#my little chaos child......go into the world

[shinysobi]

pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst, light smut

word count: 11k~ish (NOW YOU SEE WHY IT TOOK ME SO LONG)

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply,

a/n: this is the final chapter, a doozy because i dragged my feet instead of completing it. but i wanted to finish this for the new years, and so, here we are, a belated merry christmas present from me to you, and hopefully i can write more in 2025 a/n 2: comments and reblogs are always much appreciated, and i'd like to know your thoughts about this story heheheh

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter 4

Its funny, how easy it is, to slip into habits. Old habits, ones that have seeped into your routine over time. I wake up, check my phone for emails. I make coffee, check my phone for emails. I get dressed for work, check my phone for emails. On weekends, I do chores leftover from the week, read books I have to write reviews of.

I would most certainly not be taking a nap in the middle of a Saturday with Lee Jihoon. I would not be lying down in my bed, lying next to, nay, cuddled up with, Lee Jihoon. If anyone had told me, even a few hours ago, that I would be snuggled up with Lee Jihoon, my best friend since university. Wait. Can we even call ourselves friends?

“Jihoon.” I whisper, elbowing him in the ribs. “Jihoon.”

“Mm, five more minutes,” he mutters, “I’ll get up then.”

“Hey, wasn’t your meeting with the producers this afternoon?” I ask, “you’ll be getting in a world of trouble because you didn’t show up.”

“I won’t be getting in any trouble.” Jihoon replies, voice thick with sleep, “I’m the terrible child of the company. They’ll keep me around as long as I make good songs for them, they’ll change meeting times when I ask them to. They’ll do anything as long as I’m happy.”

“You’re taking advantage of your position,” I smile, shifting closer to him, “anyone would think you have a horrible work ethic.”

“It’s all okay when it’s regarding my—wait, what are we?” Jihoon sits up in the bed, still half-dressed, “are we still friends?”

“Depends. Do you kiss your friends?” I sit up, facing him, “then we’re friends. Otherwise, we’re not.”

Jihoon pulls a face, “I just imagined kissing one of the boys. Ew, no, never.”

“Then I suppose we aren’t friends anymore.” I smile, leaning in, “we’re something else, then.”

“Can I call you my girlfriend yet, or no?”

I laugh. From this angle, his face is soft, so soft it feels as though he’ll evaporate if I try to touch him, “depends. Do you kiss your girlfriends?”

Jihoon grins, pressing his lips to mine, “all the time.”

“M-hmm,” I smile, touching his cheeks, soft and pliable underneath my fingers, “Woozi, aren’t you being a little presumptuous? All the time? What do you mean all the time?”

He pulls a face, “I swear to god, if you start some bullshit again, I’m going to break up with you.”

“And we’ve been together for what, three hours? That has got to be a new record, even for you, Jihoon.” I say, laughing as Jihoon tackles me to the pillows, “not to mention you’ve been pining over me for the past what—six, years, since you went for your military service. Imagine liking someone for that long, and not telling anyone about it.”

“At least I had the decency to keep it to myself like a normal adult,” Jihoon replies, “you on the other hand, you were a wreck after a week. Imagine being that down bad over a man. You should be repulsed by yourself. What would Andrea Dworkin say?”

“And that’s it, we’ve had a good run, bye,” I begin, trying to get out of bed, but Jihoon stops me, “let me go. You said yourself that I should be repulsed because I like you.”

“Three hours and five minutes,” Jihoon replies, “not bad at all, given that two of them were spent sleeping.”

“Really, who the fuck sleeps after getting together with someone? It’s like, violating the first ethics of relationships,” I grumble, “imagine kissing your best friend, who’s now your boyfriend, who then proceeds to take a nap in your bed? Who would do that?”

“Were you disappointed?” Jihoon asks, his expression changing to sly, “were you expecting something else?”

I roll my eyes, struggling to get out of his grip, but unfortunately, all the hours Jihoon has put in the gym has now created a reality where I can no longer get out of his grip, “no, I wasn’t, I was just expecting you to not snore on me after kissing me in my living room.”

His face falls, and he is about to say something, when my phone rings loudly, making me jump, “what the hell? Why is your ringtone so loud?”

“It’s not!” I reply, “I just forgot to switch it back to silent after coming back home today. I had it set on full volume last night. And give that to me.” I swipe to accept the call,  and soon enough, Jeonghan’s voice floats through the speakers.

“How are you two doing?” Jeonghan asks, and I stare at Jihoon, who seems to be equally confused as me.

“Jihoon said he was going to meet you, I figured that you two might have finally gotten your shits together,” he clarifies, “I’m not that old, nor do I have enough sense to stay out of your affairs.”

“Yes, yes, hyung, you’re the nosiest of us all,” Jihoon grumbles from next to me, “yes, we’re doing fine, thank you very much.”

“Great!” I can hear the barely-concealed glee in his voice, “Chan, tell the rest of the guys to pay up. I’m the only one who guessed correctly that they were going to get together by today.”

“Pay up—wait, hyung, you were betting on my love life?” Jihoon screeches, “why the hell would you do that?”

“I’ve seen and heard you pine over her for the past eight years, you nitwit, of course, I’m going to host a betting pool for when you finally get together. Not to mention, you’ve just made me an entirely obscene amount of money, which I’m going to spend happily.”

“Wait, if you knew Jihoon was going to come to see me, why did you take so long to call us?”

“I was being polite.”

“For what?”

“Well, if you two were having sex, I would not like to be calling in the middle of it now, would I?” he giggles even as Jihoon and I both let out twin gasps of surprise, “What? Did you not put years of sexual tension into use?”

“That’s inappropriate, hyung.”

“So, you haven’t.”

“Oppa!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Jeonghan lets out one final demonic cackle (still cannot believe I called him my angel once), “I’ll let you two lovebirds be together. Oh, and Soonyoung told me to tell you, Jihoon, that he’ll take care of the meeting today. You can take a day off once in a while.”

“Thanks, hyung, I’ll go back to sleeping,” Jihoon mutters, handing the phone over to me and immediately burrowing himself in the sheets to get some more sleep.

“I’ll make myself scarce then, shall I?”

“Wait, oppa,” I say, thinking very hard, “you did this on purpose didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I mean the whole situation. You were the one who kept telling me about how long Jihoon has liked me for, and you were the one who I called before Jihoon took the phone away from you and talked to me.” My voice takes on an accusatory note, “Yoon Jeonghan, did you manipulate me and Jihoon into confessing so that you could win a bet?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

“So, you did.” I stand up from the bed, ignoring Jihoon, who’s already snoring softly, “Yoon Jeonghan, you better give us a share of the pool.”

Jeonghan laughs on the other end of the phone, “fine, fine, I will. I’ll take you and Jihoon out for samgyeopsal this week. Cool?”

“Just so you know, while we both will be there, I still don’t appreciate this.”

“Come on, writer,” Jeonghan wheedles, “anyone could see that you were both circling each other for half a decade. It was exhausting to watch, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too!” he hangs up, and I go back to bed, sidling up to Jihoon, who hugs me in his sleep. Its nice, being this way. I can pretend that the world is just the two of us, in my bed, sleeping in the afternoon.

Jihoon doesn’t look lonely anymore. In fact, he looks happy, smiling even in his sleep. When was the last time I saw him like that? A memory floats up to my mind, of another afternoon, spent in Jihoon’s  flat, after we’d all finished giving the final exams. Jihoon had a job lined up with a production company, and I was about to start working with an online fashion magazine. Joshua was in graduate school, and everything was fine. We spent that one afternoon watching trashy soap operas on Netflix, drank too much booze and smoked too many cigarettes, and finally, just before we went to sleep, I could swear I saw a ghost of a smile on Jihoon’s face.

Until a week later, when his enlistment notice came, and I never saw that smile again. But now it is there, and I can reach out and touch him, and I can see his face relax even more under my touch, as if Jihoon had been craving it, even in his denial. I probably have, even after so long. Years of wondering ‘what if’ and now, finally, it’s here.

“Jihoon,” I whisper, “Jihoon.”

“What?” he burrows further into the blankets, “I’m cold now.”

“Jeonghan kind of manipulated us both into getting together.”

“He did?” Jihoon mumbles, “good for him, I now have a girlfriend.”

—

Jihoon wakes up in the middle of the evening, and shakes me awake too, because he’s hungry and I have to cook for him.

“I’m the one who told you about this apartment, so you kind of owe me,” he says, perched on a stool, “and no ramen, please. I’ve been living on that for so long I know all flavours that are there, and the convenience store guy looks at me strangely whenever I go inside.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” I mutter, chopping up vegetables to put in a stew, “I don’t have anything in the house, so you’re going to have to be happy with a random stew of things I found lying in the fridge.”

“That’s fine.” He replies, “at least I don’t have to starve.”

“Yes, Mr Woozi, I appreciate the concern, now wash the rice.”

Lunch (dinner? Linner?) is kimchi stew, with old vegetables and things that were almost going bad, but he eats it like it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant meal. Jihoon is not really picky: I’ve seen him eat everything from day-old scraps to a croissant that was growing mould on it (the less said about that the better) but us eating in my kitchen, this feels strangely domestic to me, in a way that’s almost scary.

“Are you scared?” Jihoon asks, spooning up rice into his mouth, “don’t worry, I’m scared too.”

I stare at him, “have you become psychic, by any chance? Do you want to change your profession to shaman?”

“I’d be a shitty shaman either way,” he replies, “the only person I know how to read well is you. You have that look on your face, so I asked.”

“What look?”

“The look that you get when you’re terrified of something, but you also want to do it.”

“I don’t have a look.”

Jihoon stares at me, “You totally do, I know it; it’s the same look you got when you attempted to take that class on Psychoanalysis in second year.”

“I sucked at it.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, you were terrified, but you also wanted to do it, I know that look. You might think you’re fooling people, and you can, but the last person you can fool is me; Joshua, to an extent, but I doubt he’s made a hobby of reading your every expression over a period of eight years.”

I make a face. Jihoon notices, because of course he does, “that’s the face you make when you don’t like what the other person is saying, but you know that they’re right.”

“That’s unfair, Jihoon.”

“Is it? I’ve known you for so long, of course I should know about your expressions.” He smiles, before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek, “that’s the expression you make when your surprised.”

“Then don’t fucking surprise me!” I press a hand to my cheek, “what was the reason for that?”

“Nothing, just making sure I didn’t dream up the last few hours, and that I can really kiss you whenever I feel like it.”

“I have to want it too, you know. Also, when did you get so keen on physical affection? I’ve literally never seen you be this way with anyone before.’

He shrugs, “I wasn’t pining over those people for years, so that’s there, too.”

I don’t know what to say to this, so I just laugh at his words, “Jihoon, aren’t you being a bit hard on them?”

“On who?”

