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onlymingyus · 28 days ago

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What's your favorite scary movie?

pairing; vernon chwe x f reader

genre; horror, smut (minor dni), angst, toxic

summary; The summer after graduating high school is supposed to be one last hurrah before you and your friends head off to college---none of you expected it to become a horror movie.

content warnings; PLEASE READ ALL OF THE WARNINGS! 90s au, multiple murders, police, alluding to self harm, drugs/alcohol (mentioned and usage), overdose, knives, blood -- detailed scenes of harm/murder, funeral/memorials, fighting, bullying/harassment, degrading names, "slut" shaming, mild alluding to sexual assault (past/present), self confidence/esteem issues, depression, alludes to other behavioral/mental problems being present, crying, stalking/spying, obsession, yandere!vernon. all main characters are adults -- just graduated high school (vernon & other svt cameos have been aged down). the reader has a classic small town suburbs nuclear family (mentions parents obviously), vernon's "mother" briefly mentioned. this fic is full of really horrible people.

smut warnings; virgin!reader, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), quick handjob, crying (pleasure), corruption/innocence kink, petnames, praise, pulling out, cum on skin -- aftercare, brief post-sex dysphoria.

w/c; 30k and some change (870 extra words for patreon bonus)

a/n; thank you to @junkissed for proofreading for me and giving me strength to push through and finish this despite all the shit that kept trying to knock me down. this fic is a lot, so please if you have made it this far in my notes make sure you read all the warnings -- keep in mind this is my halloween fic, so i didn't hold back. dark au mars is back strong.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

Trailing behind your friends, you laugh when your best friend Caitlin pulls at your arm, urging you towards the front of the group. “Y/N!” You roll your eyes as she whines your name, extending the last of it dramatically before laying her head on your shoulder and putting her arm through yours. “Can I sit between you and Christen this time? This movie is supposed to be hella scary.”

Hearing his name, the self-appointed leader of your group, slows his strides to match yours and, in turn, Caitlin’s. “What about me?”

You liked your friends but they could be a bit much. You had known Caitlin the longest. The two of you had been friends since middle school and she was the person you could rely on the most, but that all changed when the two of you went to high school and your bodies and personalities started to change. Boys started to pay attention to you more and Caitlin’s personality soured.

Christen wasn’t the type of person that you ever saw yourself being friends with before. He was the most popular guy at school and the captain of the football team, but none of those things mattered anymore. After graduation this year, you thought all of those trivial things would fall by the wayside, that your friends would start acting a bit less like they were still in high school and yet it was like they never left.

“Caitlin wants to sit between us for the movie. It’s supposed to be really scary. I don’t min—”

“You know I like the end seat.”

Furrowing your brows, you start to speak up again when Christen sighs and puts his hand around your waist, pulling you from Caitlin and causing the girl to scowl at you. “I like the end seat and you always have to piss like five times during a movie. Let’s keep the seats like we always do. That okay with you, Cat?”

Staring at Christen, Caitlin wants to be mad and tell him no, but the moment he calls her by the nickname he had given her, she swoons and just nods. “Uh huh… sure, Christen.”

“See.” Turning his attention back to you, Christen winks. “It’s all good, baby. Now, put a smile on that face; don’t be a buzzkill. If you get scared, you can just hold on to me.” Tugging you closer, he grins before finally letting you walk on your own.

From the time that you had met him your sophomore year, Christen had never been shy about how he felt about you. You wouldn’t call it a crush. A crush was something sweet and something that, if you didn’t reciprocate, the other person might move on. What Christen felt for you was possessive and like you owed him something. You were like a target or an end prize and he hadn’t won just yet, but to him there were still plenty of levels left in the game.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you glance back at Caitlin as she scoffs at her "boyfriend,” Jae. You felt bad for him. It was so obvious how much he liked Caitlin. He would follow behind her like a puppy, buy her anything she wanted, and be at her beck and call even when she was drooling over another guy. You had watched as Caitlin had belittled Jae in front of others and refused to call him her boyfriend but then gotten angry if he didn’t refer to her as his girlfriend. It was a complicated situation that you honestly didn’t understand.

“Just… Stop touching me. Did you bring money for candy?” Caitlin’s voice is sharp, still irritated from the interaction with Christen and now Jae was walking too close to her. In her mind, she always got second best while you did nothing and got first pick. You didn’t even act like you wanted Christen; it was devastating.

“Yeah, of course I did. You can get anything you want, babe.” Jae’s voice is a bit defeated, but at least he was going to be able to sit next to Caitlin. He had gotten nervous when she had asked to switch seats. It wasn’t like he could tell her where to sit... he wasn’t like that. She was a strong-willed girl; she always had been, but that was one of the things he loved about her.

Making a face at Jae’s words, Caitlin steps forward and sighs dramatically, not hearing the way Alanna and Juwon copy her just a few steps behind her. They were the lucky two out of the friend group in their own personal opinions. They knew exactly where they fit in the hierarchy.

There was the king, Christian, and his would-be queen if only you would accept his hand. The princess who wants to be queen, Caitlin, and her dog turned prince, Jae. Meanwhile, Alanna and Juwon belonged in the court together. They were happy to cheer each of you on and laugh when you failed.

They had been dating since freshman year and a day hadn’t gone by that someone was complaining about seeing Juwon’s tongue down Alanna’s throat. Another strong opinion that the two shared was that if you didn’t want to see them making out, you could look in the other direction.

“Babeeeee!” Alanna whines mocking Caitlin as she pulls on Juwon’s arm, causing the boy laugh as he looks at her fondly. “Buy me candy?” Batting her lashes, Alanna blows a kiss in his direction that Juwon pretends to catch before reaching into his pocket to take out his wallet, handing it to her.

“My money is your money, princess.” Another wave of laughter erupts from the back of the group as Alanna pushes Juwon’s wallet back towards him. Now the two have caught the attention of everyone.

“The hell are you two doing? Are you high?” Christen’s voice is stern, but the layer of his own amusement only serves to make Juwon laugh as he shakes his head and pulls Alanna forward towards the doors of the theater.

“Nope, not yet. Give me a few hours and I’ll be so fuckin’ chill I might not remember your name.”

Smiling, you lift your fingers to your lips to hide it as Alanna pokes at your side when she passes by you, giving you a wink. For all their heavy PDA and following the leader's behavior, you got along with them well. They had been nice to you, even when your best friend hadn’t.

“Ugh, as if. You can’t think now, Juwon. This is why you two are going to a community college. You’ve fucking rotted your brains with weed. It’s gross.” Caitlin watches as Alanna throws up her middle finger before blowing her a kiss and disappearing behind the theater door. “It is gross. I’m right, aren’t I, Y/N?”

You tilt your head and struggle with what to say as you all get closer to the doors that your friends had just gone through. “I—well. It’s their choice.” Feeling bad that you can’t just tell Caitlin to shut up and to leave Juwon and Alanna alone, you find yourself muttering as she scoffs, turning her attention to Jae for support who gives it willingly.

Feeling the weight of having to agree with Caitlin off your shoulders, you unzip your bag, the air conditioner hits you like a breeze when Christen opens the doors and steps inside. You purse your lips and fish out a five-dollar bill, not paying attention to what’s in front of you until you hear Christen’s and another guy’s voice.

“Wassup, man? Still manning this place like a fucking loser?”

“Still making money, so yeah, if that’s what you wanna call it. Just one?”

“Nah, two. Me and Y/N.”

Furrowing your brows, you lift your money up to show it to Christen just as you see who’s behind the ticket counter. Vernon Chwe, another member of your graduating class. You didn’t know him well, but as often as you and your friends came to the movies, you saw him in passing. He was always nice to you, and he was easy on the eyes.

“Already paid for. See…” Reaching over the counter, Christen rips two tickets for himself before winking at Vernon and passing one to you.

You can see the irritation written on Vernon’s face, but he manages to keep his cool. He wasn’t like Christen or anyone else in your group. He didn’t hang out in the commons area or at the mall like you did. You knew that he worked here and that he had a cool car. You found him intriguing.

Moving towards Christen quickly, you take the ticket and look at Vernon apologetically. “I’m sorry. That was so rude.” Looking up at your friend, you whine, “That wasn’t cool, Christen...”

Instead of offering his own apology to Vernon, Christen just laughs and taps you on the tip of your nose. “Whatever, baby. Don’t get mad about it. I’m just playin’ with Vern. Come on. Let me buy you a snack.”

Vernon watches as Christen tries to take your hand but you manage to keep it from him. Tilting his head, he finds it curious. He didn’t know if you were dating the guy or not, but he didn’t like him; he never had.

“Um, excuse me... Dodgy, loser, man? I need two tickets.”

Turning his attention back towards Caitlin, Vernon sighs and rips off two tickets before taking $10 from Jae. “Enjoy the movie.” The moment she is out of earshot, Vernon adds, “Bitch.”

He could hear you and your friends at the concession stand. It wasn’t a busy night and the theater wasn’t running a full staff. If it had been any other group, Vernon might have put a bit more pep in his step, making his way over from the counter, but he could already hear the bitchy girl complaining, so he took his time.

“Oh, my god. Does this place not have anyone else working?”

Muttering for Caitlin to hush, you rub your neck as Vernon sighs and moves to the middle of the concession stand before lifting his hands. “What can I get for you guys?” He didn’t really care; well, maybe he cared what you wanted. You had been kind to him and it wasn’t the first time. Every time he had seen you here or run into you at school, you were nice. You were also gorgeous, so that didn’t hurt your case either.

“Two large cokes, a medium popcorn, and some M&Ms. Also, could you like... not take all night? The movie is supposed to start in thirty minutes.” Leaning on the counter, Caitlin watches as Vernon shifts his head to the side slightly before grabbing two large cups and filling them with ice. She remembered him from school and the other times they had been here. He was weird. She had a few classes with him and he had always sat in the back and avoided talking to people except when he had to.

“Oh my god, Y/N, do you remember Miss Lewis’ calculus class from that last semester?”

Taken aback by Caitlin’s question, you look from her back towards the counter before tilting your head. “I—yeah? What about it?” This was the type of thing that you hated about your friends. They lived in the past; every day was still a day of the glory of high school, whereas you were ready to move on.

“This dude was in that class. We had that stupid ass icebreaker, remember? Like a weird fact about us? He said he was allergic to peanuts.” Cailtin snorts into a laugh as she meets Vernon’s eyes, his brow lifting to her memory.

“Well—I, I remember—”

“Man, that must fuckin’ suck. Can you eat anything? What happens if you eat a peanut? Would you die? Swell up like a fatass.”

Juwon had been doing so well until that moment, but he was good at following the leader and at that moment Caitlin was playing her best queen bully bee role. Beside you, Christen laughs under his breath before leaning on the counter as Vernon tries to ignore them, fixing the rest of the order before giving the total to Jae, who slides over the money.

“Anyone else want anything? I’d hate for you to miss the previews because you’re being assholes.”

Surprised by Vernon’s words, the laughter dies off. No smiles are left except a slight one on your face.

Christen doesn’t say anything before he reaches over to take a box of milk duds from the display showing them to Vernon and tossing a dollar bill on to the counter. “Thanks for nothing, bitch.”

You try to stay; you want to apologize to Vernon for your friends one more time, but Christen’s hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you forward hard. “Let’s go, Y/N. You can share a drink with Caitlin. She didn’t need a fucking large anyway.”

The movie theater didn’t have many others besides your group. After a few stragglers made their way in finding a seat, you tried to settle into your own and focus on the screen. You weren’t the biggest fan of scary movies, but there wasn’t much to do on a Thursday and you had already spent too many days staring at the same stores at the mall.

When the lights go off completely and the screen lights up, you find yourself trying to make yourself smaller in your seat to keep your leg away from Christen’s hand when he stretches his fingers and smirks over at you. “Chill, are you scared already? It’s just the previews, baby.”

You wished that you had the guts to tell him to stop calling you baby and that you weren’t scared. You just wished that he’d keep his fingers away from the end of your shorts. Shaking your head, you offer him a strained smile as you lean towards Caitlin, taking a few M&Ms she offers you before eating one of them. “Not scared, just a little cold.”

“You want my jacket?”

God, you couldn’t win, but maybe that would keep his hands off your skin. Nodding, you watch Christen stand up despite the groans from those behind you. Taking the jacket, you lay it over your legs and smile a bit wider at him. “Thanks, Christen.”

Now Caitlin was regretting sharing anything with you. Tilting the box of candy away from you as she watches you tuck the jacket around your legs, Caitlin scoffs and takes a long sip of her drink.

By the end of the movie, you find that you don’t have that much to be worried about. It wasn’t as much of a scary movie as you thought it would have been. The acting wasn’t great and the story had been predictable. You seemed to be the only one who seemed to think that way as the rest of your friends loudly discussed how good it was as you all moved through the theater lobby.

Taking up the rear, you hold Christen’s jacket in your arms, waiting for the right moment to give it back to him until you see Vernon sweeping some popcorn off the floor near the concession stand. Maybe you could get in that apology now. Watching your friends for a moment longer, you let them keep going as you hang back and head in Vernon’s direction.

“Hey… Vernon?”

Furrowing his brows, Vernon lifts his head, sighing when he sees you standing in front of him. He hadn’t expected that, especially seeing you alone. Glancing around for your entourage, he’s surprised to see them closer to the front doors instead of right on your heels. “Yeah, what’s up? How was the movie?”

Opening your mouth, you close it quickly, not sure how to answer him at first, but you shift on your feet and smile at him. “It was—it was okay. I mean, I think everyone could guess what they did last summer by how guilty they were acting.” Shaking your head, you sigh and glance down at your hands, gripping the jacket tighter in your hands. You weren’t sure why Vernon made you so nervous, his gaze making your cheeks heat up with how his smirk pulled up at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, not my favorite either, honestly.” Lowering his eyes to the jacket in your hands, Vernon takes a breath and shakes his head. He wasn’t an idiot; he had seen that jacket on Prince Charming—Christen, before the movie. “Did you need something, Y/N?”

You weren’t sure that Vernon even knew your name so hearing him say it startles you, but of course he did. You had graduated together and probably had several classes together. It was silly of you to think he didn’t know your name; even Christen had said it before the movie. Maybe it was more that Vernon was saying it. Why did it matter?

“Oh, no. Sorry, I know you are busy. I just—my friends, I’m so sorry. They aren’t always shitty.” Even you knew that was a lie, but that was what you did. You made excuses for them. You could see that Vernon knew it was a lie too, as he smiles and nods along with your words.

“Sure, it’s whatever. Didn’t bother me—”

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Christen’s voice startles you with how close it is. Vernon watches how your body jerks in surprise and he furrows his brows, feeling a pang of anger taking over him at how someone could scare you so easily.

“I—I was coming. I just—” You weren’t sure what to say to Christen, especially when you meet his eyes and see him glare at Vernon. You had made it worse. Turning towards your friend, you sigh and laugh but even you can tell it’s fake. “Let’s go. We were going to get froyo, right?”

“What the fuck were you saying to her, freak?” Christen was fuming that you were talking to Vernon, but what pissed him off even more was that Vernon had been smiling at you. You had gone over to him by yourself and it looked like some loser was flirting with you. That wouldn’t happen, not while he was breathing.

Pushing at Christen’s chest, you whine his name before glancing over at Vernon apologetically as he shakes his head and leans on his broom. How wasn’t he afraid of Christen? You were friends with Christen and you were afraid of him at times.

The damage was done; the rest of your friends had made their way back over the concession stand, where the tension was growing thicker. Caitlin looked equal parts disgusted and amused as she watched Christen yell at Vernon. Jae stood behind her, confused look on his face as if he didn’t know if he wanted to be there or if he had to be there, and Alanna and Juwon were already laughing. That’s what they always did. They wanted to see a fight; that would be better than the movie to them. Meanwhile, you were horrified at the idea.

“Please, can we just go?” Your voice is strained as you push at Christen, unable to get him to budge.

His hand moves to grip your forearm, causing you to hiss in pain as he pulls you from in front of him and towards Caitlin, who wraps her arm around your waist, holding you closer to her and Jae. “I’m not leaving until I wipe this stupid smile off this freak’s face. I don’t like how he looks at you, Y/N. He’s a perv.”

Nodding along with his words, Caitlin hums against your hair as she keeps you close to her even as you groan in annoyance. “Totally, he was staring at her the entire time. Made me wanna hurl. Like, seriously, loser? You think you can look at my best friend and it’s okay?”

Now you were her best friend and she was protective of you? Only when she could make someone else miserable or make you miserable while doing it. Pulling from Cailtin, you tug on Christen’s shirt and beg for him to leave with you. “Please, can we go? You promised to buy me a snack and to get me home early.” Avoiding Vernon’s eyes as he grips his broom a bit tighter, his jaw clenched, you tug harder on Christen’s shirt.

Smirking at Vernon, Christen takes a step back, putting up his hands as if he’s being the bigger man. He moves towards you and Cailtin so he can wrap his arm around you and this time you let him. Vernon can see the discomfort in your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly, but what you are doing seems to work as Christen takes his jacket from you and sighs happily as if he’s won the girl, leading you out of the theater.

“You owe Vernon a night off.”

Wen Junhui looked bored as he watched Lee Chan leaning far too close to the television in front of him as he gripped the Sega controller in his hands. Vernon just sighs and shakes his head, dismissing his friend’s comment. He knew what Jun was getting at, but he wasn’t worried about it.

“I can work next week if you want me too.” Chan, or as he preferred to be called, Dino winces as his pixelated character is killed, taking him back to the beginning of the level. “What day were you thinking? I have an English paper due like Wednesday, so... if it could be after that—”

“It’s fine, dude. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“The fuck he doesn’t. Why didn’t you tell me those assholes were giving you so much shit, huh?” Jun knew that Vernon didn’t want to talk about what had happened at work, but he was getting tired of seeing his friend let people walk all over him because he was too nice. “Every single one of them is sketchy and I’m tempted to ask Seungcheol to get them banned.”

Now Dino was paying attention, the controller was back on the table and the game paused, letting the menu music play on repeat as he listened to his friends. Jun was pissed and Vernon looked as calm as always until Jun implicated everyone. That caused him to sit up and shake his head as he reached for one of the cheap beers the three had been sharing over the past week.

“Not all of them are assholes, alright? And I have it handled. I’m not fucking worried about Christen, his big ass ego or his little followers.”

Vernon had said it himself, Christen’s little followers. To Jun, that was all of them, and Vernon wasn’t changing his mind any time soon. “Yeah, whatever. Next time they come in and pull something, come get me from the box. Don’t just let them push you around. I don’t care if you think that one chick is hot or not. She’s still his bitc—”

“Hey!” There were very few times that Vernon raised his voice at either of his friends, so when he did it made the air in the room shift. “Just… Shut your damn mouth about her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Y/N… She was trying to apologize for the rest of them and then Christen—you know what? It doesn’t matter. Here.”

Pushing the can towards Dino, Vernon stands when the youngest of their group takes the beer and puts it on the table, watching him pull on his leather jacket. Jun shakes his head and lets out a long sigh when Vernon picks up the keys to his car and searches for his beanie.

“I didn’t mean to piss you off. I didn’t—look alright? Vernon, I didn’t know all of that. Ya, know, what Y/N did? I’m sorry I started to call her his bitch. I’m just… I’m done with them messing with you.”

Pulling his black beanie over his hair, Vernon shrugs and shoves his keys into his jacket. “It’s fine. I’m not pissed; I’m just tired. I’m gonna get home; I’ll see y’all later.”

Watching Vernon walk out of the room, Jun rubs the back of his neck, feeling a bit of regret wash over him. He knew he had pushed a bit too hard but Vernon had been acting off for months. He had known him since they were freshmen and neither of them had ever fit in, but they found their own way together. It was just lately Vernon was different; Jun felt like he didn’t know the person he called his best friend.

Gripping the wheel of his 1989 Chevy Beretta, Vernon sighs as he leans his head back against the headrest hard. It was starting to get late, but he couldn’t seem to get himself to go home. Instead he kept turning on to familiar roads, his eyes scanning the houses.

Vernon knew where he was. This was your street. The house on the right was yours, and the window with the light on, second floor… that was your room. Slowing down to a crawl, Vernon swallows hard as he leans to look at the curtains covering your window. He wished they weren’t there, as bad as that was. Sometimes he wished he could just get one glimpse of you instead of a shadow of you crossing in front of them, but he would take what he could get.

Sighing loudly, Vernon pushes his foot down on the gas and takes a right, leaving your house behind. Tapping his thumb on his steering wheel, a smirk pulls at his lips as he eases by Caitlin’s house. He supposed this was why the two of you became friends. It was more a friendship of convenience living a street over from your best friend. Christen, however, didn’t live on the street.

In fact, Vernon knew that Christen lived at least a fifteen-minute drive away in a gated community. So why was his car parked outside of Caitlin’s house? Wasn’t this the same guy who was threatening Vernon for daring to look at you and acting like you were his property?

Narrowing his eyes at the only window with a light still on, Vernon lifts his brow when he sees Christen pull Caitlin back against him. He was seeing a lot more of her than he ever wanted to. It wasn’t like Vernon was shocked to find out that Christen was sleeping with Caitlin. That made more sense than Caitlin dating Jae, but it didn’t seem like they were even trying to hide it. Not from Jae and not from you. Did either one of you know? Now he was curious.

Ten minutes later, Vernon puts his car in park and purses his lips as he looks around the street. There weren’t many cars for this to be an uppity part of town. Turning his attention towards the house he had stopped in front of, he starts to think that no one is at home until he sees a light on the third floor. It seemed that the person he wanted to see might just be home after all.

Shoving his keys into his pocket, Vernon sniffs hard, the colder night air biting at his nose as he makes his way to the front door of the nice house. Pressing the doorbell, he waits for a few moments until the door opens and Jae gives him a confused look, tilting his head.

“Uh, hey?” Jae was surprised to see Vernon at his front door. That had been the very last person he expected to see, especially this late at night. He knew Vernon better than anyone else in his circle of friends, but he would never admit it to any of them. Before he had been brought into the inner circle, he had been in a similar situation to Vernon’s; the major difference had been that his family had money and he could—and did—use it to climb the ranks. “‘Sup?”

Nodding his head in Jae’s direction, Vernon glances behind him, scanning for anyone in the house, but it all seems quiet. It appeared that Jae was the only one at home. That was good. It was better for what Vernon needed to tell him. “Hey, can I come in? I, uh…” Rubbing at the back of his neck, he tries to smile a bit, but it seems as forced as it is. “Just wanna talk to you about something.”

Was this about what had happened at the theater? Jae’s stomach was in his throat. He didn’t really want to deal with this, but he did feel a little shitty about how that had all gone down. He could have reigned Caitlin in a bit more, but... even he knew he was lying to himself. “Uh, sure. Yeah, come in. My parents are out of town so I’m not really supposed to have people over but—” Sighing to himself at how stupid he sounds, Jae shakes his head and gestures at the stairs for Vernon to go up. “Whatever, we can talk in my room. I’m on the third floor; my doors open.”

Lifting his brows, Vernon smirks a bit as he lowers his head and moves through the door towards the staircase. Jae sounded like a kid who was breaking his parent’s rules, not like a recent graduate who was going to some Ivy League school in the fall. Vernon knew he shouldn’t find that as amusing as he did, but it was fitting with how Jae treated everything else in his life—including his girlfriend.

“Cool, nice fucking place, man.” Jogging up the stairs, Vernon barely gives the house a second glance as he makes his way to the third floor and turns towards the open door. The room was decorated just as he thought it might be and yet it was still shocking.

The bed was made perfectly, books lined pristine shelves, and there were pictures of Caitlin everywhere. What was even more interesting was that there were only two pictures in the entire room that included Jae and Caitlin. This wasn’t a room; it was a shrine to Jae’s cheating, whore girlfriend.

Watching Vernon look around his room, Jae finds himself feeling a bit embarrassed and overwhelmed at having another person in his space. He wasn’t even used to having Caitlin in his room often. She didn’t come over much and when she did, it was more of a rare treat for Jae.

"I—uh, what did you need to talk to me about? Is this—look if this is about what was said at the theater—”

“Nah, man. It’s fine.” Shaking his head, Vernon keeps moving around the room, picking up a picture of Jae standing behind Caitlin as she smiles brightly. What he notices the most about the picture is how they aren’t touching, not even his hand on her arm. “She’s a handful, huh?”

Tilting his head slightly before straightening it, Jae looks at the picture in Vernon’s hand before crossing his arms. Where was this going? He was feeling more and more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by, and he was wondering if he should regret letting Vernon in his house.

“I—she’s, sure. Sometimes. What’s this about? You said you wanted to talk about something.”

Putting the picture down, Vernon makes sure it is in the same place as it was before he rests back against the desk, his hands next to him on either side. “Yeah. You know, it’s funny. I drove past Cailin's. I was just driving around... You know how it is.” Tilting his head, Vernon meets Jae’s eyes as he sighs. “Anyway, it was funny ‘cause Christen’s car was at her house. I thought that was weird until I happened to see them in her bedroom window.”

Jae scoffs, starting to feel not only embarrassed but defensive of his girlfriend’s honor. What was Vernon doing looking in her bedroom window in the first place? Taking a step forward, he drops his hands, making them into fists at his sides. “Hey—”

“Not like she has up curtains. I wasn’t tryin’ to see your girl like that, scouts honor, but needless to say…” Moving his hands from the desk, Vernon puts them at his chest, cupping them like he would a girl’s breasts to make sure Jae understands, seeing the boy’s face flush. “Christen is banging your chick, dude. Just thought you’d wanna know.”

Taking a step forward, Jae stops and pushes his lips together, trying to think of what to say. It wasn’t like he didn’t know, but it was more the fact that Vernon was at his house and telling him about it. “Shut the hell up, you freak. First you spy on my girlfriend and then—then you come here to what? Try to—I don’t know what you want!”

“I don’t want anything, Jae. I was trying to help your stupid ass out.” Vernon’s voice is angry, a layer of malice the moment that Jae has the audacity to call him a freak. Everyone else had, but not Jae. The more that Vernon looked at him, the less he felt bad for him. Maybe he never had, how could you? He was pathetic. His room was a fucking shrine to a girl who probably only let him fuck her with his fingers so she could sit on another guy's cock. God… It was sickening, and yet he was the freak.

“I don’t need your fucking help! I want you out of my house.” As if realizing something—a metaphorical lightbulb coming on above his head—Jae moves towards Vernon, who shifts away from him, causing the two to move to opposite sides of the room. Jae stares at Vernon in front of the open bedroom door as he feels the breeze from the open window behind him as he glares at the other man with disdain. “How the hell do you know where I live anyway? You fuckin’ stalking all of us, freak?”

Vernon was seeing red; his jaw clenched tightly, he rolled his neck as a smirk pulled at his lips. His eyes move from Jae to the window behind him and all he can imagine is watching Jae fall out of it. How easy it would be to push him through the window and then the motherfucker wouldn’t call him a freak again. Taking a step forward, Vernon scoffs before speaking, his words quiet. “About that...”

His hands meet Jae’s chest hard, a surprised gasp slipping from the smaller boy’s lips as he tries to push back only to feel the desk beside him bite into his hip. The picture of him and Caitlin falls with a crash, glass shattering on to the floor, drawing Jae’s attention away from Vernon just enough long enough for Vernon to push him again, this time even harder.

Vernon listens to the strangled scream that leaves Jae’s mouth as the screen tears from the weight of his body before he falls through the window and three stories down. The deafening dull thud of his body hitting the pavement sends a shiver through his body even before Vernon leans out of the broken window frame to look down and see the blood pooling around Jae’s lifeless body.

In that moment, he knows he should feel bad. He should be scared. He should feel something other than a rush of adrenaline, but Vernon doesn’t. Looking around Jae’s room once more, Vernon moves back down the steps and out the front door, not giving the body another look. Getting behind the wheel of his car, he sighs to himself as he drives away, finally feeling like he can go home.

You wake up to the sound of the phone ringing from your desk. It sounds like a nightmare because surely no one is calling you this early. Even through your curtains, you can tell the sun has barely started to rise.

Groaning, you sit up with a groan as the phone rings again. Whoever was trying to reach you wasn’t giving up. Sliding out of bed, you sink down into your desk chair and pull the phone from the base, putting it to your ear with a sharp, “Hello?” If that didn’t make whoever was calling you regret it, you didn’t know what else would.

“Y/N!”

Caitlin’s sobbing voice makes your heart drop into your stomach immediately and you feel horrible for picking up the phone angry. Shifting in the chair, you switch which shoulder you rest the phone on, your fingers twisting into the already ruined phone cord as you anxiously furrow your brows, almost afraid to speak. “Wha—”

“He’s dead, Y/N! What the fuck? Like, seriously?” Sniffing hard, Caitlin rubs hard at her nose as she lays in her bed, her own phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. “The police said it could be an accident or he might have...”

You could hear the way her lips were quivering as Caitlin tried to speak, but you still weren’t sure who she was talking about. “Who, Caitlin?”

“Oh, my god! Jae! Jae’s dead!” Caitlin’s voice is shrill, causing you to pull the receiver away from your ear slightly as you swallow hard the reality of her words hitting you. “Why are you making me say it out loud? It’s already so hella depressing. I’m like a widow; it’s gross.”

Glancing towards your bedroom door, you try not to feel anything negative about your best friend while she’s grieving, but she was going about it in a strange way. You knew that she didn’t care about Jae, not in any way that she could claim widow-like status. She treated him like shit most of the time, but you weren’t going to say that to her now. You weren’t that type of person. You were the person who coddled. “I’m so sorry, Caitlin. Do you want me to come over?”

Whining, she nods before pouting into her words, hoping to make you feel even worse for her. “Yeah, could you? That would totally help me feel less shitty.” Before you can even reply, a single breath of a word starts to leave your mouth. Caitlin speaks over you. “Oh, and Y/N? Could you bring me Taco Bell?”

You lean your head back; the urge to roll your eyes is so strong but you keep it at bay as you nod to yourself. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be there in like an hour.”

Hanging the phone up, you close your eyes, your brows knitting together tightly once you can hear yourself think. Jae was dead? How? Caitlin had mentioned an accident, but you didn’t have any other details. You knew he didn’t like to drive, maybe something with one of his parents cars... Not wanting to picture anymore gruesome things, you force yourself to stand and move to your closet to get dressed.

Vernon tilts his head as he watches you cross your arms, your keys dangling from your fingers as you wait in line in front of him. You looked beautiful. It was rare that he saw you out like this on a normal day, but lucky for him, he had been craving some food, and tacos seemed like a good choice.

Taking a step towards you, Vernon takes in a deep breath and just enjoys the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash. He wished he had more courage to speak to you, to let you know how much he was into you, but you were the sun and he was like a dark cloud. Least that’s how it felt...

“Hey, uh…”

Vernon sighs as he listens to you place your order, your voice like the sweetest song on the radio. He'd play your voice on repeat if he could. Getting lost in listening to you, Vernon doesn’t realize you are done with your order until the boy at the register lifts his brows and hands in question. “You wanna order something, dude?”

“Uh… yeah.”

You knew that voice. Turning towards the source of it as you reach to take the cups in front of you, you can’t help the small smile that lifts at your lips as you see Vernon. You hadn’t realized he was behind you. It kind of made you sad that he was and hadn’t said anything, but it made sense after what had happened at the theater. You couldn’t blame him for being upset with you.

Meeting Vernon’s eyes, your smile brightens slightly before you look away and move out of his way so he can get a cup as you move to the drink machine to fill your drinks. You can feel Vernon’s eyes on you even as you move, your fingers pressing down the buttons. The heat of his eyes makes you feel shy and warm as you listen to him move closer to you until he finally stands next to you, filling his own cup with soda.

“Weird seeing you alone.”

Vernon watches your cheeks push up towards your eyes before you glance towards him when he does speak to you. You shrug and take a step backwards towards the lids and straws, taking two of each and letting Vernon move towards you to do the same.

“I do things alone sometimes. It’s weird to see you somewhere besides the movie theater. I almost started to think you lived there.” Keeping your eyes on Vernon, you bite subtly at your bottom lip as you move towards the counter to pick up your bag of food just as they put Vernon’s next to yours.

“Mm, that’s fair. I don’t do much besides that, but in my defense, you don’t really know me, so…” With his own food in his hand, Vernon grins at you and you feel your heart beat hard in your chest. You aren’t sure you have ever seen him smile like that and you aren’t sure anyone’s smile has ever effected you in that way before.

Vernon watches you look away, one drink in the crook of your elbow as you hold the other so you can hold the bag of food in your other hand. Gesturing towards the door, he takes a breath, letting it out slowly as if he’s gaining courage before speaking to you again. “I can help; you seem like you have your hands full. You, uh… Lunch for your family or something?”

He was sweet; this was the most you had probably ever really talked to Vernon and he was being a gentleman. It was nice not to have your friends hovering around you and being assholes to him. Letting him hold the door open for you while you maneuver through it, you glance back at him and shake your head, letting out a soft sigh. “No, I’m going over to Caitlin’s.”

Vernon notices how your words seem to fade off at the end and how your smile dulls. Following you to your car wanting to help you, he furrows his brows as he offers to take the food from your hands as you unlock your car, seeming to struggle with your words. “She’s—it’s a hard day. You know Jae, right? One of my friends?”

Of course he did, but Vernon keeps his cool and just shrugs his shoulders, letting you continue. “Uh, Caitlin’s boyfriend. The one who was following her around last time.” Getting a nod from Vernon, you lean in your car to put the drinks into the cup holders before taking your food from him. “I guess something happened last night—an accident. He passed away. She’s super upset. So I’m gonna go spend the day with her.”

You were a good friend, better than Caitlin deserved in Vernon’s opinion. He knew for a fact that Caitlin didn’t give a shit about Jae and the fact that he was dead. She was using this for attention, but you were giving into it because you were sweet and that was all you knew how to do. If he had his way, he’d take you away from it and give you attention. Shaking his head, Vernon furrows his brows, leaning against your car door, giving you a solemn look. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

It wasn’t lost on you that Vernon asked if he could help you and not Caitlin, but it still made your heart feel warm. He was such a good guy, so kind and soft. He didn’t deserve the treatment that the rest of your friends gave him. Shaking your head, you pout softly before letting it shift into a gentle smile. “No, I’m okay... I—this was really nice, Vernon. I like talking to you. Um…”

Leaning into your car once again, you put the food down and reach into your purse as Vernon watches you carefully with a raised brow. He agreed, it was nice to talk to you. He was trying to be respectful, but you made it a bit difficult. Your shirt was riding up your back and you were so fucking pretty. He couldn’t help the way his eyes were moving along your skin as you searched for—

”Ah! I was looking for a pen. Can I give you my number? Maybe you could call me sometime.”

You wanted him to call you? Vernon’s head was spinning. He must be in another dimension where he wasn’t a loser because you were looking at him expectantly as you held your cute purple pen. Nodding, Vernon smiles to one side, watching your smile grow in return as you reach for his hand, pulling it towards your stomach and turning his palm over. The pen tickles Vernon’s hand, but he can’t stop staring at your fingers and the way the pen glides over his skin as you put the numbers on his palm.

“It’s my own line, so like, my family won’t pick it up. As long as I’m not using my computer, you can reach me there, okay?” Tilting your head, you trail your fingers from Vernon’s as his lips part with a soft breath. He was so handsome it was almost devastating to you. How had you never noticed him in school? You knew the answer to that, but you wished things had been different in that moment.

“Yeah, I—sure. I’ll call you.” At least that’s what he was telling himself. Would he have the courage to actually do it? Vernon wasn’t sure in that moment, but he knew he wanted to.

“Cool. Thanks for helping me get to my car, Vernon. I’ll talk to you later.”

Standing there like an idiot for a moment longer, Vernon nods before taking a step back from your car as you slide behind the wheel, waving at him before backing out. Glancing down at his palm once more, he closes his fingers around your number and smiles to himself before turning on his heels towards his car with a bit more pep in his step.

“I’m literally fucking starving. What took so long?” Taking the bags from your hand, Catiltin pouts at you as she sits with her legs crisscrossed in the center of her full-size bed.

You could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were a bit swollen, with slight circles under her eyes, but there was still something about the situation that made you fully aware that Caitlin wasn’t mourning Jae as much as she was her reputation.

“I’m sorry, I got here as soon as I could. You know things are busier on Saturday.” Sliding on to the bed next to her, you furrow your brows before leaning in to hug Caitlin, feeling her shoulder’s drop. You were a good friend. Despite feeling and knowing what you did, you were still concerned about her. You hated that this had happened, and the truth of the matter was that you were sad. Jae was your friend.

“Has—well… Did anyone say what happened?”

Your voice is quiet and the question causes a new wave of tears to spill from Caitlin’s eyes as she chokes on her words, only managing to get out a couple before she’s cut off.

“Splattered on the sidewalk under his window.”

Horrified, you look over your shoulder towards the doorway where Christen leans against the frame. You didn’t even know he was there. Had he gotten to Caitlin’s before you? Just now? It didn’t matter, you supposed; you assumed everyone would end up here eventually.

Your eyes follow Christen as he moves to the bed, taking the bag of tacos to take one for himself. You hadn’t bought them for him, but that had never mattered in the past and it doesn’t matter now.

“You’re always so sweet, baby. Thinking ahead and getting lunch like this.” The bed dips at your side as Christen joins you both and Catiltin sniffles hard, getting the attention back on her as she opens her own food.

“Could we like... I don’t know, not say splattered? It’s so gross, Christen.”

Shrugging, the boy swallows a bite of food before sighing into his words. “Sorry, that’s what happens when you launch yourself out of a fuckin’ third-story window, babe.”

Babe? Furrowing your brows, you let your eyes move from Caitlin to Christen as your best friend blanches slightly and puts her taco on the wrapper to the side.

“He—that’s not what he did. The cops said it was an accident. He just fell somehow. Some freak accident—”

“I’m sure it was an accident. Jae would never… you know.” Your voice is softer than Caitlin’s and Christen’s combined, but it manages to draw both of their attention to you. You couldn’t say what Christen thought happened; you couldn’t get that word out. Not just because it was too hard to even think, but also because it just didn’t make sense. Jae wasn’t depressed. He had a charmed life.

“Sure, baby… But listen, you know Jake, the tight end?” Sighing softly, you tilt your head at Christen’s question. While you knew who he was talking about, you didn’t think it was important to label him as his position from the high school football team, but what was the point in arguing—so instead you just nodded. “Well, he’s lives across the street from Jae. Said the cops were out there all morning and he overheard one of them talking about some things that just didn’t add up with an accident—”

“Christen! Do you, like, hate me? I’m a fucking widow now and you want people to think that my boyfriend killed—” Lowering her voice, Caitilin whines when Christen furrows his brows at her, only for them to soften when he sees the hurt in her eyes. “Just—this is scary, okay? What—did Jake say why they said that?”

As much as you hated to admit it even to yourself, you were also curious as to what Jake had overheard. Shifting on the bed, you turn a bit more towards Christen, who straightens his back and lets a bit of a smirk pull at his lips, having so much attention focused on him.

“Yeah, so just what he heard, okay? But he said Jae’s nails were fucked up and that there were scratches on his desk. Like, maybe he regretted it just before he—” Seeing the look on your face, Christen presses his lips together and tilts his head, changing his words. “Like he tried to stop himself from falling out the window. Oh, and uh...” Furrowing your brows, you see a nervous look spread across Christen’s face as he meets Caitlin’s eyes. “There was a broken picture or frame. Could’a been thrown on the floor.”

“What picture?” Moving to sit on her feet, Caitlin’s eyes widen slightly, causing you to sit back a bit confused as she waits for Christen to explain.

“I—he wasn’t sure. All the really said it was of a couple, but seeing as it was Jae’s room…”

Even you didn’t need anymore explanation. You had never been in Jae’s room, but who else would be in the picture? Why would a picture of Jae and Caitlin be smashed? Your eyes move between your two friends as Caitlin falls back against the bed with a new wave of grief, as if she’s realized something. Christen, on the other hand, just sighs and reaches for your drink, taking a sip before meeting your eyes.

