want to be sick, to cry and beg with him to stop but with his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw all you can manage is an unintelligible whine. He hums, kissing away the single hot tear that spills down your cheek, “You think if you cry loudly enough, mommy’ll come home and save you?”

And it’s like time stands still as he laughs, cruel eyes glinting when he presses down on your tongue, warm saliva pooling around his digits. “Such a little whore, trying to seduce her poor, innocent boyfriend the very moment her back’s turned. Tell me, cutie,” he coos, “who do you think she’d believe?”

Your breath hitches, another sob catching in your throat – even if you wanted to answer, you can’t and he knows it. “She’s in love with me, you know. It’s almost a little pathetic how easy it was to manipulate her into bed – so lonely… desperate for love, for somebody – anybody – to pay attention to her, take care of her,” he sneers, distaste curling at his lips. “Wouldn’t it just break her fragile little heart to know she’s fallen for the man who raped her baby girl?”

Another garbled cry slips past his fingers and you can only watch in frozen horror as his other hand drifts back to his zipper. “You want to protect her, don’t you?”

His grip relents just enough for you to jerk a shaky nod.

“Pretty girl, so good for me.” Another kiss pressed to your cheek as the quiet hiss of his zipper fills the air around you. “It’ll be our little secret, hmm? She doesn’t need to know just yet, let her be happy a little while longer…”

Sliding down his briefs just far enough for his cock to spring free, he strokes it for a moment with slow, leisurely movements, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches your eyes widen. 

And when he pulls you forward, guides your mouth towards it, pre-cum beading at the tip, withdrawing his fingers so you can quickly gasp for air, you just… let him.

The fight’s gone, as quickly as it had come. 

You let his fingers curl through your hair, use it as an anchor when your lips part to force his cock between them. And he moans, low and shivery as your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft and you try not to gag around the sudden intrusion. 

You think that there’s no room left inside of you for shame, but as his other hand creeps back between your legs, teasing at your cunt, you burn with it, clinging to the pyre of your own humiliation and disgust.

And still, you kneel on the couch, letting him fuck your mouth, letting those long, pretty fingers curl up inside of you – moaning around his cock when they stroke that perfect little spot.

“I wanted to – shit – take this slow,” he tells you as his hips jerk upwards, shuddering in breathless delight when his cock hits the back of your throat and it convulses around him. “I wanted to make you want me.”

Wet, messy, gags sound with every unwitting thrust – you’ve no choice but to swallow him down, let him fuck your throat like you’re nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. There’s saliva coating your chin, dripping down the length of his dick, pooling around his balls. You can barely breathe, a task made even harder when Oikawa decides to add his thumb into the mix, teasing your clit while he fucks you apart on his fingers.

It feels so fucking good, and you’ve never hated yourself more.

Your throat burns, hot tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, and yet he’s intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity with every calculated flick of his wrist. Something tightens in your belly, a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, and you can’t help it when your hips chase his fingers, the needy, shameful little whimpers that leave your lips (still wrapped around his thick, twitching cock) as you search for the pleasure to temper the discomfort.

“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you? I could barely sleep last night–” 

You choke back a moan, your pussy clenching around his digits, sucking them deeper as white spots pepper your vision and you shudder out a moan.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he pants, but you don’t care – can’t, not when you’re riding his fingers, tongue lolling out as he gives you a moment’s reprieve to bask in the rippling afterglow of your orgasm before everything comes crashing back down around you. 

Oikawa lets you fall back against the cushions, breathless, trembling and dazed. You’re not stupid enough to believe that’s the end of it, not when his cock’s still hard, throbbing against his toned stomach when he gives it a slow, cursory pump.

“Lie back, cutie,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he pushes himself up off the couch to shed the rest of his clothes.

And as you shuffle obediently downwards, heart hammering in your chest, you find you can’t tear your eyes away from him either.

Tall and handsome, she’d said, but the words truly don’t do him justice. A body corded with lean, powerful muscle, golden, sun-kissed skin, a light smattering of dark hair trailing from his navel down past the well defined V of his hips… 

“See something you like?” he teases, smirking when you squeak and childishly jerk your face away, cheeks burning. “It’s okay to look, you know. I don’t mind the attention.”

It feels too soft, too intimate for what this is. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be attractive, or to make you enjoy your own assault, and you– you’re supposed to fight it, fight him instead of just lying there and taking it… 

But when he climbs back onto the couch, easing your still trembling thighs apart to settle himself between them, his touch is nothing short of reverent, dark eyes wide and adoring as you squirm uneasily beneath him. 