“The women you’ve dated. The people I’ve dated. Like it or not, they are a part of us. They’ve made us into the kind of people we are today.” I take a sip of the soup, “would you have asked me out if we were in university? Or after you came back from the military?”

He pauses to think about it, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of kimchi, “probably not.”

“And even if you did, we would have hated each other, and broken up in a week. So, let’s not talk about the people who have given a part of their lives to us.”

Jihoon nods, “understood. Does this mean you’re going to invite your exes to your wedding?”

I laugh, “not to that extent, no, but I will respect them for their time and affection that they gave to me because for better or for worse, they were a part of who I was, before I fell in love with you.”

“Fell in love?” Jihoon gasps, “are you saying you’re in love with me?”

“As if this was even part of the question. Of course I’m in love with you.” I take a deep breath, standing up to clear out the remnants of dinner, “I don’t know how to say this properly but, I’ve loved you all throughout the time I’ve known you. As a friend, as a lover, as my family here in Seoul. I’ve loved you all the time. At the risk of sounding cringe, there has not been a time when I haven’t been full of love for you. Even if it didn’t seem that way, I’ve loved you for years.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, instead wraps me into a hug, “have you been taking lessons on how to deliver a speech?”

“Why, yes, I have.”

He giggles, which is a rare sound coming from him, “I’ve always loved you too. Even if I didn’t show it, even if I didn’t express it well, I have loved you.”

I kiss him, “sorry for taking all this time to realise my feelings.”

He shakes his head, “no, don’t be sorry for that. The way you are, the way you will be, I’ll always love you.”

—

I text Eunseo in the evening, asking her to meet me for coffee. Joshua and Jihoon are both too busy for brunch, so I have some time to burn. Eunseo texts me back within minutes, eagerly agreeing to meet me. I text her the name of the same café the three of us go to for brunch.

“You look great,” Eunseo says as soon as I walk in, “did something great happen?”

I stare at her. She’s dressed to go out this morning, wearing a light green dress under a heavy brown coat. In comparison, I’m wearing my office pants and a white shirt. We’re dressed miles apart. Saying that I look good is almost an insult.

But Eunseo doesn’t insult anyone, even knowingly, so I take my seat and say, “you’re joking.”

“No, not at all,” she replies, “you’ve got this glow that I cannot really put my finger on. It seems as though something great happened in the past few days.”

“Well, I did begin seeing Jihoon, so,” I shrug, but Eunseo is already clapping her hands in joy, “what? What’s going on?”

“Wait, I have to tell Joshua to come meet us,” she chirps, “I’m not saying anything until he comes back, but I’m so happy for you, you have no idea.”

Joshua, who was looking at suits in the morning, comes to the café within minutes, by which we already have ordered a bunch of things. He comes in looking harried, and the first thing he says, “I thought this was an emergency! You texted me she was dying!”

Eunseo laughs, “that was the only way to get your attention, josh, I’m so sorry.” Her expression shows that she isn’t sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Joshua sits down on the chairs, “you’re not sorry at all, Eunseo.”

They share a sweet moment, and normally, I’d pull a face and call them cringe, but today, I just don’t feel like it. maybe it’s the hormones of being in a relationship, or maybe I’m finally growing soft around the edges, but I think, what would happen if I text Jihoon to come see us right now? He’d probably scowl and refuse, but I can’t help but imagine the two of us in place of Joshua and Eunseo, sharing a nice moment. This is it; I think to myself, this is the moment you realise you’ve gone entirely crazy because of a man.

“Anyway,” I say loudly, interrupting the two of them, “Eunseo called you here because I have an announcement.”

Joshua stares at the two of us, “is she dying?”

“No! What the fuck, Joshua, I’m not dying!” I say, irritated by this line of conversation, “as I was telling Eunseo, I’m not dying, I just began seeing Jihoon.”

“But you can see him all the time,” Joshua says, still clueless as ever.

“Romantically. Joshua, romantically. We’re dating.” I say, rolling my eyes.

Joshua stares at me, speechless for a whole ten seconds, before he starts laughing, “finally. Cannot believe I had to endure all those years of Jihoon pining over you and you dancing around him because you wanted to avoid your own feelings.” He turns to Eunseo, who looks equal parts disgusted and horrified, “they are probably two of the most obvious people in existence.”

I narrow my eyes, “you both knew about this? And no one told me?”

To her credit, Eunseo looks apologetic, “I just didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge that we all were aware of the dynamics between you and Jihoon; you seemed like you were still figuring it out, and Jihoon didn’t seem like he wanted anyone else to know. But he’s right, you know. You two were seriously the most obvious people in the world.”

I want the earth to split up and swallow me whole, right at this moment. What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world? “What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world?” I wasn’t even aware that Jihoon had feelings for me until a few months ago! “I wasn’t even aware of my own feelings until very recently.”

Before Eunseo can reply to my statement, her phone rings, and she makes a face before picking it up, saying, “it’s the realtor. He is supposed to meet us later in the week.”

Joshua pulls an identical face, and not for the first time since they started dating, I wonder why it is that all couples start to look alike after a few years of being together. However, for the first time, I also wonder how Jihoon and I would look like after a few years together. Would we be annoying, like Joshua and Eunseo? Or would we be one of those couples who always fought and broke up and patched up, all within the span of a week, like those people in university? But that would mean I’d have to spend enough time with Jihoon, becoming one of those couples.

“You’re putting on your thinking face,” Joshua says, bringing me out of my reverie, “it’s the expression you make whenever you’re imagining something.”

“I don’t do that,” I defend reflexively, but I know he’s true, simply because this is not the first time someone has told me about my ‘thinking face’. It is, however, the first time that someone has called me out when I was thinking about Jihoon. “What were you saying?”

“Eunseo just left to take the call from the realtor,” Joshua smiles, “I must say, I saw this coming from a mile away.”

I scowl, “what do you mean you saw this coming from a mile away? I’m not someone who’s that predictable, am I?”

“Well, it is true. You are kind of predictable,” Joshua shrugs, “you’ve been wearing the same clothes since university, you eat the same ten dishes all the time, and you even like the same kind of side dishes. You’re very predictable.”

I sigh, “yes, fine, I’m predictable. Still doesn’t mean you saw this coming from a mile away.”

“Have you seen the way you and Jihoon behave around each other? No matter how much you say that you can’t stand the sight of the other person, Jihoon cares about you the most. He drops everything at a moment’s notice to come to your aid. You do the same thing too, it’s just that you aren’t as forthcoming about it as him.”

“Was that why you were behaving weirdly on that night?”

“What night?” Joshua seems to have entirely forgotten that one Sunday, except it is ingrained into my mind like its just yesterday, “I don’t remember anything.”

“The night that you proposed to Eunseo,” I say, trying my best to not sound frustrated, “when Jihoon told you he was helping me hook up with people, you reacted really strangely.”

“Oh, yes, I did,” Joshua looks sheepish, “I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, but it was very confusing for me.”

“Confusing?”

“Imagine one of your closest friends, who has been pining over another one of your closest friends, telling you that he is helping the girl he has had a crush on for the past six years, in getting her a boyfriend. How would you feel about that?”

“Um, well,” I pause on it, “I’d think my friend was stupid.”

“That’s it!” Joshua yells, “see how it was confusing for me? all throughout university I thought Jihoon had a crush on you, but all of a sudden, after years as your friend,  he’s trying to set you up with other men? I thought he was being an idiot.”

“Well, I told him he shouldn’t be doing that,” I grumble, “he didn’t even listen to me and went and blabbed to you about how he was going to set me up with one of the boys.”

“You were the one who made that comment about Mingyu,” Joshua accuses, “I’d better not see you make any excuses for yourself. And what does ‘platonically motorboat’  even mean?”

“It means you would like to motorboat someone, but platonically, not romantically,” Eunseo says, walking into the café, “babe, the realtor wants to see us today, if we can.”

“Really? He wants to meet us today? After changing the date so many times?” Joshua groans, “never mind. We should be glad he’s meeting us poor people, who just want to buy a newlywed home.”

“You should be glad he’s meeting you at all,” I say, gesturing for the check, “if I ever saw a credit score as bad as yours’, I’d refuse to give you any credit, let alone show you houses.”

Both of them pull identical scowls, “yes, yes, showing off your excellent credit, go on,” Joshua says, “I just know you bragged all about it to Jihoon already.”

“You’re not wrong,” I reply, grinning, “but Jihoon said I should brag to others too, so I’m bragging to you.”

“Never mind her babe,” Eunseo puts her hands over Joshua’s ears, “she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

The three of us walk out into the early winter morning, shivering in the cold. Joshua and Eunseo promptly set off in a taxi to go meet their realtor, while I make my way to my apartment, suppressing my urge to text Jihoon about his work. I’ve been endlessly curious about his process ever since university, but the only times he’s allowed me into the studio I’ve either fallen asleep within ten minutes of being there, or we had conversations about things that were not related to his music production. On the other hand, if I text him right now, badgering him about his work, I will seem like either a. an insane, clingy girlfriend, or b. a stupid, clingy girlfriend. In both cases, Jihoon is going to get sick of me so fast, he’s going to break a record with how fast he’s going to dump me.

In university, I was part of the journalism club, and on the first group outing, one of the seniors, drunk off of one too many soju cocktails, had taken the first-years aside and talked about how one should behave when in a relationship. “Now listen,” she had said, “never, I repeat, never, let him know that you’re into him, especially in the first few months of dating. The less he knows about your real feelings, the better.”

“But sunbae,” one of my freshman year-mates had raised her hand, “what happens if your boyfriend gets to know how much you like him in the first few months of the relationship?”

The senior had sighed, before saying, “you’ve got to understand why men like women. They don’t like the person we actually are; they like the chase. They like the person we pretend to be when we start dating them for the first time. Therefore, unless you’re absolutely sure that this is a man you want to keep around for a long time, you must not let your real self show around him.”

We had all nodded, as if we understood what she was talking about, and I had spent the last few years   of my life earnestly following this rule. Never allowing my real self to be shown around the people I have dated. But now I’m dating Jihoon, who has been around for all of the embarrassing chapters of my life. How do I navigate this new change in dynamic?