“You look freaked, Y/N.”

That was an understatement. Shaking your head, you rub your hands over your arms before scooting closer to Caitlin to rest your hand on her thigh, letting her know you were still close to her as she cries. “I’m just—this is really sad. It doesn’t make sense, and he was so excited about starting university. I feel really bad for his parents.”

Nodding along with your words, Christen leans to put your drink on the nightstand before leaning back on the bed, letting his hand rest near your leg. “It fuckin’ sucks. I mean… It’s fucked up. Like the weak ones, man. Why do they gotta die before they get the chance to make something of themselves?”

You stare at Christen as he speaks; his words are almost said as if he’s quoting something poetic or profound, though to you it’s heartless and ridiculous.

Leaning against the end of his bed, Vernon runs his fingers over the fading numbers written on his palm. Hours had passed, the sun had gone down, and now the only thing left to remind him that he had actually seen you today was slowly dissolving into his skin.

Jun and Dino were occupying the beanbag chairs in front of the TV as some movie played, something that Vernon had seen a hundred times. He knew he should be paying more attention to his friends, but instead he was trying to commit your phone number to memory.

“During the matinee today.”

“For real? Cops? What did they say?”

Vernon’s brows lift, realizing he hadn’t been even listening to the conversation until cops were mentioned. Shifting on the floor, he sighs and lifts his eyes to watch Dino pass the bowl of popcorn over to Jun as he shrugs.

“Were asking questions about that guy you all graduated with? I don’t remember his last name, uh—Jae, that’s his first name. He said he had a movie ticket in his pocket or something. Not sure why it mattered. They just—”

“They what?”

Vernon had been so quiet over the past hour that both of the boys had almost forgotten whose room they were in and that he was even there until he spoke up. Glancing back at him, Dino shakes his head and shifts in the chair, almost uncomfortable under Vernon’s gaze. Vernon could be intense sometimes; Jun might not notice it, but Dino always did.

“Nothin’ really. Asked if he seemed like himself when he came by. I told them I didn’t know him that well and that I had been off that night. They said they would probably stop by and talk to you tomorrow. Is—why? That not okay?”

Moving to his feet, Vernon shakes his head and shrugs. He didn’t like the idea of talking to the cops, but it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. “It’s whatever. I didn’t know him either.”

“That’s not true.” Shooting a look back at Jun as he speaks, Vernon scoffs even as Jun lifts his hands and sighs into his words. “I mean—not like you were friends with him, but you knew him a bit.”

“Whatever, I didn’t hang out with him. I had a class or two with him and he came into the theater. Didn’t make me his best friend, Jun. Why the fuck does it matter anyway?”

Jun furrows his brows and shakes his head. He watches Vernon reach for a pen, looking at his hand as he transfers something from it to a piece of paper, then tossing it on the desk. “I–well… It doesn’t, but you might have noticed if he was acting out of his head maybe. People are saying he fell out of his window, or—you know. Maybe he wanted to fall out of it.”

Scoffing, Vernon turns to lean against his desk, an uncaring look on his face. “I mean, wouldn’t you if your chick was a lying whore? Not sure he ever acted like he knew what he was doing from the moment he started dating that girl. It was like putting one foot on a banana peel and his neck in a noos—”

“Jesus Christ, Vernon.” Shivering, Jun cuts Vernon’s words off before he’s able to finish. He had heard Vernon be callous before. He had seen him uncaring and perhaps act like a dick, but never like this. “It was an accident. It’s tragic…”

Nodding slowly, Vernon sighs as he tries to remember what he’s supposed to feel in a moment like this. He can see the look on Jun’s face—something akin to sadness. Dino, on the other hand, looked a little sick, horrified as he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to be smaller.

“Yeah, it’s sad; you’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m just tired or something.” Shaking his head, Vernon moves back towards his friends, lowering himself back to the floor and offering them a smile that seems to soothe them both. “I saw Y/N earlier today; she seemed to be kinda tore up about it too. She was going over to—uh, Cailtin’s. She’s a good friend.” Gritting his teeth slightly, Vernon forces himself to say her name instead of anything else out of respect for you. In his head, Caitilin didn’t deserve anything but what she was going through.

Tilting his head slightly, Jun watches Vernon talk about you. There was a stark difference in how he mentioned you compared to anyone else. While he knew that Vernon had a crush on you, if he was talking to you, maybe he was wanting more. More could be dangerous.

“You saw her? Where? Was she alone?”

Vernon knew why there was a barrage of questions, but it only served to annoy him. Leaning his head back, he sighs and nods along with each one. “Yes. Taco Bell. She was alone. Why the fuck does it matter?”

“Because, Vernon. She's—look, I get it. She’s cute as fuck. She’s nice, but he’s got his claws in her. He’ll kill you if you try anything. Some ass isn’t worth it. I don’t care if the ass is prime—”

Glaring at Jun, Vernon bites at his cheek until he snaps. “Why do you talk about her like that? Do you even know her? Have you spoken a single word to her?” Shaking his head, Vernon rubs hard at the numbers on his palm now. “Of course you haven’t because you are too fuckin’ judgmental and too chicken shit. Just think that because she’s standing next to Christen, she’s just like him. Well, newsfuckin’ flash, Junhui, you aren’t the genius you make yourself out to be.”

Dino had been quiet—he always was, but he hated the tension and arguing between his friends. No one was worth putting a wedge between his best friends, especially some girl. “Hey! Stop it. Why are you two always doing this now? Every fucking week!” Staring up at Dino, Vernon swallows hard as the youngest stands up and points from Jun to him. “If he likes his girl, so what? Lay off! And you…”

Swallowing hard, Dino falters for a moment as he meets Vernon’s eyes. It takes a deep breath to calm down before he can round his shoulders and speak up to Vernon. “Jun is your best friend and you’ve never been such an asshole before. If you need to get your dick wet, do it. If you need to get high or drunk, please... Just do it before you say something you can’t take back.”

Vernon stared at his television for a long time after his friends had left, thinking about what Dino had said. To be a year younger than him, the boy was wise beyond his years and he had a point. He knew that he was wound up and he had been taking it out on Jun in particular for weeks.

There had been some relief when Vernon had left Jae’s, but then he would be reminded about Christen and his bullshit and be right back where he had started. The anger was building until he felt like he might just snap.

Glancing towards his desk, Vernon lifts his brow, seeing the piece of paper with your phone number written on it. It wasn’t incredibly late, but it was the weekend. There was a good chance you were still at Cailtin’s or worse... You could be out with the rest of them doing something, trying to take your minds off of Jae—but Vernon still wanted to try.

Pulling the phone from the desk along with the piece of paper, Vernon sighs as he leans back against the side of his bed. He rests the receiver between his shoulder and ear before carefully dialing your number and waiting. You had said it was your own line, and somehow that didn’t stop Vernon from letting Jun’s words get the better of him for just a single moment. What if you gave him a fake number? What if Christen picked up? But neither of those things happened.

“Hello?”

Your voice is beautiful, a bit sad, and confused. Vernon has to take a deep breath to stop himself from hanging up the phone when you furrow your brows and listen to the sound of breathing on the other line. Clearly someone was there; it wouldn’t be the first time you had gotten a crank call, but today really wasn’t the day for it.

“Hello? Look, seriously… I’m not in the mood—”

“Y/N… Sorry, it’s me, Vernon.” Wincing to his own voice, Vernon pulls on the phone cord in his lap and weighs his regret as he listens to you take a deep breath in response. You had hoped that Vernon would call you, but you hadn’t expected it. He seemed so different from you and the rest of your friends that he was almost like a life preserver at the moment.

“I—oh… Hey. I—I’m glad you called. I’m a little surprised.” Closing your eyes for a moment, you lean your head back, trying to think of how to salvage your conversation, thinking you might have ruined it before it started. “I promise I don’t always sound like a bitch when I answer the phone.”

Vernon’s laugh brings a much-needed smile to your face and warmth to your chest. Shaking his head, he tries to picture you in a room he’s never seen besides a light behind a curtain. “You didn’t sound like a bitch. I—I didn’t exactly start speaking so I get why you said what you did. I’m not really like, you know, a great conversationalist.”

And yet he had called you anyway. That wasn’t lost on you as you stood up from your desk and worked the cord for your phone around it so you could sit on your bed. Vernon listens to the sounds of you moving in your room and it brings a slight smile to his face. “How are you, by the way? You said you were going over to your friend’s house.”

He remembered. Leaning your head back against your headboard, you bite your bottom lip and nod. “Yeah, I spent most of the day at Cailtin’s. It was honestly exhausting.” Sighing, you close your eyes, realizing how bad your words sound, causing you to shake your head. “But—I… You know, I’ll do it anytime. She’s going through a ton right now. I’m—”

“Y/N… I didn’t ask about her. Sorry, that sounds really shitty, but I’d rather talk about you.” Vernon didn’t want to cut you off, but he couldn’t stand that you were spiraling because you felt bad for Caitlin. In his opinion, she didn’t deserve anything, much less you in her life. You were far too good for her, not that he could just say that out loud to you now. “Don’t get me wrong; it’s really nice of you to do what you did. Is it cool if we just talk about you?”

That was almost a terrifying prospect—someone wanting to focus on just you. Christen did it in his own way, but it always led back to him. There was always an ulterior motive, and yet it didn’t seem like Vernon had one. Shifting on your bed, you rest the cradle to your phone next to you as you pull your knees towards your stomach.

“Sorry, yeah… Yeah, we can do that, but only if we talk about you too. Is that okay?”

You were apologizing again. That seemed to be something you did a lot and usually not for yourself. Shaking his head, Vernon smiles into a sigh before lifting his brows. “Yeah, that’s okay. I—I kinda wanna get to know you. God, that sounds so fuckin’ lame.”

Warmth spreads along your cheeks at Vernon’s words and you are happy he’s just on the phone and not in front of you. Pressing your lips together, you swallow hard and bury a bit of a happy sound as you pull the phone from your ear briefly before calming yourself down and clearing your throat. “It’s not lame. Why would that be lame? I mean, I wanna get to know you too. I gave you my number for a reason... Like, obviously.”

Listening to how your voice trails off with a bit of shyness to it, Vernon can’t help the grin that pulls at his lips. There was no way you were actually into him the way he was into you. You probably just wanted to be his friend, and if that was the case, he’d have to deal... But the tone of your voice—the cute little giggle to it—made his stomach tighten with intrigue.

“Oh—oh, yeah?” Clearing his throat, Vernon lifts his hand to rub at his neck, feeling how hot it is under his touch. He knew if he were to look in the mirror, it would be red along with his ears. There would be no way he would have called you with Jun and Dino in the room; if he was this shy and embarrassed alone, he would have died in front of them. “Wha—what’s the reason?”

Despite being new adults, fresh into the world, there was still a layer of that schoolgirl and boy whimsy layered in the conversation that made you kick your feet when Vernon stumbled over his questions. You had a feeling he knew the answers to his questions, but he was just wanting to hear them out loud. The real question was, would you be able to say it out loud?

Whining Vernon’s name softly, you wrap your phone cord around your fingers and laugh under your breath, almost in disbelief. The sound of his smooth but shy laugh makes your stomach twist with that nervous new crush feeling and you feel almost like you could float off your bed. “I don’t know; it’s hard to say it out loud. You know what I mean... Don’t you?”

Pulling his beanie from his hair, Vernon rakes his fingers through his hair and scoffs into a laugh as you dodge his question. You were being so cute and coy that it was driving him crazy. Sure, he had dated in high school. He had crushes, but none of them quite stood the test of time like this one.

“Think I’d just rather hear it. This isn’t a conversation I’ve ever had before, Y/N.” Dropping the beanie on to the floor next to him, he bites at his lip and tilts his head, looking at the wall almost too intently as if it will give him the right words. “I—I mean, you know who I am. Let’s be honest, I’m not—I mean, fuck. I’m not Christen—”

“Stop it. I don’t like Christen. I think—I mean, I thought that was obvious, at least to you. He—” Furrowing your brows as you speak over Vernon, cutting him off, you bite at your cheek, feeling the frustration rising in your chest. “He honestly makes me really...”

Hearing how you seem unable to say the words, Vernon chews at his lips, feeling bad for bringing the other man up. It hadn’t been his intention to upset you, but he did feel inferior when it came to Christen in some ways, especially you. Now he wasn’t sure he should. Now Vernon could feel the same anger from before threatening to rise up as he taps his fingers against his leg and fills in the word for you. “Uncomfortable?”

Nodding, you sniff back your emotions and sit up a bit on your bed, as if talking about Christen will make him manifest in front of you like a demon. “Yeah, so you not being him is a good thing.” Wanting to get the conversation off of Christen, you take a deep breath and shake your head as if clearing the fog from it before speaking again. “‘Sides, I do kinda know who you are; that’s why I—you know... It’s why I like you, Vernon.”

Your words make Vernon feel like he’s stuck in a wind tunnel. He hears them, and yet they don’t seem real. “Me?”

Laughing under your breath, you nod at his question as your brows knit together. There was no one else you were talking to and you had used his first name. “I—yeah. I mean, you know… If you don’t like me, that’s totally—”

“Oh, my god... I do. I just—I’m a loser and I can’t even remember what else your friends called me.”

“I don’t care what they think. I mean, I care what they say, and they are so fucking wrong.” You weren’t sure why it was so hard for Vernon to understand that you liked him, and while you were glad that he liked you back, it was difficult to hear him call himself a loser. That wasn’t how you saw him. You hated hearing your friends call anyone that, but especially Vernon. “I know I make a lot of excuses for them, but the things they said the other night... I really am so, so sorry. That was my fault.”

Pushing his tongue against his cheek, Vernon lets out a breath as you once again apologize for your friends. It’s even worse when you take the blame for something that isn’t your responsibility. “Y/N, wh—no. I don’t blame you. Nothing that happened was your fault. Christen could have threw a punch at me and it still wouldn’t have been anything that you could have started or stopped.”

The idea of Christen hurting Vernon makes your skin crawl. You knew that Christen was just waiting for the opportunity and what you were doing right now... Pursuing something with Vernon would only make it worse. Frowning a bit to yourself, you stretch the phone cord between your fingers and Vernon seems to notice how quiet you’ve become, your soft breath on the other side of the line being the only thing that lets him know you’re still there.

“You thinkin’ hard about something? Wanna let me in on it?” Smiling a bit, Vernon shifts his legs, pulling his knees up a bit so he can rest his forearms on them as he leans his head back against his bed. “Or did you fall asleep?”

“No—no, I’m here. I just—I know you said none of that was my fault, but it feels like it.” You can hear Vernon start to speak and you know he’s going to argue your point, but still having more to say, you keep going before he can. “It’s just—Christen, he’s like weirdly been obsessed with me for a while, right? He's just my friend, but it’s like I can’t get him to see that. It makes it hard to date, well, like anyone. I—” Laughing under your breath, it’s clear there is no humor to it as you roll your eyes. “Like I haven’t even had a boyfriend or been on a date since freshman year.”

Letting your words sink in, Vernon tries to think about high school and when he first noticed you. It hadn’t been hard. You were beautiful from the first day, but he hadn’t been the only one who had noticed how much you changed over summer and that was when Christen had laid his claim. No wonder you hadn’t dated. Vernon could imagine that any guy that tried to get close to you was either scared away or knew you were off the table—even if you weren’t.

“So… I’m just saying that because if this goes anywhere, and I’m not saying it has to... Christen might freak the fuck out. He already got mad that you were talking to me.” Your voice is sad and quiet. You sound repressed like you had at the theater, and it bites at Vernon, making him almost feel antsy in his room. He wants to get up and fix it for you; change your situation so that you don’t have to feel so small...

“I don’t give a fuck what he thinks, Y/N. I’m not afraid of him. All I care about is what you think and want.” Vernon presses his thumbnail into the tip of his pinky hard enough to leave a divot as he grits his teeth. He had to calm down; you weren’t his—not yet. Christen had already done enough damage by laying a freaky claim to you; Vernon was determined not to make you feel worse by doing the same. “I’ll only do what you want. Like I told you, I like you.”

Unable to stop the smile from spreading on your lips, you bite at your lower lip and glance towards your window as the curtain moves with the wind. There was a huge difference in how Christen and Vernon made you feel. Christen terrified you and made you feel trapped in a box. Vernon, he made you feel almost free and desired. It was almost a bit dangerous the way you enjoyed that feeling, along with the smooth sound of his voice lulling you into a comfortable place.

“Yeah?” Now your smile was even in your voice and Vernon could hear it over the phone. “I—yeah, I like you a lot. God, I sound like a teenager.”

Smirking, Vernon looks down at his fingers and the red half moon on his pinky as he runs his tongue along his lips and tilts his head. “Well, I mean technically—”

“Stop it, I’m not. We aren’t anymore. I let high school go, like forever.” Sliding down in your bed, you rest your head on the pillow, sighing into the phone, causing Vernon to have to close his eyes to the sound. “Another reason I like you so much. You don’t seem to dwell on it. High school is over, and we can start something new. Like this, right?”

Fuck. Vernon has to pull the phone from his ear as his stomach tightens to the idea of you and the sigh you had made in his ear. You were so innocent to him and yet he wasn’t thinking completely with his brain at the moment. Nodding, he swallows hard and rubs his hand along his jeans to ground himself. “Hell, yeah.”

Partying wasn’t really Vernon’s scene. It wasn’t even the fact that he wasn’t in the “cool” crowd; it was more that his personality didn’t mesh with how loud a party could be. Not just the music or the talking, but the atmosphere. It was all so loud and made Vernon’s head feel like it was in a vice that someone was constantly tightening the longer he stayed—and yet a party is where he found himself tonight.

Jun loved to party. He liked the release of not having to think. He enjoyed the free beer and access to almost anything he might want to get his hands on. Jun didn’t go crazy, but if someone passed a joint, he wasn’t going to be rude and refuse a gift.

“Dude, try to enjoy this.”

Vernon rolls his eyes at Jun as he lifts his cup to his lips, nursing a stale beer he had picked up at the beginning of the night. Sometimes he wished he could be more like his friend. He did find watching people at parties interesting, even Jun. You could really see who someone was when they were wasted. Inhibitions were low and people’s true nature came out to play.

“I have about fifty other things I could be doing.” Vernon wasn’t lying. It was rare that he and Jun both had a night off from the theater and he didn’t particularly want to be spending it in the house of someone who probably treated him like shit in high school. You were on Vernon’s mind, and he had been letting his eyes wander around the crowd just hoping you might show up—though this didn’t seem much like your scene.

“Such a fuckin’ buzzkill, man. You gotta relax. That’s why I wanted you to come out with me. You gotta get out of your head. You’re spinnin’ your wheels.” Jun tried to focus on Vernon, but unlike him—who had taken the night slow, Jun had not. He was feeling just how he wanted to be feeling: light, cares were a thing of the past or a problem for tomorrow, and there was still plenty of shit to play with floating around this party.

Shaking his head, Vernon can’t help the scoff that slips from his lips, though between Jun’s current mental state and the boom of the bass echoing off the walls, it went unheard. “I’m gonna top off.”

Nodding, Jun turns his attention away from Vernon and towards the pretty girl with a joint resting between her fingers. Vernon, on the other hand, kept his head on a swivel as he moved into the kitchen and straight towards the keg to refill his beer. There was a mishmash of people he had gone to school with; a couple of kids he knew were still in school, but the two that caught his eye were leaned up against the farest wall.

Vernon wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed Juwon and Alanna until now, but then again they had probably found a room in this godforsaken house and defiled it. Bringing the cup to his lips, Vernon furrows his brows as he follows the direction of the couple's eyes as they laugh between themselves. Jun—they were watching Jun.

Everyone at this party was wasted—well, almost everyone, and it made no sense to Vernon why old habits had to die hard. Something you had said to him the night before was replaying in his mind as Vernon took a step back into the living room, carefully maneuvering through people as Juwon and Alanna made their way closer to Jun.

“They just all are mentally stuck in high school. The glory days, you know?”

Well, this wasn’t fucking high school anymore. There weren’t glory days for anyone. Vernon had never gotten any, and Jun sure as hell hadn’t, so why should a group of assholes get them?

“Thanks, fuckface.” Taking the joint from Jun’s fingers, Juwon passes it to Alanna as the girl who had given it to Jun in the first place shifts uncomfortably. “You living off scraps like a dog? Who invited you anyway?”

Juwon had always had an issue with Jun for seemingly no problem on the surface. He had gone out of his way to make his life a living hell in high school, and it seemed that wasn’t stopping just because they had donned a cap and gown a couple of months ago. The real issue was that Jun had almost dated Alanna first. Juwon had almost lost the “great love of his life” to someone else, and now that he had her, he had to remind Jun at every given chance.

Alanna eyes the girl sitting next to Jun harshly. She had no reason to, but she honestly didn’t like her so close to Jun. As much as she loved being at Juwon’s side and making sure that Jun remembered her as she egged the bullying on—she also enjoyed seeing him available. You just never knew if the wind would change.

“Cut the shit out, Juwo—”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Wen? Walking up in this place like you belong.”

Vernon was seething as he watched just a few feet away along with a small crowd of others. He wanted to give Jun a chance to defend himself, but he had seen this song and dance. Jun wasn’t a violent person; he wasn’t a confrontational person—and tonight he had been drinking and smoking. Juwon had an unfair advantage.

The moment that Juwon starts to lay his hands on Jun is when Vernon can no longer just watch. Taking a couple of steps forward, he pulls Juwon back, and the anger he is feeling is evident in his eyes. Stepping in front of Jun, Vernon’s nose almost touching Juwon's, he tilts his head as he speaks just loud enough for the man to head. “Touch him again and see what happens. Take your little bitch, and get out of my face.”

Juwon looks shocked at first, his eyes widening almost comically until a laugh bubbles in his throat. “Yo–you kiddin’? The fuck?” Alanna quickly joins in, her higher-pitched laugh grating at Vernon’s ears as the couple hangs off one another. “You’re a fuckin’ psychopath, Vernon. Almost had me scared for a minute. Shit… Seriously, you could almost pull off being a badass if everyone didn’t know you were a pussy.”

Juwon laughs again as he takes the joint from Alanna, the end of it burning orange as he smirks before inhaling deeply and blowing smoke into Vernon’s face as he pushes him out of his way. Vernon forces himself to keep his eyes open even as they burn from the smoke. He wasn’t going to let Juwon get the better of him, not tonight. Not while his nails were digging into his palms hard enough to break the skin.

“Goodnight, ladies…” With his arm wrapped around Alanna, the last of the joint resting back between her lips, Juwon grins at Jun as he shifts uncomfortably on the arm of the couch. He had succeeded in doing what he had set out to do. Jun and Vernon had always been the outcasts in high school and at any party they went to, but now they were being looked at like they were diseased. The pretty girl who had been sitting next to Jun was long gone, and anyone else who had been seen talking to Jun before had found better company.

“Fuck this party.” Vernon sighs, hearing how defeated Jun sounds. His eyes follow his friend as he quickly stands and moves past him, only to get a few feet before Vernon watches him fall flat on his face with a loud groan.

Searching for the source, Vernon’s anger boils over when Juwon laughs loudly once again, throwing his hands up as he meets Vernon’s eyes. “Not my fuckin’ fault your girlfriend can’t walk. Maybe he’s too fucked up, Vern. Get him home safe; tuck him in. Kiss him goodnight for me?”

Vernon tilts his head, refusing to respond to Juwon’s words as others around him laugh at the pathetic excuse for jokes. Instead he moves to Jun, trying to help him up, only to feel his hands get slapped away as Jun glares at him, his eyes quickly softening before he gets to his feet on his own. “I got it. I’m fine. I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

Following Jun, doing his best to keep up, Vernon sighs as Jun tugs open the door to his car, sliding behind the wheel and wiping under his nose hard. Glancing down to the wet, sticky feeling of blood running from his nose, Jun rolls his eyes and leans his head back before meeting Vernon’s eyes and shaking his head. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I wasn’t gonna say a damn thing.” That was the truth. Vernon didn’t have to say what Jun already knew. It had been a bad idea to come to this party. From the moment they had walked in, Vernon had felt it, and now Jun was bleeding because of it. “You want me to drive you home?”

Grimacing, Jun shakes his head again and wipes under his nose, checking the heel of his hand for more blood. “No, I just—I appreciate the offer, but I wanna be alone. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Taking a step back, Vernon watches Jun shut his door,his eyes following the Toyota down the street until it turns the corner, leaving him alone as the sun starts to set. He knew that he should leave too. Logically, Vernon knew that it would be smart to get in his Beretta and drive off—leave all this bullshit behind, but then he hears the laughter from inside the house and logic is off the table.

“Did you see his stupid fuckin’ face?” Juwon mimics Jun falling forward as Alanna tips back her beer, her eyes bright watching him getting attention from the small crowd around them. They weren’t Christen and you, but when it came to this scene—this is when they were King and Queen.

Grinning as he slides his fingers along Alanna’s side, Juwon nods, agreeing to another drink as Jake slides off the couch, moving towards the kitchen to gather them for the group. “You having a good time, babe?” He knew she was; he could see that hazed, lazy look in her eyes. She was just high enough, just drunk enough, that the world didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was right in front of her, and that was how Alanna loved to exist.

“Mmm—so fucking good. Only be better if—” Leaning in to whisper in to Juwon’s ear, Alanna drapes her leg over his thigh, causing him to groan not only to her dirty words but also to the weight of her knee over his crotch. “Know what I mean? Can’t do that here.”

Juwon’s finger slid down further to grip at Alanna’s hip, her skirt sliding up slightly on her thigh, causing Jake to cough as he averted his eyes. “I—shit. Got more beers... I’ll leave ‘em here. Y’all wanna use my room or somethin’? Don’t fuck on my couch, alright?”

Pushing his tongue against his teeth, Vernon leans against the wall in the dark hall next to the bathroom as he watches the scene in front of him carefully. It was interesting how much people would let themselves go when they thought they were amongst friends or those who worshipped them. Vernon also thought it was interesting what people left just lying around—or at least what they kept in their medicine cabinets.

Jake’s mother had been in a car accident about a year ago. Vernon remembered when that had happened. It had been dramatic for the town. She was some important bigwig businesswoman that people thought others should give a fuck about, but Vernon didn’t even know her name until today. He had learned it when he had read her name on the medicine bottle before he had pocketed the pills inside of it.

Vernon had never been a good chemistry student, but he did know that certain things shouldn’t be taken in large dosages. The human body wasn’t made to accept opioids at an accelerated rate in large quantities. While Vernon hadn’t been great in school, he had enjoyed watching people and realizing how little they watched him. Like how Jake hadn’t paid attention as Vernon added the crushed-up pills to Alanna and Juwon’s drinks before he handed them off to the couple.

It didn’t take long for the drinks to disappear and for the expressions on their faces to change. There was a difference between being high and what they were feeling now. Moving to his feet, Juwon holds his hand to his head as Alanna shakes out her hands, trying to get a grip on herself. “Com—come on, baby. Let’s get out o—outta here.”

Nodding along with Juwon, Alanna moves to her feet, stumbling along side of him, finding herself holding him upright as the two make their way towards his car. Had they drunk that much? Trying to think back, Alanna blinks a few times as she counts the beers to herself before her attention is brought back to the present and to Juwon when he groans weakly, his legs giving out and pulling her down with him.

“Juwon… Shit. Wha—baby!” The euphoric feeling of fun that had been running through Alanna’s body just an hour before was long gone as she lazily swiped Juwon’s hair back, feeling warm tears running down her cheeks. All she could feel now was fear mixed with horror as she watched his eyes roll back, his breaths becoming more like choked gasps. “Baby, wake up!”

Tilting his head, Vernon took in a deep pull from his cigarette before letting it settle in his chest for a second and blowing it out into the wind. He knew that Alanna was trying to be loud enough that others from the party would hear and come to their aid, but she was exhausted and fading.

Shaking Juwon as hard as she can manage, Alanna sobs, unable to tell if he is breathing—the choking sounds no longer reaching her ears. Leaning back against the side of the car, she tries to focus and to find anyone to help them, but the only person she sees makes her blood run cold. Vernon smirks, flicking the last of his cigarette from his fingers before blowing out another deep breath of smoke, his eyes never leaving Alanna’s. It’s only when the girl’s head falls forward, her body slumping over Juwon's, does Vernon slide behind the wheel of his car and drive down the street.

At this point, you were becoming numb from going to funerals. It was two days after the morbid joint memorial that Juwon and Alanna’s family had held, and though you had cried—now you just felt numb.

You had watched Christen pass a flask back and forth between himself, Caitlin, and a few other friends in the church—that had only served to put you in an even worse headspace. To you, this entire experience should be a reason for your friends to clean up their act. Two of your friends had overdosed, and yet the others felt the need to celebrate that by trying to follow in their footsteps.

There had been a full day of you avoiding your phone and pager. You knew that Caitlin wanted you to spend time with her and that Christen would be right on your heels, but the numbness made it easy to say no, or at least nothing at all. It wasn’t until that second day when your parents had apologized for having to leave you alone for a few days that you felt like you could finally breathe.

You knew you should want their company. You should want the hovering of your mother and the protective shield of your father, but all you wanted was space from the usual. So, when someone knocks at your door just a couple of hours after you had gotten that space, you find yourself almost willing to let them get tired of knocking as you lay on the couch.

“Y/N?”

Furrowing your brows at the sound of your name, you glance towards the front door before sitting up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You had expected either Christen or Caitlin to come demanding your attention, or even someone from the local church to visit with a casserole, but you hadn’t expected to hear Vernon’s voice.

Opening the door slowly, you meet his eyes and Vernon’s soft smile almost makes you collapse at how easily he starts to seep through that numbness that had taken over your being. “Hi… Why—I mean… Do you wanna come in?”

Vernon isn’t surprised when you start to ask him why he’s there. He had tried to call you, but you weren’t picking up your phone. He could see the look on your face. You looked like you hadn’t slept well in a few days. He didn’t want to pity you, but there was something about that pout on your pretty lips that almost broke his heart.

“Yeah—yes, I mean sure. If you want me to, I mean, you know if your parents won’t freak the fuck out.” Vernon watches you shake your head as you take a step back and open the door more for him. Moving past you, Vernon takes in a deep breath, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the idea of being inside your house. He had wanted this for so long; he knew that if he went up those stairs and to the right, the last door had to be your room. God, he wanted to see your room.

“My parents aren’t here.” Sighing softly, you close the door, locking it behind you before watching Vernon as he looks around a bit. “They left this morning to go out of town. Should be back next week sometime.”

Raising his brows, Vernon looks at a picture of your family—your mother sitting in a chair as you stand beside her and your father behind you both, his hands on either of your shoulders. It was such a classic family photo, and yet to him it looked so fucking fake. Vernon could see you that weren’t as happy as you pretended to be in the picture; there was a fakeness to the smile. He had seen a real smile from you, and he wanted to see it again.

“Oh—that’s… They left you with all this shit going on? That’s kinda fucked—” Hissing under his breath, Vernon meets your eyes and lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business and I’m sure they have their reasons. I just worry about you in this big ass house alone with everything—this house seems lonely, Y/N.”

You wrap your arms back around yourself, suddenly feeling cold at all that Vernon is pointing out. The house was too big for just you, and it was a bit lonely... Yet you were still enjoying that solitude—minus him. You liked him there. “It’s not so bad; I mean, you’re here. It’s not lonely now. I—and honestly, they were smothering me. I needed a break from them. I needed one from every—that sounds bad.”

It didn’t sound bad to Vernon. That was something that he understood better than anyone. Sometimes you just needed a break from everyone and everything. If it wasn’t necessary, you had to rid yourself of it. He was finding out he was good at that—very good, in fact.

Taking one step closer, Vernon smiles slightly, his lips pulling up at one side as he tries his luck a bit to be in your space. He wants to be less of a coward and reach out, take your hand or pull you into his arms, but the fear of pushing you away keeps him just far enough away that you tilt your head and give him that sweet smile that makes Vernon’s stomach twist up in knots. “It’s completely fucking fair, Y/N. I—look, I was hoping that I wasn’t bothering you. I wanted to check on you and… Fuck I don’t know what I was thinking. I missed you. I just wanted to see your pretty face, honestly.”

Looking down, you press your lips together, trying to keep your reaction hidden. You feel the heat spread across your cheeks, and it only gets hotter as Vernon chuckles and takes one step closer to you. “Y/N?” Watching his hand tremble slightly, your lips pull up in a small smile as he works up the courage to lift his hand to your face, his fingers carefully tilting your head up so you will meet his eyes once again.

“I’m listening.” You knew you probably shouldn’t let yourself enjoy the feeling of Vernon’s calloused fingers on your cheek, but you were. You should be sad right now, hidden in your room mourning the loss of your friends. But as you meet Vernon’s eyes, all you feel are the butterflies in your stomach. “I—would…” Taking a deep breath, you close the distance between yourself and Vernon, causing him to take a deep breath in return. “Could you hangout for a while? I don’t think I wanna be alone.”

Vernon’s skin erupts with goosebumps as your fingers trace his forearm up to his rest, where you wrap your delicate hand around his wrist. He expects you to move his hand from your face, but instead you lean into his touch, your head tilted as you wait for him to answer you. Swallowing hard, he nods while tracing your cheekbone, feeling the soft skin under his thumb. “‘Course I will.”

Listening to the sound of popcorn popping a room away, Vernon runs his fingers over the couch underneath him. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t nervous. You terrified him just as much as you enthralled him. Finally reaching for the small assortment of VHS tapes on the coffee table in front of them, Vernon reads over the titles, trying to make a decision.

You had left the movie choice in Vernon’s hands, declaring that he would have the most expertise in that field while you would take care of snacks. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you tap your foot against the cold ceramic tiles as you gnaw at your thumb nail watching the popcorn bag spin in the microwave on the countertop in front of you. Your stomach was in knots. You wanted Vernon there, and yet there was that sense of breaking the rules hanging over your head. There was a looming air of risk weighing on you that made you feel like you were in another dimension as you thought about where the night could go—Vernon’s hand on your cheek, his lips on yours—BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Gasping, you put your hand to your chest, your eyes closed as the microwave comes to a stop, pulling you out of your daydream and back to reality. Emptying the popcorn into a bowl, you balance it on your arm as you carry two cans of soda against your stomach with your other hand making your way back to the living room and Vernon.

“If we want something to eat in a bit, I can order pizza. Jerry’s is open until 9 o'clock.” Putting the bowl onto the table, you smile at Vernon as he makes a sound, realizing you were so close. Letting him take the sodas from you, you sit on the couch near him, keeping a space between the two of you as you let out a sigh, your eyes moving over the tapes to see what he had picked.

“Whatever you want... I can always eat, but this is great.” Popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth, Vernon glances at you first and then down to the marginal space between himself and you. It made sense; it wasn’t like the two of you were dating really. Things had been discussed, but being interested and wanting to see where things went didn’t mean it was official. Still, the space made Vernon furrow his brows and caused his stomach to tighten with anxiety. “Yo—you good, Y/N? Is Seven okay?”

Smiling softly, you shift a bit on the couch, your fingers under your thighs, letting the end of your denim shorts catch between your fingers as you bite at your lips anxiously. “Mmm, yeah. I’m fine. I’ve never seen it; my dad buys most of the movies.” Moving back to your feet, you swipe the VHS from the table and kneel in front of the entertainment center as Vernon watches you carefully. “Is it really scary? I mean—it’s totally okay if it is. Brad Pitt is hot, so that makes up for my trauma.”

Vernon grins watching you put the tape into the VCR, your head tilting as you sigh and press the rewind button, realizing that your dad hadn’t done it after his last watch of the movie. “It’s not too bad. More thriller and a bit gory. If you don’t like it, we can cut it off and try something else.”

Getting back to your feet, you shake your head and move back towards Vernon, offering him the remote before taking your seat. “I’m not that much of a wuss. Besides, you won’t let the movie hurt me, right?” You knew it was a pathetic attempt at flirting, but the slight smile on Vernon’s lips and the flush running along his ears to his neck made you feel a bit better about how nervous you were.

“Nah… never. Wouldn’t let anything hurt you, honestly.” Leaning back against the cushions, Vernon doesn’t see your expression change as he presses play and pops a few more kernels of popcorn into his mouth. He doesn’t seem to understand how much his words effect you and how your heart beats quicker in your chest. It doesn’t seem to dawn on him until you slide closer to him, your legs tucked up under you so that you can rest your shoulder against his arm.

Struggling to watch the movie, Vernon stays in the same awkward position for the first forty-five minutes of the movie. His eyes move from the television to your face, the pout on your lips becoming more evident as time ticks by, until finally you sigh and reach forward to grab a handful of popcorn, letting Vernon take a much-needed breath.

He leans his head back, cursing under his breath as you stay forward on your knees for what seems like an impossible amount of time, when in truth it’s only a few seconds—long enough to take a sip of your drink to wash down your popcorn. When you lean back, you gasp quietly under your breath before lifting your eyes towards Vernon, finding yourself tucked into his side. Now your cheeks were burning, and you could feel Vernon’s fingers brushing together against your shoulder as he took a deep breath, seeming to need it for courage as he kept his eyes forward with his arm behind you on the couch.

You felt perfect against his side, and it was almost devastating to Vernon. You smelled sweet and just as warm as you felt; it was causing him to almost feel lightheaded. Lifting his free hand to his lips, Vernon rubs at them as he glances down at you, being careful not to move his head. God, you were so beautiful. He had looked at you so many times, and he had been close enough to look at you, but never this close. If he really wanted to, Vernon was almost convinced he could take the time to count your eyelashes or freckles while he admired your face.

Grimacing at the movie, you whine, finding yourself tucking your body and head against Vernon, wanting to get away from the sight of blood and filth in front of you. “So gross…” Fingers brush over your hair and Vernon smiles behind his fingers, finally moving them as he meets your eyes, knowing he has your attention.

“Is it too much?”

Rubbing your lips together, you can’t help the way you take in a deep breath of Vernon’s cologne, letting it invade your senses. Looking from his eyes to his lips and back, you shyly smile before you shake your head. “It’s okay.”

You were saying one thing, and your body language was telling Vernon something completely different—and yet the movie was beginning to not matter. Vernon could almost feel the path of your eyes as they move to his lips before his eyes take the same walk down your face and he feels your fingers gently trace the sleeve of his t-shirt where it sits on his bicep. Did you want him to kiss you? All signs were pointing to yes…

The feeling of Vernon’s fingers on your chin this time is almost electric as he gently keeps your head in place, leaning down to test the waters by brushing his lips against yours. Resting his nose along yours, he smiles when your fingers close against his arm, dragging your nails along his skin gently. “Y/N... is that what you want? I gotta know. I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want.”

God, your head was spinning. For your entire high school existence and the short time you have had outside of it trying to navigate being a woman, you had never been asked what you wanted. Christen never asked. He told and took, or at least he tried. There had been so many times when he had almost taken things from you that you would have never been able to get back, and now as you clung to Vernon, his lips hovering over yours and that question on his lips—you yearned.

“Please? Kiss me? I want it.”

Vernon’s brows furrow tightly, almost painfully so at how needy you sound. His lips meet yours gently, but not without meaning. He doesn’t want to scare you, but he also doesn’t want to risk you slipping through his fingers as he tastes your lip balm on his tongue.

To Vernon, you seem delicate, almost as if he were to hold you too tightly, he might break you. It’s almost frustrating to you when you whine into the most breathtaking kiss you had ever received and Vernon’s hand tightens on your hip only for him to shakily loosen his grip and move his hand as if he’s afraid of something.

Shifting on the couch, you open your eyes, moving your leg slowly along Vernon’s thigh to see how he will react. You furrow your brows, feeling a rush of arousal, your panties beginning to stick to your folds when Vernon groans your name from deep in his throat to the feeling of the warmth between your legs against his jeans.

“Shit—I… Y/N, I gotta—” Vernon leans his head back, his eyes searching the ceiling as you stay still, almost afraid to move based on his reaction and the feeling bubbling inside of you. Glancing over his face and down along his neck, you finally make up your mind, leaning forward to press your lips to the junction between Vernon’s jaw and his neck and listening to his breath quicken.