With one hand braced on the cushion beside you, his cock resting just above your aching sex, he leans forward, easing your top up past your tits. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

And it’s enough to make a fresh bout of humiliated tears spring to your eyes. Your hands curl into useless fists at your side as he settles back onto his knees and takes his cock in hand, hissing in pleasure when he glides the flushed, leaking head along your slick folds.

“Fuck, cutie. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he laughs, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches hot, fat tears slip down your cheeks. With an agonisingly slow pace, Oikawa lines himself up with your cunt and presses in – even with how wet you are, one orgasm already wrung from you, the stretch burns and you can’t stop the choked gasp that leaves you.

His eyes flutter shut, head thrown back back as inch by inch his cock sinks into your pussy until finally he bottoms out with a satisfied groan. “Perfect for me, so fucking good,” he pants, and you barely have time to drag in a breath before his hips are drawing back, another desperate, strangled mewl escaping you.

Bruising fingers dig into your waist, Oikawa cursing as your plush little cunt flutters maddeningly around him– before he eagerly slams his cock forward, stuffing you full once more.

And as you sob and whimper between every wet, obscene squelch of his dick fucking into your soaked pussy, that all too familiar, shameful heat begins to pool in your core.

“Gonna cum for me again, cutie?”

[daily-dose-of-writing]

For your 1-year anniversary, how about a fill of this prompt:

You gain the power to travel to fictional worlds, so you immediately decide to travel into your favourite novel, only to then find out that you’re the inter-dimensional evil they’ve been foreshadowing for the past 3 books

Only if you want to ofc, no pressure, please and thank you! 💖

First of all, I’m so sorry I got really carried away with this and it’s about three times longer than I initially intended, so I’m literally going to have to post it in three bits because it’s too long for one post, and I also got a little bit carried away with the plot of the favourite novel. Secondly, I hope you like it!!

[tw: a bit of violence and blood mentioned, childhood trauma and what I guess is very mild psychological horror]

———

She never meant to end up there, that much is true, but she most definitely wanted to. Reading has and always will be a form of escapism; therefore it should not be a surprise that everyone who does it may wish to disappear into the world inside those pages. This is, of course, just a fantasy. Wishing to be in a world born from someone else’s imagination is nothing more than a fun thought experiment; something to waste time while you’re riding the bus. It has never been an achievable feat. That is, until a few months ago.

The pages of her book fluttered half-heartedly as another train rushed past. Her hair was not so well secured, so it swam irritatingly in front of her eyes, forcing her to turn her attention away from the words on the page in order to swipe it away. She scowled.

It was not as though she were at a particularly interesting point in the book yet, but the interruption was still as unwanted as they often are. She returned her gaze to where her thumb held the book open at the spine. It was still in the developing portion; none of the major action had occurred yet, but something was brewing. Something had been brewing for a while, by then.

The book was the fourth and final instalment in a series that she had practically gobbled up. It was a wonderful story. The books revolved around five people who had all been the heroes of their own stories long ago, but had long since been forgotten as all but children's bedtime stories. They were ageing and greying and fiercely protective of each other and their thankless world who did not notice their help.

Each enemy they had faced thus far had known a frankly concerning amount about each of them, yet had refused to reveal their source. The similar information and attitude had led the group to theorise that they were all from a single group or organisation hell bent on what, they weren’t quite sure. It unnerved them greatly.

Despite everything, they concluded their adventures successfully. Although, there was a refreshing sense of realism to the story; as you could easily sense how much each fight was grating on them. They were being consumed by their own narrative.

They had surpassed the horizon of their own stories many years ago and were becoming nothing but hollow shells and reanimated corpses, dragged through a story they had never meant to inhabit. The desperation of the cause, of being meaningful, was all-consuming and slowly devouring them. Their paranoia — of a greater enemy that they knew only the outline of; from shambled, half-false scraps of information and near-forgotten folk tales of shadow people in shadow worlds — was driving them insane. Weariness was a constant companion to their souls.

Another train rushed past in a flurry.

She continued to read. One of the characters was becoming aware that there was something in the dark and she was almost certain it was observing her. Yes, she thought, something is most definitely brewing.

At last, her own train arrived and she stood from her seat on one of the platform benches. A crowd was massing around each of the doors to what she could see were also rather full carriages. It was going to be a long day.

She opened her bag and began putting away the book when she overheard someone pleading to get onto the train. She looked up to see a rather ramshackle-looking man half off the platform, trying to get into the already packed carriage.