My phone pings, and I look down, expecting a text from Joshua or Eunseo, talking about their wedding, but instead of the two of them, its Jihoon.

hoon: did you tell joshuji?

hoon: he just texted me btw

hoon: he also says that we have both been huge idiots

I pause in the middle of the road in my surprise, and narrowly miss hitting a pedestrian. I always knew Joshua was a snitch, but telling Jihoon not even ten minutes after I’ve left? That’s just low.

big dick (canon): cannot believe Joshua snitched

big dick (canon): actually no, I do believe it

big dick (canon): he and Eunseo ditched me after brunch so I’m now being forced to go back to my home

big dick (canon): my home that I love and adore

big dick (canon): but still, I don’t really want to hang out in my apartment all by myself

big dick (canon): it’s so boring

big dick (canon): I’m going to kms

hoon: you know, one of the many, many perks of having me as your boyfriend is

hoon: that you can come hang out in the studio with me all the time

hoon: and I won’t even get angry with you, unlike how I get with others

hoon: because I love you, and this is a perk I provide to my loved ones ONLY

big dick (canon): you have canonically told all twelve of your friends to fuck off from the studio, at least once in your lifetime

big dick (canon): and I’m not even including all the times you have told me no for an interview

big dick (canon): if I count all those times, its going to go to a hundred, EASILY

big dick (canon): and you’re telling me to come hang out with you

big dick (canon): this is HIGHLY sus

hoon: just come to the studio my god you’re so dramatic

hoon: don’t take this as a sign to stop being dramatic, I actually like it when you do that

hoon: if you tell this to anyone else, I’m going to deny it and kill you

big dick (canon): you won’t do that you like me too much

big dick (canon): anyway, should I bring something for you to eat

hoon: have I ever told you that I love u

big dick (canon): yes, u have

big dick (canon): multiple times, in fact

hoon: ugh so dramatic

big dick (canon): I won’t get you anything, then

hoon: get me some fried chicken

big dick (canon): I’m having it delivered to your studio. I’m coming in ten

By the time I enter Jihoon’s studio, the chicken has been delivered, and I open the door to see Jihoon munching on a drumstick. Unlike other days, the studio is messy, and he looks like he’s been through hell. Which, if you take Jihoon’s word for it, is not much, just three meetings.

“Shouldn’t you leave one drumstick for me?” I ask, shrugging my winter coat off, “fuck, its cold as hell outside.”

“Needed brain food,” Jihoon replies through a mouthful of chicken, “had a meeting in the morning, the sound engineers needed some changes to be done to Hoshi’s title track.”

“Sounds like shit,” I mutter, picking up a piece, “you’ve been working on that since the morning?”

“Not just that, but the girl group song too,” he replies, “they liked the first song so much that they want another song from me. I’ve been looking through the scratch files on my computer to find out what songs I can give to them that aren’t emo ballads I made after one too many drinks.”

“You know, some of us just vomit after getting wasted. Are you trying to brag to me that you become more creative when drunk?”

“I’m not bragging, some of these are actually atrocious,” he says, pointing to the icons on the screen, “this one is just called ‘I’m never going to be alive’. What does that mean? Why was I thinking about this at three in the morning?”

“Entertaining suicidal thoughts at three in the morning is something we’ve all done, actually.”

“This is just called ‘Love hurts’, and this one, I named it ‘Park PD is a bitch’.”

“I’ll go tell him you said that.” I laugh when Jihoon’s face darkens, “okay, okay, fine, I won’t, but why do you hate him so much?”

“I don’t hate him at all. he was probably getting on my nerves at that moment, and instead of talking it out like real adults, I chose to instead make a song draft calling him a bitch.”

I look closely at the computer screen, “Wait, Jihoon. All of these songs are love songs. To an extent. How many love songs have you written over the years?”

He takes a minute to answer that, “since university, I’ve either created existential songs or love songs, so, I’d say, about a hundred? Give or take, but I won’t put a number on it, since I’m not really sure.”

“You wrote about a hundred love songs?”

“Yes, I did, and they’re all in here,” Jihoon pats the external hard drive hooked up to the computer, “this holds pretty much all of my work.”

“Makes sense as to why you would guard it with your life.” I reply.

I go to sit back down, putting my feet up on the sofa, and Jihoon gives me a dirty look. I just smile in reply. He’s always a stickler for these kind of rules, but it’s funny to see him be so rattled. I’m not going to lie and say that seeing him be irritated is funny, because it is. An angry Jihoon is a cute Jihoon, I’ve learnt that back in university. Especially when he pouts like that.

“You still wear minion socks?” Jihoon says, stuffing his mouth with chicken, “I gave you that as a gag gift last year, you should have thrown them out as soon as you got them.”

“I like the socks. They’re comfortable.” I reply, shrugging, “who gave you the idea to give me socks as a gag gift?”

“Soonyoung. He thought it would be funny to give you cartoon socks.”

“Joke’s on him, I like having my feet warm.”

After Jihoon and I finish the chicken and clean up in record time, he goes back to his workstation, and I’m free to observe him as much as I want to. Seeing Jihoon in his element is always an experience. Even in university, I used to observe him when he worked. He has a singular focus on whatever he does, from eating to producing music. I’m also not going to lie to myself and say that he isn’t attractive when he works, because somehow his attractiveness gets turned up a hundred notches when he’s working. Or maybe, I like him too much and I find everything about him attractive. His eyes are laser-focused on his work, and the lines of his neck, disappearing into his shirt, is at odds with the Jihoon in my bed yesterday, peacefully sleeping as he held me for warmth. Before last night, I never knew that Lee Jihoon was someone who got cold even underneath a comforter, and liked holding someone else for warmth.

“You’re staring,” Jihoon says, breaking my line of thought, “I’ve been talking to you for the past ten seconds and you’ve been staring into space.”

“I was just looking at my handsome boyfriend as he works. Is that not allowed?”

“Stop saying that.” He mutters, going back to his work, but I can see him turning red. Jackpot.

“Jihoon.”

“Hm?”

“Are you blushing right now?”

He turns around to give me an impressive glare, “no, I’m not.”

“The back of your neck is red.” I grin, “were you getting shy?”

“No, I wasn’t.” he lies, his ears going red. At this rate, he might burst into fumes.

“Your ears say otherwise, Jihoon,” I stand up, walking over to his chair, “your ears and your neck is red. You’re getting shy, aren’t you?”

“What! No, I’m not—” he pauses for a moment, turning away from me, before grabbing me by the waist, “stop teasing.”

“I won’t,” I giggle, taking the opportunity to climb into his lap, “see! You’re going all red.”

His face is still turned away from me, but I can see the blush on his cheeks, “are you going to continue to lie to me, Jihoon?”

He pauses, before huffing, “you’re gonna regret teasing me, you know.”

“Pretty sure I won’t—aah!”

Unfortunately, my plan had but one singular flaw in it. I had underestimated how much he worked out on a weekly basis. Jihoon just glares at me, before picking me up and walks over to the sofa, my legs dangling around his waist. Seriously, how much does this guy work out?

“Really? I was working, and in the zone, and you had to tease me like that?” he grumbles, before unceremoniously dumping me on the sofa, “I shouldn’t have invited you over. Let me go back to work.”

“But you did,” I grin, my hands around his neck, “you invited me over. Lured me in, I’ should say. You lured me in, and now you should pay the price.”

Jihoon groans, before smiling, “is this how it’s going to be all the time?”

“Mm, I’m afraid so.”

Lying down on the sofa, I can see the lights on the ceiling, bright white, ones that Jihoon claimed helped him with his workflow. I hated them in the beginning, claimed that they hurt my eyes, but over time, I grew used to them, to the point where I can’t imagine there being anything else. Bright white lights. A comfortable sofa. Jihoon’s face obscuring my vision, so close that I can make out every individual eyelash. His mouth, full and open, insistent against mine. Jihoon kisses like he wants to do nothing else, I’ve realised. As though this was what he wanted to do all along. Anything is okay. I’m not afraid of falling, if it’s Jihoon. which is why  I find myself doing strange things. Like allowing him to touch me, even if it’s in the middle of day, in a room where anyone might come in; like allowing him to undress me, even if I’m underneath harsh white lights. Because its him, because its Jihoon. I can touch him in return, slip my hands underneath the shirt he’s wearing, because I can press my mouth just as insistently against him as him.

“So, this is how it’s going to be, is it?” he says, unbuttoning my shirt, “wait. You’re not wearing a bra?”

I roll my eyes. Of all the things he can talk about, this is what he chooses to focus on? “No, Jihoon, its winter. I’m wearing three layers over this. Of course I don’t want to wear a bra. It’s too much work.”

“I wish it was winter forever,” he replies, continuing to unbutton my shirt, “good god, if this is the outcome, I wish it was winter all throughout the year.”

“The economy is gonna hate you.” I mumble against his mouth, “imagine a whole year of winter. The economy is gonna go haywire. And all because you’re horny.”

“It’s a proof of how much I’m attracted to you, that I’m still working on  your shirt after you just started talking about the economy,” Jihoon finally manages to slip off the shirt I’m wearing, “total buzzkill.”

I scowl, yanking his shirt over his head in one go, “sorry I’m such a buzzkill, then.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Jihoon kisses my cheek, “you’re so beautiful. Have I told you that?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Remind me to tell you this every day, then.” His hands are soft on my hair, stroking, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

“Even compared to Jeonghan?”

“Even compared to Jeonghan.” He repeats, “why do you have to bring him up now?”

“Just like that.” I smile, kissing him softly, “so, you like this?’

“Is this how it’s going to be now? For the foreseeable future?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Thank god,” Jihoon murmurs, his hands on the button closure of my trousers, “I can’t wait for the future, then.”

—

Being in this industry means you have to meet with a lot of people. When I say a lot of people, I do mean a lot of people. I’ve managed to keep my connections alive, but it has not been easy getting to this place. Not the least for someone like me, who had no one in the industry to rely on. In the beginning, when I was working at the fashion magazine, everywhere I went I would be marked as an outsider, and it was surprising how easily doors could get closed. I’ve always been resentful of those times, but now, now it feels like a moment in time that never called its name out for me, and I cannot bring myself to care.

These are the thoughts that I usually have in the mornings. But now, things have changed.

For one, Jihoon is sleeping next to me, his hands holding me close. Its strange, looking at him like this, peaceful instead of a permanent frown etched into his brow, a small smile on his face instead of the scowl that seems to have carved out its own position on his face.

Nowadays, I wake up before Jihoon does, and on most days, I spend some time looking at his face. He was always beautiful, but now, now he looks ethereal. It takes all my self-control to not run from this, because how can someone like me be happy? What right do I have to happiness?

“You’re thinking too much again,” Jihoon says, shaking my train of thought loose, “I can practically hear your gears turning.”

“Morning,” I reply, hoping it sounds smooth and easy and not like I’ve been consumed with depressing thoughts.

Jihoon hums, pulling me in closer, “you always think too much. Its time you stopped thinking so fast.”

“Hm? Do you have a way of doing that?”

That gets his attention, and he opens his eyes. Still sleepy, but fully awake. “You want me to do something about your overthinking?”

“Yes.”

“Hm, I have a thought on how you can change that.”

“And what is that?”

He smiles, half-awake, and kisses me, and my mouth eagerly opens up to let his tongue swipe in, mapping the inside of my mouth with as much ease as he does when composing music. its almost embarrassing how eagerly my body responds to his touch, my hands finding their way inside Jihoon’s shirt without missing a beat, bringing him closer to me as if it’s a dance we have practiced over a long time. It’s a good thing that Jihoon is just as eager as me, pressing himself against me roughly, hard from the barest of touches. If he wasn’t wearing his sweatpants, he would realise just how wet I was from his touches alone, how he managed to reduce me to a wet, moaning mess with only a ghost of his touch and nothing more.