Hands slide along your legs to the end of your shorts, where Vernon forces himself to stop and let his hands rest even as his fingers knead at your soft thighs. He could feel how hard he was getting from the feeling of your warmth against his leg and your soft, plush lips on his throat. “Y/N…”

Your name was starting to sound like a prayer on Vernon’s lips, as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded and sitting on the couch. “I like you, Vernon. Like a lot, if that isn’t clear.” Groaning in a mixture of frustration and pleasure, Vernon lifts one hand from your leg to run his fingers through his hair, tugging gently to bring himself back to reality. You were making it hard for him to keep his head clear as you traced the collar of his shirt and adjusted your leg over his.

“I think it’s painfully obvious that I like you too.” Sighing, Vernon meets your eyes as you smile at him. Your face is so sweet, not a bit of malice or ill intent behind your eyes. There is something so innocent and pure about you that makes him equally excited and horrified. “I’m enjoying this. I’m ju—I’m enjoying it a little too much.”

You weren’t stupid or completely naive. You could feel how hard Vernon was as you dared to slide your leg further up his, resting your knee dangerously close to his crotch. It wasn’t like you hadn’t made out with guys or that you had been around Christen when he had gotten too excited, but this was different. You wanted to be here. You wanted more with Vernon, and you knew what it meant and how it would change things.

“That’s okay, right? It’s just—you know, just us here. Um, if we wanted to, you know.”

Tilting his head, Vernon can’t stop the way his lips pull up in a soft, amused smile at your phrasing. Were you embarrassed to ask him for more, or were you afraid to say the words? Or was it something else? Were you even more pure than he thought?

“Wanted to what, Y/N? Make out? We already were…”

Whining at Vernon’s words, you shift even closer to him as you shake your head no firmly. “I—no, I mean yes. I want to kiss you so much. Keep kissing me, but more. I mean, if—if you want me like that.”

The moment that your confidence seems to wane, Vernon’s brows furrow and his hand moves to your neck, pulling you closer for a deep kiss that once again takes your breath. Gasping into the kiss, you feel a rush of excitement run through your body as his other hand slips around to your ass, fingers slipping into your back pocket.

“You got literally no fucking idea how much I want you like that or how long I’ve—God, baby.” The pet name slips off Vernon’s lips as a soft whine before he can stop himself. A rush of fear moves through him quickly, but when you smile on his lips and shift over his lap to sit on his thighs, Vernon’s anxiety melts away. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, you let your knees slide to either side of Vernon’s legs, a soft gasp escaping your lips when you finally feel the bulge of his cock press against the center of your legs. “Uh huh, I’m sure, but—god, it’s so embarrassing.” Lowering your head to press your face against Vernon’s neck, you only feel shame for a moment before his hand slides over your back to join the other on your ass, helping you gently grind down over his jeans. “Oh…”

This had to be a dream—some perfect wet dream that Vernon would wake up from with his boxers sticky from cum. There was no way you were actually rolling your hips down over his cock, and those pretty little whines were real, but it all felt real. You were warm on his lap, your pussy almost hot even through your shorts. Your ass felt soft in his hands as Vernon tightened his fingers over the denim, trying to keep himself from throwing you down on the floor and fucking you right there in front of the family portrait over the fireplace. “Fuck—don’t be embarrassed in front of me, please? What’s wrong? Talk to me, baby.”

Kissing gently at Vernon’s neck, you furrow your brows, feeling his fingers run over your head as he asks you to talk to him. Taking his hand when he moves it to your neck, you link your fingers with Vernon’s before nodding. “I’ve never done this before, Vernon. I wanna do it. I wanna—I want it with you, but I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

If there was a way for Vernon to die, go to heaven, and end up back on your couch in the span of seconds, it had happened. Staring up at you, he licks his lips, trying to come up with the right words before finally shaking his head and letting out a sigh. “You’re perfect. You couldn’t fuck up a single thing even if you tried.”

Patting your thighs, Vernon helps you to your feet and offers you his hand as you give him a confused look. “I’m not doing this on your couch in your living room, Y/N. You deserve so much better than that.” Gently tugging at your hand, he leads you towards the staircase, and you find yourself enamored by Vernon as he leads you to your bedroom.

While Vernon had thought being in your house was overwhelming, being in your bedroom was like being inside of his dreams. It was like being inside your head and learning how to understand you from the inside out. Dropping your hand for a moment, he moves to turn on your bedside lamp before turning back to you and offering you his hand as you tilt your head and laugh softly. “How did you know which room was mine?”

You watch Vernon’s eyes shift to your window quickly before he laughs and shrugs into a sigh, his arms wrapping around you while he walks backwards towards your bed. “Lucky guess and I followed my nose. It smells like your perfume.” Vernon wasn’t going to tell you that he had counted your windows hundreds of times and that he had guessed the layout of your house, perhaps knowing it better than his own. No, he wasn’t going to fuck up the best thing that had ever happened to him as you looked up at him like he had hung the stars in the sky.

“Oh… I bet I could find your room like that too. Your cologne smells so good; it’s my favorite thing.” Leaning forward, you rest your nose in the crook of Vernon’s neck, taking in a breath and Vernon thinks he could die right then and there. Yes, he liked you, but that wasn’t strong enough for the emotions that you made him feel—he loved you.

“Jesus, Y/N… You don’t even fucking understand what you’re doing to me. I—here, lay down. Let me—I gotta take care of you, right? Make this matter.” Carefully turning with you in his arms, Vernon walks you backwards until your knees hit your bed. “I got you.” Resting his knee beside you, Vernon keeps his eyes locked on yours as he helps you lay back on your bed, a pillow under your head—another picture from a dream he’s had a hundred times.

Trailing his fingers slowly along your side, Vernon shakes his head as you shift under him, squirming slightly in anticipation. “You’re telling me that no one else has touched you like this?” When you whine his name, Vernon smiles, the warm, soft feeling of your skin under his fingertips as he pushes your shirt up your torso towards your breasts, exposing your body to him... inch by inch.

“It’s just a question. I just can’t believe I’m this fucking lucky. Crazy to me actually…” Vernon’s words make your cheeks heat up, but any complaints you have die on your tongue when his lips gently brush over your stomach. “But I’ll take care of you... Make you feel good, I promise.”

You find yourself wondering how many people Vernon had been with before you, but before you can ask, a moan slips from your lips at the feeling of his warm breath and kisses moving along your skin. You knew this would feel good—having someone touch you, kissing you—but you had no idea it would be this good when he had just started.

“Please… please? Can I see you? ‘M so nervous, Vernon... Don’t tease me.”

Vernon could tell you were nervous. You were trembling under him. Every kiss brought out a new shiver and more goosebumps. He knew it wasn’t fear, because if he even for a moment thought you were afraid of him, Vernon would stop. That was his worst nightmare—a world where you weren’t safe and happy.

“Not teasing, baby. I’m exploring… I’m—mm…” Chuckling against your skin, Vernon hisses, almost afraid to say what he wants to, but a glance up to meet your eyes gives him the confidence he needs. “I’m loving you. Lift your hips for me, angel.”

Wiggling your hips from side to side, you grip at the bedding under you as Vernon works your jean shorts down your thighs and finally off your legs. In that moment, feeling Vernon’s hand running along your leg back towards your thigh, you find yourself happy that you had taken the time to shave your legs. The thought seems trivial and silly, but the feeling of his rougher hands on your soft skin is better than anything you’ve ever felt before.

“You’re so beautiful. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life, you know that?” Vernon grins as you let out a soft, happy sound to his words and also to the feeling of his lips against your knee. It was killing him to go so slowly, but it was what you deserved. He could just imagine Christen throwing you on the bed and shoving his cock in you. Some bastard who didn’t give a shit about anything other than getting his dick wet, watching you cry, not even from pleasure as he got his rocks off... No, Vernon wasn’t about to treat you like that. He would never treat you like that.

“Can I?” Sucking in a breath as you feel the back of Vernon’s finger trace the lace around your thigh near the center of your legs, you glance down between your legs and whine. You could see how wet you were and there was no way that Vernon hadn’t noticed too. He was being so respectful, and you loved that he was asking. “Hm? Can I take these off too?”

“Yeah…” Your voice is quieter than you mean for it to be so you nod, making sure that Vernon meets your eyes. Lifting your hips one more time, you quickly close your eyes when you feel air hit your wet folds and Vernon helps you lift your legs one at a time until your panties are discarded on the floor with your shorts.

All Vernon wanted was for you to look at him, but the embarrassment was written on your face like a book. This was the first time anyone had seen you like this and he wasn’t going to push you. He was going to help you and ease you into feeling more comfortable. “Pretty girl, it’s just us. I want you to know that you are perfect. Everything about you, from your head to your toes.”

Your quiet laugh causes Vernon’s lips to pull up in a smile. He loved that sound and he meant what he said. Slowly moving his hands along your legs, Vernon lets you decide when to spread your legs and he does his best to muffle his groan when he is able to take you in completely. “Shh—okay. Perfect, baby. You still okay?”

Whimpering his name under your breath, you open your eyes to meet Vernon’s and wonder if that was a mistake when you find him watching you closely. Lifting your arm to put it over your eyes for a second before raising it over your arm, you nod and wiggle down in the bed towards Vernon as his breath quickens. “Yeah… Still wanna see you.”

A scoff slips from between Vernon’s lips and he nods, forcing himself to pull his eyes away from you. It was difficult. You were every bit his wet dream a thousand times over as you lay on the bed naked from the waist down, your shirt bunched up under your perfect tits. “You can see me. Whatever you want.”

Sitting up on your elbows, you bite your lips as you watch Vernon stand at the end of your bed. Your instinct is your move—to help him as he pulls his shirt over his head or as he undoes his belt, but instead you find yourself frozen in a trance. It isn’t until Vernon pushes his thumbs into the top of his boxers, his eyes meeting yours, that you glance away only to hear him laugh under his breath and whisper your name.

“Don’t be so shy about it. Even if we just end up making out, I’m not gonna be disappointed, alright? You wanted to see me... Is that still true?” Nodding, you slowly move your eyes over Vernon’s body, letting out a deep breath. You felt childish, like you were still stuck in high school until the exact moment that Vernon’s boxers hit the ground and your eyes met his with want.

Running his hand over his mouth, Vernon stiffles a groan at the look on your face and to the relief of pressure being off of his cock. He wanted more; he needed more... but this was a start. You were looking at him like he was a full-course meal and he wasn’t planning on making you wait much longer.

“God, you can’t keep looking at me like that. Come ‘ere…” Helping you sit up more, Vernon meets your eyes with a smile before quickly pressing his lips to yours, his hands working your shirt over your chest. Humming against his lips, you lift your arms, letting him break the kiss to help you out of the shirt completely before his lips are right back on yours.

Skin meets skin and you find your thighs brushing together at the feeling of Vernon’s cock resting on your lower stomach as his fingers work the clasp of your bra open at the middle of your back. “Oh my god... Please go faster, Vernon.”

There was that want and need in your voice again. Vernon has already been leaking onto your skin, but with those words, he felt his cock jerk, a rush of pre-cum oozing along your stomach as he tugs your bra from your arms and tosses it over his head, not caring where it lands.

“Fuck.” There wasn’t much more that Vernon could think to say as he looked at you now. Your lips bitten and swollen from his kisses, your breasts rising and falling quickly with each deep breath, and your knee running along his hip. The moment he feels your warm, wet folds on his thigh, Vernon thinks he’s died one more time. It wasn’t like he had fucked many other girls in his life. A couple of hookups at shitty parties, but none of them had mattered and none of them had made him feel like he was going to lose his fucking mind. He had always heard that your first time, the one who took your virginity was supposed to be the one that you remembered forever… Right now he couldn’t even remember her name, much less her face, as you looked up at him and ran your fingers along his jaw.

“Are you gonna—” Swallowing hard, you struggle for the right word, but your cheeks bloom with heat and Vernon smiles. “Don’t make fun of me. It’s hard… I don’t know how to say it without sounding gross. I want you... Put it in.”

God, Vernon felt like he could cum on the spot hearing you say something like that. He wanted to be inside of you, but that wasn’t how this should work. He watches how you pout, a full frown forming on your pretty lips when he shakes his head. Pressing a kiss to your lips, Vernon groans before working the kisses to your cheek and down your jaw to your neck as he speaks quietly. “I will, I promise... Just not yet. I’m not an asshole, baby. It’s not gonna feel good at first, no matter what I do, but I gotta make sure you're ready either way. You understand?”

You weren’t a child; you had touched yourself plenty of times and Christen had tried to show you porn to see how embarrassed you would get. You knew what Vernon was talking about, but seeing and feeling was different. With a breath getting caught in your throat, you run your fingers through Vernon’s hair as he kisses the top of each of your breasts, glancing up at you to make sure you are okay before running his tongue around one of your nipples. Arching from the mattress, you moan behind tight lips, your brows furrowed as Vernon smiles against your skin, sucking the bud into his mouth gently.

“Holy shit… That feels so good. Your mouth…” It all felt so dirty, like you shouldn’t be able to experience it, and yet as Vernon’s fingers caressed your stomach moving lower, your head just got clouded with arousal. The first pass of his thumb between your folds is like being shocked by a live wire. Any attempt you had at being quiet fails, your lips falling open in a breathy moan that has Vernon groaning against your soft breast as he repeats the motion. “Please, please, please...”

Your pleads sound like a prayer—a song of worship sang by a true believer as you lift your hips and roll them towards Vernon’s fingers as he uses his knuckles and thumb to massage your clit. “You’re so wet, Y/N.” Vernon had said your name and he was talking about you, but you weren’t sure he was actually speaking to you. It was more that he was saying the words on his mind out loud in wonder as he finally eased his index finger into your tight hole, feeling you clench down around him like a vice.

“Baby… Fuck—” Vernon’s voice gets caught in his throat as he rests his forehead against your chest, working his finger into you, feeling your arousal seeping around it. “Relax for me. Let me help you feel good, huh?”

You were trying to relax, but Vernon’s finger was deep inside of you and you could feel every time he would bend his knuckle, raking the pad of his finger back towards your stomach. It was overwhelming how good it felt and how much you wanted more. To you, it made no sense how you could already feel so full and yet so empty. “Uh huh…”

“That’s my girl.”

Vernon’s voice had dropped an octave and as if that wasn’t hot enough, he had called you his girl. God, you wanted to be his girl. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted that until he said it. You wanted to be his, only his for the rest of your life. You knew it was silly, that this was probably that first time euphoria taking over you, but looking into Vernon’s brown eyes as he smiled up at you sliding down further into the bed... You were falling in love with his boy.

Using his other hand to separate your folds, Vernon groans under his breath as he glances from you back to what he is doing before leaning in to run his tongue from his finger to your clit. He hadn’t warned you, but being between your legs, his mouth level with your pussy should have told you everything you needed to know, in his opinion. Yet, when you practically scream his name, your mouth falling open in shock, Vernon just grins and latches on to your clit rendering you speechless.

This was like nothing you had ever felt before. You had fingered yourself before, played with your clit... but having Vernon’s mouth on you? That was pushing you over the edge so fast that you couldn’t think straight. There were no intelligent thoughts in your brain; the only thing that was there was Vernon, Vernon, Vernon...

Trying to lift your hips, you let out a choked moan when a second finger eases in to you next to the first. The feeling of being full and wet skyrockets you to the moon and back; your thighs shake on either side of Vernon’s head and before you can warn him, the coil that had been so quickly winding inside of you snaps.

Closing his eyes, Vernon groans loudly, feeling your thighs close around his head as you cum. He knew it was coming. He could feel your walls squeezing his fingers—the way you were pushing your hips down over his hand trying to fuck yourself. When you finally let your legs fall to either side, apologies slipping from your lips, Vernon silences them by slowly slipping his fingers from you so he can replace them with his tongue.

Fingers tightly grip at brown locks as you struggle to not trap Vernon’s head between your thighs once again. You sob out his name on a moan, tears running down your cheeks as your thighs begin to shake once again. “I can’t—oh, my god. It almost hurts, Vernon.”

Furrowing his brows, Vernon groans at how good you taste, but your words make him find his restraint. Licking his lips, he takes a deep breath and meets your eyes with blown-out pupils, his hips pressed firmly into your comforter to keep himself from rutting against it. “‘M sorry, baby. You taste so good. I don’t want it to hurt; I just want you to feel good.”

Vernon’s lips pull into a soft smile when you reach for him. Sliding up in the bed between your legs, he kisses your jaw and then your lips before gliding his tongue along yours, letting you taste yourself. Making a face, your brows knitting together, you pull back from Vernon to pout up at him and shake your head as his fingers lightly stroke your side. “Tastes awful… But I do feel good—so, so good. I—I want this. I want it all. Can I—you?”

A laugh starts to leave Vernon’s mouth, along with a comeback about how you taste like candy to him when your hand wraps around his cock and nothing he was going to say is left in his head. Groaning, he rests his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky breath before wrapping his hand loosely over yours and guiding it over his shaft in a slow stroke from base to tip and back.

“Tru—trust me… I want you to. I want so much with you, but fuck. If I let you do this or anything else…” A long groan of your name falls from Vernon’s lips as he meets your eyes, looking for mercy, when you break free from his hand and trace the slit in his head with your thumb, feeling pre-cum ooze around your finger. “Babe, I’ll cum before I can fuck you. I can’t bounce back as quickly as you and I really—don’t do this to me. Please, beautiful.”

You could see yourself getting addicted to the power of having Vernon’s cock in your hand. You loved how you were reducing him to breathy moans and begging, but you wanted to feel him inside of you. You wanted him to be your first and you wanted it today. You didn’t want to wait anymore. Lightly scratching your nails along the underside of his shaft, you pull your fingers from Vernon, watching him choke on his breath, his arms shaking as he struggles to keep himself above you. “Okay, Vernon, but I wanna do this next time.”

Next time. Those two words made Vernon feel like he was levitating. You didn’t want this to be a one-time thing. You wanted him in your life. Groaning deeply, Vernon nods, leaning down to capture your lips as he uses his left hand to pin your right wrist to the bed, keeping it away from his cock. “You can do whatever you want to me next time. I swear to god.”

Silence takes over the room; only your shaky breaths are left as Vernon’s thumb strums at your pulse point over your wrist. You had asked for this, and now that it was going to happen, you found yourself once again so nervous that you felt like you could faint. Vernon could see it in your eyes, all those nerves racing through your mind. There was enough stress on you; this should take it away, not add more… He’d do what he had to in order to let you know this wasn’t scary.

“Okay, baby? Rest your knee against my hip, keep your leg up... Should make it easier. I’ll go slow, and if you don’t like anything, you tell me right away. I’ll stop. I won’t be mad or sad.” Seeing the pout on your lips even as you move your leg like you were asked to do, Vernon copies it and shakes his head. “I like you so fucking much, Y/N. I liked you before we got in this bed and I’ll like you once we are out of it. This is a goddamn dream come true, angel.”

It was almost like you could hear him telling you that he loved you, and while it scared you, it also made you relax under Vernon. The brush of his thumb over your warm cheek, his lips lazily moving over yours as he lined himself up with you and began to ease himself into you—it was all overwhelmingly perfect.

Furrowing your brows to the stretch and then a stinging pain, you hiss on Vernon’s lips, causing him to look down at you as he finally bottoms out in you, feeling you clench around him. “Wait—” Nodding, Vernon bites at his lips, watching you closely as you seem to try to work out some internal problem, but as the pain starts to fade and your face relaxes so does his anxiety. “Okay, I’m okay. You can move.”

He wanted to. Vernon’s brain was telling him to fuck you hard and fast, but his heart reminded him who you were and where he was so he kept it slow. Each thrust smooth and steady so he could keep his eyes on your pretty face, watching for any signs of discomfort, but the deeper and longer he went, he only saw bliss. “Is it good? You like it?”

There weren’t words to describe how much you enjoyed the feeling of Vernon inside of you. It was as if you were made to be one and for you to feel this full, but as he kept his pace slow and his thrusts almost too shallow, you couldn’t explain the frustration building inside of you until it snapped. “Mmmhm, more? Can I have more?”

Closing his eyes to hide how they were rolling back in his head from pleasure to your words, Vernon nods and buries his face in the crook of your neck. He was dying for more. He would have kept this pace for the entire time if it was what you wanted, but it would have been torture for him, but those words... and asking for more?

“I’ll give you the fucking world. So, yeah, baby, I’ll give you more.”

Vernon’s choice of words makes you smile, a bit giddy at how love struck he sounds but your moment is short lived because he stays true to his words. A loud gasping moan falls from your lips as Vernon’s hips meet yours hard, his cock buried in you so deep you wonder how you are possibly able to fit all of him. The drag of his tip as he pulls almost all the way out of you almost makes you cry in fear you are losing him but then he is back inside of you as if he never left, his hips rutting against yours harder and faster.

“This what you wanted? More? Tell me it’s what you wanted.”

Tears once again form in your eyes as you nod, feeling that familiar tightening in your stomach. You couldn’t believe how quickly Vernon could get you to your orgasm. There had been nights when you would lay on your back, your fingers working hard only to find no satisfaction. Yet Vernon was making you cry with how good he could make you feel. “Please, yes! So good… It’s what I want, Vernon. Don’t stop, please. I’m gonna—”

You couldn’t even say that you were going to cum? God, you were perfect. Vernon’s perfect, pure little untainted rose that he was going to keep unsoiled by anyone else for the rest of his life if he had his way about it. Nipping at your jaw, Vernon groans loudly, feeling himself getting close to his own climax as your walls tighten and quiver around him. “Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby? Say it… Do it for me? I wanna hear you say it.”

Pushing your head back against the pillow, you sob Vernon’s name as his fingers slip between your legs to rub at your clit as his cock fills you full, keeping you right on the edge. You find yourself wanting to give him exactly what he wants, even if it makes your entire body feel like it’s on fire and like you are going against every single moral thing you know. Biting your lips, you whimper, your words a whisper—yet Vernon smiles hearing each one. “I’m gonna cum for you.”

A deep thrust, one that sends you towards the headboard as his fingers circle your clit without mercy, makes you do exactly that. Choking on your moans, you feel Vernon’s thumb wipe under your eyes pushing away your tears as he whispers your name and how good you are before he groans deep and pulls from you suddenly.

Warm, sticky cum paints your stomach as Vernon’s hand strokes his cock quickly. Panting groans spill from between his lips as he sits back on his knees and lets his eyes move over your body to your face as you look up at him trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck, babe…” Running his hand over his mouth, Vernon sighs, glancing down at the pool of cum on your stomach, running towards the top of your mound and he swears his cock could get hard again. “I—shit. Whi—which room is the bathroom? I’m gonna get a washcloth and clean this off you.”

Gesturing to the hall, you mutter across the hall, watching Vernon roll from your bed and towards your door. The more time that passes, even as you listen to the sound of water from a room over, you feel your chest get heavy—a deep sense of dread washing over you as tears once again threaten your eyes. This time when the tears spill over your cheeks, they aren’t from pleasure and you find yourself confused as to why you feel so upset after something that felt so good.

Washcloth in hand, Vernon sighs only to stop in his tracks seeing you crying. “Wh—shit. No, what’s wrong?” Sitting on the bed beside of you, he runs his fingers through your hair while using his other hand to carefully clean your stomach. The moment he is back on your bed, his hands on you, the dread you had felt starts to fade, your chest feeling lighter.

“I–” Swallowing hard, you shake your head and lean into Vernon’s touch as he slides down in the bed and pulls you into his arms, letting you curl up against him tightly. “I don’t know. I felt so alone all of a sudden and scared.”

Shushing you, Vernon kisses your forehead, running his hand along your back as your fingers scratch lightly at his stomach, causing him to suck in a breath. “I’m—fuck… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you right after like that. I didn’t even think. That was so stupid. I just didn’t want all that shit to dry on your skin. I’m not gonna leave you, baby. I promise.”

Promise. That word makes your heart jump and you wrap your arm around Vernon’s waist, pulling yourself even closer to him. You knew that there was a risk of falling in love with the person who took your virginity, but that wasn’t what this was. This was something more. This was more about who Vernon was and the type of person he was.

Pressing a kiss to Vernon’s chest, you look up after to find him smiling down at you. It was taking everything in you not to say those three little words that he wanted to hear more than anything.

Tapping his fingers against his steering wheel, Christen sighs loudly as he turns on to your street. He was annoyed. You hadn’t been answering your phone, and you had avoided him for two days.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know what was going on. He was feeling some sort of way after going to the funeral too, but that didn’t mean he was going to be a bitch and cut people off from his life like you were. Clearly you were just dealing with shit and needed to be checked on.

Pushing his tongue against his cheek, Christen stares at the car in your driveway as if it will disappear. There was no fucking way that car was in your driveway. Your parents cars weren’t there, but Vernon Chwe’s was? Something was fucked up and he was fuming.

Slamming his car into park and leaning forward to look at your house, Christen narrows his eyes at what lights are on. Where could you and this freak be? What were you two doing? He wasn’t sure what pissed him off more. The fact that Vernon was at your house. The fact that he was at your house alone with you. Or the fact that your bedroom light was on while the rest of the house was dark.

“Motherfucker—I should…” The words trail off Christen’s lips as his eyes fall back on the Beretta, his blood boiling. If Vernon could taint something precious that belonged to him, he would ruin something precious of his.

Taking a deep breath, Vernon smiles when he realizes that you are in his arms. The smell of your shampoo and perfume almost overwhelms his senses even before he opens his eyes and pulls you a bit closer. He probably shouldn’t have stayed over, but after everything that happened, he couldn’t see himself leaving you—he didn’t want to leave you.

You had been beautiful the night before, but in the morning light that could make it through your curtains, you were stunning. Vernon usually didn’t like the mornings. He preferred to sleep in until later in the day and spend his time out later at night, but for you—to see this, he’d get up at the crack of dawn.

“Mmm…” Stretching against Vernon, you turn in his arms, nuzzling your nose against his chest. You were beginning to wake up, but everything around you still felt like the best dream ever. You were warm and safe in Vernon’s arms. Nothing bad could possibly happen to you ever again. There was nothing else besides what was in this room right now that mattered.

Leaning to brush your hair from your forehead, Vernon smirks a bit to himself as your nose wrinkles a bit and you seem to try to hide from his touch and the light by burying your face even closer to his body. “Baby…” The word slips from Vernon’s tongue like candy and you smile against his skin, remembering how many times he had called you that the night before. “I gotta go home... least for a bit. Come on, don’t hide from me; let me see your pretty face for a bit.”

Your smile fades at the idea of Vernon leaving you alone. You knew it wasn’t forever, but your mind was spiraling with the idea that he might not come back, so it took a lot of strength to meet his eyes and attempt not to look as sad as you felt. Though you tried to smile, Vernon could see the way your bottom lip was sticking out; he could see the concern in your eyes, and it almost broke his heart.

“No… hey.” Sitting up, Vernon pulls you into his arms and cups your cheek, pressing his lips to yours and taking your breath away. You were melting against him. Vernon could feel how pliant you were in his hands and it was almost too much for him to handle. He knew without even having to ask that if he wanted to, he could lay you down and make love to you all over again… but he had to wait. “I’ll be back. You think I’m leavin’ you? I’m not an idiot. Got me for as long as you want me, Y/N.”

It shouldn’t make you as happy as it does to hear Vernon pledge himself to you like he does after one night, but you can’t stop the smile that pulls at your lips even as you kiss him. “Promise? What if…” Laughing sweetly, you bite at your lip and give him a teasing look as he sighs, meeting your eyes. “What if I said forever?”

Groaning, Vernon furrows his brows, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You might be joking, but god, he wished you weren’t. “Then you can have forever. ‘M yours, long as you want me, like I said. Just gotta make sure my mom doesn’t file a missing persons report.”

Vernon laughs when you wince at his words, the cute look on your face making him fall even harder for you. He knew his mom wouldn’t actually do that, not after just one night. He had been gone for longer periods of time, but there were some things he needed to do before he came back to you.

“I’m sorry, Vernon... I’m clingy, I guess.” Trailing your fingers along his chest, you sigh into your pout, feeling his fingers trace your jaw. Shaking his head, Vernon lets his index finger move over your cupid’s bow, feeling your lips press against the pad of his finger. He wants to give in and stay right where he is.

“I’ll be back this afternoon, promise.”

Even after trying to feed Vernon or at least send him home with some form of food, you are left in your foyer with your lips tingling as he refuses, saying this is more than enough. You can only watch as he winks at you and closes the door behind him, leaving you alone in your house, making you realize just how quiet it is when you are by yourself while you count down the hours until he comes back.

Sliding the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, Vernon puts one between his lips and starts to light it when his mouth falls open, the cigarette falling to the pavement at his feet. A moment before he could hear the birds chirping, cars driving in the distance, and even kids playing down the street. Now he could only hear the blood rushing in his ears as his eyes moved over the side of his Beretta and the red paint that had dripped down the entire side of the door in big capital letters: ‘PERV’.

Shoving the cigarettes back into his pocket, Vernon curses through gritted teeth as he moves around the other side of his car, only to laugh in anger when he sees ‘LOSER’ on the other side in the same red paint. He didn’t need to figure out who had done this or even guess—he knew. There was only one person, Christen.

The sound of the car door slamming outside makes you jump, your brows furrowing at how angry it sounds. You start to move to your front door when you hear tires squeal out of your driveway and down the street, leaving you confused and feeling a bit sick to your stomach. You knew that Vernon was a bit different from what you knew, but he wasn’t the type of person in your mind to drive recklessly.

Deciding to settle back into the cushions of your couch and pass the time with television, you manage to zone out for a while. Your mind occasionally drifts to Vernon, causing your eyes to wander to the clock before you pull them back to your show. It had only been a couple of hours so when you hear a knock at your door, you are surprised but excited about the idea of him being back so soon.

Practically skipping to the door, you pull it open and your smile drops as you meet Christen’s eyes as he leans against his hand against the door frame, causing him to loom over you. “Wow, for a second there, I thought you were happy to see me, baby.”

The name baby on Christen’s lips makes you feel queasy as you take a step back and he takes it as an invitation to take a step into your house, kicking the door closed behind him. “I—I’m not up to hanging out.”

Scoffing, Christen tilts his head at you and glances around your house as if looking for someone else before his eyes land on you once again. “Why the fuck not? Cause I’m not Chwe?” Christen watches your reaction—how you almost recoil at Vernon’s last name. That was all he needed to know, as if he didn’t know that the fucker had been at your house last night. “What the hell are you doing, Y/N? Did—” Disgust creeps along Christen’s face as he gives you a once-over, searching for something unseen. “Did he—did that pervert touch you?”

You open your mouth to defend yourself and Vernon, but nothing comes out. You aren’t sure what to say. It’s none of Christen’s business and yet when he asks you something like that, you are overwhelmed with shame, as if you have done something wrong. The look evident on your face, Christen groans, lifting his hand to run it over his face, taking a step towards you to grab your wrist, pulling you towards him hard.

“He did. Baby… You gotta tell me.” Pulling your arm in his grasp, you whine, finding his grip too tight—painful. “Did he fuck you? Tell me he didn’t. Tell me you didn’t let that freak inside of you.”

Tears gather on your eyes as you pull once more at your arm, blinking a few times they slip on to your cheeks. “Let me go. Stop talking about him like that. It’s none—”

“What the fuck, Y/N!” Christen’s anger makes you stop moving and talking. His grip tightens on your wrist and all you can do is whine his name, more tears rolling down your cheeks. “I didn’t think you were a slut, but I guess that’s what you fuckin’ are. Jesus Christ! Giving it out to anyone who’ll take it, huh?”

Christen’s words cut deep at your heart and your confidence even as you shake your head trying to defend yourself, knowing he is wrong. You hadn’t done anything wrong. You had slept with one person your entire life and you cared deeply for him. Christen’s problem was that it wasn’t him. He was lashing out—he was trying to make you hate yourself, it was working.

“Who’s gonna touch you now, Y/N? After you let him fuck you?” Pushing your arm hard back towards you, Christen’s expression doesn’t change when the force of his action causes you to stumble backwards, falling on your ass. “It’s pathetic… You’re pathetic. Just a slut.”

Sobbing, you wrap your arms around yourself, begging Christen to leave you alone. Sucking his teeth, the man you had once called your friend tilts his head and stares at you for a moment longer before turning back towards your front door, leaving you alone once again by slamming your door. The sound of the windows rattling from the force of the door shutting makes you jump, a small shrill scream escaping your lips before you lay on your side, pulling your legs up towards your stomach and letting the tears fall freely.

Gritting his teeth, Vernon uses the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he kneels next to his car with a bucket and rag. He had been trying to clean the red spray paint from his black car for over an hour and he had barely made a dent. It was a hot day and the morning sun had only served to bake the paint into the clear coat of his Beretta.

Vernon didn’t cry, but as he leaned into his driver-side door panel with all the strength he could muster, he could feel the pressure behind his eyes. This was bullshit. He hadn’t done anything wrong to Christen. You hadn’t done a fucking thing wrong to anyone, and yet this small dick son of a bitch was lashing out like a child, going after the only other thing that Vernon loved.

The part of town that Vernon lived in wasn’t like yours or honestly, even his closest friends. Most people avoided it because of the lack of amenities and not many people wanted to be seen in the low-income section of such a well-respected little town. Vernon was used to the sound of engines revving; there were always beater cars that sounded like they were on their last legs going up and down his street so when someone seemed like they were late to an appointment, Vernon didn’t give it a second thought. He kept his eyes forward, his brows tightly furrowed as he grumbled.

Rolling his neck from side to side, Christen leaves his car door open and keeps his eye on the prize—Vernon Chwe with his head close to his stupid ass car as he scraped the truth written from it. He was surprised that he hadn’t heard him pull up; he hadn’t been subtle. Christen had left your house and hauled ass to get to this trailer park trash part of town and to take care of this.

Pain runs through Vernon’s face and head when he meets the side of his car with a loud thud. He can hear a muffled voice through the pain and ringing in his ears; it only becomes clearer when a boot meets his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. “Stupid fucking freak. Couldn’t keep your hands off what doesn’t belong to you? I’ll fucking kill you.”

Blinking up at Christen, Vernon groans in pain, his hands grabbing for the foot that kept meeting his bruised torso in an attempt to stop the blows. Christen was furious, but so was Vernon. Anger had already been rushing through his veins and now his adrenaline was in overdrive. “Get the fuck off’a me!”

Vernon twists Christen’s foot hard, bringing the other man down to the ground with a loud, painful groan. Both try to make the next move, but Vernon is a second fast, letting him get in the first punch across Christen’s face. “You piece of shit! I was willin’ to let this go.” Vernon wasn’t lying; he had you. He had woken up and felt the best he had in a year. For the briefest of moments, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought about him, but as he felt Christen struggle under him, he knew he’d never know that peace with you again—not while he was breathing.

Laughing, blood on his lips from Vernon’s fist making contact, Christen uses his fingers to dig into Vernon’s forearm muscle as he pushes against him. “I ain’t letting anything go, you perv. Thinkin’ you are high and mighty now that you got some pussy. ‘Specially some that don’t belong to you!”

He was still laying claim to you. Not even Vernon would claim that you belonged to him after being with you. There was something about how Christen was talking about you, like you were an object, that made him bite through the pain of his grip long enough for him to get his footing. “She doesn’t belong to you! She hates you; don’t you fuckin’ get that, Christen?”

That was more than Christen could stand to hear. He could manage a few weeks of letting you sit in your mistake, washing the freak off of you before he would touch you—but the idea that you hated him? That was insane; no one hated him. Except maybe Vernon, but that feeling was mutual.

“She worships me, Vernon. Always fucking has.” Eyes like daggers follow Vernon as he stumbles backwards into his garage as Christen moves to his feet with a low groan. They were both exhausted, bruised, and bleeding—but this wasn’t over. Following Vernon, Christen points towards him as he wipes blood from his lips with his other hand. “Just cause you got her to put it out like a slut one time doesn’t mean a damn thing. You’re gonna pay for that and then you’re gonna get your ass out of her life.”

A slut. That was enough to make Vernon scoff into a laugh, his hand steadying him on an open drawer of his tool chest. You weren’t a slut; you were the furthest thing a person could be from something like that. The fact that Christen of all people was calling you told Vernon everything he needed to know—he didn’t care about you at all. Christen had never cared about you, and if he didn’t care about you, then he didn’t matter.

“Did you fucking hear me, freak?”

Vernon takes a sharp breath, his fingers wrapping around the handle of the knife as his eyes follow Christen’s broad steps towards him. Without a second thought, Vernon sinks the knife into Christen’s stomach, watching the smug look on his face slowly fade away into confusion and then horror.

Blood seeps around his hand as Vernon digs his free hand into Christen’s shoulder, preventing him from taking a step back until he allows it. Looking down at the knife, Venon feels his lips pull up in a slight smirk when Christen gasps in pain.

“Vernon…”

Vernon wasn’t sure he had ever heard Christen sound so pathetic and weak before as he pulled the knife from him, meeting his eyes. “I heard you. Can you hear this?” Christen gasps, a choking sound bubbling in his throat as blood seeps around his mouth when Vernon stabs the knife back into his stomach, deeper. The others Vernon had kept at a distance. He hadn't gotten his hands too dirty, but he would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he was enjoying watching the life drain out of Christen’s face.

Wiping his hands, Vernon takes a deep breath, nodding at how much progress he had made on his car. Unless you knew what you were looking for, you couldn’t see where the words had been painted anymore, and if you looked in the garage, the only thing that would have told you that anything bad had happened was the smell of bleach.

Vernon tosses the rag on to the table before putting a cigarette between his lips and looking at the back of Christen’s car. He wanted to get back to you. He had been gone for too long after promising he just had a couple things to do—of course that had been before some unexpected hiccups—but Vernon meant to keep his promise.

Closing the truck, not giving a second look to the body rolled up in a tarp inside of it, Vernon lets out a deep breath of smoke before sliding behind the wheel of Christen’s car, feeling a wave of anxiety lifting off of him as he pushes his foot down on the gas. It was a nice car. He could tell that a lot of money had gone into keeping it up. For a second, Vernon pictures a time when he and Christen could have had a normal ass conversation about cars, but that’s short lived as he turns onto the secluded road leading to the lake.

“Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want to go to the cemetery?”

Sitting in the backseat of your father’s car, you shake your head, refusing to look up at either of them. You didn’t want to look your parents in the eye and tell them that you didn’t care enough to go to the cemetery and watch people cry over Christen for another hour. You had done plenty of that in the church while people had looked at you like you were going to shatter. You weren’t; Christen wasn’t what everyone thought he was to you, but it didn’t matter what you said or thought.

You father sighs, starting to say something when your mother coos in sympathy. When you do glance up, you wish you hadn’t when you meet Christen’s mother’s eyes. She looked broken, and yet you could tell she was loving the attention that this was bringing her. It was sick. “We are so sorry for your loss—”

“Y/N, darling… Ride with us in the limousine to the cemetery. It’s what Christen would want. He would want his girlfriend to be with his family, sweetheart. I know you are being modest, but you don’t have to be.”

Being cut off, your mother shifts her eyes from you and back to the woman in front of you as you look off to the side. She had never seen you this way. You were like a sunflower in the middle of a field of daisies and today it was as if the sun wasn’t rising for you. Thinking back, it had been that way for a while for you; they just hadn’t wanted to see it.

Shaking your head, you scratch at a bug bite on your arm, your lips rubbing together as you try to think of something nicer to say, but there was nothing you wanted to say that was kind or proper. “If you think that he’d want his girlfriend with his family, perhaps you should ask Caitlin to ride with you.” Avoiding the woman’s eyes, you look at your mother with a pleading look on your face as you reach for her hand and whine. “Mom, please… I just want to go home now.”

With a grimace on her face, your mother nods at you before meeting Christen’s mother’s eyes and seeing the fire behind them. “She’s exhausted; she hasn’t been herself for days since this happened. Please forgive and excuse us.”