Distantly she heard one of the accusing voices within the train call the man “grimy,” and frowned. He was obviously desperate to get onto the train; they didn’t have to be cruel about it.

At last, someone gave a great shove and the man went tumbling backwards. Instinctively, she lurched forward to stop him from smashing into the concrete, catching him just before he hit the floor. The doors of the train snapped shut and a moment later it sped off into the dark, leaving her attempting to haul the man onto his feet.

“Sorry about that,” she said, still in shock of the other passengers, “I can’t believe they did that. I — I should report them, they assaulted—”

“Thank you,” the man proclaimed sincerely, breaking her rambling train of thought, “However can I repay you?”

“Oh, uh,” she scrambled for a reply. In her peripheral vision she could still see the receding tail end of the train and winced, “Give me the ability to run off into a fantasy world where I don’t have to go to work this morning,” she joked, thinking of the look she knew that her manager would be wearing when she attempted to excuse her third late arrival that week. Something inside of her twisted at the thought.

“Alright.” The man replied, a flat tone to his voice and a sincere expression to his gaunt features. “As you wish.”

“You— what?”

Another train rushed past, drawing her attention away. When she turned back, the man had disappeared into the encroaching crowd waiting for the next train. Her brow crinkled and her lips parted lightly, but more and more people were arriving and she had already lost sight of the man.

The next train was equally as crowded as the first, but miraculously, she had managed to snag a window seat. The glass was cool against the clammy skin of her forehead and it soothed the encroaching headache from the hustle and bustle in the carriage. She supposed that the headache was also, in part, to do with the strange man who had offered she the ability to run into fictional worlds. Perhaps he was mad.

Absentmindedly, she began to wonder what it would be like if she could disappear into the world of one of her books. She wondered who she would be, an antagonist or a hero or no one at all. She wondered if she would reinvent herself or be painfully truthful to her own nature — of which would make her more trustworthy. She wondered if it would be fun, or if she would wind up as the same, hollow, shell of herself that the characters did; if she would return as somebody entirely different.

A heavy exhaustion suddenly began to weigh on her chest, a pressure that squeezed her ribs like an enormous pair of hands or a snake constricting around its prey. With heavy-lidded eyes and a gently throbbing head, she let the comforting lull of sleep sweep her away.

Sunshine tickled delicately at her fluttering eyelids. It was soft and warm against her face, reminiscent of summer picnics during childhood spent lying on a hillside looking up at the vast, blue sky — the sort that were more dream than memory. Licks of grass brushed against her neck almost reverently, soft and dry but prickled just enough to make it tickle. The coolness of glass and the odd softness of the synthetic seat material of the train was entirely replaced.

She opened her eyes and sure enough the sky was very blue and she was very still atop a hill of wild grass.

Dreaming, she concluded, was what was happening at that moment. It was simply a very, very, vivid dream. A light wind brushed across her cheeks and the delicate scent of the wildflowers, mixed with the cloying smother of midday heat invaded her nostrils. She could hear a cricket somewhere in the underbrush and cars shimmying along a road somewhere down below; the whooshing rather similar to that of a violent river or cacophonous wind. A very, very vivid dream.

She got up brusquely and looked about herself. At the top of the hill was a squat, white building with a slated roof and what appeared to be gold writing embossed on its side, but which was too far away to read. Curious and with little elsewhere to explore, she made her way swiftly up the hill.

The long grass pulled and caught on her boots as she walked and she tried determinedly not to think of the disturbingly realistic quality to it. Slowly, the building grew closer and closer, and the words began to become increasingly clear. “The New Inn,” they read. Absentmindedly she remembered someone telling she that words in dreams were incomprehensible and began to wonder why those were not.

‘The New Inn’ was a pub similar to any that she had seen before: thus she decided that it was simply her subconscious taking old memories of random pubs and recreating them. The bar was the first thing that she saw when she walked in through the door; it stretched the length of the first room with an array of colourful bottles behind it and empty cups upturned on the work surface. Each of them had the signature brand label on the front but none of them were recognisable to her. Similarly, the alcohol all seemed to be completely unknown brands.

The bartender: a young man with dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses looked up at her arrival and asked if they could be of assistance.

“Where am I?” She asked dumbly, tongue thick with disbelief and utter confusion.

“This is the New Inn,” he answered quickly. He had a deep voice, rumbling but soft; it didn’t quite suit him.

“What town though? Where are we nearest to?”