“Mm, just so you know, you’re kind of fulfilling a dream of mine.”

“Which is?”

“Having my way with you in the morning.” Jihoon grins, sitting up to pull his shirt off over his head, and my eyes widen as large purple blotches come into view. God, what did I do—those look like the work of a feral animal, not a mostly sane woman in her twenties. He, on the other hand, looks composed, dragging my shirt up and adding it to the pile on the floor. Almost immediately, his mouth is back on mine, his large hands manhandling my breasts. He’s just as affected as I am, moaning into my mouth as his fingers pinch and twist my nipples, the two of us barely managing to not devolve into a moaning, screaming, mess.

“Have I told you,” he yawns, coming up for breath, “your tits are incredible.”

I scoff, “yes, yes you have, Jihoon, multiple times. I get it, you like them.”

“Like them?” Jihoon grins, shoving two fingers into my mouth before putting his on  my nipple and sucking me hard enough to cry, “babe, I love them, they are perfect.”

Fuck. Jihoon’s obsession with my breasts means that he spent half an hour getting me off last night with his mouth and fingers alone, and I’m oversensitive to the point where his current ministrations are toeing the line between pain and pleasure. His fingers are in my mouth, long and deft, and I can remember where they had been the previous night.

“You gave me enough hickeys to last a lifetime, baby,” Jihoon mutters, still sucking roughly on my breasts, “it’s only fair I get to return the favour.”

Before I can even process what he means, he bites down on my nipple, hard enough that my back arches from the mix of pain and pleasure, and he can feel exactly how wet I already am. At this rate, he doesn’t even need to prepare me to fuck me, he can slide into me with ease, without even taking off his pants.

Jihoon is tired, sleepy, and so am I, the initial rush of waking up next to him fading away quickly as the early morning catches up to the both of us. There’s nothing rushed about the way he’s pushing in and out of me right now; it’s a slow embrace, something that I can hold on to for the rest of my day. Jihoon’s back is wide enough that I can’t really wrap my arms around him, and his mouth is slow against mine, insistent but not really pushing. It’s all Jihoon, and my brain is slowly going into overdrive because of how close he is.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Jihoon asks, after we’re both finished, lying in a haze of our own happiness, oblivious to the world around us, “if I haven’t, consider it an oversight I wish to rectify. As much time as it takes.”

“Are you—proposing to me right now?” I ask.

“Well, it’s not really a proposal yet, but I am going to. And it’s going to be with flowers and a grand gesture that you really can’t turn down.”

“Never took you for a romanticist, Lee Jihoon.”

“Well, that’s the beauty of dating me.”

—

Mr Hong is an impressive writer, which is perhaps why I have always been a little jealous of him and his work. It’s also not at all strange as to why he only agrees to interviews with me, given his prickly demeanour, which has not really improved in the years that I have managed to work with him.

But even with all my misgivings, work is work, and I make my way to the office to pick up my files for the interview, and Seungkwan offers me a warm latte, insisting that I should carry it into the interview. The drink is still warm in my hands, and I stare at him. he just shrugs, “what, you should take it to him, it’ll look nice if we bring him something to drink in an interview.”

“Seungkwan,” I say, trying my best not to laugh, “have you read all of Mr Hong’s interviews with me?”

“Yes, I have, why?”

“Then you should also know that he only drinks tea from a specific tea garden in India, right?”

Seungkwan stares back. “He’s that much of a tea snob?”

“He earns ten billion per year in book sales, he can afford to be a tea snob. He imports the tea himself. He doesn’t drink coffee, and he would also hate it if I offered him a drink. It makes him feel like he’s not being a good host to me.”

“She’s like a criminal profiler when it comes to him,” the Editor hands Seungkwan a file, “managed to get all this information from the one single television segment filmed at his house.”

“Kind of forced to, since there was no prior information on him,” I mutter, but Seungkwan’s eyes widen, and he grabs my hands, eyes shining, “what the hell are you doing? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“You’re so cool, sunbae,” Seungkwan says, almost giggling from his excitement, “can’t believe you exist.”

“Seems like her boyfriend cannot believe she exists either,” The Assistant Editor sets down a cup of coffee at my desk, “cute guy. Handed me the coffee and said I should give it to the Associate Editor.”

“Jihoon said that?” I ask, picking up the warm cup. It’s an iced café mocha, sugary enough for Seungkwan to cringe when he takes a taste of it. “Jihoon doesn’t really refer to me by my title.”

“He always does with us, though,” Seungkwan says, “in fact, he’s been quite besotted with you since your university days.”

“University? It took them that long?” Haewon tuts, “really, sunbae, you should have just gotten together by now.”

“He should be doing that more, if you ask me,” the Assistant Editor smiles, “how does it feel to be the author of one of the most popular columns in the newspaper? There are a couple thousand hits on it every day, and that’s me being conservative with the estimate.”

“They love that column,” the Editor pipes up, “we sure are a depressed country.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve just been giving a voice to the most depraved of our society,” I mutter, slinging my bag over my shoulder in what feels like a fourth time this morning, “Seungkwan, are you coming along?”

“Yes!”

Writer Hong’s house is in the same neighbourhood as Jeonghan’s, but he has been living in it since the 90’s and to my knowledge, there has not been a violent murder to reduce the price of the house. Not that he would complain about it, given his obsession with true crime and the lurid crime novels he had written in the 80’s under a pseudonym that I had dug out for him to agree for an interview; because while the television segment did help, it was nothing compared to the immovable force of Writer Hong’s refusal to be in the spotlight. Which is why I had to yell out one of the names of his books (written in the 80’s) before he could disconnect the call. It was the first month I had been working at the news desk, and I was different. Hungrier. For recognition, or for someone to tell me that leaving my comparatively cushy, but dead-end job at a fashion magazine to pursue a career in journalism (good journalism), but journalism that does not pay the bills, was a bad idea. It was my first scoop, and I still remember being congratulated around the office like I had conquered a country. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, something a young writer had accomplished against the better judgement of all the adults involved.

But then Writer Hong had gone and taken a shine to me. I like the way you conduct interviews, he had said, very short. Not like those other blithering idiots who only go on and on about how great my work is.

Which brings me and Seungkwan to this morning, standing outside his mansion—it’s a mansion, a house the two of us can only dream of buying one day—in the cold winter air, Seungkwan nervously clutching the file he’s kept holding on to ever since we left the office building.

I ring the doorbell, and Seungkwan whimpers. Whimpers. I give him a sharp look, and he manages to compose himself just in time for Writer Hong to open the door, grumpy and ruffled, but he opens the door and lets us in, and soon enough, we are sitting in the middle of a tastefully done room, waiting for him to serve us with expensive Darjeeling tea. Seungkwan’s foot vibrates at an almost supersonic speed.

“So,” he says without much of a preamble, entering the room holding a teakwood tray, “I should call you Writer now, instead of Associate Editor.”

Its difficult to stop the blush that spreads across my cheeks, and even Seungkwan lightens up at that statement. Writer Hong had always been someone who valued propriety and how to address someone properly above all else, a relic of the old age, even if he had hated it in his youth.

“I’m still Associate Editor to you, sir,” I reply, holding the porcelain teacup carefully, “the writing is just a column.”

“And one of the better columns I’ve read in the last few years,” he grumbles, “my wife made me read it, you know. And I thought it was nice. Better than what that hack Kim Hong-Sik has been getting up to in these past few days.”

“Did not think a column on unachieved dreams would be exciting to you, sir,” I say, with a small smile, and he guffaws.

“You should start writing properly, then,” he says, “if you think your column is not deserving  of praise, going against the word of me, arguably the best writer Korea has seen in the past few decades.”

“That’s going a bit overboard, don’t you think, sir?” I say, and Seungkwan gasps, but Writer Hong just laughs ad laughs, “I mean, Han Kang exists.”

“Best Male author, then.”

The rest of the interview goes smoothly, and he even warms up to Seungkwan considerably, although he calls his way of peeling oranges ‘disgraceful to the flavour of an orange’. Its good, and it makes me feel accomplished, at noon, and before we leave, he even relents to take a picture with me, amidst his impressive collection of Korean art.  

“That went very well,” Seungkwan says, as we flag down a taxi, “didn’t know he could be like that. He’s usually so—reserved. And grumpy. In all the award shows.”

“He’s big on privacy, but fame really got to that.”

“Privacy?”

“There was once a story about his daughter, who passed away before she turned a year old. He and his wife hated that article so much he stopped giving interviews.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say, closing my eyes, and Seungkwan falls silent. He was probably too young to have read that article—hell, I was too young to have read that article, but its easy, to wield this destructive power if you have it, especially without any regard for how the other party might feel about it; most people in my line of work get drunk on it, ruining lives just for the sake of ruining them.

We pick up lunch at a corner store, and walk into the office building in silence. Seungkwan has been looking up old articles, and he’s upset, clearly, given how his mouth settles into a frown, one that doesn’t go away even after Haewon presents us with doughnuts from the cafeteria, a present, she says, from the Editor-in-Chief.

“They’re waiting for you in the Meeting room,” she tells me, and I frown, because why the hell would they be there?

“Ah, there’s the Associate Editor!” the Editor booms, his head poking out of the meeting room door, “come have a chat with us.”

Its normal, jovial even, but I approach the room cautiously, only to be greeted with wide smiles from the two men.

“There’s a book deal for you.” The Editor-in-Chief,  a man of blessedly few words, says, as soon as I enter, “they like the column, and they want to publish it.”

“Of course, the legal team is going to establish your fees and how much of it should be going to the company—” they drone on, but all the words and thoughts have flow out of my head because holy shit I have a book deal now. Writer Hong’s words from this morning come to mind, and I smile and nod through the entire meeting, assuring them that while the company’s lawyers are sufficient, I should like to talk to my own lawyers about this, and that everything is okay, I would really like to go over the terms and conditions of the contract before signing it, and yes, I was reviewing it positively. While they hate that a column is possibly going out of circulation, they can’t help but think about all the extra money this is going to be bringing in, the extra money and the popularity, being known as the company that fostered a young author’s work. It’s a win-win deal, one that I would be stupid to turn down.

I leave the meeting room and call Jihoon, my hands shaking, and he picks up within three rings, his voice soothing and calm like it always is, “hello?”

“I’m going to be a writer,” I say, no other explanation or long-winded preamble, and Jihoon understands, “can you come pick me up from work?”

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

I stand up, straighten my pants, and leave the bathroom, marching straight up to the editor’s desk, “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

“The rest of the day?” he sputters, “wait, what about the interview?”