You knew that not going to Christen’s funeral would be a big deal to some. There would be plenty of talk. There were plenty who—just like his mother—thought you were his girlfriend. They all thought this despite you giving no one—including Christen—any reason to think so. Perhaps there had been a time when you would have done the uncomfortable thing for appearance’s sake, but that girl was just as dead as Christen was.

Looking out the back passenger’s side window, you had been doing a good job of blocking out most of the conversation until your father’s voice lowered. It only did that when there was something to hide—something important—and now you were listening carefully. “He was brutalized... They’ve put the entire town on curfew. I just—what do we even do? We can’t leave her like this.”

Your parents were good at talking about you like you weren’t in the same room or car with them. They were good, decent people, but that didn’t make them excellent parents. None of that meant that when your mother had been nineteen years old and knocked up that she had actually wanted to marry your father and have you, and yet here you were—in the car, invisible but looming.

"Well, we don’t actually have a choice. That school is going to cost more than our damn mortgage.” Glancing into her visor mirror, your mother makes sure you are still watching the side of the road as she tries to keep her voice calm and low. “If she even still wants to go—”

“She’s going. I’ve put too much goddamn money up for it.” Gripping the steering wheel tightly, your father rolls his neck, feeling annoyance ripple through it. They enjoyed being the parents who went to barbeques and got to say their daughter was going to a notable university in the fall, but deep down your father resented it. You hadn’t played sports or been exceptional at your classes, so there were no scholarships; there was just mommy and daddy’s hard-earned money.

“Then that means we have to go to Chicago. She’ll understand…”

They were leaving again. You were used to it. You knew your parents worked hard but you had gotten good at raising yourself once you hit high school. At that age, you were old enough that your parents could take business trips and schmooze their bosses. It was harder to impress the higher-ups from a little desk behind a phone. It paid well to drink and rub elbows with the ones who mattered personally.

“Y/N… baby?” Furrowing your brows at the sweet shift in the tone of your mother’s voice when she speaks at a volume meant for you to hear. You meet her eyes in the mirror and tilt your head as she gives you a small pout. “I know things have been hard, honey. You’re strong, you know that? My strong girl...”

You knew what she was trying to do, and while you could appreciate the peptalk, you weren’t in the mood. Looking back towards the side of the road, you sigh, and your mother purses her lips. “There’s a curfew now. Everyone has to be in their houses at dark.”

“I know, Mom. The sheriff told us at the memorial—”

“I know he did. You also know that there is someone dangerous still on the loose, but Y/N…” Grimacing at the idea of what she needs to tell you after what she just said, your mother looks towards your father, feeling his hand slide over hers to give her a bit of courage. “You’re an adult now, and we have to trust you because we have a business trip. One that we can’t pass up.”

You didn’t want or need their excuses so you just nodded along with her words. “Okay, mom. I’ll be alright.”

Laying back on his bed, Vernon groans as he looks at the sun starting to set just over the horizon. He hated this curfew bullshit. As if the curfew would keep anything from happening to anyone... As if it would keep him from doing anything if it needed to be done.

“Vernon, did—are you listening to me?”

Your voice brings Vernon back to the present; he shifts the receiver on his shoulder and nods. “‘Course I am, baby. I’m just—I’m thinkin’.”

Walking around your kitchen with the cordless phone against your ear, you sigh softly to Vernon’s words before opening the fridge to see what you could make yourself for dinner. “Yeah? And—so? What do you think? I don’t wanna be here all weekend by myself. Don’t you wanna, maybe... spend some time with me?”

That’s all Vernon wanted to do. He could hear you moving around in your house, and he could picture himself there with you already. “You know I do. I just—don’t think I’d make it there by curfew. People didn’t wanna leave the matinee and—” Vernon could hear the disappointment in your sigh as you let out a deep breath. “I don’t want you mad at me.”

Dragging a pan from under the stove, you shake your head and lie to him and yourself as tears collect on the rims of your eyes. “Not mad. I’ll be fine. I’m gonna cook something and watch TV. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Vernon runs his hand over his face, a soft groan escaping his lips when you want to get off the phone with him. He knew you were lying. You might not be mad at him, but you weren’t thrilled either. After everything had happened with Christen, Vernon had taken a step back while still trying to be close. It was a strange feeling, trying to keep you safe without being so close that he was the issue. He wasn’t sure if someone would link him to something or not; he was smart and he had covered his bases, but he wanted to be sure before he got too close to you again. Yet now, hearing your soft breaths and knowing you were about to cry, Vernon knew he couldn’t keep it up.

“No… I’ll be over soon. Let me pack a couple things and I’ll figure it out. I’ll—” Scoffing into a laugh, Vernon slides off his bed and towards his desk as he rubs the back of his neck. “Try not to get arrested on my way over.”

You knew you should feel bad for pressuring Vernon into coming over, especially with how close it was to the curfew. There was probably less than ten minutes before it would go into effect, and his house was at least twenty minutes away on a good day. “Please don’t get arrested, and be safe. I—” Unspoken words had become part of yours and Vernon’s routine. You knew what you wanted to say—what you felt, but it all still seemed too early.

Swallowing hard, Vernon closes his eyes and imagines the two other words leaving your mouth before he sighs. “I’ll be alright. See you soon.”

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel out of nerves, Vernon watches every corner and dark area as he drives to your house. There were a few others out, but he watched them quickly pull into driveways and usher children or spouses inside their houses. He wasn’t so worried about them as he was about the possibility of a cop lingering around the next street.

When your house comes into view, he finally breathes out a sigh of relief, pulling his car into your driveway and glancing at the houses closest to you. Everything was so quiet on your street. If there was anyone at your neighbor’s house, Vernon couldn’t tell. The house was completely dark and there were no cars in the driveway—the same went for the house across the street. Your house was like a lighthouse at a port.

Pulling his bookbag over his shoulder, Vernon groans a bit at the soreness in his muscles. He was still bruised heavily; that had been another reason he had been avoiding you. He didn’t want you to see that he was hurt, and he didn’t want you to worry about something you couldn’t fix. He had already fixed it.

Nerves roll through Vernon as he moves towards your front door and lifts his hand to knock. He just wanted to get inside and away from the street. He knew that if he got caught even outside of the house after curfew, the cops would have questions and he didn’t have all the right answers. Waiting a full minute, Vernon shifts uncomfortably and knocks again when he hears a loud crash from inside your house and raised voices. Something was wrong, and he wasn’t going to wait any more.

“You don’t even fucking care! You didn’t go to the funeral, Y/N. You’re such a selfish bitch.”

Staring at the broken glass of your mother’s vase on the hardwood floor, you shake your head as Caitlin’s voice breaks. You had been surprised when someone had knocked on your door earlier than expected. You thought that maybe Vernon had driven a bit too fast to make better time, but then you had been sorely mistaken when Caitlin had pushed her way past you and into your house wanting answers.

“This is crazy. You need to calm down—”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down! I’m so tired of being told to calm down.” Pacing in your kitchen, Caitlin laughs, the laugh causing a chill to run down your spine. It isn’t a sound you had ever heard your best friend make before because the laugh isn’t one of humor. It’s dark. “You never cared about him. That’s the fucked-up part. I loved him—like really loved him, and he wanted you!”

Picking up a bowl from the kitchen island, Caitlin doesn’t even think before she throws it towards you, narrowly missing your head as you duck, letting it hit the wall instead. Ceramic shatters behind you as you scream her name, begging her to stop. “It’s not my fault! I didn’t—please? Stop this…”

Vernon narrows his eyes as he moves down the dark hall towards the kitchen, just as Caitlin screams at you again. He had heard you scream and beg her to stop; he had heard more things breaking—all he wanted to do was get her away from you.

“It is your fault! He was murdered, you bitch!” Moving towards you quickly, Caitlin lunges at you, barely missing you as you push past her and back towards the pot boiling on the stove with tears streaming down your face. With tears streaking her own face, Caitling straightens her back and wipes hard at her cheeks as she stares at you with disdain. “I think you did it or you know who did. Shit like this doesn’t happen here, Y/N! Christen wouldn’t let someone close enough to him—to do that to him. So… I think you did it and I’m—”

Gritting his teeth hard, Vernon watches Caitlin’s eyes move to the knife on the counter before her hand does the same. Panic rushes through him as he tries to think of what to do next, knowing whatever she is going to do can’t happen.

Your back pushed up against the stove; you feel the hot steam against your back as you sidestep towards the fridge looking for a way out. You search for a way to get away from Caitlin as you watch her weigh the weight of the knife in her hand before she looks back at you and then her face contorts with even more hatred. “Please... Put it down, Caitlin. You’re my best friend. Don’t do this.”

Caitlin was barely looking at you now as Vernon stepped out of the hall and into the kitchen behind you, his eyes fixed on her. Now it all made sense. All the pieces were clicking in her mind and she was right. She didn’t need some dumbass cop to solve a murder when she was looking at the murderers right now. “You did it, didn’t you freak?”

Shaking your head, you take a step back, jumping when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. Glancing up at Vernon quickly, you look back at Caitlin to keep your eyes on her and the knife. “Caitlin—”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N! Are you blind? You know how much he hates us.”

Vernon just sighs, his hand sliding along your arm as he tries to move you behind him and out of the way of danger, even if it means putting himself in the line of it. Caitlin laughs as she watches, the knife pointed in your direction, the tip falling slightly forward in her amusement at the sight and the look in your eyes. She wasn’t an idiot; she was the smartest person in the fucking room and she knew you were in love with the fucking loser standing in front of you. All the pieces fit together like one big fucked-up puzzle.

“Oh, I’m sorry... How much he hates me. How much he hated Christen... He clearly doesn’t hate you and you are in love with the person who killed your friend.” Making a face, Caitlin looks like she’s going to be sick, her fingers tightening on the handle of the knife. “God, I can’t even look at you. You let him do it?”

Shaking your head, you try to push past Vernon, feeling defensive of him when Caitlin tries to blame him for murder. It wasn’t that you hadn’t even considered it yourself in times of weakness—you wouldn’t even have blamed him—you just didn’t want her doing it. “Shut up! You don’t know anything, Caitlin! He hasn’t done anything wrong; it’s always been you!”

Trying to keep a grip on your arm, Vernon says your name and winces when you accidentally push back against his ribs. Everything happens so quickly in front of him that even though he tries to be the first one to act, he watches it like a movie in front of him.

Caitlin screams in anger, finally letting go of all of it that had been boiling in her blood as she sees red and storms forward with the knife. Her intention and eyes set on Vernon; she finds herself surprised and annoyed when your hand grabs her wrist, keeping it back from the man. Of course you would stop her; she had been so close—but at this point, in her mind, it was two birds, one stone.

“Stupid bitch!” Caitling’s shrill voice cuts into your ears just as much as the knife as she slashes at your arms, the two of you falling on to the kitchen floor. The only thing you want to do is get the knife away from her—keep her from making anymore mistakes, but when you feel pain followed by warmth spreading along your stomach, your blood run’s cold.

“Fuck… Fuck!” Pulling on Cailtin’s arm, Vernon panics when he hears the sound of a choking gurgling—the sound of someone swallowing their own blood. From where he is standing, all he can see at first is blood on the white tiles, and the last person with the knife in their hand had been Caitlin. With his heart in his throat, Vernon whispers your name like a prayer as he separates you from Caitlin, and his eyes fall to the knife, and your chest rises and falls in panic.

Meeting Vernon’s eyes, you quickly look down at your hand and the blood running along your fingers before seeing the knife buried deep in Caitlin’s stomach near her ribs. “No… no, no, no!” Sobs fall from your lips as Vernon pulls you back against him, his arm wrapping around your waist as tears fall along your cheeks.

He knew you were upset; you were panicking, but Vernon kept his head. Turning your arms over in his hands, he shakes his head and whines your name, seeing the cuts and deep gash near your wrist. “Baby… shh. Listen—stop! Listen to me.” Vernon didn’t want to yell at you, but you had started to struggle against him, your eyes moving over Caitlin’s lifeless body as blood seeped from her mouth and you wanted to do something to change it. “We— It’s time to go. We are going to wrap your arm and then…”

Shaking your head, you sob his name, feeling him turn you in his arms as he reaches for a dishcloth, wrapping it around your wrist tightly. “Yes, Y/N. You did nothing wrong. It was self-defense, baby... But they won’t give a fuck, so—baby girl, we gotta go.” Holding your cheeks between his hands, Vernon meets your eyes, and tears run over his fingers as you try to understand what he’s telling you. “We are leaving.”

It takes half an hour for you to pack a bag and to be settled in Vernon’s passenger’s seat. You try to make heads or tails about what is happening, what’s real, and what has to be a dream as you both sit in the darkness of the garage across the street, waiting for the right time.

You had insisted on calling the cops. Vernon had wanted to leave right away, but you didn’t want to leave Cailtin alone in your kitchen like that. So now you were stuck watching as three police cars slammed on their breaks in front of your house, and each cop held their gun at the ready as they entered.

When the call had been made, you had been crying, saying you and your boyfriend were hurt and that your friend had been hurt too. They asked if the person who had hurt you was still in the house and without needing to lie, you had looked at Caitlin and said yes. Vernon had watched you carefully, waiting for the right moment before he grabbed the phone out of your hands and threw it against the wall hard enough for it to break. He was smart, you realized then. You also realized you didn’t know him as well as you thought—there was a lot you needed to learn about the person you were now on the run with.

“They found her.” Sighing, Vernon leans his head back as one of the cops comes out of the house with his hand over his mouth. Small town cops weren’t used to this much death; Vernon almost felt bad for him. “We can wait until they get the ambulance out here and day breaks—then we go.”

Closing your eyes, you nod, feeling fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. This was the only place you knew, the only life you knew and it had just been taken from you so quickly. Fingers wrap around yours, and Vernon’s lips brush over your knuckles as he furrows his brows, watching you closely. You were falling apart, but he wasn’t going to lose any of the pieces. He’d put you back together, no matter how long it took and no matter how far he had to take you away from here to do it.

“Me and you, Y/N, okay?” Meeting Vernon’s eyes, you nod again, seeing his lips pull up slightly as he kisses your knuckles. Silence is almost deafening in the car, as you watch red and blue lights move across Vernon’s face, his eyes searching yours before he finally speaks again. “I love you.”

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pathologicalreid · 4 months ago

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for the fear of falling apart | part three

when it seems like a return to normalcy is impossible, you decide that something has to give, but will it bend or will it break?

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, therapy, mommy and daddy issues, sigmund freud, nightmares and ptsd, sleep deprivation, takes place during 15x4 "saturday" (max does not exist in this au), stalkers, yelling, police, domestic disturbance, broken dishes, severe self image issues, crying, implies that jj is sometimes not the greatest friend, marriage and marriage counseling, mentions the death of grace lynch, the chameleon arc, reader and spencer are both broken people sry. things get resolved (or do they?) word count: 5.13k a/n: i'm trying to come to terms with the fact that people will not like how this part goes, but i do think it's important to remember that this is not where it ends. it's probably easy to guess what episode I'm rewriting next. lol. let me know your thoughts and feelings because i am dying to know.

“Are you glad to be back at work?” Your therapist asked you, writing down your personal information on the form on her clipboard before she met your stare.

Chewing impatiently on the inside of your lip, you glanced over to the clock that was hung above the door, dooming you to another forty-five minutes with Dr. Harmon. “Yes, I love desk duty,” you told her, flashing a fake smile in her direction.

The older woman looked at you doubtfully, and you silently begged for her to sign your return to duty forms. “I thought we spoke about using sarcasm as a coping mechanism,” she responded in a way that made you feel chastised.

You raised your eyebrows at her, gray hair neatly combed into a tight bun, you had spent more time with your therapist for the past two months than you had any of your family – the rest of your time was spent retraining your body, usually within the limitations of your doctor’s orders. “And I thought we talked about there being worse coping mechanisms that I could be using,” you countered, leaning back in her chair.

She shrugged helplessly, “Well, I’m not sure about signing your release forms. You could be a liability in the field.”

Eyes widening, you tilted your head to the side, “No, no, no, I’ve grown a new appreciation for the desk workers in the BAU. I even stopped laughing when people refer to Agent Anderson as Grunt Anderson,” you informed her, nodding as if that would help convince her of your honesty.

Checking off a box on your form, she set the clipboard on her side table, just out of your view. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Harmon leaned forward and folded her hands over her knee, “Have you spoken to your sister since the last time I saw you?”

You leaned your head back, staring at the tiles of the ceiling as any hope of returning to the field left your body.

One of your very first dates with Spencer had been at the Academy’s shooting range, you had a lucky spot there, it was where you had aced your qualification as a cadet, and it was pure luck that it had been available when you arrived.

As your paper target was brought forward, you slipped off your headphones and set your weapon down, studying the results as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

“Hey,” Spencer said from behind you, casually leaning against the wall behind you.

You jumped slightly as the sound of his voice took you away from your anxiety, “Hey,” you echoed, holstering your weapon as you sent your target back for someone to change it out.

“I thought you were going to come to the BAU after therapy,” he explained, arms crossed in front of his chest in his charcoal suit, camouflaging himself with the steely gray of the shooting range.

Pursing your lips, you made sure you had your phone in your pocket before grabbing your bag, “I wanted to get some practice in before my requalification test.”

He looked surprised for a moment, “Did your therapist sign your return to duty?”

“No,” you muttered, knowing that you wouldn’t be eligible to take your firearms requalification until after you had been cleared by a psychiatrist.

Any surprise quickly left his face, “What did she say, then?”

You rolled your eyes, “She told me that it’s possible that my strained relationship with my parents is negatively affecting my performance in my sessions. Then she threw a Freud biography at my head.”

“Did you talk to her about the nightmares?” He asked, following you as you checked out of the shooting range, waving to a gaggle of cadets as they noticed the BAU agents in their general vicinity.

Faltering as you opened the door, you flung the glass door open and trudged out of it, “I have it under control,” you lied through your teeth, continuing your way to the elevator.

The tapping of Spencer’s shoes signified that he was following you, holding his hand over the sensor while you stepped in and using his knuckle to press the parking garage button, “You were up all night last night,” he retorted, “She could help you develop a coping mechanism that works for you so that you can get some rest, angel.”

You were getting tired of those words, “Well, maybe we’ll reach a breakthrough next week. You never know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being so unamenable,” he accused.

Shaking your head as you stepped out of the elevator, you hoisted your bag back over your shoulder, “Is unamenable genius-speak for pain in the ass?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” he retorted, swiping the keys out of your hands before unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat. You had been cleared to drive weeks ago, but Spencer still insisted on driving you.

You groaned, “My recent brush with death has made it difficult for me to let bygones be bygones.”

Pulling out of the parking spot, he carefully placed both of his hands on the steering wheel, “And here I thought we were actually going to move on with our lives.”

“No one holds a grudge like a youngest child,” you informed him, leaning your head against the window and wishing you had driven separately.

Being at home wasn’t much better than being at Quantico. You quickly changed and settled yourself on the couch while Spencer sat across from you, legs crossed in the wingback chair as he finished filling in a crossword book that you had started that morning.

You watched the clock tick, the diffused orange light of the sunset beamed through the curtains, and you felt yourself settle. Stiff joints and aching muscles unwound on the supple leather of the couch, and as you let your eyes fall shut, you felt the breeze of someone walking by before Spencer stopped in front of you.

Gently, he draped a knit blanket over you, tucking you in before crouching and dropping a gentle kiss to your temple.

Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now.

I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.

It’s okay. I’ve got you.

“Honey, wake up.”

You startled awake on the couch, wadding up the blanket in your fists as your eyes adjusted to the dim environment of the apartment. The sun had set, dipping below the skyline as you stared ahead.

Concerned brown eyes bore into you as you caught your breath, Spencer reached over and flicked on the table lamp next to you, “You’re alright,” he cooed, gently enough to make you want to cry. “It was just a bad dream,” he told you, cupping your cheek and studying your expression.

Nodding absently, you pulled yourself into a sitting position, the familiar knit blanket falling in a puddle around your waist. “I was in the parking garage again,” you preemptively answered his next question. You were usually in the parking garage, sometimes you were on the beach, and once you had been fully underwater.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

You shook your head and ignored the defeated look on Spencer’s face, instead burying your face in your hands and taking a few deep breaths.

He waited for a moment before speaking again, reaching out and adjusting the bunched-up fabric of your t-shirt, “Are you hungry? I made soup.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, crossing your arms in front of your stomach, afraid it would start growling at the mention of food.

As you watched Spencer get up and walk over to the kitchen, you let yourself feel like everything was alright for the slightest moment. You wanted your apartment to be your safe space where there were no serial killers or sisters or hospitals, but there was a classified file on the kitchen table, photos of you and your sister littered the walls, and there was an entire drawer in the home office dedicated to your hospital stay.

Melding into the couch cushions, you ignored the stiffness in your side, the scars that marred your skin were healed over, but the memory would stick with you for a lifetime. It felt like a phantom pain, irritating your skin whenever you thought too much about it, or whenever your therapist asked you about Grace Lynch.

It didn’t bring you a lot of comfort to know that she was dead, murdered by her own father after conning her ex-girlfriend into giving her money. Everett Lynch was the threat now, and you were stuck on the bench.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you rested your cheek on your knee as Spencer ladled soup into a bowl and presented it to you, complete with a few ice cubes to cool it down. He waltzed back into the kitchen to clean up when his phone rang.

You ignored his conversation while you stirred the ice cubes around in your bowl, the soft clinking of them mesmerizing your tired brain. You ate while he spoke on the phone, mentioning something about a case. Pushing any thoughts of serial killers away, you just ate your soup.

Sipping at the broth, you grew curious about what was going on over the phone, but you tried to mind your business, scooping at the last noodles in the bowl before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Who was that?” You asked, eyes following Spencer as he walked back over to the living room, slipping his phone in his pocket as he sat next to you on the couch.

He paused for a moment, and you immediately regretted asking, “Uh, it was JJ.”

You supposed it had to mean something that he elected to tell you the truth instead of lying to you, but you were no longer feeling optimistic, “Ah.”

“Don’t start,” he said immediately.

You turned to him, raising your eyebrows curiously and pushing yourself into the corner of the couch – away from him, “Start what, Spencer?”

Spencer put his hands up, “Picking a fight with me over JJ’s feelings. JJ, Tara, Luke, and Penelope are working on a stalker case, it’s nothing that we need to worry about.”

“I’m not going to pick a fight with you, I already told you that I forgive you,” you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He groaned in frustration, “You can say it all you want, but you haven’t. You haven’t forgiven me.”

As he usually was, Spencer was right, you hadn’t forgiven him for lying to you about what had happened between him and JJ. You wanted to. You wanted to find it in yourself to be the bigger person and just tell him it was fine. All you wanted was to move on, but you were crashing into roadblock after roadblock. “Are you going to work that case?”

“No, it’s a classic stalking case, they’ll make it without me,” he said, turning on the couch to face you.

You swallowed thickly, “You can go if you’d rather be there,” you reassured him, wondering if he’d be happier at work than at home with you. Someone needed to make a decision, someone needed to decide whether or not the two of you were going to keep going or if you were going to call it off. You didn’t want it to be you, you were afraid of which option you might choose.

Spencer frowned, “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not,” you answered.

“Yes, yes you are,” he challenged, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

Shaking your head, you threw your hands up in surrender, “You don’t have to go. You can stay here. You live here. Who the fuck am I to tell you to leave?”

“And now you’re escalating the situation,” he observed, straightening up and watching you carefully.

You didn’t consider yourself an angry person. The two of you didn’t fight often, but as you considered your options, you wondered if it could help. Maybe you could replicate the feeling of a good cry. Maybe all you need is a good fight. Just talk it out – loudly. “I’m not escalating anything. I’m not starting anything. In case you haven’t noticed, this has been going on for months.”

He had noticed, he could probably give you an exact date and time to point out when everything fell apart. Was it inside the pawn shop? Was it in the courtyard outside of Rossi’s wedding? “I thought we had made some real progress at the hospital,” he challenged.

Getting up from the couch, you took a deep breath and tossed the blanket over the back, “You cannot seriously think that. You’re too smart to believe that, Spencer. The idea that we fixed everything while I was hopped up on Xanax and painkillers. It’s… it’s…” you stumbled over your words for a moment. It’s crazy. You wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t do that to him. Spencer had spent his whole life having that word thrown at his mother, and he spent adulthood fearing he’d have a schizophrenic break. “It’s outlandish,” you finally finished.

Spencer looked up at you from the couch, “Is it outlandish to think that the history we have together would help mend our relationship?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know, Spencer, let’s take a look at your history with my sister,” you snapped.

“Oh, come on,” he protested.

“No,” you commanded, “Sit down and shut up. I’ve spent months waiting for you to get it, but apparently, I need to spell it out for you.”

To your surprise, he listened, watching you in silence as you took a deep breath, picked up your soup bowl, and brought it into the kitchen. Your heartbeat pounded like thunder in your ears.

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I want you to empathize with me.” You calculated every word you said, “We’ve known each other for nine years. We’ve been together for seven, and I- I had the rug pulled out from under me. God, you went on a date with my sister. You took her to a football game as a hater of organized sports. My beautiful, prom queen, soccer star, gem of the family older sister.”

“It wasn’t a date, Penelope went with us,” Spencer added patiently.

You peered down at him, “When you asked her to go with you, did you do it with the intention that you would be taking her on a date?”

His shoulders slackened, “Yeah,” he answered softly.

“And you know that she loves you. If you went to her right now and told her you wanted to be with her, that there’s a chance she’d consider it. She’d at least have to think about it,” you told him, confidence dissipating as your hands started to tremble and you silently begged yourself not to cry.

Spencer watched you suspiciously, “What gave you the impression that I want to be with her instead of you?”

You faltered, just for a moment, “Why wouldn’t you want to be with her?” You asked exasperatedly, letting your arms fall limply at your sides.

Pinching his eyebrows together, your boyfriend looked at you like you had grown a third eye, “She’s married? Her kids are my godchildren?”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you cursed yourself as tears stung your eyes, “Are those seriously the only reasons you can think of?” With all the brain power you knew he had, you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, “Putting aside the fact that I’d be destroying a marriage, not because it doesn’t matter, but because being with your sister isn’t even something I’d consider. This might not have occurred to you, but I have absolutely no interest in being with someone other than you!”

You huffed, “Please, she’s beautiful and athletic and older and you’ve known her for fifteen years!” You shouted over your shoulder, making your way back to the kitchen. There wasn’t anything you needed from in there, you just needed to keep moving.

“But she’s not you!” He yelled from the couch, finally getting up and following you to the kitchen.

Spinning around on your heel, you threw your arms in the air, “God, I know!” You swung your arms down, accidentally sending the bowl you had set on the counter down to the floor, breaking on impact. “Shit,” you muttered, immediately dropping to a crouch and starting to pick up the ceramic shards.

“Hey, wait, let me get it,” Spencer insisted, grabbing a kitchen towel from the drawer before laying it on the floor. He carefully picked up the larger shards, waving your hands away.

You clenched your hands and glared at him with bleary eyes, “Why? Why am I not allowed to clean up the mess that I made?”

Spencer sighed, “You’re crying. I don’t want you to get hurt because you can’t see well,” he told you, prompting you to sit back on the tile and watch him continue to pick up.

You crisscrossed your legs and watched him, “I’m sorry for yelling,” you whispered, so quietly that you weren’t even sure he had heard you.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Spencer gathered up the kitchen towel and set it on the counter, setting his hands on the counter and taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry for raising my voice,” he echoed your sentiments. He moved to the hall closet to get out the broom, interrupted by a knock on the door.

Confused, you poked your head over the counter and watched as Spencer opened the front door.

“Good evening, officer,” he greeted, casting a sidelong glance over at you.

Fuck.

You scrambled to your feet, careful not to step on any pieces of the bowl that remained on the floor and wiping beneath your eyes as you made your way to the door, peeking around the corner to find two DC Metro officers. “Agent Jareau?” One of the officers said curiously.

“Hi,” you waved timidly, looking between the two of them with your tail between your legs.

He looked surprised at the revelation of who lived here, recognizing you from a case you had consulted on months ago. “We were called here on a report of a domestic disturbance, your neighbor in said she heard ‘a lot of yelling before there was a crash and then everything went quiet’.”

The summation of events did nothing to slow your racing heart, “We had uh… we were having a disagreement, and I knocked over a bowl. It was an accident,” you reassured the officer, reaching out and taking Spencer’s hand as a sign of good faith.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You nodded in confirmation, “I’m really sorry about any inconvenience, but I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

The DC Metro officers studied Spencer suspiciously, and you protectively moved in front of him. They were trained to see the worst-case scenario, but there was nothing happening here, “Well then, just uh… try to keep it down, I suppose.”

The two of you waved as they walked away, once the door was closed, you turned to face Spencer, “Are you alright?”

He looked a little pale, “I’m alright,” he nodded, gathering himself before going back to the hall closet. “That was weird,” he added.

Spencer’s interaction with police officers was limited to work with the bureau and his time in prison. He never had to explain an underage drunk person in the car or run when a party got too rowdy, but he wasn’t concerned with the confrontation, he was concerned that, for a moment, before you got there, those officers saw Spencer as a violent person. You stayed put, watching him sweep up the last of the bowl and take care of the sharp pieces with a keen eye.

“I’d never hurt you,” Spencer said softly, unnecessarily explaining to you.

You nodded, “I know. You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person.” In fact, you had only seen Spencer aggressively violent one time in your life, and that was when his mother’s life was on the line. Stepping over to him, you lifted yourself so that you were sitting on the kitchen counter, meeting his eyes.

“She is not you,” he murmured, reaching out and taking both of your hands in his.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, “I am well aware,” you offered.

He took a deep breath, “JJ would never ask me to recite Henry James to her or offer to go to the planetarium with me even after we spent all day on a case or sit through one of my lectures just to hear me talk about something I’m passionate about,” he began. "I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation about something I’m passionate about with your sister. Not one where she didn’t interrupt me or pawn me off on somebody else,” he told you, disconnecting one of your hands to wipe new tears from your cheeks.

“I- I’m not…” you breathed, overwhelmed as he sang your praises.

“I know you compare yourself to her,” he cut you off, “it’s normal for you to compare yourself to your older sister. I just didn’t know how lowly you thought of yourself until all of this was dug up.”

Frowning, you cocked your head to the side, “I do not compare myself to her,” you remarked.

He hummed in response, “It wasn’t up for debate. I’m not interested in your sister. I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone except for you. I am sorry that I never told you about the football game, but by the time you joined the team, six years had passed, and I didn’t think it was pertinent to tell you that your sister had rejected me. That is entirely on me, and I can’t change it. I can, however, spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

Your breathing hitched, and the ghost of a potential proposal once again floated through the air, it made your heart ache. “One of these days you’re going to have to actually ask me to marry you,” you whispered, not sure how much longer you’d be able to sit and wait while he neglected to act upon his words.

“What do you want right now?” Spencer asked, studying your facial expression.

You have spent three months being mad at him, and you had to believe it all came down to tonight. Neither of you could keep going with things the way they were. “I’m not sure,” you answered.

Patiently, Spencer inquired, “Do you want to break up?”

If you told him you hadn’t thought about it, you’d be lying. It broke your heart to think about ending things with him, to think that six years together didn’t mean something to the both of you. Spencer had never given any inclination that he was interested in anyone else, so maybe he should’ve told you about the football game, but you shouldn't have let your insecurities block any attempt at reconciliation. “No,” you responded truthfully.

He had tried, too. The one-sided conversations he had with floral bouquets, taking time off of work to help you while you recovered, and he had even limited his contact with your sister. “Do you want to go to couple’s therapy?”

You had heard through the grapevine that your sister was trying marriage counseling with Will, something about working on their communication skills. With that in mind, you nodded, “We can try it out.”

“Do you know what you want?” He asked, settling a hand on your thigh.

Through the sheer curtains, you looked outside, “I want to go,” you informed him, hopping off of the kitchen counter and to your shared bedroom, pulling on a pair of socks.

Confused, Spencer followed you around the apartment, “Wait. Where are we going?”

“I’m going,” you said simply.

He looked surprised at this, “It’s the middle of the night in the twenty-second largest city in the country, you’re not going out alone.”

You paused for a moment at his concern, watching the defeated look on his face morph into one of relief when you responded, “Then put your shoes on,” you encouraged.

As you waited by the door, mindful to not walk through the apartment with your shoes on, he stopped in your bedroom for a moment before coming back out and slipping his sneakers on. “Where are we going?”

Grabbing your keys off of the hook, you opened the door and held it for Spencer as he followed your lead. “You know at the start of Moby Dick when Ishmael says when he finds himself growing grim about the mouth and wanting to knock people’s hats off, he takes to the sea?”

He nods, taking the keys from your hand and locking the door behind him, glancing briefly at your neighbor’s door before handing your keys back to you, “I’m familiar,” he confirmed.

“Well, I’m feeling rather grim about the mouth,” you told him assuredly, slipping your keys into your pockets and slowly making your way down the hold staircase of your apartment building, listening for Spencer’s footsteps right behind you.

Even with your back turned, you knew his expression would be one of confusion, “So, you want to take to the sea?”

You quickly shook your head, the very last place you wanted to be was near a body of water in the middle of the night, “Not particularly, but maybe the park and some fresh air would do me some good.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he confirmed, stepping around you to hold the front door open so that you could walk outside, the cool night air stinging your face as you did.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at the night sky, the stars hidden through the city’s light pollution.

Upon reaching the park, which was just a small green space down the street from your apartment, Spencer led you to a cement bench, the two of you sitting down and sitting in silence. You welcomed the cold air filling your lungs, watching the fountain from a distance and admiring the way the headlights of a few passing cars reflected off of the water.

He kept a hand on your back, gently moving his hand up and down your spine as the two of you reveled in the startling nighttime peace. “I haven’t been fair to you,” you murmured nervously, looking over at him.

“None of this has been fair to anyone,” he reminded you.

You sighed, “JJ confessed her feelings, not the other way around, and I- I shouldn’t have held that against you for so long.” The admission came to you easily, holding your breath as you waited for him to agree.

Spencer’s silence worried you, but then he finally responded, “I probably would have done the same thing, but I don’t think it’s right for me to speculate how I would or wouldn’t have acted in your shoes.”

“I just… she’s always been perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect agent, and I’m… I’m just me,” you said helplessly, staring ahead at the fountain.

He took a deep breath, “You’re perfect to me.”

“Stop,” you chastised halfheartedly.

Chuckling, he placed his hand over yours, “I mean it. Sometimes perfection is about the final concoction and not about getting all of the steps right. You don’t need the perfect journey, and, to me, nothing proves that more than you.”

You hummed, “You’re sweet.”

“For what it’s worth, I think, given the opportunity, you could be a perfect wife,” he said, nudging your leg with his knee, getting your head to snap to the side.

Jumping up from the bench, you smacked your hand over your mouth at the small black box that he had set on the stone surface. “What are you… what?” You asked breathlessly, looking behind you in the way people usually did when they were surprised, waiting to see if you were being pranked.

“It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring,” he reached down and snapped the box open, showing you the glimmering ring inside. “It can just be a promise because I am promising you right now, this is it for me. You are the only person I can see myself with, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Gaping at him, you looked between him and the ring before closing your mouth, “That sounds an awful lot like an engagement ring,” you told him, out of breath.

He nodded, “That’s because I want it to be.”

“Okay,” you answered.

“What?”

You giggled, he evidently hadn’t expected that answer, “Yes, Spencer.”

He stood up, tackling you in an embrace, “Thank goodness.” He said, relaxing into you as you returned his hug.

Over the past few months, you had been almost afraid of him asking you, worried that it would feel like an excuse. A band-aid over a bullet hole. But as you held each other tightly, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of right. This was where you were always meant to be. “Will you put it on me?”

He nodded slowly, sniffling as he pulled away from you, the warmth of his body leaving you as he nimbly took your left hand, slipping the ring on your fourth finger. The metal felt foreign on your skin, but you welcomed it nonetheless. “That has been sitting in my sock drawer for a year,” he admitted, placing both of his hands on your waist and meeting your eyes.

You beamed up at him, at both the revelation that he bought you a ring well before any of the trials and tribulations of the last few months and that he hid the ring in the one place you never touched – the seemingly bottomless abyss of unmated socks that Spencer called his sock drawer. “Thank you,” you breathed.

Spencer leaned his head down, hovering his lips just above your own, “For what, love?”

Blinking small tears out of your eyes, you answered, “For not giving up on us.”

He smiled, “Never,” he whispered before dropping his lips to yours, the intimacy of something as small as a kiss enough to bring butterflies to your stomach. “Do you want to go home? Or are you still feeling grim about the mouth?”

“Let’s go home, Spence,” you told him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before the two of you began the trek home, hand in hand.

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criibibi · 27 days ago

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Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 5 - No Time to Waste

It’s been a week and a half since the last power surge incident and so far everything was quiet. Too quiet for Batman’s liking. It definitely increased his paranoia which in turn causes him to be extra moody. The culprit? Whoever was behind the power surge in the Narrows. They became an anomaly to Gotham. Unwanted, an eyesore in the eyes of Batman.

And the issue is, there hasn’t been any news at all. No sightings, no suspects, nothing. Bruce felt challenged in a way. Something is in Gotham, living in his city and he feels like he’s still so far from discovering who or what it is. For the world's greatest detective is having a hard time solving this case. How frustrating.

With no news of another quantum breach, big or small, nothing. It’s frustrating. What’s even more of a headache about this unsolved case, is another thing that has come to his attention- thanks Jim.

Bruce started hearing more reports of a new ‘vigilante’. But there are no pictures, no camera footage, no evidence, just testimonies, occasional sightings and witnesses. Nothing concrete, nothing solid, just no proof. So frustrating.

And there is a pattern.

What he does know is that they are always quick and efficient, never staying too long, leaving once or before the police arrive, and it’s always low level crooks like muggers or thiefs. Respectful and polite (from those they saved) and they mostly keep to the shadows of the night.

Whoever this new problem is, is trying to stay hidden and Batman doesn’t like that at all. Not. One. Bit.

Despite the Narrows being Duke’s territory, he is just one person who patrols in the daytime, so some of his sons and daughter help patrol at night. But it seems this newcomer has incredible luck and scurries off everytime they are even close to their location.

But this doesn’t mean Batman will just let it go, oh no. Of course not silly, he’s going to find this new vigilante and see what they are about. He’s going to evaluate them, judge them, and all it takes is one mess up. Just one and he will make sure they are locked up in Arkham.

A bit extreme, possibly. But he will take no chances, not when it comes to the safety of his city. Gotham is his to protect and defend, he’s keeping many eyes out for this intruder. Watch your back.

“Sorry to interrupt your brooding hour B, but I have something I think you want to know. Also you have a message from Commissioner Gordon.” A new voice spoke through his comms.

“On my way.” He replied.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” a third voice snapped. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Explain.” Batman demanded.

“So you see…”

After the failed attempt at contacting Miguel, you spent a couple of all nighters in advancing your beacon. This time, it would require even more energy but now it won’t cause a potential blackout. But it will notify the bats of your location like last time.

You know you have to be extra fucking careful this time. You might have gotten lucky those days ago in not getting caught, but you know your luck is shit anyways and Batman is one paranoid mother fucker. Him and his wards.

You have to be very cautious in where you go and how you will do this. This new connector is a bit more sturdier than the lightweight one you made before, but this time it also won’t require you to be stuck in one place. Actually, your signal will ping in more than one location. It will bounce off the cell towers and throw a fake location.

This will certainly tip the scales to your favor in avoidance of detection. Now, you won’t have to rely on your (shit) spider luck!

All you have to do is to connect it to a phone or computer, and connect that to any service in the area and manually set it off- which you can easily hack. There is only one tiny itty bitty problem. Guessed it yet? No? Well it’s simple, the only problem is- YOU DON’T HAVE A PHONE.

You could theoretically use the library computer but with civilians around you is a big major no. You’re also pretty sure the library closes at like 8 or something.

No worries. You have a solution for this baby problem. Is it build one yourself? Pfft- fuck no. You don’t have time to build a phone and even less for a computer, you still have to tweak your god damn watch for fuck sake. So, you’re just going to buy one.