He frowned curiously and recited the name of the three surrounding towns. She almost laughed in his face. The towns that he had named featured heavily in the first two books of the series that she had been reading. The author had wanted to create a world that was similar but not quite the same as her own and had thus made up the names of each of their towns and cities — as well as avoiding references to pop culture.

“Are you sure?” She asked him.

“Quite.”

She reminded herself that she was surely dreaming and left quickly the way she came. A sudden thought crossed her mind; if it was indeed the world within her books that she currently resided, then she could probably catch the protagonists hanging around somewhere. It depends on the date, she thought.

Suddenly very curious, she slipped quickly back into the pub. “Sorry, yes, and er, what’s the date?”

The bartender offered her and increasingly exasperated glance but answered anyway. “August 4th.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, “Year?”

“Ye- you don’t know what year it is?”

“Humour me.”

The bartender sighed and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “It’s 2026.”

She grinned feverishly. She was standing right at the beginning of the narrative; the first day of the story, just before everything began to come together. “Cheers,” she exclaimed and dashed out of the door once again, leaving the bartender gawking in her wake.

She knew exactly which town to go to in order to observe the unfolding story and thankfully there were road signs outside of the pub. As she walked, the strange man from the train station and the sincerity of his words returned to her, almost like a warning and they rattled around inside her head. Perhaps it wasn’t a dream. She laughed; of course it was a dream. It had to be a dream. This is just what you get from binge-reading something, she thought.

It was only a short walk, ten minutes or so — or at least what felt like ten minutes; in a dream state that could have been hours. She remembered the church being a particularly well embellished monument within the opening description of the scenery, so that was what she headed for. It was a great, towering structure that loomed over the surroundings with a watchful eye. The ancient clock settled below its domed roof counted backwards for a reason unknown to anyone at all, yet had never been fixed for that was how it had always been.

It was about half an hour before she spotted them; bespectacled, with freckles spattered across their face like constellations, hair and eyebrows just starting to go grey — the spitting image of how the book had described them. She grinned.

Behind by about a hundred and fifty metres, she followed them to the small shop where she knew would be the scene of the first skirmish of the book — as well as the reader’s first introduction to their character.

As to not be injured by the impending fight, she waited outside, watching through the window. A punch was quickly thrown, then another, then she barely had time to step aside as the offending party was thrown through the front window. The offender sputtered and staggered in the broken glass and peered up as a hand gripped hold of their shirt and wrenched them up. She winced. Despite knowing the offender deserved to be put in place for harassing the cashier, she couldn’t help but pity the for the beating they were getting.

A few others had come to watch. Beside her stood a tall man in a black suit, his hair was gelled back and he looked as though he was going somewhere important. “You know,” she murmured conspiratorially, “They were a hero once.” The man raised his eyebrows above the dark glasses that she hadn’t noticed he was wearing in a questioning manner. She took that as her cue to continue. “Yeah, years ago by now, but they’re still trying to do their hero stuff,” the offender’s back thudded against the wall and she winced again, “as you can see.”

“Pray tell, do you know much more about them?”

Excited, she began to babble. “Oh, yes! This is Sam Wallace, no one really knows them much anymore but they saved god knows how many people back when they were a kid and recruited by one of those dodgy ‘superhero’ agencies — you know, those ones that got shut down because they really mistreated their employees and recruits, by like, locking them in rooms with rats and whatnot to scare them into submission? They live just up the road from here, they’re really cool.”

The man smiled to himself and turned away, “Thank you ever so much for the information, I’m sure I will find it vital in future.”

Too caught up in watching the fight, she waved the man off with a quick, “sure, anytime,” without any deeper inspection of the odd comment.

The police arrived soon after to take the retired superhero away, but so did a suspicious-looking, black SUV with some obviously government employees inside — who told the police that it was under their jurisdiction from then on. She couldn’t stop smiling; everything was happening just as it was in the book.

Over the following two weeks, she followed the group of retirees and half-forgotten legends through their escapades, until they finally discovered the antagonists base of operations. It was a rather decrepit warehouse in a forgettable corner of a generic industrial estate. Wide and squat, with a jutting roof and signature damp, concrete floor, it was by no means conspicuous. The unassuming nature of the building made it rather perfect as a lair.

The antagonists name was Ryker, or at least that was what he called himself. She crept in after the group in order to get a good look, hidden by the shadows of the towering, metal shelves. It worked. He was a tall man, half his face was cast in shadow, accentuating the angular properties of it and his sleek, black hair was swept backwards and gelled in place. He looked oddly familiar, but she put it down to reading his description in the books.