Seungkwan pops up his head, “I can write that. It’s just compiling all that was said.”

“I’ll check it, and Seungkwan needs to take point on a project,” I say, “besides, if you want me to focus on the column full-time, then someone needs to interview Writer Hong instead of me, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t be leaving in the middle of the day,” he protests weakly, and the Assistant Editor smacks him with a pamphlet, “what was that for?”

“Clearly, she has someone waiting to pick her up, you buffoon,” she groans, “when will you understand? Just because your love life is barren, doesn’t mean everyone else is the same as you.”

Seungkwan winces, “wait, are you going home with Jihoon-hyung right now?”

I roll my eyes, “would you prefer to have the sordid details?”

“No, thank you.”

A peal of laughter follows me as I walk out of the office, and then the elevator and then Jihoon is standing in the lobby, flushed and wonderful, his nose red in the snow and biting wind. Because I’m a sane woman who is not given to theatrics, I merely walk up to him and tuck my arm into his, moving past the sliding doors onto the street. He’s wearing slippers, I notice, he must have come here straight from the studio.

“Very different from the feral woman who attacked me last night, I see,” Jihoon murmurs, strapping me into the seat of his car and kissing me for a tad bit (okay, thirty seconds) longer than what can be termed as an appropriate hello kiss.

“I was not that feral.”

“I have to wear a turtleneck for a week!” he exclaims, pulling down his shirt to show the extent of the damage, and I look away, embarrassed, “no! you don’t get to look away from me!”

“I like you in turtlenecks.”

That pleases him, and he smiles , “then I’ll wear them throughout the year.”

“Jihoon, you’ll suffocate.”

“I’ll have you.” He grins, “so, celebration?”

“I want to laze away today. Take a nap. Order shitty food.”

“I’m assuming there’s coitus involved. And not to mention, you dragged me out of work today.”

I wrinkle my nose, “do not say that word ever again, or else I’m kicking you out of my bed. And besides, what’s the point in being a famous producer if they don’t let you get home to your fiancée now and then?”

“What, coitus?”

“You’re no longer allowed into my bed,” I mutter darkly, and he just laughs.

The apartment building is mostly quiet this time of the day, but we pass a fair few old people who give us strange looks for coming back so early from work. Given that there have been multiple witnesses to me coming back at one in the morning, tired from overtime, and Jihoon walking into the elevator when the old ladies have finished their morning stroll, dark shadows under his eyes so pronounced he had to sleep for a week to get rid of them.

Jihoon presses the code to his home, and the two of us walk into the hallway, closing the door behind us to avoid the cold draught from chilling us to the bone.

“What should we get/” Jihoon toes off his slippers, scrolling absent-minded through his phone, “there’s a shop that delivers samgyetang, and I thought we could get some delivered, since you’ve been coming down with that cold for the past few days.”

“I’d like that,” I shake off my own shoes, sensible boots compared to Jihoon’s slippers, and kiss him again, for no other reason that I can and I will. He smiles against my mouth, “order me a whole chicken, Jihoon-ssi.”

“Two whole chickens,” he amends, “we can have the soup throughout the week. Shower?”

It is an innocuous enough question, but the way Jihoon’s eyes flash makes something shift inside of me, and I find myself returning his little smirk, peeling off the heavy coat, “you know there’s a water shortage.”

“Hmm. Its very bad. We should be conserving all the water we can.”

Jihoon pulls me close to kiss me again, and I laugh, leading him towards the shower.

—

My hometown is a quiet town. Sleepy, with neighbours that know everything about everyone. I used to hate them when I was younger, hated the way they always compared me to my sister, told me I had to be better in order for me to meet my parents’ expectations, as if nothing I did was good enough when compared to her. Nowadays, it’s a welcome distraction; reminding me of the fact that nothing in my town really changes, or will ever change. Not for the better, nor for the worse.

“Oh, are you here for the wedding?” the old man at the fruit shop says, as Jihoon and I walk out of the car, Jihoon yawning behind a closed fist, having slept half the way while I drove, “wait, you’re Yong-Hwa’s sister-in-law!”

“Yes, we’re here for the wedding,” I reply, as Jihoon shakes the falling cherry blossoms out of his hair, “just wanted to pick some fruits to take back to the house.”

That get’s his attention, and he spends an entire half-hour detailing to us every fruit he had at the store, and how good they would taste in season. In the end, we buy a box of strawberries, ones that he assures me are going to ‘taste like heaven’, and Jihoon is taking the driver’s seat for once, and we are speeding towards the house where I have spent my childhood and adolescence.

“Hasn’t been that long since I visited this place.” Jihoon says, turning a corner so that my home is visible, “this feels different somehow.”

“Yes, well, we weren’t together when you visited my mom. And its only a reminder of how much she wants me to visit, and I keep avoiding her requests.”

“But you’re here for the wedding.” He says, and I turn to look at him. Jihoon looks resolute, his mouth set in a line I haven’t seen for a long time, the light casting deep shadows on his face. My eyes move to the smooth gold band on his ring finger, its identical twin gleaming on my hand. He’s nervous, navigating this journey from being my friend to being my intended, meeting the family all over again, essentially.

There are flowers all over the house, bursting into bloom for my sister’s wedding, and I think to myself, this is how it usually is, huh. It’s a surprise that the usual dread that settles into me at the thought of getting married has been replaced with a pleasant anticipation, looking forward to navigating a lifetime with Jihoon.

“You’re here!” my mother shouts as we get down from the car, “they’re here!” she yells to someone inside the house, and soon enough, my father ambles out, looking every bit the disgruntles, emotionless father I had grown up with, looking at his youngest daughter and her partner. My mother envelops me into a crushing hug, but its my father’s gaze that I cannot return, because to this day I cannot live up to the ideal that he had had constructed for me.

My mother doesn’t notice the rings on our fingers, or even if she does, she doesn’t say anything, and we just haul the suitcases up into the house, where Jihoon has the guest bedroom, and I have my old childhood one. Settled in, I leave Jihoon to his devices, answering calls from the company about the new album, and walk down to the kitchen to help my mother with dinner.

“Is everything all right with Jihoon?” she asks, cutting carrots into tiny little pieces, “are you two finally together?”

I say nothing, just pour myself a glass of tea, “didn’t think you’d noticed.”

“Oh, the couple rings were too nice to not notice, actually,” she laughs, “its good. You two suit each other very much.”

“Now you’re saying that to take the piss,” I grumble, “you’ve never once approved of the people I’ve dated, whether I dated them or not.”

“That’s because you dated them to stop your mind from crashing and burning,” my mother says, gentle as ever, putting the ingredients for soup into a big pot, “you’ve always been headstrong that way.”

“As opposed to my sister?”

My mother sighs,  a sign of a battle she’s already lost against herself, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I wave my hand. It matters so much. “I was the problem child, I guess. Every family needs one.”

“You were not a problem child,” my mother says, “you were just out of our reach, at times. and when we finally thought we understood you, you ran away and concealed yourself from us.”

“That’s what I was taught.”

“And I should have taught you differently.”

“Never mind, mother,” I give her a quick smile, “you’ll be watching your daughter get married, and in a few years, you’ll be a grandmother, and that will give you enough happiness to tide you over for the next ten years.”

“I think about you too, you know.”

“Congratulations on that, mother.” I reply, walking out of the kitchen.

Jihoon is sitting on the bed when I open the door, hands clutched around a  cup, “I wish we hadn’t come back.”

He raises an eyebrow, “this is your home.”

“I know, its just—there’s no one here that knows me, and even if they do, its only by association, as the sister, and my parents are all on eggshells around me, because I blew up in their faces about my childhood, and how much I hated being here, and its never going to stop, is it, I’m going to be this way, this festering, annoying, difficult, person, and I’ll never really be normal ever again—”

Jihoon wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug that’s at once reassuring and scandalous, “you’ll be fine. Your family are, well, they’re sorry, and they’re on eggshells because they don’t know how to approach you anymore. It happens. You can leave to Seoul and have your career, but they’re going to stay on in this town, and be reminded of the fact that maybe they didn’t do enough. Let them hover. It’ll put them at ease.”

“Fine.” I grumble, “I just came back because I love my sister. And Yong-Hwa. He needs to have a chance to run away before he hitches himself to her.”

Jihoon laughs, “would you say the same thing for me?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”

He unwraps his arms from around me, fishing in his pocket, “wait, I forgot the ring at home.”

I gape, “you were going to propose to me?”

“Yes, but now that I forgot the ring, there’s going to be no proposal.” Jihoon grumbles, “stupid.”

“That’s fine, it would have been inappropriate for us to take away my sister’s spotlight,” I grin, pulling him back into a hug, “I accept, nonetheless.”

“Really?”

“I do expect a proper proposal back  in Seoul.”

“As you wish, always.”

—

Jihoon proposes with a car full of balloons, and he enlists the help of the other guys to make the proposal truly memorable, a phrase that I’m rapidly beginning to attribute to him. its gorgeous, and everything I had never imagined when it came to a proposal. The wedding, however, is much my style, the two of us traipsing down to the courthouse to submit a form and being declared married by the clerk, who tells us darkly that there’s a divorce counter just in the next room. Jihoon laughs, and I laugh, before walking out of the courthouse to meet our friends (and family) for dinner.

It’s a new life.

—

To LJH,

For being my friend.

[hungrydogs-if]

since my laptop is decidedly dead, here's the drafted opening to angel's route in the holiday special. enjoy the chaos.

You press the doorbell and wait, shifting the neatly wrapped present under your arm. Thank fuck for customer service.

It takes time for the detective to finally open the door. Warm light spills from the interior onto you, and you're hit by the smell of cinnamon and gingerbread.

Their profile is haloed by the light, turnt to look over their shoulder at something inside. You've never seen them out of their work clothes, and not seeing the badge or the wrinkled formal shirt is your Christmas miracle. The sweater is... Nice on them, at least. Warm. Cozy. They start turning their head, so you have to act fast.

"Merry Chris -"

SLAM.

Ouch. You can't say you don't flinch when the door slams shut, but you might've taken a step back. Nothing unexpected, it's not like you're friends. Some would say you're sworn enemies.

You ring the doorbell again. No answer comes, and you tap your boot against the porch.

So you ring it again. And again. And again, until the door flies open and an exasperated detective throws you a glare so sour you swear a part of your soul withers to ashes.

"Stop. That." They growl, one hand gripped tightly around the door handle, the other the frame. They look like they're about to go for a tackle, but something else happens first.

"Is that Santa?!" Rapid footsteps echo, getting louder and louder. Your eyes meet the detective's for only a second before a blur of motion skids around the corner and slams into your legs. The gift almost drops from under your arm as tiny hands grab onto the hem of your jacket and the owner of them bounces excitedly.