And with what money- I hear you ask. Simple. You’re going to make some. Time to become Spider-woman again.

Only until you have enough for a decent phone- you said. It’ll be easy- you said. Until you were proven wrong.

You spent two days hunting and defeating crooks, webbing the worst ones up, while the not so bad but are making shitty choices were let go (with the promise of hunting them down should they go back to doing bad stuff). Some advice here and there, pickpocketing criminal’s money, you know, the usual shabang.

Can’t forget you’re avoiding all cameras so as to not give yourself away. Though you almost got caught by the police once, haha. You never stick around long enough to get spotted by the bats or the cops.

Until one night, dressed as a normal civilian, you were coming back from a shelter, turning a corner and you were immediately surrounded by a group of thugs wanting to rob you. You literally have nothing, so the only thing they would be robbing is your backpack with extra clothes and your suit. And maybe like two granola bars.

You tried to charm your way out of this situation because first of all, youre fucking tired, two, you don’t have time for baby shit, and three, you’re about to start tweaking. Of course the five men didn’t take your sarcastic remarks lightly and decided that their knives would do the talking.

So you beat them up. All five of them. 60 seconds was all it took. So to recompense wasting a minute of your time, you loot their cash discreetly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) a well dressed man popped out of nowhere, getting close to you and you warned him you would break his wrist if he touched you- he still came but didn’t touch you. Holding out a black card he presented it to your face.

“You fight well, kid. If you want to make money fast,real money, call me and go here.”

“Um, I’m not a k-”

“You’ll make hundreds.” He cut you off. Rude. ”And if you impress the boss like you did me, you can make more.”

Spider luck?

Oh well that got your attention. Eyes narrowed. “Fast money, how?”

“Did no one ever teach ya about ‘stranger danger’? It’s a fight club, if you will. A tournament if you’re interested.”

Spider luck.

After pondering it for a quick second, here you are, getting a card with a free invite to a ring, probably filled with big, crazy, and most likely wanted criminals, and you get paid to beat them up? Sign me the fuck up. “I’m very interested.” you nod.

The man gave a crooked smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“I’m not-” The man walked away and inside a white limo car. Fuck you.

So you went the next day. Making sure you wore your normal clothes, just sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and your face mask, you called the guy.

Meeting him was uninteresting, conversations were nothing exciting, just asking you your fighting style, can you take on a big guy, and whatnot.

Upon entering the place (behind a well known bar) you were led to a ring, two fighters going at it. You watched how one was clearly more experienced than the other, while the other guy was battered and bleeding but still fighting. Blood spraying everywhere with every hit until he hit the ground cold.

It certainly is a sight.

It was that very day that you had your very first fight.

Stepping into the ring with no prep, no bandages, no helmet, nothing, this was a raw fight through and through, you were immediately booed and laughed at. Tough crowd.

Of course you were not going against a stereotypical big muscular guy that looks like he could bench press a tank. No, in fact you were against a young military deserter as your first opponent. Scars and all. Across his neck laid an identification tag (also known as dog tag). Christopher Conner.

The man in front of you sneered, laughing at you. “No way they sent me a kid. I will break all your bones. Don’t start crying too soon.” he cooed.

He taunted you and the crowd loved it. You, on the other hand, were pretty bored and unimpressed.

“I’m not a kid…” you huffed behind your face mask.

What was able to be seen on your face must have told him that because he didn’t like being ignored.

So he swung, a clear hit to be a knock out. You swerve.

This time he kicked, you parried.

He did not like that. Soon a game ensued. Hit attacking and you either blocking or dodging. You didn’t even need your spider sense, you got this in the bag, honestly this was quite sad. The crowd went from booing you to insulting Christopher.

“What the fuck man?!”

“Hit the kid!”

“My money’s riding on you dickface!”

“Don’t you dare lose motherfucker, or I’ll shoot you!”

It seems their insults were getting to the man. You on the other hand kinda started to feel bad.

“Stand still you fucker!” Christopher growled, throwing punches.

You scoffed, “My aunt throws faster punches than you Chris.” You can almost taste the bloodlust seeping from his pores. “Hey man, it's been three minutes, surely you can end this, right?”

Chris’s jaw clenched in anger. He was about to explode. A voice called out your name.

“Nada! Stop wasting time and finish it kid. Or you won’t get paid.” What? What a scam! You’re trying to entertain yourself too y’know, guess this will be a way to relieve stress.

Facing the military man you didn’t give him a second to process when you blew him a kiss and then a fist made contact with his chin, effectively knocking him out the second his back hit the ring walls. “I’m not a kid.”

The crowd was silent before chaos broke. Half the crowd booed and threatened the fallen man, while the other half started cheering.

With how unsatisfied most people were, you had to fight three more times. Each time, you won, with no scratches on you (you did pretend to get hit at times for realism). Each victory secures you cheers and hype.

By the end of your last fight, it was dark out and you were walked off by the same man that brought you here. “Good job kid. I know you were the right call.”

“I’m not-” A thick envelope was thrown. Catching it, you opened it up to find money, lots of money. “Woah.”

The man in the suit chuckled. “Like it? You can make more the more you win.”

Still entrance by the stack of green you nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time.” The man walked off and you stared at the money.

“Booyah baby!”

You bought a phone the next morning.

And so it’s been five days since then. You weren’t in a desperate need for money anymore, so you cut your fights down from five to two a day. You still needed time to continue fixing your beacon. Spider-woman sightings have also significantly decreased the more you noticed the increase in security.

You were not taking any chances.

Walking towards the somewhat empty bar, you greeted the bouncer and headed inside to an ‘employees only’ door to meet the guy in the suit. He did tell you his name, but you call him ‘Suit’ in your head regardless.

“Hey there Nada,” He hears a sigh from behind the mask. “Listen, kid, you’re one of my best fighters, but I need you to lay low for a while. Here.”

Catching a burner phone you tilt your head for an explanation, pocketing it. “Cops?”

“Worse.” he sighs, slicking his hair back. “Bats.”

Fucking spider luck.

Like a bucket of ice and cold water was dumped on you, blood turning cold. You froze in terror. You should have guessed that a hidden fighting ring would not be kept hidden for long. The criminals that you fought and were downright nasty, you made sure they were caught outside and far away from this location.

And it was random from a list you composed. Enough to make sure you weren’t a suspect. But fuck now you have to erase your presense here. You’re a nobody, Nada, nothing. Guess it really is time to lay lower than low, like a ghost. “I won’t come back then.” Voice serious and cold.

He laughed, pulling out an envelope from his suit's inner pocket. “S’that so?” Handing it out for you to take, his eyes burn into yours. “Then I’ll just have ta hunt you down, kid.”

Taking the envelope (it felt thicker and heavier than usual) and placing it in your pocket you chuckled, cold, fake, calculating. “Try. I’m good at hiding.” Walking away, hands in pocket, feeling both the envelope and the burner phone, turning your body to avoid bumping into a familiar guy speed walking in. “I’m not a kid…” you mumbled to yourself.

You didn’t bother glancing at the man you dubbed ‘Suit’, real name Jacob Sullivan Jones. It seems it’s time for JSJ to have a run in with the Gotham City Police Department.

It is truly fortunate that Jacob doesn’t know where you're staying. Although he might not know about the warehouse inside the junkyard, he does know you are not a resident with no permanent home. He had stalked you for a bit after the first meeting (the bouncer was so easy to spot really), believing you’re homeless, alone, and a nobody (someone who nobody would miss or look for). You’re using that (somewhat of a mis)information to your advantage.

Leaving the desolate bar, thoughts consumed by the written list of criminals you drafted and plan to anonymously give it to the GCPD. How you got the other criminals caught was simple, you always used a payphone and gave anonymous tips. That won’t work here. At least not fully. Knowing the corruption, maybe you should hand it to the one of the cops you know isn’t corrupt.

Now, do you hack the police and email it? Print it/fax it and send it? Or hand it directly but as spider-woman? Well for starters, the second option is garbage because if the right person doesn’t see it first, it will just get covered up. Hacking into the GCPD and emailing it directly doesn’t sound like a bad idea, the only issue is, if they decided to forward that information to the bats, you’re fucked because then you know they’ll dig in and somehow find out about you.

It seems like going in as Spider-woman is the best bet, but then again, the bats are real close, too close for comfort. Should you take the risk? But if you don’t turn these criminals in, it will stay in your consciousness of letting innocents down. Guess you have to suck it up and do it then.

“This sucks” you mumbled, deep in thought.

Suddenly you felt your body freeze. Feeling your spider sense go haywire, you looked up and hard swerved to the side, avoiding bumping into a stranger.

It seemed that your sudden change in direction caught the stranger’s attention and the person next to him, both heads snapped towards you.

Hands out of pocket awkwardly waving in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” Taking a look at the one you almost bumped into, he is tall, with black hair and vibrant blue eyes.

Taking note of your embarrassment the stranger chuckles, looking into your eyes, “No worries! Nice reflexes though!”

The stranger’s partner scowled in your direction and you could feel his eyes burning you alive. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” Venom.

“Don’t be rude, Dame.”

“Don’t call me that. We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Alrighty then, guess it’s time to fuck off. “Yes, thank you- again, so sorry.” You don’t even spare the other guy a glance, quickly scurrying off. Your spider sense hasn’t shut off and you don’t like where this is going. “Good bye.”

“Hey wait a minute!”

“What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.”

Not turning back, you quickened to a brisk walk away from this nauseating area. This whole goddamn experience is so nauseating. You just wanted to go home. Was that soooooo much to ask? Regardless, you did not want to know what those strangers wanted, and you were taught ‘stranger danger’ and it certainly applied here.

After a certain distance later, your senses dulled into a small buzz as you turned a corner and entered the public library. Taking your usual empty seat, you let out a deep sigh. This was what you were used to since coming into this world. Since being yoinked from another dimension and plopped in this universe, your senses never really shut off. It was like everything in this world was a danger, and it only spiked when reacting to blood lust, danger of a certain radius, and people who are incredibly strong.

Recalling that one stranger, who looked too innocent enough for it to be bloodlust, just that their presence caught you so off guard. But your senses screamed at you, and it terrified you to an extent. This is why you can never really relax being here, even when you’re alone in the warehouse, you just feel so out of place, and in danger constantly. It was beginning to eat you up honestly.

You miss your innocent youthful days. God you sound old. But you really do miss having a home to go back to. A home where once you step inside, it’s warm, and two people would always greet you like a warm embrace.

Now it’s cold and desolate, barely anything inside, empty and lonely.

But now, you can’t even go there anymore. Even if it was painful to live in the same home that had more members, then reduced to just you, it was still home.

You can’t even go home.

Remembering the words Jacob Sullivan Jones spoke to you earlier, you fish out the envelope. Taking note of the weight, it was decided to open it and find more than usual.

Picking up a small zip-lock bag, your eyes widened. It was an ID, an ID and a passport. Just what the fuck was Jacob going to do with giving you this? Why did he make this for you? What were his plans? No, you can’t think about that. This is a blessing for sure, and you’ll take it- but, you have to put Jacob in prison. Now.

This is a gift and you know that with criminals, all gifts are never for free. This is a ‘you owe me’ gift. “Fuck, this sucks.” You just want a moment of peace.

Think, you have to think. Now you have an identification, but, you don’t know if you’re in the system, since once again, incase you forgot, you don’t fucking exist here. Whatever Jacob was thinking, you definitely don’t want a part of it. You’re going to put a stop to this now.

Though, recalling the two strangers earlier, you don’t bother with the rude one of the two, more focused on the one with blue eyes. Something about him just stuck out to you. He looked vaguely familiar.

Okay, let’s take this from the top. You felt a strong sense of precaution, thus causing your spider sense to alert you. Your sense only went away when you were a considerable distance away from those two, so you know it’s about the strangers. Bases covered, perfect. What’s next?

You only really focused on the one who you almost touched, so let’s continue from there. He is tall, a welldefine body, black hair, and vibrant blue eyes. That’s all you remember seeing now for what you heard. His friend/partner/acquaintance/fellow party member said ‘Kent’, this could be his name or surname but the name ‘Kent’ makes your throat clogged. You only know of another Kent and it’s a superhero.

It couldn’t be…right?

Turning the computer on, you started typing away, fingers trembling, heart thumping loudly, head spinning, and body sweating. Please, please, please, be wrong. You prayed.

The window search lands on a somewhat recent news. Superman and Superboy save hundreds during bridge collapse! By Lois Lane Kent.

In the photo, on the front page was a scene, both Superman and Superboy. The older one was holding a piece of a bridge while the other younger one was using his heat vision. This was Superman’s son. And you came into contact with him.

You were royally fucking screwed.

Fuck- fuck! No, no nono!

All the anxiety you tried to lock away came like a tsunami. You were reminded of how small you are in this world. How easy it is to find trouble even without looking. You wanted no part in this world but it seems the gods wanted to fuck you over and over again.

And, as much as you wanted to curse out the Spot for yeeting you far faaaaaaar from your universe, you only blame yourself for latching onto him and getting lost on the way to his next destination.

God this sucks! You wanted to curl up and cry, but you can’t. You’re a big girl and so, you’ll deal with this fuckery later. After all, your best trait was putting your issues to the side and focusing on the bigger picture. This- meeting Superman’s son can wait. After all, you haven’t run into any bats besides Signal- yes you researched him when you had free time (you only knew of him but not really who he was), so for now, your spider luck has been blessing you thus far.

You need to focus on the bigger picture, getting Jacob and the other criminals caught.

Getting to work, you begin to type away your list that you memorized, the location of the bar, the owner of the bar was still a mystery but the one who runs it is Jacob, schedule of the bouncer shifts, and the names and alias of those who you encountered as well as the situation of misguided teens. You type it all, making sure to keep your real and fake identity out, you did put in your alias Nada, as a picked up street kid. Enough for it to be a ‘misguided’ teen situation but not enough to catch someone’s attention unless they were looking for it.

Now that you know you ran into Clark Kent’s son (a deduction), you know you can’t risk encountering him as spider-woman. Knowing that Superman can (somehow) memorize and identify someone based on their heart beat or whatever, so fuck no are you going to parade as spider-woman any time soon.

You swear to god that you will do everything you can to avoid meeting them in both their civilian personas and alter egos.

Calming yourself, you get ready to hack the GCPD, and leave a message.

‘They know. Scatter.’

It hits you. The epiphany of why Jacob had an ID and passport made for you. They were moving locations. Abandoning fort, and taking anyone who they wanted. Basically a trafficking ring for those who weren’t onboard, and a new opportunity for those who they saw potential in.

Shit, you should have stopped this when Jacob found you, but you didn’t know anything then. Now it could be too late. But Jacob did say to lay low, so they’re mostly biding their time. Probably erasing, hiding, and misplacing real and fake evidence.

They need to get exposed now, ‘strike while the iron is hot’ as the saying goes.

It seems like it’s time to meet the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, James “Jim” Gordon, as Spider-woman. How fun…

Way to contratic your fucking promise so soon. Well, at least it’s a civilian and not a hero/vigilante. “This fucking sucks.”

Damian scoffed when Tim wanted to force his father the Batman into his lead. It’s not that he doesn’t want his father, it’s just this is an undercover sort of situation. He got a lead when he went to interrogate a pathetic military criminal. He can handle this mission on his own.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” Damian heard Jon chuckle, most likely overhearing this conversation with his super hearing. What a nuisance. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Well that was something. So, what’s the plan that you didn’t want Lizzie to be involved in?”

“Focus, Jon.” Damian explained their stakeout first, before going to don their costumes. Deep in their conversation, Damian caught sight of one of the suspects speed walking past them. He brings this to Jon’s attention. “It's him, the mercenary Christopher Conner.”

“Okay, so this bar is the place. Let me check real quick.” Using his vision, Jon’s eyebrow furrows. “Next door is styled like a wrestling ring, only two exits. From here and from an office. This is the place.”

“Then we’ll change and apprehend the criminal. Watch and hear what he is saying.” Jon followed Damian’s lead when someone jumped out of his way like he was burning them, causing Damian to also turn his head.

“I’m so sorry!” Despite the mask covering their mouth, their voice of this buffoon sounded androgynous, their clothes didn’t help to differentiate a gender either. But what he can see were this stranger’s eyes, and he can’t look away.

It seems neither can Jon as he chuckles and waves off the encounter. “No worries! Nice reflexes though!” Jon makes it very obvious he’s staring hard.

Just what is it about this total insignificant stranger that caught Damian’s undivided attention? From what he can see, they look normal (can’t really tell with that face mask though), but there is just something that has him unable to take his eyes off of them.

Jon has the same issue, and Damian narrowed his eyes in suspicion and scowls. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.”

Jon, without breaking eye contact, scolds Damina. “Don’t be rude, Dame.”

Snapping out of this trance, he snaps back,” Don’t call me that.” That’s right, they are on a mission, no distractions allowed. “We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Jon looks at Damian, as he too, regains his focus, eyes staring into each other as if communicating, he nods. They can come back to this after they finish their assignment.

“Yes, thank you- again, so sorry. Good bye.” The stranger quickly scurried off.

Caught off guard Jon impulsively extended his arm out to grab their shoulder. “Hey wait a minute!”

Damian acted faster, grabbing Jon’s arm. “What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.” Pointing towards the bar with his head. This isn’t good, they’re getting sidetracked.

Jon didn’t turn to look at Damian, no he was still staring at the stranger. “I just wanted to ask…” He trailed off as he strained his ears, focusing on their heartbeat, their breathing patterns, anything he could to commit to memory. “For their name.”

Damian, too, side glanced at the retreating figure, dissecting the way they moved, their tensed shoulders, everything until they were out of sight.

Jon wanted to ask their name. Was that weird? Their situation didn’t require him to ask their name. How would he even go about it, ‘Sorry for almost bumping into you, hey can I ask for your name?’ Yea, no.

“Damian, I-” Jon began before getting caught off.

“I know. We’ll deal with that later,” His eyes narrow, glancing at the bar. “Focus.” But he too was entranced. But he was much better at pushing that to the side, but he knows he won’t be able to hold it off for now. The best he can do is rein in Jon’s attention to the assignment.

Moving to a cafe nearby with a good view of the bar’s entrance, they ordered some drinks. This wasn’t Damians idea but he’ll let Jon have his way for cooperating.

Jon nodded, getting back into focus, using his super hearing to overhear the conversation inside the bar.

His stomach tingles at the thought of asking the stranger for their name.

Hand discreetly on his year Damian spoke, “Drake, look into the time of now and send it over to me.”

“Hey- wait-” Tim was caught off guard, “What’s this about? I thought you didn’t ‘require assistance’ for this.” He teased.

“I don’t.” He shut the comms off. Now, back to work. “What’s going on Jon?”

“This is our guy. He’s getting assigned to deliver a package. This is serious. He’s upset.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Tt. Follow.”

Jon tunes into the conversation again.

“The police aren’t the issue. It’s the costumes that have been spotted close. We already lost a couple of our men to the cops.”

“And you don’t think that’s suspicious? We have a traitor!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Chris? Ever since Sebastian was caught by the fucking commissioner, the others have been getting caught like flies here in Gotham. He’s spilling, so I need to silence him.”

“The usual?”

“No, not you this time. We’re leaving so I need you to focus on one more thing.”

“Is it about them, the one you want to recruit?”

“Yes, I want them-” a phone rang interrupting the conversation. “It’s the boss. Dismissed, I’ll send ya the rest later.”

“Understood sir. I’ll deliver the packages tonight.” The mercenary walked off, no longer as upset as earlier.

Jon, processing the information, becomes visibly upset. “They’re recruiting, and based on the conversation, it's the runaway and homeless teens that have been reported by the shelters. This is bigger than just Gotham. I think they’re leaving, moving somewhere else.”

“Let’s follow.” Damian’s attention was caught at the mercenary leaving the bar. “There.”

“The guy he was talking to said he would ‘send the rest later’, I think it will be on his phone.” Jon informed.

Damian absorbed the information. “We’ll follow and catch him red handed.”

“What about ‘the package’?” Jon questioned.

“What about them? I’ll forward the intel to the rest. We focus on this guy. The evidence on his phone is all we need.”

“Dame, I can’t with good conscience leave those vulnerable kids on their own.” Stressed Jon.

“And we’re not. The others will take care of it.” Damian replied. “When we apprehend the mercenary, acquire the intel, we go after this guy while the others detain their accomplices and rescue the runaways. They will all fall tonight, Jon, so focus.”

Jonathan Kent wanted to bite back, but he knows Damian ran this plan at least three times before bringing him along. Damian is just that strategic. And he places his full trust in him, god does this leave him unsatisfied. He knows those kids are trapped somewhere and if taking this mercenary and the manager from the bar out gets them safe faster, then he will do as he is told.

Something just feels out of place, this has been too easy so far. “Alright, he’s heading north.”

Damian nods, slipping away to change into his suit.

As if connected, Damian as well feels like things have been progressing smoothly. And when it comes to crimes committed in Gotham, when things are going good, then something isn’t right.

Ever since the first the GCPD have been arresting some low and decent levels of this new crime syndicate, news of some human trafficking organizations have been slowly getting uncovered as if by overnight. It started around five days ago, low level members were caught, and just two days ago, a higher member was arrested.

Ever since his father the Batman (he tagged along) interrogated him, he spilled like a waterfall. Since they have been cracking down on the case, they know this criminal organization is trying to get on the levels of Black Mask or The Penguin.

The only issue is, this was only exclusive to Gotham, now based on what Jon relay to him, this is just a small base, there are others. He refuses to let this go on any further. Not to his city, or his people. Yet, there is this itch in the back of his head. These captures were by far too easy, and these people aren’t sloppy. No, they had been operating for some time, and yet they were getting caught like moths to a flame due to anonymous tips being called in. Someone out there is deliberately getting these scumbags caught.

And Batman believes it could possibly have a connection to the other pressing issue that’s consuming his thought. There has to be a connection to the quantum disturbance from a little over a week ago. It’s just too coincidental for it not to be.

Something is happening in Gotham, and he will get to the bottom of this.

You know, people say to plan for everything, thus making Batman a force to be reckoned with since he is the master of having contingency plans and backup plans for those backup plans. And yet, here you are, with a plan and life just wants to fuck you over and expects you to just deal with it.

No.

After coming up with spider-woman handing the commissioner Jim Gordon a list of criminals and misguided teens, you just needed to go and change. But here you are, running into a situation if you will.

You see, after running away from Superman's son, and a printed list folded neatly in your pocket as you head ‘home’, you started to feel the icky sensation of being watched. Years of experience and knowing how not to tip off that you know, you head away from your place of operations and head up north.

Though despite not giving signs of how utterly fucking tense and anxious you are, you rationalize that it can not be any of the birds because you haven’t done anything suspicious. That, and the fact that your spider sense isn’t screaming at you of danger so for now, that’s calming you down.

On the other hand, you still have no clue who is following you. It was like, thirty minutes since running into the super, and no call from the burner phone. This whole ‘being followed’ is a fucking nuisance, putting a wrench in your plans.

The only good thing is that, since you are technically surrounded by civilians walking about, they can’t really do anything to you, unless they want to cause panic amongst the innocents. Though, that wouldn’t stop someone from shooting you if they wanted you dead.

Still, regardless if you are wanted dead (highly unlikely) or alive (for whatever reason) you don’t want to lead innocent civilians into this, so away you go! Informing Jim Gordon can wait (not it can’t), you’ll lose your pursuer and then catch them!

Turning a corner, into alleyways, zig zagging, you hear their footsteps pick up. Persistent.

While running away, you form theories. We crossed out the batsonas, you haven’t done or got caught with anything to be on their radar afterall, it can’t be a random crook because for one, you look poor too, and second, they’re chasing you for a reason. Another idea was maybe it has something to do with Jacob. But that doesn’t make much sense since you just got a burner phone.

Something just isn’t adding up.

Your spider sense spiked as you turned down a corner. Despite this, you kept going straight, ready to take on whoever was going to appear in front of you.

With a very good distance between you and your pursuer you took this chance to discard your mask and sweatshirt (thank god for having a tank top) ontop of a parked motorcycle as you turned another corner, there stood a man near the end of the alleyway, tall and (once again) wellbuilt, with black hair just standing there, phone in hand.

Quickly you jogged towards him (he glanced your way) and grabbed his arm, startling him. “Sorry, please play along!” you whispered and pulled him.

The stranger only had one second to figure out what was happening. In that split second though, he heard a plea for help. The next thing he knew, he had his free hand on the wall above your head while the other one was moved to your waist. Back towards the wall and having his big frame engulf yours, you let his arm go and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him towards your face.

It's only then that you take in his appearance, handsome from what you can see, and your heart dropped. “I’m being followed,” you muttered, noticing the stranger’s eyes roam your face before settling on your eyes. “I don’t know who they are.”

The man in front of you nodded, kept in place as footsteps hastily turned the corner, running past the both of you. Your body tensed up watching the hooded figure stop at the end of the alleyway. Taking the chance to observe the guy, he pulled out a phone while looking both ways before exiting from your view.

While you were distracted the stranger in front of you pulled back, making your release your hold. He was quiet. “Once again, I’m so sorry! Thank you!” You nervously backed away, in the opposite direction your pursuer went.

He grunted, watching you walk back away. He opened his mouth to speak but the phone in his hand began to ring. He glanced down at the caller before looking back up.

You were already gone, picking up your sweatshirt and mask, donning them on and running away. Your heart was pounding so loud, it rang in your ear. That was Jason mother fucking Todd. You ran into the Red Hood. What the fuck was he doing in the Narrows?!

Recalling the words Jacob spoke earlier, it echoed through your head. ‘Bats.’ That’s right. The fucking bats are intown, and this was too close for comfort. This sucks balls!

“Focus, focus. Officer Gordon, here I come.” To the junkyard you go.

Jason watched the very pretty woman leave him with his thoughts. Getting pulled into caging someone against a back alley wall was not in his cards today, but with Gotham, one always has to expect the unexpected.

Speaking of the unexpected, he let himself momentarily get distracted recalling the bold stranger from earlier. Something about this woman, rendered him quiet. But at the same time, he took note of just how anxious she was. Tensed body, eyebrows furrowed, worried expression, scared eyes, and over all the way she held onto him while losing her pursuer. He wondered just what kind of trouble found her. It seems crime really doesn’t stop during the daylight.

He committed her face to memory, and will touch upon her situation once he finished his current assignment.

“You still there?” the voice spoke from his phone.

“Yea, I’m still here. I’m in the Narrows, following the lead.”

“Good, while Damian follows the mercenary, you got the manager. I’m seeing some suspicious moments. Turn on your commlink, Bruce is already moody as he is.”

“When isn’t he like that.” Jason rolled his eyes as he walked back to his bike that he parked further in the alley. Before taking off, he glanced in the direction the stranger went. Her actions and the sound of her voice repeated inside his mind like an echo, burning itself in his memory.

Prev; Next;

I realized everything I wanted for this chapter did not happen. So now it's split into two parts- oops. Side note, this will not be a yandere series, though I do think they get 'possessive' sure, not yandere though. I finally know how I am going to end the Act, the issue is the in between that I struggle with.

Yay, you met Jon and Jason. Next up are Cass, Steph, Dick, and Tim the only ones left.

Web Bound Secret Corner!

Spider-Woman had an eidetic memory.

Spider-Woman does not know about the trafficked kids.

Spider-Woman did not notice Damian.

If Spider-Woman had to choose between saving a life and going home, she'd save the life.

Spider-Woman's is bad at grieving and worse with failure.

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psi-hate · 6 months ago

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alright, this really, really sucks but i have an unfortunate update that occurred regarding my recent living situation.

not to get into too much detail for the sake of my friend's privacy, but she and her fiance offered to take me in after i was suddenly on the verge of homelessness this february. i accepted their offer and moved in thanks to everyone's support, and for the last few months, i felt comfortable and capable in getting myself together for the first time in years.

however, despite what i assumed were all positive developments, things started getting a lot more complicated. i become exposed to the treatment and stress my friend has been suffering from her fiance over many years, from being spied on via tracking apps, in-house cameras, a ridiculous jealousy complex and all sorts of other personal issues.

her friends and i have been supporting her over the years, but i didn't realize how bad it was until i started to be subjected to it as well.

my friend decided to break up with her fiance last week, finally standing up for herself but still wanting to remain friends and live as normally as they could, they still had the house and their cats and such. her now ex-fiance hasn't taken kindly to this and has been pretty passively hostile towards us, and has started to take it out on me.

she started stalking my tumblr to find things to get mad at, and checking the cameras when i leave my room. i've not felt comfortable to leave my room in well over a week other than to get some food or use the bathroom in the middle of the night, the tension has been a nightmare.

my friend and i decided we needed to move out, especially me since i'm technically not a tenant and we suspect she's going to call the police on me to get me out of here. my friend will be going to her parents at a later point, but i unfortunately need to leave within a couple weeks as i've already been "indirectly" threatened.

this is sort of a nightmare, and i feel so horrible things turned out this way for my friend. i tried my best, but this feels out of my control. trying to keep the peace has only made things worse, and we think it's best for me to book it before i get blind-sighted.

i suspect if her ex-fiance sees this, she'll retaliate, but at this point i've already made my peace with that.

unfortunately, i won't be able to bring much of my stuff with me, i only have enough money for a ticket to move in with another close friend as an emergency.

i don't have enough to buy any checked bags for most my belongings, especially my desktop pc, so once i move i'm very likely going to not be able to do my art or anything until i can afford a laptop eventually. i'm really sorry to those waiting on any commissions, i'll try my best to get them done before i move. i feel so horrible about this.

if anyone is able to help, i'd really appreciate it. even just a reblog is more than i can really ask. i hesitate to make this request because i feel like i just asked for it only for it to all be wasted once this exploded in my face. but i've been encouraged to reach out, and i apologize if this is too much. my ko-fi:

thank you so much for supporting me so far. i don't want to disappoint anyone anymore. i am so scared but i still want to keep trying.

#pk.text

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avoxrising · 1 year ago

Text

The Feral One • Chapter 2

Finnick x Reader

Series Masterlist Link

I had some down time while my flight was delayed so here’s another chapter! Hopefully chapter 3 will come out in a few days but we shall see. Thanks for all the love on the first chapter!

Content warnings - flashback to prostitution assault and detailed descriptions of killing/death

You weren’t always known as a feral victor. Sure, some of your kills in the arena were a bit much, but it’s not uncommon to see that behavior in the games. It is a fight to the death after all. What is uncommon, however, is that literal fight continuing afterwards.

After the incident with the first doctor, which was kept quiet from the public at first, Snow believed you would still be of use from him. He thought the capital doctors could “fix you” and make you “civilized” again. He’s lucky he always had guards with him, or he would have ended up on your list.

Finnick, your mentor, thought that your post-arena violence might save you from his fate in the capital. He tried to convince Snow that it wasn’t a good idea to assign you clients, that you were unpredictable and things could go very wrong. Snow thought it would be fine.

“Sure she may put up a fight,” he told Finnick, “most of them do. But, I don’t think that should be an issue for her client. He could break her quite easily if he needed to.”

And break you he did, just not physically. It was you who did the physical breaking.

You didn’t mean to kill him, nor anyone else outside the arena, but his grotesque hands roaming your body triggered something deep inside you; a primal instinct you first felt in the arena. It was kill or be killed.

You tried to push through it. Snow had warned you what would happen to your family if you didn’t comply. But laying there being completely violated by this capital man broke the only pieces of you that had survived the arena. Your mind had convinced itself that you were out of options.

The man’s avox had phoned the police when she heard him scream, but they weren’t fast enough. He was so engrossed in his actions that he didn’t notice the way your eyes turned cold, or the way you stopped protesting.

Less than two minutes later, he was dead. You still can’t shake the feeling of his eyeballs under your nails, or the sound he made as you crushed his esophagus. The worst part was having to unattach yourself from him when the ordeal was over. You didn’t even protest when the police entered. They sedated you and carried you off, away from the scene of your crime.

Did you mean to kill him? No.

Do you regret it? Absolutely not.

The only thing you regret is coming out of that arena alive; but what’s done is done and there’s no going back.

Your prep team won’t go anywhere near you for the parade, which is quite the dilemma. How the hell were you supposed to get ready? You’re surprised a stylist designed something for you at all, or that they’re even letting you participate for that matter.

Apparently, your stylist didn’t design the outfit. He said that his mentor, Tigress, wanted to design something for you specifically but she is banned from the games so he volunteered to bring her design to you. He’s the first person in the capital who doesn’t seem terrified to be in your presence, but the peacekeepers still won’t let him near.

You’re forced to dress in front of the peacekeepers. They uncuff you at least but it’s still uncomfortable. You would strangle them all right now but unfortunately there would be consequences.

Snow paid you a visit last night. He told you exactly what would happen if you went “feral” before the games.

“We wouldn’t want Mr. Odair’s pedestal to malfunction while he was standing on it, would we?” he stated. “Or for Mrs. Flanagan to come down with a horrible illness. That would be quite unfortunate.”

You had to do everything possible to keep yourself under control, but even that could only help so much. The rage you felt inside was growing and it wasn’t calming down anytime soon.

“Why isn’t it ready yet?” the shrill voice of Linessa calls to the peacekeepers outside of your room.

“No prep team would touch her,” they tell her. “The tribute is getting herself dressed.”

“Move,” Finnick states as he pushes past the group to enter your room. You’re mostly clothed but are having issues with zipping up the back of your gown.

It’s a beautiful blue gown that hugs your skin before flaring out just below your hips. The stylist explained it as, “The image of a silent siren. A deeply misunderstood mythological creature of the ocean.”

Finnick slowly approaches, making sure you can see his hands.

“Can I help get you ready?” he asks. “We need to be out there soon.”

You nod and turn so he can zip up your dress. The feeling of his hands on your back causes you to tense up but you grit your teeth and remind yourself it’s just Finnick.

Practically grinding your teeth dull, you let Finnick do a simple makeup look on you to match your outfit. You wish you could give him an outfit instead of a net but neither you nor Mags have a say in the matter. You especially don’t.

Finnick is especially careful not to touch the scar that runs down the side of your face. You got it during your games and the capital doctors refused to polish it off after you killed one with a scalpel for taking your temperature. You wish you had the temperament to let him cover it up with the makeup but you know it would set you off.

When he’s done, the peacekeepers come and recuff your wrists but leave your feet free so you don’t trip in the dress.

“She doesn’t need those,” Finnick tells them.

“I’m sorry Mr. Odair but these are direct orders from Snow,” they state.

“Will you remove them before the parade?” he asks.

“No,” they state. Mags whispers something to Finnick and he nods in understanding before approaching you slowly.

“Hey,” he calmly states. “I need to go talk to some people before the parade. Stay with Mags and I’ll come get you before we start.” You nod and he leaves.

The peacekeepers force you and Mags out to where the chariots are, but make you stay along the edge of the stables where they can keep an eye on you. They wouldn’t want any of the “excitement” to start before the games begin.

You can see Finnick talking to Katniss, last year’s victor. You don’t really know any of the other victors besides Finnick and Mags. They know all about you, of course, but none of them care enough to get to know you. The only one who has ever spoken to you (over the phone of course) is Johanna Mason of District 7. She’s pretty close with Finnick and they talk all the time. You would be jealous if Finnick didn’t practically live at your place and spend all his time with you. Plus Johanna hates people.

“Hey feisty!” you hear Johanna call as she approaches you. Finnick has shown you pictures of her but outside of that and watching her games you had only ever heard her voice. The peacekeepers move to block her but one glare from her sends them away. “How’s life outside of your cell?”

You give her a thumbs down and she laughs in response, catching the attention of the other tributes.

“Well I give it double thumbs down,” she states.

“Johanna!” you hear a male yell. “Get your ass over here.”

“Ugh Blight’s calling,” Johanna groans. “See ya later feisty!”

You think you’re done socializing for today when you’re approached by a young blond boy. He doesn’t protest when the peacekeepers keep him five feet away.

“Hi y/n,” he states. “I’m Peeta. I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

You give him a blank stare as you study him. Something about you feels like he’s harmless, but you can’t be too sure.

“Ah Melark,” Gloss booms as he approaches the boy. “Don’t take it personal. Feral doesn’t talk.”

It’s clear these two haven’t met before as Peeta looks a bit scared of the career. You’d met Gloss once before your games as he was your allies’ mentor, but you haven’t spoken in years. Him and Finnick aren’t close.

“Oh, uh I’m sorry,” Peeta stutters. He glances over his shoulder to see Finnick flirting with Katniss. “Uh nice to meet you I guess.”

Peeta looks harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Katniss, on the other hand, looks like trouble.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @agunislover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x oc #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #catching fire #finnick odair angst #finnick x you #thg finnick #finnick fluff #the feral one

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olderthannetfic · 2 months ago

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Okay, I need advice: I'm in a very tiny fandom (like less than two dozen active people and everyone knows each other) and one of the women in it is kind of freaking me out.

We became mutuals because we had some good discussions on some of the characters we liked, but I soon became sort of uncomfortable with a lot of her online behavior whereas simultaneously she's DM-ing me more and more.

She's one of those people who's a hardliner on the issues she cares about (mostly feminism- and SA-related) while talking over people when it comes to issues she doesn't care about (mostly racism and related things). And I see a lot of her trying to intrusively police how other people talk/act, derailing people's posts, arguing with people online over the most stupid shit (where not even her own opinions come off as overly coherent - this week she'll argue something along the lines of "men are evil" and the next she'll argue that people are "demonizing masculinity" - I'll add for clarification that she's not a TERF and supports trans rights but boy... Does she sound like one sometimes) and then digging through people's profiles to find and publicize minor transgressions and bad takes, passive-aggressive vagueposting, and going into mental breakdowns over the most innocuous of online interactions.

TBH she scares me. As someone who suffered through toxic people getting overly attached to me, I genuinely sometimes get a physical reaction when I see her lashing out on the dash.

And she keeps initiating conversations! And sometimes I don't reply or bring the conversation to a natural closure and she keeps at it, or sends me random fics of hers to read that I don't have the heart to tell her don't interest me or whatever. And recently when she disagrees with something I reblogged she direct messages me to rant about it - with a lot of sort of indirect language because she doesn't want to offend me but I can see the intent. The last couple of times I replied politely because I cared about clearing misunderstandings on the topic but next time I'm just gonna tell her I dislike it when she does that.

I really want this person to stop interacting with me, to be honest, and all my polite hints to the effect go unnoticed. But the fandom is so small I feel awkward and uncomfortable about unfollowing or blocking her. I don't think she's too bad of a person, she just comes off as very... Mentally ill, I guess? And since I've tried to be polite so far I feel like it might come out of left field for her?

TBH I feel like something about her behavior also triggers some kind of freeze/fawn reaction inside of me that I don't often get and consequently don't know how to deal with.

So I need impartial advice because I don't see the situation clearly myself

To summarize, a person who is a walking red flag wants to be friends, and you can't easily ghost her because the fandom is small.

I think you have to accept that there is no low-conflict way out of this.

That's what's holding you back, right? You don't want more drama and you know it's coming. I think you already know in your heart of hearts that you need to get away from her even if it's a pain in the ass.

Step one is to stop responding to her DMs. That will probably make her reach out more, but you should keep not responding. If she escalates and attacks you over it, block her.

The more you offer reasons or try to gently hint, the more that will encourage her. I don't think that's true of everyone, but I do think it's the case here. This is both because it doesn't sound like she's good at perceiving or respecting boundaries and because she inspires a bad lack of ability to assert boundaries in you.

I agree that it's unfortunate that you can't stand up for yourself or tell her plainly when she's out of line, but since you can't and that probably won't change any time soon, you'll need to protect yourself a different way. Sometimes, we just have to avoid people who are bad for us even when it's an us problem. (And here, whoaaaa red flags, so I don't think it's just a you problem anyway.)

There are many sad, lonely, needy people in the world. Some of them are officially mentally ill in some way with a diagnosis. Some just need things they aren't currently getting. That sucks...

But it's also not your job to fix.

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intimacyequalsdeath · 2 months ago

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Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 3 : (Caramel Apple) Stu Macher

Here is day 3 of Fictober! As always I hope you all enjoy today's installment of Fictober. There's much more to come. Notes: Minors DNI, Canon typical violence / Whatever else if there is any.