[asweetprologue]

so hard to say (so easy to do)

This is a follow-up to this fic I did for my halftober series, but can be read as a standalone! This is a whump fic, but all torture mentioned is fairly mild and there is a happy ending. A few people wanted a sequel so I’m finally able to oblige!  ao3

tw: hand trauma including broken fingers and mention of cutting near and around the forearms. 

***

He can’t remember how long he’s been here. 

Days? A week, maybe? It could have been months, and Jaskier’s not entirely sure he would notice the difference. Time began blending together so quickly after the first few sessions. The cell they are keeping him in is makeshift, once some kind of storage room in the dilapidated keep that the Nilfgaardians have occupied. It’s temporary, and so is his capture. One way or another. He will be disposed of the second they no longer find him useful. 

It’s a bit of a cat and mouse game. If he weren’t so thoroughly bruised, deep down in his core, he might be a little proud of how he’s led them along. They come every day, a few times, he’s not sure; there are no windows in his hasty prison. They never remove him from the chair he’s strapped to, and he’s been given only water, twice. He’s beyond hunger, his empty stomach just another point of pain alongside his other injuries. There are two men who work on him, one in what he assumes is the morning and one in the evening. They come in shifts. During the first few days - hours? weeks? - they would leave after he passed out, and he would be allowed to rest for a little while. Now they usually stay for a while, teasing him in and out of consciousness with wicked little hooks and blades. He faints too often for it to bring him any lasting peace. 

It’s a difficult thing to want to draw out, but draw it out he does. They ask him where the witcher has gone, and he tells them he won’t say, won’t give up his secrets (as if he has any). When they move to breaking his fingers, he tells them that he knows a few places, some towns that Geralt might be hiding out in, which he knows are safe to speak of. He tells them about witcher caches that he knows are long looted, old ruins where experiments past took place, unspoken but harmless truths. 

He never tells them the biggest truth: he has no idea where Geralt is. That way lies death, he’s certain. 

When he’s not entertaining Nilfgaard’s finest, he focuses on making plans of escape. None of them are particularly grand, or seem likely to work. Jaskier has gotten himself out of plenty of trouble in years past, but there’s not much one man can do against a full legion of soldiers. If he could get out of his bindings, he might be able to make it through the halls of the keep and sneak past the guards, but it’s a big if. It was a stronger contender in the early hours of his captivity, but now he doubts if he could even stand up for long. Weariness and pain have made his bones brittle, liable to crack at the slightest provocation. He fears if he tried to run he would do more damage than the Nilfgaards already have. 

He’s not sure if he’s thinking clearly. 

He doesn’t think about Geralt at all. He tries not to think about Geralt. 

He dreams of him, though. When he faints from the pain or exhaustion or thirst, he doesn’t dream, but a few times he’s managed to fall into a fitful sleep. In the dark of the cell he dreams of calloused hands and smiling, golden eyes. The worst is when he dreams that he’s woken up by Geralt’s side in their small camp, warm and content, only to wake again to the cold, damp dungeon. The smell of it chokes him, iron and piss and mold, and he gags on bile when he has nothing in his stomach to throw up. He sits in the dark, alone, his broken fingers throbbing along with his pulse as it rushes through his ears, every cut and bruise aching in the chill air. For a long while he just breathes, wishing so desperately to be held that he feels like nothing more than a child. 

They come for him again the next morning. Or night, he doesn’t know, can’t tell. The torch burns his eyes, and he closes them tightly to avoid one pain he doesn't have to endure. It’s better if he doesn’t look, anyways. 

In his brief glimpse of his tormentor, Jaskier could tell that the torturer this time is the thin man. His counterpart is huge, with shockingly broad shoulders and big, meaty, uncoordinated hands. Most of the bruises are from the big one, who prefers to slam his fist into Jaskier’s ribs when he doesn’t hear what he wants to. In his brief and endless time here, Jaskier has learned that he prefers the meat man. The thin man who stands before him now is a surgeon, precise and accurate in all his movements. His fingers are long and thin, and they reach so easily inside to pluck at Jaskier’s delicate veins and nerves. In a strange way, Jaskier can almost appreciate it, one artist to another. The human body is an instrument to the thin man, and the music he makes is pain. 

He can hear the sound of a cloth, rubbing across a smooth surface. It reminds him of Geralt, wiping down his blades with old silk, who he will not think of in this moment. Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, trying to will his mind into stillness. He’s not any good at this, not really. He can talk around the issue, sure, draw it out as much as he likes, keep them guessing. Jaskier would never let a single unintentional detail slip, this he knows in the depths of his being, past the music and charm and frivolousness. Nothing could make him betray Geralt and Ciri. He could run the Nilfgaardians round in circles for years if he wanted to. 