"Hello Santa! Where's your suit? You don't look like Santa. Are you an elf? You're tall for an elf, did you bring -"

"Mija please, deep breaths." Angel huffs, but you catch the little affectionate smile they manage to conjure even though your presence is clearly an end-of-the-world scenario for them. The child keeps her eyes on you but steps back, taking a breath that balloons her cheeks before she blows out a raspberry.

"Can the elf come in? We baked cookies! They need cookies for energy!" The child whirls to the detective and pouts. You can't help but chuckle at that, and their eyes snap to yours with a glower you're sure they're holding back for the kid's sake.

You await a no, a carefully crafted lie so the kid isn't disappointed, but you'd still be dismissed. It'd be dumb to invite a notorious criminal into your house, so why would -

"Of course, would you... Set... the table for one more?" Oh. Okay, shit. The choppiness of the sentence tells you it was the worst thing they've ever uttered in their life, and the way a muscle jumps in their jaw despite the smile is telling.

You hear the kid's prolonged "yay!" get quieter as she darts off, leaving the two of you standing there. You stare. They stare. Your face must've done something because the detective deflates. They look... Tired. Or wary, it could be either. Or both. Still, they take a hesitant step aside.

"Just for a moment. Don't -" another withering glare, a hand on your sternum to block your entrance, "don't disappoint her."

Well, you had no intention anyway, so you give them a grin and a pat on the shoulder. "Wouldn't dream of it, detective."

[galaxysharks]

This won't leave my head and I'm sleepy, so I shall simply write it and cast it into the world. Buckle up, fellows, we're going to need face claims for a lot of cosmic entities. I'll post a reblog later with the ones I like.

Also @this-girl-in-dead-fandoms, here you be, because I enjoy providing pain for the blorbos

Judgment

Agatha twisted and struggled, snarling threats and insults as she was dragged. HOW!? How was this possible!? She was a Ghost! A spirit! She was meant to be untouchable!

She couldn't even determine if the force holding her was a being or not, but whatever it was, she couldn't do anything.

After what might have been an hour, she had grown tired and her voice was strained, she quieted, allowing the mysterious force to take on all of her weight.

As if waiting for her, her vision cleared, and a....room of sorts melded out of the fog.

"well, are we finally deciding to behave?" The words were spoken in a cacophony of voices, some whispering cheerfully, some sobbing, and more still screaming in terror.

Agatha whipped her head as far as she could, turning to face the noise. Immediately, she flinched as her mind desperately tried to interpret what she saw. It was as if one eye was being assaulted by flashes and patterns, while the other could never catch the being.

Groaning in pain, she closed her eyes. Even still, she could sense the presence of truly unlimited power. The kind she knew she couldn't defeat. The kind like Rio. Half a dozen, at least, she felt her body being stretched and compressed, atoms being rented apart and reformed in the wake of cosmic runoff.

Suddenly, it gave away, and she collapsed to the floor, barely noting that she was no longer restrained.

"Peace, Kin, the Trial begins shortly."

"Shall we assume tangible forms, brother? It would be hilarious and inconvenient for her to keep passing out!"

"valid observation, Chaos. Yes, assume comprehensible forms. Open your eyes, Agatha Harkness"

Hesitantly, she did, and around her, a thin circle of brilliant pink flames, holding back the force of the cosmic entities. She glanced around, peering into the direction of the voices.

Stood before her was a massive being. Twenty feet tall, at least. It appeared to be conjoined men made of perfect, chiseled stone. One side pristine and polished, the other crumbling and repairing before her. The single pelvis and legs were knelt, bringing them closer to her eyeline. From there, the torsos split off separating before rejoining at the shoulder, leaving a gap in which there appeared to be a star, continuously shifting through its lifecycle.

Around her were more beings. A woman made of starlight, a being of sand that first appeared a child, but rapidly aged and collapsed, before reforming again, Rio, but she was taking the form of a swarm of locusts, clinging to a small tree sprouting from a skull. Though imperceptible, something in Agatha told her that the space between them, their absence, was another entity in of itself.

And then there was him. Pale flowers braided into his hair and draped in a fur lined robe. It was Nicky, her little boy. He was carefully cradling parts of the insect swarm, but he looked straight at her. The flames around her flicked in time with his breaths, it was all she could hear.

In. Out. In. Out. In.

Agatha desperately reached for him. But he caught her eye just before they would have crossed the circle, lifting a hand and gently waggling a finger at her. He pulled it to his mouth, and shushed her, motioning her to wait.

"Agatha Harkness. You have altered the fate of your reality, you have disobeyed the laws of existence, you consume power unearned, and you disrupt the natural cycle of time and space. You will be trialled by the Living Tribunal. Your sentence is absolute"

Agatha felt her mind reel as the voice was a memory, but an expectation, and a constant. Outside of her ability to recognize time.

"Agatha Harkness, speak if you must, but your testimony is set, there will be no negotiation" this voice came from everywhere, and inside her head. It was the star woman.

She felt her being tear and replace as the final entity formed. This one deceptively plain. She appeared a young woman, but with molten gold dripping down her face, blinding her.

Agatha has to know, fuck whatever happens to her. " How is he here? What have you done to him!"

The star woman became infuriated, launching from her placement. "INSOLENT WRETCH--". Her movement stopped, frozen, as the woman with the golden mask glanced over to Nicky.

"Settle......Infinity......Nicolas Scratch Is.....An Anomaly......Made ......From What One Who Did Not Know......And One That Could Not......He Has Been Ascended.......He Is Love"

Agatha looked to her son, and realized that Rio had shifted forms, she was now her more typical skeletal figure, standing with her hands perched proudly on Nicky's shoulders as he leaned into her.

"Agatha Harkness.......I Sentence You......."

[vetustamorla]

madness

Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Meryl Stryfe & Milly Thompson & Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Meryl Stryfe/Milly Thompson | M | 17120 words | read here

"The first time he hears the name ‘Vash the Stampede’ again after twelve torturously long months, Wolfwood’s drinking brandy." In light of some new circumstances, running away is no longer an option Wolfwood can entertain. Not from his own feelings, overwhelming as they may be; and, crucially, not from Vash. Not anymore. The road of penance - the road back to him - is far from easy, but perhaps Wolfwood won't have to pursue it all alone. In any case, it would be madness not to try.

[les4elliewilliams]

❝𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝚰𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝚰𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑.❞

ghostface!bestfriend!ellie ✗ fem reader

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝚰 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.❞

⚠︎︎︎.ᐟ ⌞warnings ⊹ cw⌝ ﹕ approx 20k words. (ik im sorry im always yapping too much.) headcanons!! mention of blood/murders, drugs usage. childhoodbestfriend!𝑒, perv!𝑒, ghostface!𝑒, switch!𝑒, v light knife play (𝑒!receiving+giving), handcuffing ghostface😊, oral/fingering, strap-on sex (r!receiving), extremely jealous/obsessive!𝑒, ellie gets off to eepy reader and they get off together on the couch yummyy... i think that's it?? ps ignore that ugly ass edited pic pls😭

.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞author's note⌝ ﹕ this isn't like the movies, it's a 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 story. proofread by @sapphichotmess!!

#.ᐟ ⌞taglist⌝ ﹕ @aouiaa @kaykeryyy @whoucallingalesbian @taylormarieee @co0kiemuncher @myathegoat @joordynn @iamhellagae @hearts444olivia @ion-news @broskideedle13 @ladyofcain @cheyisagirlkisser

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

˳·˖𖤐 During her childhood, Ellie had a stern and intimidating demeanor that unintentionally scared other kids away. They’d be too scared to approach her, let alone play or talk with her, which left her in solitude most of the time. She got used to playing by herself and spent her recess in the corner of the playground. During lunchtime, she would eat the dino nuggets that her dad had meticulously prepared for her while sitting alone at the lunch table (being picky about food, she only ever had dino nuggets and was firmly convinced that regular nuggets did not taste as good). She seemed to find solace in drawing and would spend hours sketching in her green notebook, lost in her world of imagination.

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe, just maybe, the kids’ fear toward Ellie wasn’t unmotivated. She loved to cause chaos and conflicts among the other kids. She would start small fights, encourage others to fight, push kids off swings, or even break their toys. Even more concerning was that she seemed to get a kick out of other people’s misery and would laugh at their distress and discomfort, which was why many feared and avoided being near her.

˳·˖𖤐 Joel would often find himself rushing to his daughter’s school, trying his best to convince the school officials that his sweet little girl could never do anything to hurt other kids. Despite being smart and quiet, Ellie would sometimes find herself in trouble for things she claimed she didn’t do. She always stood her ground, insisting that if she ever did start something, it was only because another child had done something to her first. And, of course, her father always believed her and would go to great lengths to defend his baby girl.

Once, Joel was called to the principal’s office. When he entered the room, he saw the principal sitting behind his desk, looking stern and serious. Joel's heart sank, he could sense something was off. “My daughter would n—” Joel tried to speak, but the principal cut him off without missing a beat. “The teacher saw her. She pushed Jason off the swing and kicked him,” the principal stated, his tone firm and authoritative. Joel's eyes immediately darted to his sweet little angel, who was crying and pouting, giving him doe eyes as she shook her head to dismiss all the accusations. “No, Dad, I didn’t, I swear. He hit me first,” she said, trying to defend herself. “Heard what she said? She didn’t do it.” Joel always fell for that little dotted face. He would still stand by his beliefs no matter what the teachers or other kids' parents said. His baby girl would never hurt anyone. He couldn’t imagine her doing anything wrong.

˳·˖𖤐 You were never really scared of her—the quiet, introverted girl. In fact, you were quite intrigued by her. She always seemed to be the odd one out, sitting in the corner of the classroom or standing far away across the playground, watching everything and everyone so intently. What really fascinated you about her was her attention to detail. She never missed a thing and could remember every single detail of everything, almost like she had a photographic memory or something. 

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was fascinated with you. Ever since you helped Ellie pick up the pencils she had accidentally dropped, she couldn’t help but notice your gentle and soft smile, and from that moment on, she found herself unable to take her eyes off you. She’d just sit across the room, sipping on her apple juice box as she studied you curiously. To her, you were a delicate and pretty little girl, reminding her of a flower. She had always thought other kids weren’t as bright as her and weren’t good enough to be her friends, which led her to isolate herself from others. She thought of herself as better than everyone her age, and it was also why she would beat them up, finding them too stupid to put up with. But you were different. There was something about you that stood out to her, something that her childish brain couldn’t quite put a finger on. It wasn’t just your kindness, although that certainly played a big part in it. There was something more that made her feel like she wanted to be your friend, your close friend.

˳·˖𖤐 Even as a little kid, Ellie had always been a strategic and calculated person.