Support me: KO-FI

"Goddamnit Stu, I told you that wasn't funny"

"Babe I said I was sorry. Me and Billy were just fuckin' around"

"You and Billy are always just fucking around"

Stu rolled his eyes, he had been over this with you many times before.

"Hey you knew what me and Billy did since the start, don't go throwing it back in my face now"

It was your turn to roll your eyes, sure you had known but that didn't mean you had to like it. With attention on the Ghostface ramping up Stu was seemingly spending nearly all his free time with Billy carefully planning out how carry out kill after kill without getting caught.

"I know that Stu, but the goddamn principal ? You and Billy could've gotten caught and because I know about you two I'm gonna go down too"

"You really think if me and Bill ever got caught that we'd throw you under the bus?"

"I know you wouldn't...Billy not so much"

Stu sighed, running a hand over the top of his head. You and Billy had an...interesting relationship to say the least. When you and Stu had first started dating, you and Billy were cordial sure but would never be best friends.

As the months progressed and Billy realized you weren't going anywhere he started to grow more semi trusting but still standoffish. Here recently something had changed, Billy was starting to almost grow hostile, as if he was expecting that any day now you'd turn him and Stu in to the police.

"Babe I told you Billy-"

"I know what you said Stu, You trust Billy but that only goes so far...you and I both know if Billy had to throw even you under the bus to save himself that he would."

"Oh c'mon, have a little more stock in Billy, I mean sure me and him have our moments but we're in this together. He wouldn't do that."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night Stu"

You remark before starting to turn and walk away. Stu quickly catches up to you and matches your pass as he walks beside you.

"Look" he sighs "I know you've never been a fan of the Ghostface thing, and I know these days especially Billy doesn't make you feel any better about it but I want you to trust me ok?"

"Stu, trusting you isn't the thing I have an issue with and you know it."

"I know I know, but I want you to trust me about Billy ok? I know what I'm doing and if he did try anything...you think I don't have contingencies set up for that?"

"Wow contingencies, that's a five dollar word for you Stu"

"That's rude as fuck."

Stu rolls his eyes but grins anyway, throwing a loose arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk. Stu steers you away from the parking lot where you would usually pile in with your friends and go home. He turns you in the direction of Billy and his car.

'Stu-"

"Shhhh, I said trust me remember?"

Billy Loomis was the last person you wanted to see right now, especially after the previous conversation with Stu. But you knew Stu wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Stu leads you from behind with his hands now on your shoulders up to Billy who's leaning against his car. The two of you stop right in front of Billy.

"You two, have some bonding to do"

Both you and Billy turn to Stu with confused expressions"

"Babe-"

"Stu c'mon man-"

Stu hushes the both of you before either of you can start to bitch about the predicament.

"No, you are my best friend and my partner. I want you two to get along and trust each other, that's why we're going to have a family Ghostface night!"

You freeze, eyes flicking between Stu and Billy.

"Stu....no"

"That's not the right answer baby"

"Stu I'm not helping you two kill someone"

"Why not?" Billy chimes in "Afraid that if we get caught you'll be an accessory?"

"N-no, I- I just-"

"Babe you want to be able to trust Billy and he wants to be able to trust you. This will help with that."

Billy looks at you rather smugly with a smile gracing his face.

"Yeah babe, give it a try and join the club."

You thought for a moment, you really, really thought. Stu did have a point, life would be so much easier if you and Billy could easily trust each other. Sure you were never gonna be best friends but mutual trust would help.

Plus if you were honest with yourself you probably could in some sense already go down as an accessory to Ghostface, unless you had trust in Billy that he wouldn't rat you out....Fuck it.

"Fine"

Billy and Stu look as you with raised eyebrows, almost as if they didn't expect you to agree to be apart of their grand plan.

"Wow, look at you" Billy remarks as Stu cackles and throws an arm around your shoulders once more.

"But...first, who are you guys even going after?" A question you'd live to regret.

Billy and Stu shared an almost sinister look between the two of them before both speaking at the same time. Saying only one name.

"Sidney Prescott"

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #halloween #fictober #fictober 2024 #scream #scream movie #stu macher x reader #stu macher #stu matcher x reader #billy loomis

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adnauseum11 · 9 months ago

Text

Point of Contact (John Price x Reader)

John reaches out to Kate for a favour.

850 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

It is the absolute crack of dawn when Kate gets the call she’s been expecting for the last few hours. She’s up, mainlining coffee and checking her emails relentlessly when her cell vibrates across the desk.

“John?”

“Kate.”

Kate’s initial impression is that John sounds tired. Immediately she wonders if she’ll get the full story from him or have to rely on Gaz’ version.

“Gaz said you were going to have a name for me to run? What’s happened?” Her concern is unmistakable down the line.

Of course, Kyle told her what happened, but she wants to hear it from John himself. Their past squabble is sidelined immediately without discussion. John sighs and Kate can picture her friend pacing and pushing his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Her place got broken in to yesterday. Guy didn’t touch obvious jewellery, or cash, seemed to be looking for information. Not sure what type of information or to what end just yet. Dislocated his shoulder before the police picked him up so he’ll be with medical for a little bit. Could be something, could be nothing. I’m hoping we can use their detour through medical to do a little information gathering of our own.”

“You’re sure this isn’t just a B&E gone bad, John?” Kate tries to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

“Worst B&E I’ve ever seen if that’s the case. Man was empty handed after a sizable head start. Odd time of day too, right when people are getting home from work.”

“You think he meant to do more than rob her?”

“Don’t know. Scared the hell out of her at the least. But he wasn’t doing any talking and I’m no good to her arrested so I didn’t force the issue. He’s booked on B&E but he didn’t technically steal anything. He’ll get a slap on the wrist at best. Never hated being a fucking civilian more in my life.”

Kate can hear the frustration in his voice. For a man like John, used to making things happen and getting answers by any means necessary, being beholden to the laws and skills of the local police force was particularly infuriating.

“What’s the name?”

John gives her the name from the police report, spelling it out for her.

“I’ll owe you if we can get this put to rest sooner than later. I’m hoping it’s nothing and just some tweaker, her place isn’t in the best part of town but something’s just not sitting right for me. Maybe I’m seeing ghosts where there’s nothing, but I want to be sure.”

“You really should move her out of there John, either way.” Kate can’t help but prod him about it, finding it out of character for John to be lax about security.

“You think I’m unaware? I thought I was going to have to drag her out of there last night. I’m going to have to pick my moment with that topic.” John’s cranky, making Kate smile to herself.

“At least it sounds like you know what you’re up against.”

John’s huff of amusement is weak, even over the staticky line.

“This favour, would it have limitations?”

Kate switches topics easily, only half teasing. She isn’t above making her own life easier down the road, even if it temporarily complicates John’s. That give and take has been a natural part of their friendship for years.

“Cross that bridge when we get to it.” John defers, and Laswell decides to take pity on the man and let him get away with it for the moment.

“Gaz said she seemed nice. When do I get an introduction?” Kate tacitly accepts the terms of his offer, moving on to personal interest.

“After I get some answers. We’ll have dinner, my treat.” John sweetens the deal further, a peace offering for their last interaction.

“Alright, I’m going to hold you to that. It’s not every day I get the chance to meet someone who can order a Captain around in his own home.”

Kate can’t help taking a swipe at the man, Gaz’ report including just as much detail on the state of John and his woman as anything else to Kate’s delight.

“Unbelievable, fucking Gaz, listen she was not having a good time of it yesterday–“

John’s trying to explain but Kate cuts him off before he can get very far.

“Knowing you, I’m sure not. I’m also sure that after you were asked to keep it down so she could sleep, you did, you big softie. Certainly, you two left an impression on Kyle.”

Kate’s smile bleeds through the line and the corner of John’s mouth quirks up finally at her gentle teasing despite his concern over how yesterday shook out.

“Bloody hell. Don’t make me regret agreeing to dinner, Kate.” He sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll update you after I do some digging John, keep your phone handy.”

"Thanks, Laswell."

John's gratitude is palpable. The knot of tension in his chest relaxes infinitesimally, and he disconnects the call and leaves the kitchen to rejoin you, still sleeping soundly in his bed.

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms

#call of duty #fanfic #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #friends to lovers #john price #captain price #john price x f!reader #john price x you #john price x female reader #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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onlymingyus · 1 month ago

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What's your favorite scary movie? (teaser)

pairing; vernon chwe x f reader

genre; horror, smut (minor dni), angst, toxic

summary; The summer after graduating high school is supposed to be one last hurrah before you and your friends head off to college---none of you expected it to become a horror movie.

w/c; 30k and some change (870 extra words for patreon bonus) [3.4k this teaser]

this fic will be released 10/28 to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

Hearing his name, the self-appointed leader of your group, slows his strides to match yours and, in turn, Caitlin’s. “What about me?”

“Caitlin wants to sit between us for the movie. It’s supposed to be really scary. I don’t min—”

“You know I like the end seat.”

Staring at Christen, Caitlin wants to be mad and tell him no, but the moment he calls her by the nickname he had given her, she swoons and just nods. “Uh huh… sure, Christen.”

“Nope, not yet. Give me a few hours and I’ll be so fuckin’ chill I might not remember your name.”

“Wassup, man? Still manning this place like a fucking loser?”

“Still making money, so yeah, if that’s what you wanna call it. Just one?”

“Nah, two. Me and Y/N.”

“Already paid for. See…” Reaching over the counter, Christen rips two tickets for himself before winking at Vernon and passing one to you.

“Um, excuse me... Dodgy, loser, man? I need two tickets.”

Turning his attention back towards Caitlin, Vernon sighs and rips off two tickets before taking $10 from Jae. “Enjoy the movie.” The moment she is out of earshot, Vernon adds, “Bitch.”

“Oh, my god. Does this place not have anyone else working?”

“Oh my god, Y/N, do you remember Miss Lewis’ calculus class from that last semester?”

“Well—I, I remember—”

“Man, that must fuckin’ suck. Can you eat anything? What happens if you eat a peanut? Would you die? Swell up like a fatass.”

“Anyone else want anything? I’d hate for you to miss the previews because you’re being assholes.”

Surprised by Vernon’s words, the laughter dies off. No smiles are left except a slight one on your face.

Christen doesn’t say anything before he reaches over to take a box of milk duds from the display showing them to Vernon and tossing a dollar bill on to the counter. “Thanks for nothing, bitch.”

“You want my jacket?”

Now Caitlin was regretting sharing anything with you. Tilting the box of candy away from you as she watches you tuck the jacket around your legs, Caitlin scoffs and takes a long sip of her drink.

“Hey… Vernon?”

“Sure, it’s whatever. Didn’t bother me��”

“Please, can we just go?” Your voice is strained as you push at Christen, unable to get him to budge.

READ THE FULL FIC NOW ON PATREON

#vernon smut #vernon horror #seventeen smut #svthub #seventeen horror #seventeen angst #vernon angst #vernon toxic #seventeen toxic #svt horror #svt smut #svt angst #seventeen #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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cairavende · 4 months ago

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Worm Arc 21 thoughts:

Well that was sure a turn around from last arc's "I'm going to rally the students so I don't get captured."

I know my daughter has made some . . . mistakes, but I'm not a fan of her turning herself into the openly corrupted and also bad at their job parahuman cops.

(Parahuman cops as in "cops who police parahumans" not "cops who are parahumans")

Like look, I get it. A precog told her to cut ties. I can't say it's wrong to follow that advice. But she could do that in a lot of ways that don't involve the PRT.

The second not from Dinah just being "I'm sorry" is brutal.

But before she can turn herself in she has to absolutely fucking crush the PRT/Protectorate for outing her civilian identity.

I love how fucking simple taking out the entire PRT headquarters was for Skitter and her girlfriends!

Who needs anyone else? Bitch brings muscle, Tattletale brings information, Skitter brings battlefield control. Lesbian polycule power activate!

Was it an overboard response? Maybe. Was it badass how she just took out so many heroes and PRT troops with ease? Yes.

Poor Dovetail has one of the most embarrassing introductions ever. First time we see her and Skitter is wiping the floor with her and thinking about her "crummy power".

God I hate Tagg so much that he makes me miss Piggot. Like she was absolutely terrible, but he's worse! And making me miss Piggot makes me hate Tagg even more!

Kindly old cemetery groundskeeper who doesn't pay much attention to the news! Never a bad trope.

They gave Butcher 15 to Cherish???!? Like sure they give all the reasoning for it but like ... it just seems like a really high risk situation. If she ever gets out it's going to suck. A lot.

THE SCENE AT RACHEL'S PLACE OH MY GOD!

SHE IS BUILDING A COMMUNITY! I LOVE HER SO MUCH!

Rachel just over here finding everyone like her and giving them a place. Legit crying. Look at that fucking growth!

(Also shout-out to my wife for having basically done the same thing. It's how I met her. It's how I met one of my girlfriends. And so many other important people. So ya. I fucking love this.)

Also you ever like a girl so much you try to give her an entire planet? Cause Taylor sure has.

"Rachel I don't want you to be sad when I'm gone so you can basically have this whole other planet we found."

GGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!

Imp let Regent take control of her . . . welp. Like, I'm not really surprised by this. And in a different situation I wouldn't even really find it that weird. I'd do it with the right person. But combination of age and the situation they are in and Regent being Regent annnnnd ya. Welp.

I did love how much of the interactions between Skitter and Regent/Imp really was just her struggling with parenting two teenage supervillains.

IT'S NOT SO EASY, IS IT CHILD?!? MAYBE YOU'LL CUT ME SOME SLACK AND LISTEN TO MY ADVICE IN THE FUTURE!

(She won't)

I fucking LOVE that she made the bible themed hero kneel. Absolutely fucking amazing.

Oh shiiit, Skitter just flat dropped that guy multiple stories. Is she going to far?

. . . wellll, these guys do literally worship the Endbringers so I guess a little aggression is ok.

Damn, Valefor sure has some fucked up powers, I wonder what they're gonna do abou-

. . .

. . . . . .

. . . wellll, these guys do literally worship the Endbringers so I guess a little aggression is ok.

. . .

Yep.

. . .

. . . I think I preferred when she just used a knife.

So anyway

Not a fan of Taylor having more alone time with Brian (not because I have any issue with the idea, but because I think she needs to be focusing on her girlfriends), but I am a fan of her using bugs to clean her dress and fix her hair afterwords while Brian just kinda sits there and has to contemplate what he has gotten himself into. Queen shit.

Flechette was SO mad that Parian wasn't "cute" anymore, I couldn't stop laughing. Sure, she said "You had to take the playfulness away? The joy?" but we all know what she meant. Of course, it's won't take very long for the new costume to get Flechette's attention. (I have to mention that this is basically exactly what I said when reading the scene, and the interlude a few chapters later just proved me right.)

Flechette is just so hopelessly gay

Miss Militia is actually getting very mild respect from me right now. Like, she's still working for the cops but she is actually agreeing to silently push against some things. Now, she says she doesn't have more power then that but she is a very well known hero and if she would publicly speak out about certain things there is a decent chance she could do more. That would of course be putting her position at risk though. Which is why she only gets very mild respect right now.

OH MY GOD I DIDN'T JUST GET TO SEE TATTLETALE'S MURDER WALL, I GOT TO SEE HER ENTIRE MURDER ROOM!

Fucking multiple bulletin boards with threads connecting them. Everything color coded. Reference numbers to files with more details. Multiple TV screens, computer with constant information dump. God. It's like a literal representation of the inside of my mind while I read Worm. SO MANY THINGS TO FIGURE OUT!

I love a lot of characters, but Tattletale always stays near the top. She gets me.

And from the fucking joy of getting to see that setup I come crashing the fuck down.

Like, I have completely figured out at this point that Skitter is turning herself in. I know what is coming. She's had her moment with everyone else and Tattletale is the last one.

And then. Then just . .

No goodbyes.

😭😭😭😭😭

HOW DARE THIS BOOK MAKE ME FEEL MY OWN FEELINGS!! I'M TOO GAY FOR THIS!

I do find it hysterical that the PRT officers working the front lobby don't all recognize Skitter on sight. Fucking gas station employees will manage to keep track of people with pictures on the "bad check" board, you'd think the PRT could manage to have their officers keep track of the face of one of the most well know villains in the country, if not the world, who also controls their city. PRT is forever bad at their job.

That one guy did notice her eventually though, so I guess he gets to be employee of the month.

The Number Man interlude thoughts:

The inside of this mans mind is one of the sexiest things I have ever seen and the constant reminder of the horrible things he is helping Cauldron do to all their prisoners was very helpful because it was the only thing keeping me from deciding that The Number Man is a perfect soul that can do no wrong.

I have no illusions here. I am weak. This man is a monster and I should not have any trouble remembering that.

But fuck shit fuck oh god fuck I don't even need him to touch me. I just need him to TALK to me. I just need him to get high with me and let me pick apart how his mind works!

He understood numbers, and through them, he understood everything.

That line. Absolute killer. Fucking take me.

. . . anyway yes it's a very interesting interlude!

Loved seeing more of the inner workings of Cauldron

I very much want to see the final level of their basement that only the Doctor goes into because I said that I thought Cauldron had a dead (for values of dead that are non-definable) higher dimensional being in their basement back during arc 15 and now I know for sure that there is something down there. I wanna know if I was right!

Oh my god he was friends with Jack

"Friends"

Look I make everything gay ok? It's not my choice! Sure it means I get to enjoy every tiny bit of Wolfspider and Chatterbug cause I see all of it. But it also means I see the ships I don't want to think about!

I men what was I supposed to think when Jack said “We can live this. Together. Every waking second…”?

Gay

Parian interlude thoughts:

And speaking of gay!

Fucking Flechette just full blown "Fuck all of this I want you to tell me what to do for the rest of my life!"

Full U-Haul lesbian.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

This is Parian's new costume having an effect.

Just so gay. I love it.

Also Bitch just so fucking ready to break Skitter out. So fucking gay.

And the incredible loyalty, which is gonna hurt if she ends up feeling betrayed by Skitter.

Still gay though.

Tattletale, basically without powers, just completely giving Accord the "fuck off, we're in charge" was amazing. All she had to do was promise to consider his binders and he was all in. This poor man just wants somebody to read his ideas! He's like a aspiring screenwriter just begging people to read his script.

#Worm #Worm Web Serial #Parahumans #Cairavende reads Worm #Skitter #Wolfspider #Chatterbug #Smugbug #Number Man #I love doll lesbian #She is one of my favorite side characters #Curious what Flechette's new name is going to be #I was cackling about the idea of Flechette crossing half the city to make a phone call cause no one has any idea how much Skitter can hear #Or how far away she can hear it #And it's just like “Well uhhh other side of the city I guess?”#Also the amount of brain power currently being used to try and come up with a clever ship name for Jack Slash and The Number Man #Is unreasonable #I don't care. I don't want to care.#I don't want to think about shipping ANYONE with Jack #I hate that pretentious little shit bag so much #And yet #The possibilities with numbers and dividing and such are endless #And I can't stop myself #Please send help #Or just send me more of The Number Man's internal thoughts #That could distract me

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spiderm444rk · 3 months ago

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hi guys, i didn’t really have the strength to come here and speak up about the taeil issue yesterday, but it’s extremely important to address this so i definitely have something to say about it.

i was at work yesterday, and i found out about the whole scandal during my 30 minute break, and i was half convinced it’s not real and he didn’t really get kicked out for like the first half of it - it was a shock, to randomly find out a person i stanned and supported for 4 years would be capable of doing something like this. once i realized it’s actually happening and sm kicked him out without a second thought, i understood how serious the scandal is and that no one is exaggerating.

i understand the whole situation makes us all feel disappointed and disgusted, and that it’s a sensitive topic, but i think it’s very important to educate ourselves about this and hold taeil accountable. let’s go over it together.

i saw too many kpop stans spreading misinformation, which in the end negatively affects the victim of this case the most . by making up fake stuff for clout, you only take away the attention from the actual victim who is trying to tell her story and get her justice. we don’t do that over here.

first of all, i hope everyone is aware that this is a REAL issue and that it actually happened. this isn’t a rumour, he’s an actual criminal. the police literally charged him with a sex related crime. sm, who is known for giving problematic people a second choice kicked him out IMMEDIATELY. no hiatus, no nothing. he’s just out of the picture. his bubble got terminated today. he’s being removed from nct zone. all of his album photocards are getting replaced by group photocards as we speak. sm is working hard to separate him from the group image asap. if this doesn’t speak volumes about how serious this scandal is, i don’t know what does. i hope NO ONE supports that man anymore. unfollowing him isn’t something to brag about, it’s just common sense. rapists deserve to rot behind the bars.

i saw a lot of people say they won’t believe it until it’s proven, but what more do you need? it already is proven. the whole group unfollowed him - not only 127, but dream and wayv too. taeyong deleted every picture with him while being in the military. this isn’t sm kicking him out because it will make the group look bad, they kicked him out because he’s a confirmed criminal. “i’m gonna wait until he’s proven guilty” he already is. hold that pathetic mistake of a man accountable.

but what i wanted to talk about the most - for the sake of the victim. let’s not blindly believe every lie we see on the internet and disregard the victim’s story.

- THE ONLY THING CONFIRMED IS THAT TAEIL IS CHARGED WITH A SEX RELATED CRIME. they didn’t specify anything. we don’t know what exactly it is, but i think we can all picture how terrible it needs to be for sm to kick him out of the company without a second thought.

- the investigation has been going on since june, but no one except the police and the victim who reported him knew. taeil of course knew he’s guilty, but he didn’t know he’s under investigation, and neither did sm or the rest of the nct members. they all learned about it - according to sm - in the middle of august, AFTER the last 127 fan meeting. so no, it’s not like they knew and included him anyway. it’s not like taeil knew he’s being investigated and went there to meet fans with a big smile on his face.

i’m obviously not saying this to protect him, but let’s not make it seem like all of the neos already knew and just kept being best friends with a rapist, especially in front of people who support them and love them. they didn’t know, and neither did the company. as soon as sm found out (from the police), he was out of the group.

- none of the rumours are confirmed. i’m not saying they can’t be real, but since it’s not confirmed, let’s focus on what we know (let me repeat myself) - taeil is guilty, sm and nct learned about it in the middle of august, he got kicked almost immediately. the police also confirmed the victim A is an adult woman, and no underage victim of the same gender is involved in this case. they said they won’t reveal any information about the progress of the case so the victim’s identity stays anonymous.

that’s it.

but what does it really mean ? there was a rumour about taeil raping an 11 year old girl to the point where she’s now permanently disabled, and abusing her for 6 years and hacking her phone so she couldn’t report him- NOT CONFIRMED. this case also isn’t about her. the victim who reported him is an adult woman. this doesn’t mean it can’t be real, or that there aren’t more victims out there, but it’s not the case that is being investigated right now.

people are also saying that taeil’s car accident didn’t actually happen, and that it was this girl’s grandpa/family member who broke his leg when they went to beat him up for what he did to the girl and that the car accident was just a cover up - also not confirmed. people are probably just trying to gain clout.

the @ agnes_121430 instagram account has been commenting on taeils ig posts since june, but she also posted about her case getting closed today, so she isn’t the actual victim in this case. she also said she never actually met taeil face to face (?).

taeil also isn’t involved in the burning sun scandal (yet, because once again, it’s not confirmed by any relevant platform) but this doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t bring it up again, because the chance that he or other male idols are involved is still there. korean women are suffering, we need to keep bringing this up.

same thing is with the Nth room, or any other similar telegram group chat. the Nth room is a group chat where you need to PAY a high fee to even get in, and the members of this group chat literally record women without their consent and even without them knowing and then sell the videos in that gc. random women, but even their FAMILY MEMBERS. they also make deepfakes of women - their sisters, mothers, they don’t care. they also target schools and the girl students in there. they threaten the girls to record themselves doing really fucked up stuff and then send it to the group chat, or just straight up drug them, touch them without consent, rape them… you can look this up. this scandal is about taeil, but this is also about what do the korean women have to go through, the mentality in south korea is insane. it’s not only a kpop issue, but also a human rights issue, and we need to address it.

also, there’s a rumour the Nth room members are getting exposed tomorrow. this isn’t true. if you see anything, it will be 99% made up, and bored kpop stans will just drag idols without any proof.

everyone needs to understand that we don’t really know these people and we never know who else is involved in stuff like this - i really hope no one in nct knew about this and that they aren’t involved, but this is such an unexpected reality check that it’s still hard for me to grasp it and decide what to believe or not. in no way i support taeil, but wow. it’s crazy what men are capable of, while acting like they’re the biggest sweethearts in front of other people.

let’s hold all rapists and people who SA people of any gender and in any way accountable, and expose all celebrities if they ever did something like this. no one wants to support criminals. taeil needs to pay for what he did.

please spread the word and don’t believe everything you see. if anyone wants the source of what i’m saying, i can dm it to you. i hope everything will get better with time and this isn’t the definitive downfall of nct 127, but i guess we’ll have to wait and see. i know this is difficult to deal with. i hope the victim will get her justice, and everyone please take care. i’m with every nctzen out there. stay strong.

#nct 127 #ot8 #nct #nct u #nct dream #taeil #moon taeil #men continue to disappoint me every day

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blorbocedes · 1 year ago

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hello everyone ! anons are off until I stop getting really vile, nasty death threats or you can send them through your main acc which I would respect more

yes it's a millionaire's sport, yes everybody is problematic, yes even the guys I like have done problematic things, no I'm not saying you should cancel daniel. I just wanted to point out his pattern of repeated casual misogyny -- thrice in podcasts over the span of this last year. I'm not bringing back receipts from 5 years ago this is from two days ago and I didn't see anyone talking about it at the time of my posting. yes I believe people can grow and change. I was angry when I saw the clip and my post reflects that. I've gotten countless anons tone policing me, saying I'm blowing it out of proportion, that I don't understand comedy or can't take a joke - and thats without mentioning the personal attacks. it's just 34 year old aussie men being men, why do I even care about this when there's more important issues in the world. why are you surprised. why do you care. he's just a rich man. you're dumb for expecting the bare minimum of not laughing at sexist jokes. why are you surprised I'm not surprised this is just what dumb rich men are like. why are you pointing this out when [whataboutism]. why do you care.

you can be critical of your faves, and still enjoy them. I hope you can reflect on why my anger bothered you more than daniel's casual misogyny.

#to my friends in dms thank you for keeping me sane <3 #if you guys saw the state of my askbox.#f1 discourse #daniel ricciardo

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alilixx · 4 months ago

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Lisa Cuddy X Lawyer Reader (WLW)

NSFW SOMETIMES

First of all, I just want to apologize for any misunderstandings or mistakes. I’m not from America or England, so the laws and conventions are different, etc and english isn't my native language so maybe the translate can't be that good but i did my best. I hope you still enjoy the fanfiction! Okay, so for those who might not understand, the message above was BEFORE I started writing. I’m adding a few things after finishing; I might write a sequel? I’m mostly going to sleep now because I spent my night and day finishing this fanfiction only to end up disappointed. I’m sorry, it’s been over five years since I last wrote a fanfiction, so I’ve lost some of my touch, but I hope you’ll like it. If you have any feedback, please feel free to share it, whether it’s positive or negative, but please do so respectfully! My next fanfictions will be about Hugh Laurie X Reader and then James Wilson X Reader! I won’t say anything more, but I promise to improve for the future. Alilixx

︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀︿﹀

A few hours after your lunch break, the phone at your office will ring. Your next client hadn't arrived yet, so what was the harm in answering? None, despite the number being strange, you were convinced you recognized it, but from where? After a few seconds of thinking, no answer would come to mind, so you pressed the button to pick up. The voice on the other end seemed familiar until everything clicked. House. A raspy voice on the phone you unfortunately knew quite well greeted you. Politeness would have dictated a "Hello" or something like that, but you didn't. He wasn't stupid; he knew why you weren't responding. Years without speaking after an argument, he didn't expect you to be very friendly with him, not after what he did.

"Listen Y/N, I know you didn't want to hear from me anymore, but I have a problem. I need a… favor, a service from you. I've caused more trouble for Cuddy and unfortunately, I don't have the money for lawyer fees, and neither does Cuddy. I don't want to lose my job, so just this once, help me."

After a few seconds of thinking, you shook your head before sighing and asking one of the last questions of this call, or so you hoped.

"I finish in two hours, stay at the hospital. I'll come after."

You would just hear a simple "Thanks" with what seemed like a smile from House. House smiling? Impossible, you hung up as your client arrived. Another divorce case, people sure get married way too often only to end up giving money to the other after the hate stage. You closed your client's file before grabbing your jacket and keys to head to the hospital, even though you'd rather be in a trial than go there. But seeing House asking for a favor was exceptional. After a good ten minutes, you arrived at the hospital. The reception didn't say anything as you passed by. Apparently, House had already warned people. Should you go to Cuddy's office or House's? After a few seconds of hesitation in the elevator, you decided to go to House's office, and no one was there. As if sending a message was complicated, you stepped back and knocked on Cuddy's office door. With her permission, you slightly opened the door to see several people inside. A woman was seated behind her desk, so Cuddy? The famous House and three other people, one of whom you didn't know, but the other two you did.

"Are you the police interrogating my clients, dear Lopez and Harper? I didn't know you had switched from lawyer to investigator. Unless I'm mistaken and you're doing this illegally? That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

After turning around, the two lawyers who apparently had issues with House tried to come up with an excuse. The only response you gave them was a quick hand gesture towards the door behind you. They left, and you closed the door immediately. Cuddy got up to approach you, extending her hand to introduce herself, and you did the same. The person you didn't recognize smiled kindly at you, though you still couldn't place them.

"Can I know why they were here? I assume it has to do with House, but what did he do?"

Cuddy invited you to sit next to the unknown person, which you did. On the couch opposite were House and Cuddy. You quickly moved your head to see the name tag on the person's lab coat: "Wilson." Apparently, a very good friend of House. Cuddy cleared her throat to speak and crossed her left leg over the other.

"Dr. House… drugged someone to perform tests on them, even though they were healthy… at least nothing has shown up yet. The person contacted their lawyers to file a lawsuit against House."

You simply nodded, wondering why you agreed to this, just for a favor. You would have been better off sticking to divorces. You thought about how to defend this and opened a folder to read some documents. You thanked your education, which might potentially save him.

"I see, I understand the patient's perspective… The context is… unique. I must warn you there will likely be a conflict of interest, but I will remain neutral. It will probably be Judge Schultz, whom I know quite well, so there shouldn’t be any issues. However, the opposing side might use my past friendship with Dr. House as an argument, but that shouldn’t hold up given my reputation. We need the tests to be conclusive and show that the patient actually has something to better defend House. I’m not asking for a fake health report as that would just worsen the situation. I have about twelve strategies to defend House even if the tests aren't positive. So, if the tests are, House will get off with nothing but a fine."

Cuddy nodded while House didn’t seem to care at all, but you were used to that. This wasn’t the first time, and it would have surprised you if it were any different. You started writing down phrases on a sheet of paper before placing it on the small table between the four of you.

"I'll need you all to help fill in the details of my client's situation. Here's the first one: does the opposing side have any concrete evidence that House drugged them?"

Everyone looked at House, who tapped the floor with his cane before shaking his head.

"I don't think so. I used a very small dose so that it wouldn't show up when we ran the tests. So technically, no."

You crossed out the first line and moved on to the next. Thinking as you twirled the pen between your fingers, you crossed out the second phrase without even asking.

"I assume the person doesn't remember the events, so we can play on that. Implied consent… so lack of evidence and implied consent."

Were you as twisted as House for defending him this way? Probably. Was it worse because you were going to win? Probably that too, but it wasn't the time for a moral lesson, so you'd ponder the meaning of life later.

"I can try to use something else to strengthen our case, but it's a double-edged sword. I can argue absence of malicious intent, but… it's House. So, saying House didn't intend harm or that the tests were supposed to be beneficial or necessary in some way. The only problem is there are other ways to run tests, and I assume you already have a significant record for this kind of behavior. Plus, we need to contextualize the actions, and that will put House in the wrong. I don't think we should take that risk."

You crossed out another phrase; you were getting tired of this. Arguing about the patient's mental health but not providing extenuating circumstances for House because… it's House? As if he had no previous run-ins with the law, consent issues, and the problems that followed.

"We're going to play with the justice system and the opposing side, let me explain. I assume there hasn't been an investigation yet. Given the 'hidden' results, let's say, the police won't have anything, so we can play on that. So, 1-0. We can add that the patient has a grudge against House or just wants money given his status as a doctor, so trying to win a lawsuit brings in money. 2-0. And many other points considering legal loopholes and so on. So, we should win the case outright if House keeps a low profile and the results come back positive, proving the patient indeed has something, then House won't face anything except maybe a fine for 'saving a life'… I mean, he's not Superman either."

Cuddy nodded, looking thoughtful, while House seemed indifferent as usual. Wilson appeared both impressed and concerned, knowing House well enough to see the potential fallout. You continued jotting down notes, formulating a plan to navigate this complex case.

You closed your folder once more, placing the sheet inside, and looked at the others. It seemed you had lost Wilson in your explanation. Cuddy remained calm and simply nodded while House acted like his usual fool. You stood up, giving a quick wave of goodbye as you started to walk away from the trio, but you stopped at the door and turned around.

"I'm doing this for free, House, despite our past, but you must keep quiet during the trial. Otherwise, you're on your own. I'm not your mother."

Despite his jaw moving as if to speak, you left the hospital, running into Cameron. You didn't recognize her at first until she threw her arms around you. You gave her a gentle pat on the back. It had been since your cousin's passing that you had last seen her.

"Hey Cameron, how are you? You've aged!"

She gave you a light tap on the back, smiling and nodding. She explained that work was exhausting; after all, she worked for House. You understood completely, feeling the same after about an hour of saving his skin. She loved her job, as did House, but she prioritized her work, so she kept going. After about twenty minutes, you hugged her one last time before leaving, despite feeling someone watching you—probably House. You didn't care about his childish games; you just wanted to go home and rest. Your car was your best friend. Driving home with "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac playing, you couldn't quite pinpoint why you loved the song so much—perhaps because it was a collection of unfinished pieces by the band? After long questions about your own existence, you realized you were already home. Grabbing your things and unlocking the door felt like the longest task of your life. You didn't even have the patience to put your things away, so they ended up on the couch, allowing you to shower and collapse into bed.

Hours passed, and your eyelids grew heavier until you saw "9am" on your alarm clock. Had you really slept, or was it just a sleepless night without realizing it? You were exhausted, but work was calling. Your next hearing was Friday afternoon, and it was Tuesday morning—surely, a day off wouldn't kill anyone, especially after dealing with House. You turned off your alarm for the next few wake-ups and let your heavy head fall back on the pillow, falling asleep once more.

This time, it was around two in the afternoon. Unfortunately, you had to work on a case, so you went through your routine—shower, document review, meal, and a quick walk to stretch your legs. The evening markets were beautiful; you couldn't go often during the week, but why not this time? The argument that kept you there longer was the still-warm cup of hot chocolate in your right hand. The twinkling lights of the stalls and the spicy scents floated in the cool night air. The crowd was dense but cheerful, with laughter and conversations creating a warm symphony that almost warmed you as much as the chocolate you had just finished. You wandered between the stands, stopping here and there to admire the handmade crafts and local products. Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a stand of colorful jewelry. An elderly woman with white hair and sparkling eyes held a delicately crafted silver necklace.

"Good evening," she said, her voice as warm as her smile. "Looking for something special?"

You smiled back, feeling the stress of the day melting away in the vibrant atmosphere of the market. "Just browsing, but this necklace is beautiful. Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, indeed," she replied, her eyes twinkling with pride. "Each piece tells a story. Would you like to hear about this one?"

You nodded, intrigued, as she began to tell the tale behind the necklace, her words weaving a tapestry of history and craftsmanship that made you appreciate the piece even more.

"Do you like it?" she asked, noticing your interest.

"Yes, it's beautiful," you replied, stepping closer.

"It's a unique piece, made with great care," the woman explained. "Every detail tells a story."

You took the necklace in your hands, feeling the reassuring weight of the silver and admiring the intricate patterns. It almost seemed to vibrate with a special energy, as if it contained an ancient secret. You wondered what story it held and why, the moment you saw it, you thought of the woman in the office with House and his friend.

"I'll take it," you declared, determined. The old woman smiled even more and wrapped the necklace in pretty tissue paper before handing it to you. You thanked her and continued your stroll, the necklace safely kept in your bag. As you walked on, you couldn't help but think back to the old woman's words. Every detail tells a story... But why did it make you think of Cuddy? Lost in your thoughts, you didn't immediately notice the familiar figure heading toward you.

It was only when you heard your name that you looked up, surprised to see Cameron with two of her friends. One was an African-American man, about 6 feet tall, with an athletic and slim build reflecting a disciplined and well-cared-for appearance. His features included a square jaw and high cheekbones, giving his face a serious and determined expression. His short, well-groomed black hair accentuated his professional and rigorous look. You noticed his dark brown eyes, often penetrating and expressive. The other man, standing to his right, was a Caucasian, of medium height, around 6 feet tall. He had a lean and athletic build, reflecting an active youth and attention to physical fitness. His facial features were finely chiseled with a square jaw and a straight nose. His light blue eyes were often seen as penetrating and expressive, conveying a mix of curiosity, compassion, and doubt. His blonde hair was neatly styled with a touch of deliberately tousled disorder, giving him a relaxed and approachable look. Cameron gave you a quick wave to come over, which you did, of course, shaking hands with her two friends. The African-American man was Eric Foreman, and the other man was Robert Chase, according to Cameron, her colleagues at work. Though they were very friendly, you remained cautious as they were associated with House, which was the opposite of you.

After the introductions, Cameron smiled warmly at you. "We were thinking of going for a drink. Would you like to join us?"

You hesitated for a moment, but the idea of a relaxing evening was appealing. "Sure, that sounds nice."

The four of you headed to a quaint café-restaurant nearby. The place was cozy, with dim lighting and a welcoming atmosphere. You took a seat at a table by the window, offering a beautiful view of the illuminated square. The conversation started off slowly, with polite exchanges about your respective days. Foreman talked about his interest in neurology, while Chase shared some amusing anecdotes from his time in Australia. Cameron, ever considerate, made sure you felt comfortable and included in the discussion.

Then, the topic inevitably shifted to House. "So, you work with House?" you asked, trying to hide your curiosity behind a polite smile.

Foreman and Chase exchanged a knowing glance. "Yeah, it’s… an experience, let’s say," Chase replied with a wry smile.

"That’s putting it mildly," Foreman added with a nod.

The evening continued in a lighter atmosphere. You shared laughs, stories, and moments of camaraderie. Gradually, you felt more at ease with them, realizing that despite their connections to House, they were passionate and dedicated professionals. As the night progressed, Cameron suggested taking a stroll through the markets before heading home.

"Let’s enjoy the evening a bit more, what do you think?"

You eagerly agreed, happy to extend this pleasant moment. Foreman and Chase joined in, and you found yourselves back among the sparkling lights and enchanting scents of the night markets. Maybe this chance meeting would mark the beginning of a new friendship, or even an unexpected collaboration. Either way, you felt ready to embrace whatever the future might bring, surrounded by these newfound allies.

After a delightful evening with Cameron, Foreman, and Chase, you parted ways with your new friends and headed home. The night was well advanced, and the streets were calm, bathed in the soft glow of street lamps. The return journey allowed you to reflect on the evening and the people you had just met. Arriving home, you closed the door behind you and let out a long sigh of contentment. The warmth and comfort of your apartment enveloped you immediately. You kicked off your shoes and took off your jacket, neatly putting them away before heading to the kitchen. You made yourself a cup of chamomile tea, seeking to relax before bed. With your warm cup in hand, you made your way to the living room and settled on the couch. You took a moment to think about the evening, replaying each conversation and the impressions Foreman and Chase had left on you. They seemed like good people, despite their association with House. Perhaps they deserved a chance.