But he isn’t good with pain. 

This time the first knife to pierce his skin isn’t even preceded by a question. It comes with little fanfare, slicing into the pad of one of his twisted fingers in what Jaskier knows is a painfully intentional line. Exactly as big and deep as it needs to be to hurt him how the thin man wants it to. It burns against the swollen skin, already too sensitive. Jaskier lets out a slow breath, trying to brace himself for the rest. 

“I will no longer ask,” the thin man says. His voice is soft, with the almost musical lit of someone from near Toussaint. He always sounds breathy, like he’s been walking too quickly up a flight of stairs. “You know the question.”

Jaskier nods jerkily. He won’t speak for a while. He needs to draw it out, perhaps find a way to barter for some water or food. Information in exchange for things that might make his existence more bearable. Who knows how long it will be before - 

No. Don’t think it. 

The thin man hums and begins his work. 

Jaskier fades, coming back to himself only when the pain becomes the worst. He passes out a few times, but he finds no reprieve. The thin man waits for him when he wakes, and begins again. Jaskier doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore. All he knows is that his skin has been replaced with fire. 

They haven’t even started working on his face yet, but the thin man had made some chilling comments about his eyes. Jaskier hopes they have time yet before that. 

He’s gritting his teeth through a particularly deep incision on the inside of his forearm - just shallow enough not to be dangerous, but wide enough to sting - when the door to the room shatters inwards. 

The chair that he’s in was bolted to the floor, which he expects is the only reason he doesn’t go flying backwards. As it is, his head rocks back from the blast and knocks into the wood, and he’s too dizzy from blood loss and dehydration and maybe a slight concussion to register what happens next. There’s some shouting, and a spray of something warm and salty across his face. A brilliant light, and then darkness. 

He keeps his eyes closed until he feels hands on his cheeks. When he opens them, he is met with gold, gold, gold. 

Geralt is here. 

“Melitele, that took you long enough,” he says, and then he passes out. 

***

When he wakes, there’s no pain. 

He sits up and winces, amending that thought. There is, most definitely, some pain. It crackles along his ribs and his joints, aching, but it’s dulled. He’s lying in a small room, warm wooden logs forming the wall next to his small cot. A fire crackles merrily away on the far side of the little cottage, basic cooking implements hanging above it. A table sits underneath a window to his left, where he can just barely make out a thin line of blue sky above a dense treeline. His bed is covered in rough, simple cotton sheets; the room is warm enough that it needs no quilt. When he lifts them warily to assess the damage, his torso is wrapped in fine linens, the kind Geralt likes to keep in their packs for when jobs go south. Three of his fingers are heavily wrapped as well, bound together to keep them stiff and straight. He fumbles as he picks up the still mug of water he finds on the little shelf beside the cot, and he drinks so quickly he nearly drops it on the floor. 

He’s so focused on the critical task of getting water from the mug into his mouth without spilling it all on the sheets that he almost doesn’t notice the front door opening. When he does, he jumps - can’t help it, suddenly filled with a bright spot of panic. It fades into sheer relief when he sees the slight silhouette and the faint, nearly white hair backlit by the late afternoon sun. Ciri stares at him, holding a wide, flat bowl against her hip while propping the door open with one hand. Suddenly the bowl goes clattering to the floor, dandelion greens falling in a floral carpet as she launches herself across the room at him.

“We were so fucking worried about you!” she says, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Jaskier laughs, the sound of it coming out rough but no less joyful for it. He lifts his sore arms to hug her back, ignoring the way it pulls at his healing injuries. 

“Now what would your father say if he heard you using such language?” he asks. One hand lifts up to card gently through her hair. Ciri pulls back a bit, and he tucks a stray piece of it behind her ear as she glares at him. Her green eyes are covered in a film of tears, but he won’t mention it. His eyes are burning a bit as well. 

“You know I only learned it from him,” she says, “and you. I’m angry with you. And him. You made us leave you behind.” She’s so young, he thinks, even with everything she’s been through. It makes something in his chest compress and expand at once. It’s a strange feeling, but not a bad one. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it, mostly. “I didn’t want to. But I would do it again, to protect you. Both of you.”

A stray tear slips down her cheek. “You were so hurt,” she croaks. She takes a few breaths through her nose, biting the inside of her lip. “When they brought you back, Geralt was so quiet. Not like normal quiet, but like, like people get when they don’t want to talk about how bad it is. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” She looks bereaved, guilt twisting her young features, and Jaskier can’t stand it. 