One day, she saw you playing in the sandbox and felt the urge to approach you, but she needed an excuse to do so. So, she concocted a plan. She told another kid that you had said something mean about him, knowing that he would confront you about it—Jason was a little of a troublemaker from what she noticed, so she was certain it would work. In fact, when the little boy confronted you, and you denied it, he quickly became angry and pushed you, causing you to fall into the sand. The sand got all over your beautiful frilly clothes, making you feel embarrassed and upset, your bottom lip wobbling. Ellie saw this as her chance to approach you and comfort you. She walked over to you and pushed the other kid, causing him to storm off. She quickly helped you up and offered you a slight smile, “You can’t let other kids treat you like that.” You nodded in agreement, grateful for her help, and threw yourself in her arms, hugging her tightly. “Thank you so much,” you uttered. She nodded and squeezed you, rubbing your back. “Maybe we can watch each other’s back from now on,” she suggested with a shy smile, the one that always fooled her dad as well. You were beyond ecstatic at her offer. You had long admired her from afar, and the idea of being friends with her was something you had dreamed of for a long time, but your shy nature had always caused you to keep to yourself. Even to you, she seemed smarter compared to other kids. “Can you be my friend?” you asked with a toothless grin on your face, batting your lashes at her. “Yes, I would love to,” followed by “Can I show you my dinosaur collection?” From that day on, you and Ellie became close friends, and her strategic and protective nature was always there to help you when you needed it.

˳·˖𖤐 You and Ellie have been inseparable, going through all the ups and downs of school and puberty together. She has been a constant source of support, always by your side through your best and worst days. You have shared countless memories and experiences over the years, and she has always been a true friend in every sense of the word. She was always there to protect you and stood up for both of you in any situation. You did everything together—you laughed, cried, and confided in each other like you were the only two people in the world. You shared all your first-time experiences, like getting drunk for the first time, going to parties, and even sneaking out of your house at night just to see her or hang out. Her father quickly became like a second dad to you, someone you could look up to and trust. You have always felt like a part of their small family, spending time together, sharing meals, and celebrating holidays with them. Your friendship has only grown stronger over the years.

˳·˖𖤐 During middle school, Ellie’s behavior remained consistent. Even in the new environment, she continued to find ways to get herself in trouble. She had a habit of talking back to teachers, getting into physical fights with other students, and arguing with pretty much everyone, almost as if she couldn’t contain herself; causing trouble was second nature to her. It was evident that she found pleasure in disrupting the peace wherever she went, which often landed her in serious trouble. Not that she cared, of course.

“Miss Williams, get your shoes off the desk. You are not at home, and you cannot do as you please,” The middle-aged teacher, who appeared to be in her late fifties, scolded her with a stern voice, her eyes narrowing with disapproval as she spoke. Her wrinkled forehead was furrowed with a frown, and her thin lips pursed tightly together. The teacher’s glasses, once perched on the bridge of her nose earlier, now hung from a chain around her neck as she continued to chastise the auburnette.

With a mischievous smirk on her face, the copper-brown-haired girl replied, “You can bet your wrinkled ass I’ll do as I please,” causing the whole class to erupt in laughter.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger when Cassie, a girl from math class, called you stupid. You were her best friend, and she couldn't bear the thought of someone insulting you like that. She wouldn’t let anyone walk all over you. So, that same day, she approached Cassie after class with a fake calm demeanor and explained that her comments were hurtful and disrespectful. She initially tried to remain ‘polite’ to make you happy, but the situation quickly escalated to a physical fight. Unfortunately, this resulted in Cassie ending up in the nurses’ office with a broken bone. But she couldn’t help it. She had to look out for you, and Cassie fucking deserved it.

˳·˖𖤐 It was always just you and Ellie hanging out together. Other kids weren’t allowed to join you. Everyone in your school thought of you two as weirdos, but you didn’t care, both preferring each other’s company over anyone else’s.

˳·˖𖤐 You spent everyday together, either at her place or yours. Homework, video games, comics, and movie marathons filled your time, but the one thing that truly brought you together was your shared obsession with horror movies. You’d watch a new one each day, feeding off the adrenaline of jump scares and twisted plots. Ellie seemed to devour every film, but her favorites were always the slasher flicks—especially the Scream series. The thrill of being scared out of your mind became your thing. Soon, though, it wasn’t just the horror movies that captivated Ellie. She developed a deep fascination for true crime documentaries, and afternoons blurred into nights as the two of you sat in her room, binging tales of real-life terror, lost in your macabre little world together. You both would sit there, transfixed, eyes glued to the horror playing out on the screen, completely enthralled by the spine-tingling and mysterious events unfolding before you. The chilling stories on the screen drew you in, and your fascination with the morbid and the inexplicable would lead you to spend countless hours online reading creepypastas. 

˳·˖𖤐 You were each other’s first kiss.

One Friday night, you went to Cassie’s house for a small party—yes, the same Cassie that Ellie beat up and broke her arm. You guessed she had invited Ellie to get on her good side, considering their last fight. The poor girl was tired of fearing Ellie, but Ellie didn’t like her one bit and never would. Your best friend was reluctant at the idea of being surrounded by too many people, but you convinced her to go with you, saying it might’ve been fun to do something different for once. They kept teasing you, insinuating that you were more than just best friends. You were always around each other and touchy in ways that made them suspect that you were girlfriends. They noticed how you frequently held hands, hugged, and even kissed each other on the cheek. So, during a truth-or-dare game, they dared you to kiss your best friend. You looked over at Ellie, feeling shy and uncertain. You were waiting for her to say something to stop you from going along with the dare, but to your surprise, she didn’t. In fact, she had a small smile on her face, which made you feel more nervous for some reason. Feeling hesitant, you finally mustered up the courage to ask her, “Can I kiss you?” Your cheeks heated up as you spoke. The freckled girl rolled her eyes, trying to make you feel like you were being dramatic, “It’s just a game.” Finally, you leaned in and gave her a soft peck on the lips. Everyone in the room giggled and clapped their hands, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had changed between you and Ellie, yet neither of you dared to acknowledge it.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie had always been very open about her attraction to girls. She never cared about what other classmates might have thought about her preferences. Even though they were not always accepting, they never dared to say anything negative to her face, fearing Ellie’s reaction to their comments. She openly rejected guys who showed interest in her, saying that she was not interested because she was a lesbian. Always commenting about pretty girls—and man, if that didn’t make you jealous. You’d often feel this intense jealousy inside you every time she talked to other girls or whenever other girls would approach her, even if she always rejected them, 99,9% of the time.

˳·˖𖤐 Why 99,9% and not 100%? Well, because another girl named Cat entered the picture. From the very start, it was clear that Cat was head over heels for Ellie, and how could you blame her? She’d blush every time Ellie glanced her way, always laughing obnoxiously at your best friend’s puns, even when they were terrible—and that was, like, all the time. She would also go out of her way to shower her with small gifts, all of which Ellie would accept with a sly grin that you found infuriating. She’d get her snacks and pass her cute little notes during classes, and the worst part was that your friend began to reciprocate Cat’s feelings, and the two of them grew even closer. You tried to accept their ‘friendship’ but found it increasingly difficult; watching them together became too much to bear, and you knew you had to take care of it. You never liked sharing, not even as a kid, so why start now with the most important person to you?

As the lesson dragged on, you grew more restless, your thoughts tangled in a knot of anxiety. You needed to have a little chat with Cat. Urgently. Unable to focus any longer, you raised your hand, asking the teacher if you could go to the toilet. When he gave you a nod in response, you hurried out of the classroom, your pulse quickening as you slipped through the quiet hallways. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a small Post-it note, your fingers trembling slightly as you scrawled a quick message:

“Meet me in the bathroom after third period. — Ellie :)  ”

You carefully folded the note and slid it into Cat's locker, hoping she would see it soon. The next few hours felt like an eternity. You kept checking the clock, counting down the minutes until the third period. Finally, the bell rang, and you made your way to the bathroom, hoping Cat would be there. As you entered the bathroom, you saw her standing there with a big smile. The same smile that faded in an instant as she saw you instead of the girl she liked. You greeted her with a mischievous grin and asked her if she was waiting for Ellie. “Yeah, she told me to come here after third period,” the raven-haired girl responded, looking puzzled. “Did she, or did I?” you giggled. Cat took a small step back, suddenly feeling creeped out by the way you were looking at her, almost as if you were planning to hurt her. You had never started fights in school or caused any sort of trouble, though Cat feared you. Maybe it was the endless rude comments you threw her way at any chance you got or the little things you did when Ellie wasn’t watching to make her feel threatened. “Is this some sick joke?” surprise flashed across her features before a more terrorized look replaced it. “Stop seeing her, don’t come near her, stop talking to her, don’t even look her way,” you demanded. Your tone was firm, almost possessive, as you stepped closer. She backed away with each step you took. “Wha-” Cat tried to speak, but you cut her off. “I catch you lookin’ at her again, I won’t be as nice.” you threatened. “I won’t—I’ll stop talking to her,” she stammered nervously, her voice trembling. A few sniffles escaped her before she ran off, mumbling her sorrys on her way out. “I hope you mean it.” She was already out of the bathroom, but you were sure she had heard you loud and clear. And you weren’t even gonna feel bad. She deserved it. How dare she come near the most important person in your life? What was she planning to do? Take her away from you? You sure as hell weren’t gonna let that happen.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was struggling to understand why Cat had suddenly started ignoring her like a deadly disease. It was almost perplexing that the brunette wouldn’t even look at her, and whenever Ellie tried to approach her to talk, Cat would leave the conversation abruptly, only briefly glancing over at her. It was particularly puzzling to the redhead as she could not recall any misunderstanding or disagreement between them that could have caused such a drastic change in Cat’s attitude towards her—for once, she was nice to someone who wasn’t you, and this was the result? She felt confused and soon enough began to harass the girl, making sure her life was a living hell at school. How dare Cat ignore her? She wasn’t even that smart or pretty. Ellie only ever liked the attention she'd get from her; she was there just to boost her ego, and now she was ignoring her?

˳·˖𖤐 As you both entered high school, you remained inseparable, sticking to the shadows for the first few years, trying to blend in and avoid unwanted attention. Neither of you joined clubs or sports teams, preferring to keep to yourselves and steer clear of socializing. But by junior year, the routine started to feel stifling, and restlessness set in. You both realized you wanted more—something bigger than just being on the sidelines. Your best friend took the leap first, joining the soccer team, eager to break out of the monotony and possibly make new friends. She thrived there, quickly falling in love with the game’s intensity and the adrenaline that came with it. She never lost that sense of superiority, though—deep down, she believed she was different, better than the people around her. She stood out, and she knew it. You, on the other hand, joined the cheerleaders team. Dancing and performing had always been a passion, and it seemed like a perfect way to get involved. But as you spent time with other girls, you couldn’t help but notice how wrapped up they were in things that felt trivial to you—obsessed with popularity, looks, and gossip. It was hard to feel like you fit in, knowing damn well you didn’t. While your best friend thrived on her sense of superiority, you were left feeling like an outsider, trapped in a group you didn’t belong in.