You placed the empty cup on the coffee table and got ready for bed. In your bedroom, you changed out of your clothes from the day into a comfortable nightshirt. Before sliding under the covers, you took out the necklace you had bought earlier at the market and examined it again. The old woman’s words still echoed in your mind: “Every detail tells a story.” As you observed the necklace in the soft light of your bedside lamp, you wondered what story it might tell. Perhaps this unique piece would hold a special meaning for you, a symbol of this unexpected evening and the new acquaintances you had made. You gently placed the necklace on your nightstand and turned off the lamp, slipping beneath the covers. As you closed your eyes, you felt strangely serene. The fatigue from the day and the soothing warmth of your bed enveloped you, and you drifted off to sleep, already dreaming of future adventures.

The next morning, you woke with the first rays of sunlight filtering through your bedroom curtains. You stretched out, still feeling the previous day's fatigue but also a newfound excitement for the day ahead. After a quick shower and a light breakfast, you felt ready to tackle the new day. You took a moment to examine the necklace again on your nightstand. It seemed even more mysterious in the daylight. Though you were tempted to wear it, you remembered your decision to give it to Cuddy when the time was right. With a smile, you returned the necklace to its box and carefully placed it in a drawer.

As you left your house, you headed towards your workplace. The morning passed quickly with the usual tasks, client meetings, and paperwork. However, you couldn’t stop thinking about Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. The idea of seeing them again seemed increasingly appealing. At lunch break, you received a message from Cameron. She invited you to join the three of them for coffee after work. With a smile, you responded positively, excited about the prospect of getting to know these new people better.

After work, you made your way to the café where you were to meet Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. The place was cozy, with a warm and welcoming atmosphere. You found them seated at a table near the window, waving to you as you walked in. The conversation quickly picked up where you had left off the night before. You discussed various topics, from work challenges to personal hobbies. At one point, Foreman asked about your necklace.

"Oh, it was a spontaneous purchase at the market last night," you said with a smile. "The lady who sold it to me mentioned that every detail tells a story."

"That’s fascinating," Chase said, examining the necklace more closely. "Maybe we should try to uncover that story."

The idea sounded intriguing. "Why not?" you replied. "It could be an interesting activity."

After your coffee, you decided to take a short walk in the area, enjoying the evening’s mild weather. Along the way, you passed an antique shop. Cameron suggested you go inside, thinking the owner might know more about your necklace. Inside the shop, the atmosphere was imbued with old-world charm. The owner, an older man with round glasses, greeted you warmly. You showed him the necklace and explained how you had acquired it. He examined the piece carefully before looking up at you. "This necklace is indeed very special. It comes from an old collection, known for its connections to stories of healing."

You found it quite amusing that Cuddy had come to mind, but why did you think of her? The subject intrigued you more and more. “Really? What else can you tell us about it?”

The shopkeeper smiled and began to recount a fascinating story about the origin of the necklace, its former owners, and the legends surrounding it. You listened intently, mesmerized by the details and mysteries that this simple piece of jewelry seemed to contain. After leaving the shop, you found yourself with Cameron, Foreman, and Chase, discussing the implications of what you had just learned. “I think this necklace might really appeal to Cuddy,” you said with a smile. “I want to give it to her, but I also want to make sure I understand its entire story.”

Cameron nodded. “That’s a lovely idea. And we’d be happy to help you uncover more.”

You smiled gently, touched by Cameron’s kindness. The evening ended on this note of camaraderie and shared enthusiasm. Back at home, you once again put away the necklace, promising yourself to continue exploring its secrets. You were now convinced that this piece of jewelry would play an important role, not only in your future relationship with Cuddy but also in your own adventure.

On Thursday morning, you woke up early, feeling the weight of a busy day ahead. After a quick shower and a light breakfast, you prepared to tackle the last-minute preparations for your client's trial scheduled for the next day. Before leaving your apartment, you took a moment to ensure that all the necessary documents were in order and neatly packed in your briefcase.

At the office, you greeted your colleagues and immediately immersed yourself in work. The morning passed swiftly with dossier reviews, phone calls, and meetings with your legal team. Your assistant brought you a strong coffee, knowing you would need all the energy you could get. Early in the afternoon, you decided to take a break and headed to your usual café, where you had met Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. They were scheduled to join you for a discussion and to help take your mind off the upcoming trial.

When they arrived, you ordered drinks and settled at a quiet table.

The conversation quickly shifted to your work and the upcoming trial. “You must be pretty stressed,” Foreman remarked, studying you closely.

“Yes, that’s the case,” you admitted. “But I’m ready.”

Chase smiled. “You’re one of the best. Your client is in good hands.”

Cameron added, “We’re here to support you. You’re going to do great.”

As the evening approached, you headed back home. After returning to the office, you spent the evening fine-tuning your arguments, reviewing testimonies, and ensuring that all evidence was in order. You felt the pressure mounting, but you were determined to give your all for your client. Around 10 p.m., you decided to go home to rest. You took a hot shower to unwind and made yourself a cup of herbal tea. Before going to bed, you took one last look at your trial notes, re-reading the key points to make sure everything was clear in your mind.

On Friday morning, you woke up with renewed determination. After a quick shower and breakfast, you headed to the courthouse. The atmosphere was tense, but you felt prepared.

At the courthouse, you met with your client and reassured them. “We’re ready. Trust me.”

The trial began, and you focused entirely on your arguments, presenting clear and compelling points. Hours passed in palpable tension, with every word and gesture carrying crucial importance. During breaks, you quickly checked your phone, receiving encouraging messages from Cameron, Foreman, and Chase. Their support gave you the strength to continue with confidence.

Finally, the moment of the verdict arrived. The jury retired to deliberate, and you spent this waiting period with your client, trying to reassure them despite your own stress. When the jury returned with their decision, you stood alongside your client to hear the verdict.

As the verdict was announced, a wave of relief and satisfaction washed over you. Your client was acquitted. You felt an immense sense of pride and gratitude for all the hard work accomplished. After thanking and congratulating your client, you left the courthouse with a sense of accomplishment.

In the evening, after meeting with a client following the verdict, the day had passed quietly. To celebrate, you sent a message to Cameron, Foreman, and Chase, inviting them to meet at the same café to share the good news. They arrived promptly, all smiles and ready to celebrate with you.

"Congratulations!" Cameron exclaimed, hugging you tightly. "You did it!"

Foreman and Chase also offered their congratulations, and you spent the evening chatting, laughing, and enjoying the moment of victory.As you were sitting at a table near the window, you noticed Wilson enter the café. Clearly, he was there for a break after a long day at the hospital. You waved at him, and he approached your table with a smile.

"Hey, everyone!" Wilson said as he approached. "Congratulations on the trial, I heard it went well."

"Thanks, Wilson. Yes, everything went really well," you replied with a smile, still floating on a cloud of victory, even though you didn’t know him very well.

"You did well to celebrate," Wilson added, addressing everyone. "I hope you’re all enjoying your evening."

After exchanging a few pleasantries and congratulations, Wilson left to pick up his coffee order. You resumed your conversation, but you couldn’t help but wonder how Wilson had heard about your success.

When you returned home late that evening, you took a moment to reflect on everything that had happened over the past few days. You knew that new adventures and challenges awaited you, but for now, you allowed yourself to savor this well-deserved victory. Before going to bed, you took a moment to unwind and enjoy the calm after the excitement of the day. You slipped into your bed, exhausted but happy, ready to face whatever the future held.

On Monday morning, back at the hospital, Wilson crossed paths with House in one of the corridors. House, as usual, seemed intrigued by something.

"So, you were at the café last night?" House asked, with an apparently nonchalant tone but with a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Wilson nodded. "Yes, I ran into your team and your lawyer there. They were celebrating Y/N’s trial success."

House raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Interesting."

Wilson smiled at House’s evident interest. "You seem quite intrigued, House. Anything to say about it?"

House pretended not to be particularly interested, but he couldn't completely hide his curiosity. "I just wonder how she manages to juggle everything. Maybe there's something else driving her."

As you were heading to the break room for a well-deserved rest, you bumped into House. He looked at you with that enigmatic smile that was so characteristic of him.

"So, the great lawyer wins again," he said with a sarcastic tone, his piercing gaze fixed on you.

"It was a team effort, as always," you replied with a smile.

House shrugged, a mocking expression on his face. "Yeah, that's what they say. But maybe you just got lucky or you slipped under the desk."

You furrowed your brow slightly but maintained your composure. "Yes, luck always plays a role."

House looked at you for a moment, his smile turning into a smirk. "Or maybe your persuasive skills are just a façade. You should really thank your team more often."

You felt a flicker of irritation rise but kept your calm. "I know how to recognize my colleagues' work, House. Thanks for the advice."

House burst into a humorless laugh. "Oh, I’m sure you do. Everyone loves recognition, especially when they’re working for someone as... competent."

Before you could respond, House turned and walked away, his laughter echoing in the corridor. You stood there for a moment, contemplating the interaction. House had a way of hitting on the most sensitive points, and he seemed to enjoy testing your limits. You pushed the confrontation aside for now, thinking that you'd bring it up with Cuddy. As the hour came to return to work and finish your day, your thoughts refocused on your tasks.

Your morning had dragged on so much that it felt like the entire year was crammed into a single day, stretching it out as long as possible. Fortunately, after another two long hours, your lunch break finally arrived. You were exhausted and eager to see Cuddy. After finishing your urgent tasks, you made your way to Cuddy's office. With House's upcoming trial requiring your attention, you needed to meet with her to discuss the strategy and details of the case.

When you knocked on her door, Cuddy motioned for you to come in.

"Hello, Y/N. How are you?" Cuddy asked with a smile.

"Hi, Cuddy. I'm good, thanks. I wanted to discuss House's trial and see if we're all on the same page. I've just finished drafting all the arguments, possible responses, and so on. I'd like you to take a look," you said, taking a seat across from her.

Cuddy nodded. "Sure. I've prepared some additional documents that might be useful in the worst-case scenario."

You spent the next few hours reviewing the case details, strategizing, and discussing potential challenges ahead. Amidst the professional discussions, you briefly mentioned your recent encounter with House.

"Oh, he was particularly irritating today," you said with a smile. "He implied that my persuasive skills were just a façade and that I should thank my team more often, suggesting I used my feminine wiles to win."

Cuddy sighed. "House likes to push people's buttons, especially when he knows they've achieved something important. Don’t let him get to you. He’s just… House."

"I know," you replied. "But sometimes it’s really frustrating."

Cuddy smiled warmly. "You’re doing an excellent job. Don’t let his comments shake you."

After your meeting with Cuddy, you felt better prepared for House’s trial. You took the time to organize your files and review your preparations. Leaving the hospital, you felt confident and ready to face this new challenge, though a part of you remained apprehensive about what House might do during the trial.

When you got home, you took a moment to relax, appreciating the quiet of the evening. You knew the coming days would be intense, but you were ready for the challenge, buoyed by the support of your colleagues and friends. You found yourself reflecting on the afternoon meeting with Cuddy, her encouraging words echoing in your mind. You realized that you valued not only her professional support but also her personal presence. Perhaps she could become a good friend, although you knew she would never see you as more. Cameron was the only one who knew about your attraction to women, especially older ones, so you recognized Cuddy as your vulnerable spot.

On Saturday morning, an idea popped into your head. You remembered that Cuddy had a particular café she liked near the hospital. You decided to stop by and pick up her favorite coffee as a gesture of thanks for her support. Arriving at the café, you ordered two drinks and a pastry that you knew Cuddy liked. With the cups in hand, you headed towards the hospital, hoping that Cuddy would be in her office even on the weekend.

However, as you walked, you realized that giving the items directly to her might be too forward. An idea struck you, and you stopped by a flower shop to buy a bouquet. With the flowers in hand, you returned to the hospital and asked a nurse to deliver everything to Cuddy without mentioning your name. Fortunately, the nurse agreed and took care of your request.

When Cuddy received the coffee, pastry, and flowers, she immediately asked who had sent them. The nurse, respecting your wish for anonymity, provided a brief physical description. Cuddy quickly understood who the gesture was from, but it was too late for her to find you.

Back at home, you collapsed onto your bed, ready to enjoy the weekend. The days passed quietly with workouts, delicious meals, binge-watching shows, and a bit of work to stay on top of things. You felt relaxed and pleased to have made a thoughtful gesture for Cuddy. It was a step forward, and at worst, she might simply tell you she wasn’t interested in women. Unlike House, she wouldn’t insult or belittle people based on their feelings.

As you arrived at the hospital on Monday, your day off, you felt a mix of excitement and apprehension, curious about how Cuddy had reacted to your gesture. You took a deep breath before entering the building and headed towards your office. Shortly after arriving, you received a message from Cuddy asking you to join her in her office. Your heart raced as you made your way there, wondering what she would say.

Upon entering Cuddy's office, you found her sitting at her desk, a mysterious smile on her lips. She gestured for you to take a seat.

"Hello, Y/N. Thank you for the coffee and the flowers," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

You felt a slight flush on your cheeks. "I just wanted to thank you for your support. It’s a small gesture to support House."

Cuddy nodded, still smiling. "It was very kind of you. I wasn’t expecting that."

You took a deep breath, feeling that now was the right moment to make the first move. "Cuddy, I’d really like us to spend more time together outside of work. Maybe dinner or something one evening?"

Cuddy looked at you, considering your proposal. "You know what? I’d like that. How about tonight, after work?"

A bright smile spread across your face, and you nodded enthusiastically. "That would be perfect. Thank you, Cuddy."

After your interaction, you left Cuddy’s office and saw Cameron waiting for you, looking slightly concerned. Since Cameron was the only one aware of your sexuality, you took the opportunity to explain the situation. She smiled warmly, congratulated you, and wished you good luck.

That evening, you met Cuddy at a cozy restaurant, the intimate and warm atmosphere fostering a deeper connection. You talked about everything and nothing, sharing anecdotes and laughter. The professional tension melted away, replaced by a natural camaraderie. At the end of the dinner, as you both walked to your cars, Cuddy turned to you, her eyes shining in the streetlamp light.

"This was really nice," she said softly. "I’m glad we did this."

You smiled, feeling a sense of contentment and hope. "Me too. I’ve really enjoyed it."

As you parted ways, you felt a sense of optimism about where this might lead. You knew it was just the beginning, but it was a promising start.

"Thank you for the evening, Y/N. It’s been a long time since I had such a good time," Cuddy said softly, her smile warm and genuine.

You felt a pleasant warmth spread through your heart. "Me too, Cuddy. I’m really glad we did this."

There was a brief silence before, making a brave decision, she leaned in slightly and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Good night, Y/N."

She smiled at you, a tender glint in her eyes. "Good night, Cuddy. See you soon."

As she walked away, you were left momentarily stunned by her gesture. A kiss on the cheek? What was that supposed to mean? Was it just a friendly gesture or something more? You found yourself debating with your inner thoughts, trying to make sense of it. Frustrated with your own confusion, you decided to head to a nearby bar for a few drinks to clear your mind.

A few drinks turned into several, and by the time you stumbled back home, you were slightly tipsy. After a quick shower to wash away the remnants of the evening, you collapsed into bed. Despite your exhaustion, your mind replayed the evening over and over, unable to settle. The new level of your relationship with Cuddy had opened a door to unknown possibilities, and you were eager to see where it might lead.

The day of the trial arrived faster than expected. You knew it would be a challenging day, but with your recent experiences and the support of your colleagues, you felt prepared to face whatever lay ahead. As you entered the courtroom, you reminded yourself of the strength and confidence you had built over the past weeks. You could do this.

The courtroom was tense, but you focused on your preparations and the strategy you and Cuddy had developed. With each passing moment, you felt more centered and determined to deliver your best performance.

During a break in the trial, you caught a glimpse of Cuddy in the hallway. She gave you a reassuring nod, and you felt a surge of encouragement. Whatever the outcome, you knew you had given it your all.

The day of the trial arrived. Dr. Gregory House finds himself on trial for allegedly drugging a patient, Mr. Richard Moore, in order to have him undergo a series of medical tests without his consent. Although these tests ultimately revealed that Mr. Moore suffered from lupus, he claims to have no memory of the period during which the tests were performed, and he accuses House of having drugged and kidnapped him.

The trial began in a crowded courtroom, the case having attracted a lot of attention. The judge opened the proceedings, and the prosecution and defense attorneys presented their opening arguments. The prosecution attorney stood up and described in detail the charges brought against House, insisting on the psychological trauma suffered by Mr. Moore and the illegality of House's actions.

You stood up to present the defense arguments, immediately highlighting the lack of concrete evidence and the importance of the vital diagnosis obtained through the tests performed by House. You emphasized the absence of malicious intent and the life-saving nature of the intervention. Mr. Moore testified by describing his state of confusion and memory loss. He expressed his hatred towards House, claiming that he had been abducted and drugged against his will.

You began by sympathizing with Mr. Moore, acknowledging the pain and confusion he was experiencing. Then, you pointed out the inconsistencies in his account due to his fuzzy memory and highlighted the absence of tangible evidence. You asked him if he remembered specific moments when he might have been drugged, to which he answered negatively. House testified by explaining his actions from the medical point of view. He described the symptoms observed in Mr. Moore that had led him to suspect lupus and insisted that he had acted to save his life.

The prosecution attorney tried to show that House had exceeded his prerogatives, but you intervened regularly to object and protect House from biased questions. You had called several medical experts who confirmed that Mr. Moore's symptoms were consistent with lupus and that the early diagnosis had probably saved his life. They also explained that, without these tests, the lupus could have remained undiagnosed, putting Mr. Moore's life in serious danger. The prosecution attorney concluded by insisting on the lack of consent and the trauma experienced by Mr. Moore. He asked the jury to consider the violation of his client's rights.

You stood up for your closing argument, summarizing the key points: the lack of concrete evidence demonstrating that House had drugged Mr. Moore, Mr. Moore’s confusion and amnesia making his testimony unreliable, the absence of malicious intent on House's part, and finally, the vital importance of the lupus diagnosis obtained through the tests performed. You concluded by emphasizing that House had saved Mr. Moore's life and that his actions, although controversial, were guided by a legitimate medical concern.

After deliberations, the jury returned with a verdict. The judge spoke to announce the decision, "After examining the evidence and testimonies, the jury has concluded that the charges against Dr. Gregory House have not been proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Dr. House is therefore acquitted of all charges." Everyone was leaving, including House, Cuddy, Wilson, and yourself. You took the opportunity to step away from the crowd with them.

House turned to you with a smirk. "Well done, Y/N. I knew you'd rise to the occasion to defend the best doctor."

You felt relieved and proud of the work accomplished. "Thank you, House. Now, I hope you’ve learned your lesson and will be more careful in the future."

House shrugged. "We’ll see if I listened to the conversation."

You sighed, letting the stress go, satisfied with the outcome and ready to face the next challenges that House would present.

The month that followed was relatively pleasant. You had good times with Cameron and her friends, Foreman and Chase, outside of work. Evening outings, dinners, and lively conversations brought some joy to your routine. However, despite these good times, you felt a void every time you came home. Something was missing, a presence or a deeper connection. One evening, after yet another outing, you decided to take the bull by the horns. You invited Cameron to your place for a one-on-one discussion. Sitting in your living room, you revealed what you were feeling, hoping to find some clarity and perhaps some advice. To your surprise, Cameron began to smile and then to laugh softly. Intrigued and slightly puzzled by her reaction, you looked at her, searching for an explanation. "Why are you laughing?" you asked.

Cameron, still smiling, replied: "Don't worry, you'll understand in a few days. Trust me."

The next day, while you were immersed in your work at the office, your phone rang. On the other end of the line, a receptionist from a certain hospital where Cameron worked informed you that Dr. Lisa Cuddy wanted to see you. Intrigued and curious, you accepted the appointment, wondering what it could mean. On your way to the hospital, you decided to bring some coffees, one for yourself and one for Cuddy, hoping to create a relaxed atmosphere for your meeting.

Entering Cuddy's office, you were greeted by her professional yet warm smile. She thanked you for the coffee and invited you to sit down. After a few polite exchanges, she addressed the main topic of your meeting.

"Y/N, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to come here," she began. "House is once again involved in trouble. I was impressed by your defense in his last trial, and I would like to offer you the opportunity to become his official attorney."

You were stunned by the proposal. Becoming House's permanent attorney meant constant responsibility and frequent challenges, but it was also a unique opportunity.

Cuddy, noticing your hesitation, added: "I understand that this is an important decision. You can continue to manage your practice and only come here when necessary."

After a moment of reflection, you realized that this offer might address the void you were feeling. Accepting this role would allow you to continue practicing law while staying connected to a stimulating and dynamic environment. With renewed determination, you looked up at Cuddy and nodded. "Okay, I accept. I will be House's official attorney."

Leaving the hospital that day, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had just taken a major turn in your career, a turn that not only brought you closer to professional challenges but also to people you were beginning to consider close friends.

The following month promised to be full of surprises and new adventures, and you were ready to face them with new determination. After accepting Cuddy's offer, you found yourself often thinking about her. These thoughts were not purely professional; you realized that your feelings went beyond mere admiration. However, accepting these feelings was not easy for you. You had never really embraced your sexuality, and the prospect of being attracted to a woman, especially a colleague, deeply troubled you.

One evening, after a long day at work, Cameron came to visit you. She had noticed your distress and wanted to help you gain some clarity. You both settled comfortably in your living room, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

"You seem preoccupied lately," she said gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You hesitated for a moment but decided to confide in her about your suppressed feelings for Cuddy. Cameron listened attentively, without judgment, and reassured you with her soothing, calming voice.

"You know, Y/N, it's not easy to accept certain things about oneself," she began. "But your feelings are natural. It's not a matter of gender; it's about love and connection."

She then suggested an idea to help you open up further. "How about coming to a karaoke night with me? It might help take your mind off things and allow you to relax a bit."

What you didn’t know was that Cameron had a more elaborate plan in mind. She wanted to give you an opportunity to get closer to Cuddy in a natural setting. After you agreed to the karaoke, she contacted Wilson to help set up an unexpected meeting.

"Wilson, I need your help," she said on the phone. "Can you invite Cuddy to a karaoke this weekend without telling her that Y/N will be there? I think it could help both of them."

Wilson, always eager to assist his friends, agreed enthusiastically. He knew how beneficial this meeting could be for both of you.

On Saturday evening, you prepared with a certain nervousness for the karaoke night. Cameron picked you up, and you both headed to the bar where the event was taking place. Upon entering, you were pleasantly surprised by the warm and relaxed atmosphere of the place. Meanwhile, Cuddy, persuaded by Wilson to come out for a pleasant evening, arrived shortly after you. She had no idea what awaited her.

As you sipped your drink and chatted with Cameron, you noticed Cuddy walking into the bar. Your heart leaped in your chest. You turned to Cameron, eyes wide. She gave you a knowing wink.

"Relax," she whispered. "Enjoy the evening."

Wilson approached Cuddy and explained that he had invited someone else she might find interesting. He discreetly pointed in your direction. Cuddy made her way over, a curious smile on her lips.

"Good evening, Y/N, Cameron," she said as she joined your table. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

As the evening progressed, the songs played, laughter erupted, and the atmosphere became increasingly relaxed. You felt your barriers gradually melting away, encouraged by Cameron's reassuring presence and Cuddy's warm attention.

At one point, Cuddy suggested that you sing a duet. The song choice was a soft and melodic ballad, "Creep" by Radiohead, which brought you even closer together. As you sang side by side, you exchanged glances and smiles that spoke volumes. Of course, Cameron wouldn’t let this slip by and later made you sing "Tear You Apart" by She Wants Revenge. Even during the karaoke session, she noticed your lingering glances towards Cuddy during the chorus, which said a lot.

The karaoke night was a success. Thanks to Cameron and her ingenious plan, you had the opportunity to get closer to Cuddy in a relaxed and friendly setting. When you returned home that night, you felt more at peace with yourself and more confident about your feelings. Cameron had given you the push you needed to embrace who you were and what you felt. Now, you were ready to explore this new dimension of your life with greater serenity and openness, though you had to be cautious about House finding out. You weren’t ready yet to discuss this or face any potential insults from him.

The days following the karaoke night were marked by a subtle but significant change. Your interactions with Cuddy became more frequent, not only due to hospital legal matters but also through spontaneous moments of camaraderie. You were getting to know each other beyond the professional setting, and each conversation strengthened this budding connection. Each morning, you developed the habit of bringing Cuddy a coffee before starting your day, spending much more time at the hospital than at your office. It was a simple but meaningful gesture that quickly became a ritual for both of you. You often found yourselves in her office discussing current hospital affairs, but these moments also turned into opportunities to share personal anecdotes and enjoy each other's company.

One morning, while sipping her coffee, Cuddy gave you a grateful look. “You know, Y/N, these little moments of respite really make a difference in my day. It helps me forget that House is here and working for me.”

You smiled, touched by her words. “For me too, Lisa... Cuddy.”

Your exchanges weren’t limited to the morning coffees. Lunches also became an opportunity to get closer. Whether at the hospital cafeteria or in a small neighborhood restaurant, every shared meal strengthened your bond. You spent much less time with the trio, but it apparently didn’t bother them.

One day, while enjoying a salad at a sunny café, Cuddy asked you an unexpected question. “How did you decide to become a lawyer?” Surprised by the question but pleased by her interest, you shared your journey, including the impact of your cousin's death, the challenges you had overcome, and the motivations that led you to choose this career. Cuddy listened intently, her eyes expressing deep curiosity and sincere respect.

There were also times when your days extended beyond office hours. Sometimes, you would go for a drink after work, sharing moments of relaxation where professional concerns gave way to lighter and more intimate conversations. One evening, in particular, stood out. After a particularly stressful day, Cuddy suggested unwinding at a cocktail bar near the hospital. Sitting at the counter, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the events of the day fade with each sip of your drink.

“Sometimes, I wonder how you manage to stay so calm and composed, even though you’re very authoritative,” you said, observing Cuddy.

She chuckled softly. “It’s a façade, believe me. But having friends and moments like these really helps.”

As the weeks passed, you developed a relationship of mutual trust. Cuddy confided in you about the challenges of her position as hospital director, and you found in her a valuable listener for your own concerns. This dynamic of reciprocal support was new and comforting for you.

One afternoon, after returning from the courthouse, you found Cuddy sitting at her desk, visibly exhausted. Without a word, you took a seat across from her and pulled out a small box of chocolates you had bought with her in mind.

“For a little pick-me-up,” you said with a smile.

Cuddy looked up, clearly touched by your gesture. “You’re my savior, love. Thank you.”

The word “love” resonated within you like a gentle echo. You felt your cheeks flush slightly. This endearing nickname, filled with tenderness and affection, stirred feelings you had tried to suppress. Your heart quickened, and you suddenly became acutely aware of every small detail of the situation: the soft light in the office, Cuddy’s sincere gaze, and the pleasant warmth of the chocolates in your hands. Trying to control your emotions, you responded with a slightly trembling but sincere voice, “I… I’m glad you liked it, Lisa. You do so much for everyone here, it’s only natural for someone to take care of you too.”

Cuddy smiled and briefly took your hand, a simple yet deeply meaningful gesture. “Thank you, really.”

After this exchange, you spent the rest of the day in a state of deep reflection. This sweet nickname and Cuddy’s attention only reinforced the feelings you were beginning to understand and accept. You found yourself smiling for no apparent reason, replaying that moment over and over in your mind.

In the evening, you decided to talk to Cameron about what you had felt. She listened attentively, her gaze full of understanding.

"You see, Y/N," she said gently, "sometimes you just have to let things happen. Cuddy really values you, and it seems she’s starting to feel something for you too. There’s nothing wrong with exploring these feelings."

You nodded, feeling a mix of hope and nervousness. "Yes, you're right. I suppose I just need to be patient and see how things develop."

In the following days, you continued to offer your support to Cuddy, and she did the same for you. Each exchange, each gesture of affection reinforced your bond. The nickname "love" became a kind of shared secret, a constant reminder of the growing affection between you.

In the end, you realized that these feelings, although unsettling at first, were a natural part of your life. And with Cameron’s support and the patience you were showing, you knew you were on the right path to building something beautiful and lasting with Cuddy. As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself eagerly anticipating each meeting with Cuddy. She had become more than just a colleague or client; she had become a cherished friend, and perhaps, something more.

For now, you allowed yourself to be carried along by this new adventure, savoring each moment and letting things evolve naturally. The future remained uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, you felt ready to face it, with an open heart and a serene mind.

Everything was going well between you and Cuddy. The morning exchanges, the lunches, the moments of complicity were multiplying. You felt increasingly comfortable with your feelings, encouraged by Cameron’s advice and Cuddy’s kindness. But one day, an unexpected event was about to turn everything upside down. It was an ordinary day until an accident occurred in the hospital. A cart full of files toppled over in the hallway, and among the scattered papers, a personal note from Cuddy to you fell to the ground. House, passing by by chance, picked up the note before you could react. That evening, as you were finishing your day, you were intercepted by House in a deserted corridor. He had a smug grin plastered on his face and the note in hand.

“So, Y/N, having fun with Cuddy?” he started, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You felt your stomach knot. “Give me that, House. It’s none of your business.”

He waved the note in front of you, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, but it becomes my business when you drag your romantic issues into MY hospital.”

House moved closer, his expression hardening. “Seriously, do you think she sees you as anything more than a distraction? A little toy to pass the time?” He snickered. “You’re pathetic, trailing around like a puppy craving attention.”

You felt anger rising in you, but also a chilling fear. “That’s not true, House. You don’t know anything.” He burst into laughter, a cold and cruel laugh. “Oh, I know more than you imagine. Cuddy’s playing with you, and you’re too stupid to realize it. You think she loves you?” His tone grew more venomous. “She keeps you around for her little emotional emergencies. She doesn’t need you; she doesn’t need anyone.”

House stepped back slightly, looking you up and down. “Seriously, do you think someone like you could interest her? She could have anyone, and she’d choose a pathetic, lost lawyer? You’re laughable.”

Each word felt like a punch. You wanted to defend yourself, but the words got stuck in your throat.

“Look at yourself,” House continued. “A poor girl seeking affection. You’re a walking failure, trash no one wants. And when Cuddy’s had enough of you, she’ll toss you away like an old rag.”

These words hit you like a ton of bricks. You felt your eyes welling up with tears, but you refused to let them fall in front of him. Summoning all the courage you could muster, you took a step forward.

"You’re wrong, House. What Cuddy and I have is real. What you say doesn’t change that."

He looked you over for a moment, then shrugged indifferently. "Believe what you want. But remember my words when she dumps you."

House turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you alone in the hallway, emotions bubbling inside you.

You stood there, trembling with anger and pain, House’s cruel words echoing in your mind. But deep down, you knew you had to stay strong. No matter what he said, you had feelings for Cuddy and you had to fight for them. This brutal confrontation with House was just another hurdle to overcome, and with the support of Cuddy and Cameron, you knew you could get through it.

After the confrontation with House, you felt devastated and overwhelmed by emotions. You knew you couldn’t go home in this state. You headed up to the hospital roof, a quiet place where you could think and collect yourself. Sitting on a bench, you let the tears flow, recalling every venomous word House had said. You knew he had a talent for hitting where it hurt, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Doubts crept into your mind, shaking your confidence in yourself and in your relationship with Cuddy.

After a few minutes of solitude, you took out your phone and dialed Cameron’s number. She had always been a valuable support for you, and you knew she would find the right words to comfort you.

"Cameron, it’s Y/N. I need to talk. Can you come up to the roof of the hospital?" you said, your voice trembling.

“I'm coming right away,” she replied, her tone full of concern.

A few minutes later, Cameron arrived on the roof, her face showing deep worry. She sat down beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

You told her everything, from the accident that allowed House to find the note to his cruel and hurtful remarks. Cameron listened attentively, her expression hardening as you spoke.

“House can be really mean sometimes,” she said finally. “But he doesn’t know anything about what you truly feel for Cuddy, or what Cuddy feels for you. Don’t let him tear you down.”

Cameron's words provided some comfort. She was right. House had no right to judge your relationship with Cuddy, and he knew nothing about what you shared. You felt a bit stronger, ready to face the situation with more clarity. Unfortunately, you decided not to tell Cuddy, not wanting to disturb her or seem strange. So you distanced yourself a bit until she came to see you, at which point you had no choice but to talk to her and explain EVERYTHING. You hoped that this conversation would further strengthen your bond. You took a deep breath and sat down across from her.

“I need to talk to you about something that happened a few days ago.”

You told her everything, from the accident with the files to the confrontation with House. Cuddy listened attentively, her expression growing more serious.

“House really crossed the line this time,” she said finally, anger evident in her voice. “I’m sorry you had to endure that, but next time, come to me about it.”

You nodded. “I don’t want to let his words affect us. I really care about you, Lisa.”

Cuddy smiled gently and took your hand in hers. "Me too, Y/N. Don’t let House make you doubt what we have."

The conversation with Cuddy gave you a renewed sense of determination. No matter what House said or did, you were resolved to fight for this relationship. With Cuddy and Cameron’s support, you knew you could overcome obstacles and continue building something beautiful and lasting.

In the following days, you felt stronger and more determined than ever. You continued to work hard, support Cuddy, and grow closer to her. Each moment spent together strengthened your bond, and you knew you were on the right path toward something truly special. The road ahead was still long, but with Cuddy by your side, you felt ready to face any challenges. You were determined not to let House’s cruel words bring you down and to keep moving forward, day by day.

Your relationship with Cuddy improved even more over the weeks. Conversations became more intimate, and shared moments grew more significant. During meetings and coffee breaks, you exchanged knowing glances that often spoke louder than words. Cuddy sometimes made thoughtful gestures, like bringing you your favorite coffee or carving out time in her busy schedule to chat. Cameron, true to her playful nature, never missed an opportunity to highlight these little moments. "So, did you have your daily tête-à-tête with Cuddy?" she would say with a mischievous wink. Each time, you would blush slightly, but you also appreciated these teases that made your feelings seem even more real and tangible.

One day, you found yourself confronting House in his office. The tension was palpable. House was particularly irritable that day, and you had heard about his ruthless behavior towards your patients, especially your cousin. Your cousin had come to the hospital with severe abdominal pain, and House, in a fit of personal anger and contempt, had delayed the necessary tests.

"You should behave better for someone who’s a total jerk. How could you let my cousin die without even trying to save him years ago just because you had a grudge against me?" you exploded, entering House’s office without knocking.

House looked up from his desk, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "Oh, so you’re here to mourn poor patients? What a charitable person you are! You’re here to blame me? Maybe if your cousin hadn’t been so stupid, he’d still be alive."

Those words were the last straw. You felt a searing rage rise within you. "How dare you? You don’t even know what you’ve done. You were so consumed by your own anger and selfishness that you didn’t even take the time to treat him properly!"

House stood up from his chair, his face hardening. "Your cousin was a hopeless case anyway. Maybe if he hadn’t been so weak, he would have survived."

You clenched your fists, your voice trembling with fury and pain. "My cousin was Cameron’s husband!"

The words thundered through the room, and only after they left your mouth did you regret it; you had promised to keep that a secret. House froze for a few seconds, his eyes widening in shock. For once, he seemed unsettled, as if a brutal truth had just hit him in the face. At the same moment, Cameron was passing by House’s office. She had stopped, hearing the raised voices inside. When she heard your declaration, she carefully opened the door, her eyes shifting from you to House, a silent pain on her face.

House quickly regained his composure, though his tone was sharper than ever. "Oh, I see. So you’re here to whine because your cousin didn’t survive? Newsflash, Y/N, people die. This is a hospital, not a fairy tale."

Cameron entered the room, her face pale but determined. "House, that's enough."

He turned his gaze toward her, a cruel smile on his lips. "Oh, look who’s joining the party. Are you here to support your grieving cousin? It’s touching, but he’s not coming back after all these years."

You felt tears welling up, but you refused to let them fall, and the urge to punch him was overwhelming. "You’re a monster, House. You have no idea what it’s like to lose someone so close because you’re a lifeless jerk whom nobody likes."

House shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Loss is a part of life, sweetheart. Get used to it, because I don’t sleep with my boss for bonuses."

Seeing you raising your arm toward House in anger, Cameron stepped in, grabbing you by the arm. "Come on, Y/N, let’s get out of here. He doesn’t deserve you getting worked up like this."

You left House’s office, still trembling with rage and sadness. Cameron embraced you, offering the silent support you desperately needed. You moved away from that place of conflict, leaving House behind with his arrogance and insensitivity. This painful confrontation further strengthened your bond with Cameron. She understood your pain better than anyone and shared your anger toward House. Together, you found comfort in each other’s support, growing even closer through this difficult ordeal.

Even though Cameron continued to have feelings for House despite learning about his refusal to treat her husband’s case, you both relied on each other. That evening, reflecting on the confrontation, you realized how much you cared for Cuddy and Cameron. Their unconditional support was an anchor in the storm of your emotions, and despite House’s cruelty, you were surrounded by people who truly cared about you. You took a deep breath, determined to continue fighting for your loved ones, to overcome obstacles, and not to let House’s nastiness destroy you.

The days following that confrontation were emotionally charged. The tension between you and House was palpable, but you could always count on Cameron for support. Interactions with Cuddy became even more precious, her smiles and soothing words helping to ease the weight of your emotions. Your relationship with Cuddy was deepening. One afternoon, as you were working in your office, you received a message from her: "Need a coffee break? Join me in my office."

You smiled and headed to her office. When you arrived, you found her seated with two cups of coffee and a box of macarons. "I thought we might need these treats to get through the day," she said, handing you a cup. You chatted about various topics, sharing anecdotes and laughter. Cuddy seemed more relaxed in your company, and you realized that these moments had become essential to you.

One evening, after work, Cameron invited you over to her place to talk. Sitting on her couch with a glass of wine in hand, she brought up a sensitive subject. "You know,Y/N, I’ve noticed that you’re getting quite close to Cuddy. It’s wonderful to see that, but I sense something is holding you back."

You looked down, hesitant to admit your repressed feelings. "Cameron, I... I think I have feelings for her, but I don’t know how to handle them. I’ve never accepted being a lesbian."

Cameron looked at you with compassion. "There’s nothing wrong with being who you are. You deserve to be happy, and if Cuddy makes you happy, you should tell her. Take your time, but don’t let fear stop you from living fully." You simply nodded, and the evening continued at her place until you fell asleep in front of a movie with her.

After a long day at work, you decided to go to Cuddy’s office to discuss some important points related to a file. Upon entering her office, you found her organizing papers, her focus on the work in front of her. The atmosphere was relaxed, and the soft lighting in the office created a pleasant ambiance.

You lightly knocked on the door before entering. "Hi, Cuddy. I had a few questions regarding our file."

Cuddy looked up, a smile forming on her lips. "Ah, Y/N. I always wonder why important questions seem to come at the end of the day."

You smiled and placed the documents on her desk. "Maybe it’s to give you a chance to test your multitasking skills."

Cuddy pretended to look outraged. "Oh, I see. So now I’m expected to juggle medical emergencies and your questions. Why not throw in some cannonballs while we’re at it?"

You laughed, appreciating the light tone of the conversation. "Well, you’re the hospital director. I suppose juggling cannonballs is part of the job description."

Cuddy rolled her eyes with a smile. "I guess I haven’t received that manual yet. But seriously, what’s the issue with this file?"

You took a deep breath and decided to make a slightly bolder comment with a touch of humor. "Well, I just wanted to check if your problem-solving superpower is as effective outside of the office."

Cuddy leaned forward, her gaze amused. "Oh, really? And what would my superpower be, according to you?"

You tilted your head with a mischievous smile. "You know, the ability to handle crises and make things simpler even when they seem impossible. But I have to admit, you might also be a coffee superhero, considering how you’re always full of energy."

Cuddy burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Oh, you're incorrigible. But if you insist, I suppose I should also accept the compliments on my ability to make the perfect coffee."

You nodded with a knowing smile. "Absolutely. I’m ready to give you a 10 out of 10 for your caffeine skills, in addition to your management talents."

Cuddy gave you a playful look before picking up a coffee cup from her desk. "In that case, it looks like I’ll have to make you a special coffee to reward you for your praise."