“No,” he says, firmly, as much authority in his voice as he can muster with it still raw from hours of screaming. “It was my choice, Ciri. The fact that people want to hurt you doesn’t make it your fault. I will always choose to protect you. Always.” He reaches out his free hand to take hers, squeezing it tightly. “You would do the same for me, Lioness.”

She nods shakily, and squeezes his hand back. He knows this isn’t the last time he’ll have to say it, but that’s alright. He’ll say it again. 

Ciri wipes her eyes quickly and pulls away. “I need to get Geralt. He’s been… not good. He needs to know you’re awake.” She stands up, rushing over to the door and righting her upended bowl, saving what she can of the greens. Jaskier takes a moment to arrange himself on the bed a bit, shuffling around until he’s more comfortable.

“Not good how?” he asks. Ciri shoots him a look. 

“Not good as in worried, of course. We all have. Even Yennefer. She stayed with you the entire first day you were back. It’s been -”

The door slams open again, this time revealing a panting Geralt. His hair is down around his face, looking slightly damp. He has on only a loose gray shirt over an old pair of trousers, the ones with a rip in the knee that Jaskier had told him to throw out but he’d insisted were good for at least one more season. Jaskier had been meaning to patch it up for a few weeks now. He’s so fucking beautiful Jaskier could cry.

“I was fishing,” Geralt says. He’s staring at Jaskier with wide eyes, one hand still on the door handle. 

Ciri says, “Um. I’m going to find Yennefer,” and slips out the door under Geralt’s arm. Geralt doesn’t even seem to see her. 

The door falls shut behind her, but Geralt seems rooted in place, staring at Jaskier with an expression that’s wide open and raw. It lands on Jaskier’s skin like a balm, tracing over every visible wound with desperate attention. 

“Well,” Jaskier says finally, “I’m not going to bite you.”

Geralt makes a hurt noise, and suddenly he’s across the room, crowding into Jaskier’s space. He hovers beside the bed, curved over Jaskier’s propped up form with his hands inches away from bandaged shoulders. He hesitates. Jaskier can’t stand it. 

“I didn’t get tortured for however long for you not to hug me once I’m rescued,” he snaps. “I’m not going to break.”

Geralt laughs, but it’s so strangled Jaskier isn’t actually sure it isn’t a sob, and then Geralt finally leans into him. His fingers come up to cradle Jaskier’s skull, holding onto the back of his neck like he really might fragment apart at too harsh a touch. His other arm circles around Jaskier’s chest until he can feel a warm palm spread along the base of his spine, anchoring him. Jaskier sighs, feeling the last of the tension leave him as he collapses against Geralt’s sturdy form. One wet strand of white hair tickles his cheek where he’s pressed against Geralt’s neck. 

“Four days,” Geralt says, so soft Jaskier might not have heard it if he didn’t half feel it through the rumble of Geralt’s ribcage. 

“Four days?” Jaskier repeats, turning it into a question. 

“How long they had you.” A hot breath leaves him in a long sigh, tickling Jaskier’s eartip. “Didn’t know if we’d find you in time.”

“I should have let Yennefer put that tracking spell on me all those years ago,” Jaskier says, aiming for light. Geralt just squeezes him a bit tighter, enough that it stings a little, before he eases off a bit. He doesn't let go. 

“She’ll do one as soon as she’s able,” Geralt says. “Used a lot of energy, healing you.”

“Exceptional job she did,” Jaskier says, soothing his nose along the line of Geralt’s throat. “My, ah. Well. Does she know if my - Any prognosis on, ah -”

“Your fingers will be fine,” Geralt says, bringing the hand on Jaskier’s neck down to cradle his bandaged fingers. “Yennefer said they’re mostly healed already, but she’s keeping them wrapped so you don’t aggravate them.”

Jaskier sighs in relief. “Well thank small mercies and powerful mages for that. How long am I bedridden for? I’m taking two days at least off of whatever orders Yennefer has given, knowing her she’s added an extra week just to keep me ‘out of trouble’ as she would describe it. I’ll not sit around a moment more than -”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts. He pulls back, looking serious, almost grave. But his eyes are full of something else, something that makes Jaskier’s words catch and halt in his throat. 

“Yes, dear heart?” he prompts. Geralt closes his eyes. 

“I love you,” he says, soft and breathless. He opens his eyes suddenly, pupils blown wide as he meets Jaskier’s gaze. An expression that Jaskier has seen so, so many times steals across his features - scared, but determined. His witcher is a very brave man. “I’m in love with you. I didn’t know if I’d get to - if you would be -”

Jaskier reaches up to catch Geralt’s cheek in his wrapped palm, and Geralt’s eyelids flutter like he wants to close them, but he doesn’t. He stays looking at Jaskier, drinking him in as Jaskier is doing in return. His eyes are two spots of honey in the warm light of the fire and the afternoon sun spilling into the room. Jaskier leans forward and presses their lips together. His are too dry, and Geralt’s are a bit chapped. He bites them when he’s nervous, or worried. It’s also the most brilliant kiss Jaskier’s ever had - it feels like the relief of coming to a familiar place after a long time on the road, where you know the people and the food is good and everyone knows your songs. It’s cheerful fires in silver blue campsites, blankets shared on cold nights on the journey north, buttercups and dandelions braided into snow white hair. It’s coming home, the only way Jaskier has ever really known how. 

He pulls away, letting their foreheads fall together, just breathing in the space between them. Geralt smells like Roach, and fresh spring water, and lilac. “I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”

Geralt smiles at him, really smiles, beautiful and relieved. Ciri’s voice comes to them through the window, excited and drawing nearer, interwoven with a smoother tone that Jaskier remembers from hazy half wakeful moments. Yennefer will want to check on his wounds, will lecture them on getting distracted and ruining her hard work, but she will also smile and it will touch her eyes like it didn’t used to. But for the next few seconds, it’s just the two of them, and once again the moment feels unhurried and infinite. So he leans back in to kiss him again and steals Geralt’s quiet huff of a laugh to keep within his own mouth, and for a moment that’s everything there is. 

[leaveherwildliketheflowers]

Tw: medical/gynecology mention

As I was sitting in the waiting room today I couldn't help but reflect on how lucky I am to have access to affordable healthcare at one of the best health systems in the world. To have a team of providers that advocate for me. To be so supported through this nightmare of a journey by providers who actually care about my wellbeing.

Sitting there I was also nervous. A SIS ultrasound isn't a huge deal, but it's invasive. It doesn't help that the doctor I was seeing is male and that triggers a lot of trauma based fear. I knew it would be fine because I trust my OB and she set me up with him, but that didn't help the knot in my stomach.

I put on my brave face when they called me back. Repeating "I can do this" over and over. In the past my transvaginal ultrasounds have only been with the ultrasound technician. I never actually saw the doctor, they just read the images and gave me results. This time it was different. The technician got me set up and as soon and she slid the probe in the doctor walked in. That caught me off guard a little bit.

He walked and I could immediately sense how calming his energy was. He stayed at my head during the first portion of the ultrasound, which help me feel a little safer. He talked me through the SIS portion of the ultrasound and said that I was in complete control and we could go at my pace. Then he turned to the screen and started talking me through what he was seeing. He told me the uterine cavity looked good but they would need the SIS to be sure. Then we talked about my ovaries and how based on the images it looked like I had PCOS because of all the follicles. I laughed and told him I am well aware of my PCOS. He told me that my thinness will help keep my symptoms mild, so that's good I guess.

Then it was time for the SIS portion of the ultrasound. The doctor stepped down to the end of the table, looked me in the eye and asked if I was ok. When I said yes he said, "Before we start I want you to take a deep breath with me. In...and out. Ok. You're doing great." He then proceeded with the procedure, talking me through everything and never once touching me without telling me first and asking permission. It was exactly what I needed to feel safe.

The procedure itself didn't hurt like I expected it to. It was more uncomfortable than anything. The worst parts were when he cleaned my cervix and when they had the probe and the catheter inserted at the same time. They were very quick and so positive and reassuring the entire time. After they were done the doctor was beaming when he to me that my uterine cavity looks incredibly healthy and there is no reason it can't support a pregnancy. As he was walking me out he told me he is so excited for me and will be asking my OB to keep him posted on my progress.

A few hours later I got an alert that I had a message from my OB. I opened it to read, "[Insert my name], the uterine cavity looks normal!" Her excitement made me smile. This means she either 1. Thought to check my chart today or 2. Had the doctor follow up with her so she could reach out to me directly. Either way this is the perfect demonstration of how much she cares.

The advil I took before the procedure has worn off and I am having a little cramping and discomfort. I'm also exhausted from being wound up and anxious all day. However, I'm also relieved to get good news and hopeful that maybe the next pregnancy will be different. That maybe having a healthy baby in my arms isn't as unachievable as it feels.