You thanked Cuddy with a smile, and the conversation took on an even more relaxed and friendly tone. Moments of teasing like this were becoming increasingly common, strengthening the bond between you. With her humor and kindness, Cuddy had become a key pillar in your daily life, making even the busiest days more enjoyable. The discussion continued in a light-hearted manner, filled with laughter and friendly exchanges. You left Cuddy’s office with a sense of well-being, ready to face the rest of the day with a smile on your lips.

A few days after the heartfelt conversation in the office, you both had taken a day off together. Cuddy had used the opportunity to invite you to her home, away from the constraints of work and regular responsibilities. It had been a while since you had the chance to spend an evening together without thinking about your professional obligations.

As you entered Cuddy’s house, you immediately felt a warm and inviting atmosphere. The interior was impeccably decorated with personal touches, creating an ambiance of comfort and tranquility.

Cuddy greeted you with a sincere smile, her presence radiating a soothing warmth. "Welcome to my home, Y/N. I’m glad you’re here. Make yourself comfortable; dinner is almost ready."

You settled at the table, where a homemade meal awaited you. The conversation during dinner was smooth and enjoyable, far removed from the usual work topics. You exchanged memories, funny anecdotes, and personal stories. Cuddy shared tales from her childhood, while you recounted amusing moments from your own life. Laughter filled the room, and the barriers between you seemed to dissolve with each passing moment.

Cuddy, in her role as the perfect host, was attentive and engaged. "Do you remember the time I tried to cook a meal for a birthday party, and everything ended up burning?" she asked, laughing.

You nodded with a smile. "Yes, I remember! I was there, and it was a complete disaster, but we had so much fun that night."

Once dinner was over and the dishes were put away, Cuddy suggested watching a movie. "I’ve heard that Die Hard is pretty good. What do you think?"

Your face lit up at the idea of watching a classic film. "Absolutely, I love that movie!"

Cuddy headed to the kitchen to prepare some popcorn, while you made yourself comfortable in the living room. She returned with a large bowl of popcorn and settled next to you on the couch. You both got cozy, and the relaxed atmosphere contrasted with the usual work tensions.

As you watched Die Hard, the film captured your attention with its thrilling action, suspense, and humor. Cuddy occasionally commented on the scenes, making amusing observations about the absurd situations and exaggerated characters.

"See that moment when he jumps through the windows?" she said with a laugh. "I’m sure we’ve all dreamed of doing that during a stressful day at work."

You burst into laughter, sharing her amusement. "Absolutely, and then there are always those moments where you wonder how they manage to avoid serious injuries."

You continued to comment on the movie, your rapport growing as the evening progressed. Laughter and playful banter made the night enjoyable and light-hearted, providing a welcome break from everyday concerns. When the film ended, you both remained on the couch for a while, discussing your favorite scenes and the funniest moments. The atmosphere was both relaxed and intimate, deepening the bond between you.

Cuddy got up to turn off the TV, then turned to you with a gentle smile. "I hope you had a good evening. I really enjoyed this time together."

You responded with sincerity. "I did too; it was a perfect evening. Thank you for inviting me."

She approached you softly and gave you a friendly hug. "I’m glad you came. I think we should do this more often."

You spent a little more time chatting before saying goodnight. As you left Cuddy’s house, you felt calm and happy, with a newfound appreciation for the growing connection between you. The evening had not only strengthened your bond but also deepened the budding feelings you had for each other. You sat in your car for a few minutes, reflecting on what you truly felt. The night had been perfect, but something crucial was missing for you to be completely at peace. Finally, you took a deep breath, got out of the car, and headed back to Cuddy’s door. As you rang the doorbell, you felt your heart race, each step bringing you closer to your truth. Cuddy answered, visibly surprised to see you return.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" she asked, her eyes showing both confusion and concern.

You hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "You know, Cuddy… Lisa, I can’t leave without telling you something important. I… I love you more than just as a friend. I have feelings for you."

Cuddy looked at you attentively, surprise evident in her eyes. "Oh… I…"

"It’s been almost a year since we’ve known each other, and I can’t let this chance slip by, even if I’m not completely sure about embracing being gay," you continued, your heart pounding. "I’m willing to risk being rejected by you. I love you, Lisa Cuddy."

Cuddy remained silent for a moment, her eyes searching yours with intensity. Her face softened slightly, but her eyes remained serious. "Y/N, I want to believe you. But you need to be honest with yourself and with me. Are you really ready to face your own feelings?"

She sighed softly and placed a comforting hand on your cheek, her touch bringing a soothing warmth. "I just want to protect you, Y/N. So, be careful… okay?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and concern at her understanding. "Thank you, Lisa, for understanding my feelings."

Cuddy looked at you intensely, her eyes betraying a depth of emotion. "Y/N, you know I care about you… more than you realize."

Before you could react or say anything further, Cuddy leaned in slowly and kissed you. The kiss was both tender and intense, filled with the feelings you had both been holding back. You stood there for a moment, surprised and motionless, before responding timidly. Your hands instinctively found their way around Cuddy's neck, while her lips were comforting and burning with passion.

The kiss deepened, Cuddy intensifying it with a tenderness and fervor that expressed everything she had wanted to say without words. The sensation was both familiar and new, awakening complex emotions within you. Sensing your hesitant yet sincere response, Cuddy continued the kiss, trying to convey all she had never been able to express aloud. When you finally separated, you were breathing slightly heavily, your eyes shining with confusion and desire. With her forehead resting against yours, Cuddy whispered softly, "Think carefully about what you want, Y/N. I will always be here for you."

You felt torn between the familiarity of the gesture and the novelty of the emotions it stirred within you. Cuddy had opened a door to a new dimension of your relationship, offering both comfort and upcoming challenges. As you gently parted from Cuddy, you left the door open for deeper reflection on what you truly wanted, all while appreciating the sincere affection and patience she was showing you.

After the emotional kiss with Cuddy, you lingered on her doorstep for a moment, your mind full of confusing thoughts and conflicting feelings. You felt both comforted and unsettled by the depth of affection Cuddy had expressed, and the intensity of the moment continued to resonate within you. Cuddy, with a reassuring gesture, allowed you the time to process what had just happened.

The following days were marked by intense introspection. You spent a lot of time reflecting on your feelings for Cuddy and what they meant for you. The nature of your emotions seemed increasingly clear, but you still had to face personal questions about your identity and desires. While respecting your space, Cuddy made efforts to remain available and open. She sent friendly messages to check in and suggested informal get-togethers to discuss anything but your recent exchanges. These moments were light-hearted, allowing you to feel at ease while exploring your own feelings.

Despite the emotional storm in your personal life, work continued. You remained focused on your tasks, but it was inevitable that the tension between you and Cuddy became a topic of discussion outside the professional sphere. Colleagues and friends, including Cameron, noticed the change in your way of working and interacting with Cuddy, but you preferred to keep the details private.

One day, as you were working in your office, absorbed in preparing a file, House burst in, his usual nonchalant demeanor hiding a mischievous curiosity.

"So, how's it going with Cuddy?" he asked with a false lightness, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You looked up, feeling a wave of discomfort. "I’d prefer not to talk about it, House."

House, unperturbed, continued. "Oh, I see. You're a bit smitten, aren't you? You know, there's something quite pathetic about desperately seeking approval."

Frustrated by his insinuations, you retorted, "And what does that have to do with you, House? Why are you so interested? You've never been able to maintain a decent relationship. So what do you really know about what I’m feeling?"

House, visibly amused by your reaction, crossed his arms and leaned slightly toward you. "Oh, I see. The truth bothers you. Maybe you need to remind yourself that you're nothing more than a mere pawn in the grand game of human emotions. And if you're looking for love advice, I might be the last person you should ask."

You felt a wave of anger rise within you, unable to endure his biting sarcasm. "You don’t know anything about me or what I’m feeling. Maybe you just enjoy playing the villain to feel superior. You don’t understand real emotions."

Despite his impassive appearance, House seemed slightly surprised by the intensity of your reaction. He took a step back, crossing his arms with a cynical smile still present on his face. "Oh, I see this touches you more than I thought."

He leaned in again, his eyes glinting with challenge. "Maybe I'm a bit too blunt for your taste. But don’t worry, I'm not here to judge you. I'm just here to remind people that the world isn't a warm and comforting place, no matter what they’d like to believe."

The intensity of the confrontation began to wane. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the internal storm. "Listen, House, I don’t want to continue this discussion if it’s going nowhere. I’m just tired of these word games and constant sarcasm. Maybe we should just forget this conversation and move on."

Seeing that the argument wouldn’t lead to anything constructive, House nodded with a smirking yet slightly more conciliatory expression. "Alright, I see you want to end this game. We’ll forget it. After all, it’s your right. But keep in mind that truths are often hard to accept."

You left House’s office with a sense of relief mixed with fatigue. The confrontation had been draining, but it had brought to light emotions and thoughts that you had kept buried. As you exited the hospital, you tried to relax, reminding yourself that sometimes the best thing to do was to let go and not be carried away by provocations. In the days that followed, the tension between you and House gradually dissipated. Although the clash left a certain bitterness, you continued to work together professionally. House, while still sarcastic and abrasive, seemed less inclined to push things further after the confrontation. Cameron and Cuddy, noticing the change in your mood and the impact of the confrontation, showed their support. Cameron, always attentive, made sure you were doing okay and offered moments of comfort.

The following Monday, you were still affected by the confrontation with House. Even though the conflict had ended on a more conciliatory note, it had left emotional scars. However, the week started on a positive note with the constant support of Cameron and Cuddy. Seeing their kindness and attention brought you relief. Cameron, always concerned for your well-being, suggested joining her for an outing to take your mind off things. You spent a pleasant evening together, talking and laughing, which helped lighten your spirit.

The following days were dedicated to reconciliation with House. Although his mannerisms remained sarcastic and sometimes abrasive, he seemed to have toned down his aggression after your confrontation. You continued to work together, but the atmosphere was slightly less tense. House, while staying true to his usual style, no longer pushed the provocations as far as he had before. On your part, you focused on your work, striving to maintain a professional attitude despite past tensions.

On Friday evening, after a busy week, you found unexpected comfort in joining Cuddy for dinner. She had taken the time to prepare something special for the two of you, and the evening unfolded in a soothing atmosphere. You talked about everything and nothing, avoiding work topics and focusing on your relationship. Moments of laughter and sharing strengthened the bond between you, momentarily making you forget the week’s stresses.

The weekend brought a new opportunity to deepen your relationship with Cuddy. She suggested organizing a special activity for the two of you. It turned into a full day of exploring a local market, sampling delicious foods, and enjoying light-hearted moments. The activity allowed you to discover more about each other outside the professional context and to strengthen your connection. You spent time strolling, discussing your dreams and ambitions, and supporting each other in your respective projects. This day reinforced the idea that you could be not only professional partners but also companions in life.

On Sunday, after a relaxing weekend, you found a moment for a more serious conversation. Cuddy, aware of the depth of your feelings, expressed her desire to understand and clarify what you both wanted from your relationship. You discussed openly your expectations and fears. Cuddy, always attentive and caring, encouraged you to be honest with yourself and with her. You talked about the potential challenges you might face and how to overcome them together. This discussion strengthened your connection, allowing you to establish a solid foundation for your budding relationship.

When you returned to work the following Monday, the atmosphere between you was imbued with a new harmony. You had managed to move past the tensions of the previous week and establish a deeper connection. The mutual support and shared moments had clarified your feelings and allowed you to envision a future together with more serenity. Although work remained demanding and sometimes stressful, your interactions with Cuddy were now marked by a deeper understanding and growing camaraderie. You could work side by side with a sense of mutual support, which improved not only your personal relationship but also your professional effectiveness.

The initial tension had dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and mutual support that was felt in every aspect of your life.

One Friday evening, after a particularly grueling day at the hospital, Cuddy invited you to her home for dinner. You had started spending more time together outside of work, but that evening had a special significance. Upon entering her house, you immediately noticed the warm and welcoming atmosphere she had created. The table was beautifully set, and the delicious smell of a homemade meal filled the air.

"I wanted tonight to be special," she said with a smile. "We’ve been through a lot lately, and I think it’s time to talk about what we really feel."

You nodded, feeling your heart race at the thought of this important conversation. You sat down at the table, sharing a delicious meal while discussing your lives, hopes, and dreams. The atmosphere was relaxed, and simply being in Cuddy’s presence made you feel at home.

After dinner, you settled on the couch with a glass of wine. Cuddy looked at you with an expression that was both tender and determined.

"Y/N, I care about you a lot. More than I realized at the beginning. And I think we should make our relationship official. Not just for us, but also for others."

You remained silent for a moment, letting her words resonate within you. You knew it was the right time to be honest and open your heart. "Lisa, I feel the same way. You've become an essential part of my life, and I want everyone to know how much you mean to me."

Cuddy smiled, visibly moved by your words. She took your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "Then let's do it. Let's be together, officially. No matter what others think, we know what we want."

The following Monday, you decided to go public with your relationship. Arriving at the hospital, you both felt nervous but determined. Cuddy, as the hospital director, took the initiative to make the announcement during the weekly staff meeting. "Good morning, everyone. Before we start the meeting, I’d like to share some personal news. Y/N and I are together."

There was a moment of silence, followed by murmurs among the staff. Then, Cameron was the first to stand up and applaud, soon followed by other colleagues. Even House, though surprised, gave a wry smile, acknowledging the strength of your decision.

The person you thought least likely to be understanding spoke up. "Well, it was about time something interesting happened around here. Congratulations, you two." Cuddy looked at House after his words, wondering how much Vicodin he had taken, but he simply shrugged before leaving.

With the announcement of your relationship, you felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders. The reactions were mostly positive, and even those who were initially skeptical eventually accepted your love. Life at the hospital continued, but now you could be yourselves without fear or shame. The following days were marked by a constant stream of support from colleagues and friends. You received congratulatory messages, dinner invitations, and even small gestures from those who were happy for you.

One evening, as you held Cuddy's hand, you realized how much your life had changed since you had met her. The love you shared was not just a source of happiness, but also a force that pushed you to be better and face challenges together. You knew that obstacles would still arise, but as a couple, you were ready to overcome them. The official recognition of your relationship marked the beginning of a new era, where love, respect, and mutual understanding would be the foundations of your shared life.

After making your relationship official, the first few months were filled with moments of discovery and intimacy. You were getting to know each other on a more personal level, sharing quiet weekends, movie nights, and intimate dinners. Each moment spent together strengthened your bond.

To escape the hustle and bustle of the hospital, you enjoyed spending weekends at a small country house that Cuddy occasionally rented. These moments away from everything, surrounded by nature, were precious to both of you. They allowed you to relax and focus on each other, away from the demands of your daily lives.

She loved your sensitive parts, loved how you responded to the lightest touch with the most lustful moans, and how your skin prickled with goosebumps, a whine leaving your lips.

And then she kneeled on the floor, her palms caressing the bare skin of your legs, slow and light, until you could feel them on your thighs. "My love, lift your hips for me." You didn’t have to ask why because the moment you obliged, you felt her fingers hook the waistband of your shorts and pull them with ease.

Now exposed, you tried to bring your legs together to somehow conceal what was in between your thighs, but her strong hands parted them, a gasp falling from your lips. “Lisa.” You whispered, feeling the ache when her breath stroked the inside of your thighs. She was close, and you moaned. You had never been teased like this.

“Baby, please.”

“Keep it together, love.” It was cruel, but you knew she only meant you had to beg.

“Baby, I need you. Please.”

From where she kneeled, your center was vividly glistening, too aroused for her, and she took massive pleasure from how she could make you so wet without even touching you like you wanted her to. The thoughts were gone when you felt her weight dipping the bed again, and without preamble, you felt the tip of her tongue toying with the length of your slit, felt her hand directing your leg above her bare shoulder. She must have taken her robe off.

“Fuck!” you hissed, her lips wrapping around your clit, “Lisa...ahh—” it was a filthy, filthy moan that drove the woman crazy. “Baby—” your breath hitched, feeling her tongue enter your cunt. She had to keep hold of your hips from bucking, a tight grip that would bruise later.

Each movement of her tongue sent waves of pleasure through your body, your fingers tangling in her hair as she skillfully worked you. You could feel the pressure building, the need for release growing with each passing second. Her grip tightened, ensuring you stayed in place as she drove you closer to the edge.

“Lisa, please,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her response was to intensify her efforts, her tongue delving deeper, her lips and teeth grazing your sensitive skin. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy. You could feel the tension coiling within you, ready to snap at any moment.

“Come for me, love,” she murmured against your skin, the vibration of her words sending you over the edge. Your body arched, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as the orgasm washed over you, waves of pure bliss radiating from your core.

She continued her ministrations, drawing out your pleasure until you were left trembling, spent and satisfied. Slowly, she withdrew, planting gentle kisses on your thighs as you came down from your high. Your breathing slowed, the aftershocks of pleasure leaving you in a state of contentment.

“Lisa,” you breathed, your voice filled with gratitude and affection.

She smiled up at you, her eyes warm and loving. “I love you,” she said simply, her hand caressing your cheek. You reached down, pulling her up to join you on the bed. “I love you too,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around her. In that moment, everything felt perfect, your connection deeper than ever before. As you lay there, holding each other, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

And it continued, except that her behavior changed over time. You never would have thought she was jealous until the day a nurse made advances toward you in front of her. You couldn't blame the nurse, as he was new and didn't know yet. That evening, however, she made it clear that you were HER'S.

This time, Lisa decided to take control completely. Her eyes were dark with desire as she commanded, "Strip."

Your hands trembled slightly as you removed your clothes, standing vulnerable before her. She watched every movement with an intensity that made you shiver. Once you were fully exposed, she guided you to the bed, her touch firm and authoritative.

"Lie down," she instructed, her voice leaving no room for hesitation.

You obeyed, lying back on the bed as she climbed on top of you, her knees straddling your waist. Her eyes bored into yours, a smirk playing on her lips. "You belong to me tonight," she whispered, her voice sending shivers down your spine.

Without warning, she grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. The dominance in her actions made your breath hitch, your body responding instantly to her control. "Don't move unless I tell you to," she ordered, her tone brooking no argument.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. "You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this," she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. "How much I’ve wanted to have you completely at my mercy."

You could only moan in response, the sound muffled by the intensity of your own desire. Lisa’s hands roamed over your body, her touch both gentle and commanding. She knew exactly where to touch, where to tease, and where to press to elicit the most desperate moans from you.

Her lips followed the path of her hands, kissing and nibbling at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When she reached your breasts, she paused, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Do you want me to touch you here?" she asked, her fingers hovering just above your nipple.

"Yes, please," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

She chuckled softly, her breath warm against your skin. "Good," she said, finally lowering her mouth to take your nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. The sensation made you arch your back, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips.

She continued to tease and torment you, her mouth and hands working in tandem to drive you wild. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, she pulled back, her eyes locking onto yours. "I want to hear you beg for it," she said, her voice low and commanding.

"Please, Lisa," you moaned, your body aching with need. "I need you. Please."

A satisfied smile curved her lips as she finally moved lower, her fingers trailing down your abdomen to your thighs. She spread your legs wide, her eyes drinking in the sight of your arousal. "You're so wet for me," she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

Before you could respond, her mouth was on you, her tongue lapping at your folds with an intensity that made you cry out. Her hands held your hips firmly in place, preventing you from bucking against her mouth. The pleasure was overwhelming, building with each flick of her tongue and each gentle bite.

She knew exactly how to push you to the edge, bringing you to the brink of orgasm before pulling back, leaving you gasping and trembling. "Not yet," she said, her voice a tantalizing tease. "I want you to beg for it."

"Please, Lisa," you pleaded, your voice desperate. "I need to come. Please."

Her response was to redouble her efforts, her mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to drive you over the edge. When you finally came, it was with a cry of her name, your body writhing under her skilled touch. She didn’t stop until she had wrung every last bit of pleasure from you, leaving you spent and satisfied.

As you lay there, catching your breath, Lisa moved to lie beside you, her hand gently stroking your hair. "You did so well," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "You’re mine, remember that."

You nodded, a contented smile on your lips. "I'm yours," you whispered, your heart full of love and trust for the woman who held you so completely.

On day at the hospital could be particularly exhausting, but this Thursday felt different. Lisa Cuddy had received a box of chocolates from a grateful patient, and without suspecting their content, she had eaten several. A few hours later, she began to feel an intense heat and agitation that she hadn't anticipated.

Early in the afternoon, you were in her office discussing a current case. Cuddy, visibly uncomfortable, asked you to close the door behind you. "Y/N, I don't know what's happening, but I need your help," she murmured, her cheeks flushing under the aphrodisiac's effect. You approached her, concerned, but as soon as you were within reach, she grabbed your hand and pulled you toward her.

"Lisa, what are you doing?" you whispered, your heart pounding. She looked at you, her eyes shining with desire. "I… I can't wait any longer," she murmured, her fingers slowly unbuttoning your blouse. You let her, mesmerized by her urgency. Her lips found yours in a fervent kiss, her hands exploring your body with unchecked passion.

You found yourself seated on the edge of her desk, your clothes scattered around you. Cuddy, still in control, pulled a small device from her drawer. "Look at this," she said with a mischievous smile. She activated the remote-controlled vibrator and slipped it between your thighs, securing it in place with a strap. You shivered at the sensation, your muscles clenching involuntarily.

"Lisa, here? Now?" You couldn't believe what was happening. She nodded, her fingers pressing the remote. The vibrator began to hum softly, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk.

Cuddy stood before you, her gaze fixed on you with a devouring intensity. She increased the toy's power, and you felt yourself on the verge of losing control. "You like this, don't you?" she murmured, her fingers caressing your face. You could only nod, unable to form a coherent response.

She played with the settings, alternating between gentle vibrations and intense pulses, pushing you to the edge. Each change in rhythm brought you closer to ecstasy, and you found yourself silently begging for more release. Cuddy, seeing your state, lowered the remote to give you a moment of respite.

"Do you want to come for me, Y/N?" she asked, her voice soft but authoritative. "Yes, Lisa, please," you panted, your body trembling with anticipation. She smiled and increased the intensity again, finally pushing you over the edge. You felt yourself explode into a million fragments of pleasure, each wave of bliss overwhelming you.

Breathless and dizzy, you collapsed onto the desk, your limbs weak and trembling. Lisa turned off the vibrator and gently removed it, her hands caressing your soothed thighs. "You were wonderful," she murmured, placing a tender kiss on your lips. "Thank you for helping me."

As you caught your breath, you realized how much this experience had strengthened your connection. Though you had never imagined such a situation at work, you felt closer to Lisa than ever.

After that intense afternoon in Cuddy's office, life took on a new, exciting rhythm. You and Lisa navigated your relationship with a mix of professional decorum and private passion. The boundaries between work and personal life became more distinct, yet somehow more intertwined. The weeks following that day saw both of you finding a balance between your responsibilities at the hospital and your deepening relationship. Cuddy, always the consummate professional, ensured that your interactions at work remained appropriate. However, the stolen glances and subtle touches were enough to keep the flame of your relationship burning. Your evenings together became the highlight of your day. Cuddy's house transformed into a haven where you could both unwind and be yourselves. You shared dinners, cooked together, and enjoyed quiet nights in, watching movies or discussing your day. Cuddy's favorite moments were when you read to her, your voice soothing away the stress of her day.

Whenever you both could afford the time, you took weekends away from the city. Whether it was a secluded cabin in the mountains or a cozy beach house, these trips allowed you to connect on a deeper level. Away from the demands of the hospital, you explored each other’s interests and dreams, strengthening the bond between you. With each passing month, you found yourself opening up more about your past and your feelings. Lisa, too, shared stories of her journey, the struggles she faced as a woman in a high-powered position, and her fears and hopes. This mutual vulnerability brought you even closer.

At work, your dynamic remained strong and professional. Your colleagues respected your expertise and dedication, and House, despite his occasional barbs, seemed to accept your relationship with Cuddy. You often found yourself working closely with Lisa on difficult cases, your combined skills and insights making a formidable team. As your relationship grew, the question of moving in together naturally arose. After several months of discussing and planning, you decided it was time. The transition was smooth, a testament to how well you complemented each other. Lisa’s home became your home, and you both enjoyed creating a shared space filled with love and laughter.You often talked about the future, both personal and professional. Lisa’s support encouraged you to pursue further specialization in your field, and you, in turn, were her biggest cheerleader in her ongoing efforts to balance her career and personal life. You dreamed of more travel, maybe even adopting a pet, and continuing to build a life filled with shared goals and mutual respect.

Of course, there were challenges. Balancing two demanding careers and maintaining a relationship wasn’t always easy. There were times when stress from work would spill over into your personal life. But each challenge was met with patience and communication. Your ability to work through problems together only strengthened your relationship. Your relationship had a positive ripple effect on those around you. Cameron often commented on how happy you seemed, and even House, in his own way, acknowledged the stability you brought to Cuddy's life. The respect and affection you shared became a quiet inspiration to others in the hospital, showing that a loving, supportive partnership was possible even in the most demanding environments.

In the end, what you built together was a relationship based on trust, respect, and deep affection. Lisa Cuddy and you became each other’s confidant, lover, and partner in every sense of the word. Your journey was just beginning, but it was clear that whatever the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand.

Everything was going quite well until you decided to take a week off to focus entirely on Cuddy. The hospital was struggling, but you knew it would improve as usual. However, Cuddy, still stressed by the situation, was unaware that you had planned this time off specifically for her. That morning, as usual, you woke up early to prepare breakfast. Cuddy arrived, gave you a tender kiss, and told you she loved you before rushing off to eat, get ready, and go to work.

Shortly after her departure, you were distracted by knocks at your door. Maybe Cuddy had forgotten something? When you opened the door, you were surprised to see House standing there with his usual air of arrogance. You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t leave you alone. You let him in and turned back to continue tidying up the kitchen after breakfast.

House casually settled into a chair, his eyes gleaming with calculated interest. "So, how's it going with the manipulator?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm but also with undisguised curiosity.

You turned to look at him, exasperated by his early morning intrusion. "What do you want, House?" you replied, trying to keep your frustration in check as you continued with your chores.

"Just a little chat to pass the time," he said, shrugging. "I was wondering how things are going with the big boss. She must really be a master manipulator to get you to drop everything, even your job, for her."

You felt your anger rise sharply. "Cuddy isn’t manipulating me, House. I’m taking this time off to help her relax a bit. The hospital is going through a tough period, and she’s carrying all the weight on her shoulders."

House rolled his eyes with feigned exasperation. "Oh, of course. Poor Cuddy, tormented by her job. And you, the saint, there to save her every step of the way. Maybe she’s just using you for her emotional and professional needs. Maybe she sees you more as a temporary fix to her problems than as a real partner."

This remark made you boil with rage. "You don't know anything about our relationship, House. Cuddy and I support each other. What we have is real, and it's not something you could understand."

House leaned forward, his gaze becoming more incisive. "Maybe I don't understand. Or maybe I see things you're refusing to see. But be careful, because sometimes the people we trust the most are the ones who betray us the most."

You stared at him with determination, refusing to give in to his provocations. "Cuddy would never betray me. And I won’t let anyone, especially not you, come between us. I love her, and I hope she'll become my wife someday."

House raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed by your resolve. "Well, good luck with that," he said as he headed for the door. "Don't forget that I warned you." With those final words, he left, leaving you alone in the kitchen, your thoughts swirling in your head.

Shortly after his departure, you felt a gentle hand resting on your shoulder. You turned around to see Cuddy, who had forgotten her bag. She looked at you with a tender smile and gave you a light kiss. "I'll talk about this tonight," she said before kissing you again and walking away.

You stood there, alone, with mixed thoughts and emotions, waiting for the evening when Cuddy would return to discuss everything that had happened. After a particularly stressful workday for Cuddy, you prepared for an evening that would be both soothing and revealing. Having taken time off to focus on her, you had done everything to create a warm and intimate setting. The kitchen smelled of homemade dishes, candles created a soft glow, and light music floated in the air.

When Cuddy came home, you waited eagerly. She entered, visibly exhausted but happy to find a calm and comforting environment. As she dropped her bag and approached you, a tired smile lit up her face.

"Wow, you really went all out tonight," she said, taking in the ambiance you had carefully prepared. Her eyes settled on you with gratitude and affection. She pulled you into a hug, and you felt a wave of comfort as you held her close.

"I wanted it to be special," you replied softly. "For both of us."

You sat down at the table for dinner. The meal you had prepared was simple yet delicious, with dishes that seemed to bring a touch of warmth and comfort. As you ate, Cuddy talked about her day, the pressure she felt at work, and her concerns about the hospital. She shared her frustrations and worries, revealing how exhausted she was from the challenges she faced.

You listened attentively, offering words of comfort and showing sincere empathy for her difficulties. "It must be really hard to carry all that weight on your shoulders," you said. "But I'm here for you, and I want you to remember that we’re a team. If you want, I can even give you a massage."

After dinner, you settled on the couch, the atmosphere now imbued with tranquility and warmth. Cuddy snuggled against you, and you felt a deep connection growing between you. She took a deep breath before beginning to speak.

"You know, I’ve done a lot of thinking today," she said, her gaze drifting into yours. "And I realize how much I need you in my life. I don’t want misunderstandings or obstacles to come between us. What we have is precious to me."

You took her hand in yours, looking at her tenderly. "I feel the same way, Lisa. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make our relationship work. Even in the face of challenges, I’m confident that we can overcome them together."

Cuddy smiled, her eyes lighting up with sincerity. "I love you deeply, and I want us to remain honest with each other while supporting one another."

The conversation continued, filled with promises and commitments for the future. You discussed your hopes, fears, and dreams with renewed openness. Every word exchanged strengthened the bond between you, and you felt more confident in the solidity of your relationship.

By the end of the evening, as you settled in to relax, Cuddy snuggled against you. You spent the night in a sweet embrace, finding comfort and joy in each other's presence.

Finally, it was Friday, and you had planned a lot of activities for the weekend. The sun was beginning to set as Cuddy came home after a long day at work. You had spent the day preparing something special for her, hoping to offer her a moment of relaxation and relief from the tensions at the hospital. As you heard the front door open, your heart raced with anticipation of what you had planned for the evening.

Cuddy walked into the room, visibly tired but with a grateful smile upon seeing you. "Hi, honey," she said, approaching you for a kiss. "How was your day?"

"Very good," you replied with a smile, a glimmer of excitement in your eyes. "I’ve prepared something special for you tonight. Will you follow me?"

Intrigued, Cuddy followed you to the bedroom, where you had transformed the space into a sanctuary of relaxation. Soft, soothing candlelight flickered around the room, and a subtle lavender scent floated in the air. On the bed, carefully arranged accessories awaited, signaling the BDSM session you had prepared.

Cuddy raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on her lips. "Oh, I see you’ve been very busy," she said, her voice tinged with curiosity and desire. "And what’s the special occasion for all this?"

You took a deep breath, determined to offer her this experience with all the love and respect you felt for her. "I wanted to thank you for everything you do, for your hard work and dedication. But more than that, I wanted to give you the chance to let go, to release all the stress you carry."

Cuddy looked at you with tenderness, touched by your gesture. "You’re really amazing," she murmured, before kissing you passionately. "I trust you to guide me tonight."

You began by gently blindfolding her, taking care to explain each step of the process. "I’m going to guide you through this experience. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, just say the safe word, okay?"

Cuddy nodded, her breath already quickening in anticipation. "Okay," she murmured.

You began by gently securing her wrists to the bed with velvet cuffs, ensuring they were comfortable yet tight enough to restrict her movements. Then, you picked up a soft leather flogger and started to caress her skin with it, testing her reaction before delivering light strokes—enough to create a sensation but not excessive pain. Each stroke was followed by a kiss on the reddened skin, alternating between tenderness and firmness, creating a sensual dance between pain and pleasure. Cuddy moaned, getting lost in the sensations, her breathing becoming more erratic.

"You look so beautiful when you let go," you whispered in her ear before picking up a remote-controlled vibrator. "I’m going to keep playing with you, but I want you to tell me how you’re feeling at every moment."

Cuddy nodded, her voice trembling with desire. "I feel... alive. Keep going, please."

You turned on the vibrator, placing it gently between her legs before activating the vibrations. Cuddy’s body tensed, a moan escaping her lips. You alternated the intensities, playing with the rhythm to keep her excitement at its peak without letting her reach climax too quickly.

"You like this, don’t you?" you asked, your voice low and sensual.

"Yes... yes, I like it," she responded between moans, her body trembling with pleasure.

The evening continued in a delicate dance of domination and submission, each gesture and word deepening the connection between you two. When you sensed she was ready, you increased the intensity of the vibrator, guiding Cuddy toward a powerful orgasm that left her breathless, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

You gently untied her, removed the blindfold, and held her in your arms, offering soothing words and gentle caresses. "Thank you for trusting me," you whispered into her hair.

Cuddy looked at you with eyes still glazed with pleasure. "Thank you for this unforgettable moment. I feel so much better, so loved."

You remained entwined, savoring the softness of the moment and the depth of your connection, knowing that this experience had further strengthened your love and mutual trust.

You had booked a weekend at a luxury hotel with a spa, jacuzzi, and all the amenities for maximum relaxation. On Saturday morning, after Cuddy had woken up, you greeted her with a mischievous smile.

"Pack your bags, darling, after breakfast," you say, kissing her tenderly. "We're going away for a relaxing weekend."

Cuddy looks at you, surprised but delighted. "Oh really? Where are we going?"

"You'll see," you reply with a wink. "But get ready to be pampered."

After breakfast, you hit the road, leaving behind the worries of the hospital. Upon arriving at the hotel, Cuddy is awestruck by the beauty of the place. The entrance is grand, with lush gardens and soothing fountains. You check in quickly and head to your room, a luxurious suite with breathtaking views of the mountains.

"Wow, this is gorgeous," Cuddy murmurs, impressed. "You've really thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Nothing is too good for you," you reply, hugging her. "Now, let's go enjoy the spa."

You change into fluffy robes and head down to the hotel spa. The atmosphere is serene, with soft music playing in the background and the subtle scent of lavender floating through the air. You start with a relaxing couples' massage, where expert hands work out all the tension from your bodies. The essential oils soothe your minds, and you both feel completely at ease.

After the massage, you head to the private jacuzzi. The warm water and bubbles soothe your tired muscles, adding to your relaxation. Cuddy settles against you, her head resting on your shoulder, a peaceful smile on her lips.

"This is exactly what I needed," she murmurs. "Thank you, darling."

"I knew you needed it," you reply, gently stroking her hair. "You work so hard. You deserve to unwind."

You spend a long time in the jacuzzi, enjoying the warmth and each other’s company. You chat about everything and nothing, letting the bubbles carry away your worries.

In the evening, you dine at the hotel restaurant, savoring a delicious meal paired with exquisite wines. Cuddy is radiant, her eyes shining with happiness and gratitude. "I couldn't be happier," she says, looking at you tenderly. "You make everything so special."

"Because you are special to me," you respond, raising your glass for a toast. "To us and many more moments like this."

The rest of the weekend continues in the same vein of relaxation and joy. You enjoy the pools, saunas, and long walks through the hotel gardens. You laugh, kiss, and take care of each other, further strengthening your bond.

Returning home, you both feel rejuvenated and ready to face the challenges ahead. Cuddy thanks you repeatedly for the perfect weekend, and you are happy to have given her this moment of peace and happiness.

“We should do this more often,” she says as she falls asleep in your arms on the first night back home.

“Yes, we should,” you murmur, a smile on your lips. “I love you, Lisa.”

“I love you too,” she replies softly, and with that, you both drift off to sleep, ready to face whatever the future holds together.

The last evening of your weekend unfolds in a peaceful, loving atmosphere. However, the return to reality looms, bringing with it the pressures and responsibilities you both face. On the evening of your last day off, the mood is slightly tense. Cuddy seems preoccupied, likely already thinking about the challenges awaiting her at the hospital.

As you have breakfast together, you try to reassure her. “You know, everything will be fine at the hospital. We have a great team, and we can handle it together.”

Cuddy gives a faint smile. “I know, but there’s so much to manage. The finances, the new projects, the daily issues. Sometimes it’s just… overwhelming.”

You understand her stress, but you also need to share your own concerns. “I understand, Lisa, but you also need to learn to delegate. You can’t do everything on your own.”

She looks at you, slightly irritated. “It’s easy for you to say. You don’t understand the pressure I’m under as the director.”

Your tone becomes firmer, feeling the injustice of her words. “I know very well what it’s like to work under pressure, Lisa. I’m here for you, but you also need to accept help.”

The rest of the morning is marked by growing tension. You prepare in silence for the return home, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words and accumulated frustrations. During the drive back, you try to initiate some light conversation, but Cuddy responds with one-word answers, clearly still preoccupied.

Once home, the situation finally erupts. “Why can’t you understand that I need support, not criticism?” Cuddy exclaims as she enters the living room.

You turn to her, arms crossed. “I’m not criticizing you, Lisa. I’m trying to help. But you never let me in; you always want to control everything.”

"And you think you could do better?" she retorts, anger in her voice. "You have no idea what it's like to run a hospital."

"Maybe not, but I know what it’s like to manage a relationship," you reply, frustration rising. "And right now, you're not letting me be a part of your life the way I want to."

Cuddy remains silent for a moment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm sorry, it's just… so hard. I'm afraid of losing everything."

You approach her, softening your tone. "We're a team, a couple, Lisa. You're not alone. I'm here, by your side, no matter what. But you have to let me help."

She nods, tears finally streaming down her face. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just that sometimes, everything becomes too overwhelming."

You embrace her, feeling the tension start to ease a little. "We’ll get through this together, okay? But we need to communicate and support each other."

Cuddy nods, cuddling into you. "I promise to make an effort. Thank you for being here for me."

You spend the rest of the day calmly talking, reaffirming your commitment to each other.

After that intense argument and the subsequent reconciliation, you and Cuddy decided to take concrete steps to improve your relationship and lighten the load of responsibilities. True to her promise, Cuddy began delegating more tasks to her colleagues, learning to trust her team. She also agreed to attend therapy sessions to better manage her stress. On your side, you made an effort to be more present and create relaxation moments for both of you. Every weekend, you set aside time for activities together, whether it was a simple walk in the park, a romantic dinner, or a movie night at home. You discovered new shared passions and rekindled those you had neglected.

One evening, after a particularly successful day at the hospital, where the finances were finally starting to improve and a new project was underway, Cuddy came home with a radiant smile. You greeted her with a glass of wine and a carefully prepared dinner.

"I have a surprise for you," she said, her eyes sparkling with joy and mischief.

Intrigued, you followed her into the living room, where she had prepared an envelope adorned with a red ribbon. You opened it carefully, discovering two tickets to a dream destination you had always wanted to visit together.

"I think we deserve a well-earned vacation, this time with no stress and no obligations," she said with a smile.

The days leading up to your departure were filled with excitement and joyful preparations. You discussed everything you wanted to do and see, already imagining the memories you would create together. Upon arriving at your destination, you immersed yourselves in a tropical paradise, savoring every moment together. The days were filled with adventures and discoveries, while the evenings were reserved for moments of tenderness and intimacy. On your last evening, as you watched the sunset on the beach, Cuddy took your hand in hers.

"You know, this year has been tough, but it’s also taught me what truly matters," she said.

You nodded, feeling the emotion rise. "Yes, it’s taught us to support and love each other more deeply."

Cuddy smiled and pulled a small box from her pocket. Opening it, you discovered a beautiful ring. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me, Y/N?"

With tears in your eyes, you answered without hesitation. "Yes, Lisa, I will."

You kissed, your hearts beating as one, savoring this moment of pure happiness. You knew that the road ahead would still be long and filled with challenges, but together, you could overcome anything. Your love was stronger than ever, ready to face the future with hope and determination.

And so, hand in hand, you embarked on this new chapter of your life, with the certainty that nothing and no one could ever tear you apart. After this event, you understood why you had given the necklace to your wife. From the beginning, the clue had been right before your eyes—why you thought of her when you saw the pendant. The same color as her eyes.

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