˳·˖𖤐 Ever since you joined the cheerleading team, you stood out from the crowd. Your undeniable beauty did not go unnoticed, and soon enough, boys began to show interest in you. Every week, a different guy would try to catch your attention, hoping to ask you out or make a move on you. But Ellie was fiercely protective of you, claiming that none of these guys were good enough for you, whether it was a potential friend or partner. She would always find a way to scare them away, making it clear that you weren’t interested, always there reminding you that you were way too amazing for all of them and that no one could ever understand you like she did, even if they tried. She did not want anyone she deemed unworthy of your time to come close to you, and you liked it that way. To you, that was your definition of love.

“—so he just fell in front of the whole class, he couldn’t even-” You were interrupted by the sound of your name being called from across the room. Your best friend was out sick, missing all the juicy details, but before you could finish the story and turn to see who it was, the auburn-haired girl beside you spun around first. Her brows knit together almost instantly, and you could see the flicker of jealousy in her eyes. Her expression darkened as she processed the moment, clearly thrown off by the sudden attention directed your way. A kid you knew from theater class was walking toward you with a nervous smile, carefully holding a flower, making sure not to prick himself on the sharp thorns of the beautiful red rose. “Hey, I just wanted to ask you if-” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence—she was already prepared to go off on him as if he’d just insulted her entire family. In reality, he hadn’t even noticed a fuming Ellie standing right beside you. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on him with an intensity that made you sure if looks could kill, he’d already be dead. You opened your mouth to say something, but Ellie quickly raised her hand in front of you, silencing you instantly. She was going to handle this, just like always. “What makes you think she would ever go out with a loser like you?” Ellie hurled venomous words his way, leaving the poor guy stuttering and stumbling over his response. His face flushed bright red as if all the blood had rushed to his cheeks. He stood there, frozen in shock, his mouth hanging open like a fish gasping for air. His eyes darted nervously between you and the girl at your side, clearly unsure what to do next. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to express himself, his expression desperate as if he was silently begging for a reaction from you, anything. But before he could even get a syllable out, Ellie cut him off again, shutting him down before he could speak. “Heard what I said? She is not interested,” she repeated, but this time, her voice was tinged with impatience. “I’m sorry, I just—take this.” He handed you the flower, looking utterly defeated. As soon as it was in your hands, he turned around and walked away hastily, like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. She watched the guy walk away, her leaf-hued eyes fixed on him, unwilling to let go of the sight. Her face was slightly scrunched up in annoyance, her mind clearly racing with thoughts as she seemed lost in her world. After a while, she finally tore her gaze away from him and glanced at you briefly as if snapping back to reality. She let out a small ‘tssssk’ under her breath, trying to collect herself and shake off the jealousy lingering in the pit of her stomach. “Jesus, El. You’re evil,” You let out a small giggle and brought your hand to your mouth to cover it up. “Might have to kill half the school just for you,” She suddenly joked with a grin. She snatched the rose out of your hand and threw it on the floor forcefully. Red petals scattered on the ground as you both continued walking. Ellie made sure to stomp on the flower. She always had a very dark humor, which sometimes left you wondering if she meant any of what she said. She always spoke in such a serious tone, but maybe it was just her sarcasm being that way. Her words were often laced with a hidden meaning, and she had a way of making you question your interpretations, but you laughed at her joke anyway.

˳·˖𖤐 So, were you surprised when a few students started going missing? 

˳·˖𖤐 The leader of the cheerleaders that always gave you a hard time? Gone.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was your biggest fan, always showing up to watch your cheerleading practices.  Manspreading on the benches, her gaze never left you, not daring to miss a single move. The sight of you, all sweaty with wisps of hair escaping your ponytail, only made you look cuter in her eyes. She loved seeing you in that little cheerleader uniform. Whenever you smiled and glanced at her, her heart would thunder in her chest. It was as if her whole world revolved around those fleeting glances and spontaneous smiles you’d throw her way. You were awfully adorable.

What Ellie found far less adorable was how the head cheerleader constantly picked on you, always putting you down. What frustrated her even more was that you just let it happen. In her mind, Amanda wasn’t better than you—no one could even come close to you. To Ellie, you were perfect, and she wished you could see it too. When she saw you walking toward her, she quickly set aside the leather-bound journal she had been scribbling in, placing it on the empty spot next to her as she greeted you with a warm smile.

“You’re doing great, beautiful,” She turned to grab her backpack, which had been thrown carelessly on the empty benches behind her. Her tattooed arm reached inside the already unzipped, worn-out bag. “Yeah, you say that, like, every single time.” You sat on the bench next to her, sweat beading on your forehead as you let out a slight huff, feeling winded after your practice. “‘s true though.” She pulled out a small towel and handed it to you with a gentle smile. She was always considerate, constantly looking out for you and ensuring you were taken care of. She expressed her love for you through these little gestures, like bringing things she thought you might need in her green backpack. Her obsession with you was apparent in how she hovered over you, but you couldn't deny that it was comforting to have someone care for you so deeply. That was love—real love—and you had never experienced that from anyone else.

“Goood, you’re so perfect,” you accepted the towel from her outstretched hand and began to pat your forehead, feeling some relief from the heat. But a little towel wasn’t the only thing she brought for you—she also handed you a refreshing bottle of water to quench your thirst and a cherry-flavored lollipop as a little treat. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of that beloved childhood candy in your hand. A soft smile spread across her lips when your words reached her ears, and she looked away, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. Her shoulders lifted ever so slightly in a subtle shrug, “Oh, I know” her elbows propped up on her knees as she leaned forward. She was deep in thought, and her hands were intertwined. You took a few sips of your water and unwrapped a lollipop, both of you fell silent, completely focused on watching Amanda, who was the target of Ellie's intense gaze, she was studying her. “She’s a bitch” the freckled girl next to you muttered under her breath. You hummed in agreement, savoring the sugary goodness. “Why do you even let her speak to you that way?” she shook her head in disapproval, you could feel her gaze on you even if you weren't looking at her. “What do you want me to do? She’s the leader, El. She’ll throw me out of the team if I confront her.” You reached up to your mouth and pulled the lollipop out with a loud smack noise, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. Ellie expressed her disagreement with a small scoff that barely registered on her plump lips, almost imperceptible. She picked up her journal once again and resumed whatever she was doing, and the silence between the two of you fell once again, punctuated only by the sound of the pencil scratching across the page. When you looked down at her journal, you couldn’t help but notice a drawing she was making of Amanda. The drawing portrayed Amanda in a rather disturbing manner, physically harmed with a knife in her chest. The details of the drawing were quite graphic, and you could tell she had put a lot of effort and passion into it. “Oh, well...that's detailed,” you commented, still sucking on your lollipop, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth. You noticed a small curl of her lips as if she felt proud of her drawing skills. “But that’d be too messy,” you added, her head shot up to look at you. “Yeah? How would you do it then?” she asked, almost challenging you to come up with a better idea for the hypothetical scenario. “The bitch’s allergic to almonds,” Your eyes were fixed on Amanda, who was laughing with her friend. Ellie raised her brows at you, an amused smile appearing on her lips. “That’s it? A good ol’ accidental allergy reaction? Where’s the fun in that?” you shrugged at her words. “No blood, no traces, it’d be harder to get caught,” you explained, proving your point. It was logical and more calculative than her hypothesis. “True but stabbing her to death seems funnier, I dunno.” She inhaled deeply, leaning back into her bench, her back pressed on the benches behind her. “Hearing them beg for mercy, scream in pain, and the look in their eyes…” She went on, entirely absorbed in her twisted narration. As she spoke, the details grew darker and more grotesque with each word. You watched her, bewildered, struggling to tell if this was still just a “what if” game. When Ellie finally realized you hadn’t responded, she looked over at you—the familiar warmth in her eyes had drained away, leaving something sharper, emptier, a chill that made you feel as though you were staring into someone else entirely.

“And where would you hide the body?” you asked.

She smiled sadistically, almost as if she already had an answer ready for that question. “I know the perfect place for that kind of thing.” she put down her journal, her emeralds back on you as she told you about the place she had in mind. “No one would ever look there,” You agreed, giving her a nod, the cherry taste of the candy lingering as you let the sweetness melt off your tongue, an amused grin playing at the corners of your mouth. The plan was actually well-thought-out—impressively so.

“I told you,” she said softly, her gaze darted between your lips and the lollipop. “Oh? Want some?” you teased, holding the lollipop just a breath away from her. Slowly, you edged the glistening, saliva-coated candy toward her, and she parted her lips, wrapping them around it, savoring the artificial cherry taste with a quiet hum of satisfaction. Her fingers replaced yours on the stick, her fingertips brushing lightly over yours, lingering just a little too long. She held your gaze, her eyes softened, almost entranced, though the depth of that look was something you couldn’t quite place. In reality, she was gazing at you enamored, her pupils wide open, but you were completely oblivious to her feelings and failed to pick up on her infatuation. Shortly after that day, Amanda was gone. Disappeared into thin air, nowhere to be found. You knew it wasn’t adding up, especially when you asked Ellie about it. She’d be so nonchalant, like she had nothing to do with her it. But you knew she was lying. Did you care about that stupid cunt being gone? Absolutely not. You soon became the leader of the cheerleaders, and everyone looked up to you.

˳·˖𖤐 The girl who was grinding on you at Daniel’s party? Found dead the morning after.

˳·˖𖤐 The first few months of college had set in, and you were already drowning in a sea of assignments and deadlines, feeling overwhelmed and stressed out. To stay close to you, Ellie took the bold step of enrolling in the same college as you. She even went as far as to choose the same major─Psychology─just to be in the same classes as you, ensuring that you both had the same schedule, did the same assignments, and even hung out with the same people. 

˳·˖𖤐 It was ironic, really, how someone as anti-social and apathetic as her would pursue a field that involved studying human behavior and emotions. But she did it anyway because the mere thought of being away from you for even a second was unbearable to her. She didn’t want anyone else to get closer to you or share the dorm with you, so she followed you and moved in with you because no one could take care of you better than her. You both decided to get an apartment together to share the bills and responsibilities of living independently. Your parents were more than willing to support you financially, making sure that you had everything you needed for college and the apartment. You were attached by the hip, and wherever you went, she was there with you, and whenever she wasn't, you became nervous and anxious, wondering what she was doing and if everything was okay. It was as if you had become too dependent on her, and the thought of being alone scared you. But the dependency was mutual; she needed you just as much as you needed her.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was not a fan of parties and preferred staying home, indulging in horror movies while getting high with you. However, when you told her about Daniel’s Halloween party, she knew she had to accompany you to ensure your safety and protect you from any potential creeps. You had been eagerly waiting for Halloween, your favorite holiday, and Ellie didn't want you to miss the opportunity to dress up and have a good time. Despite her initial reluctance, she was somewhat excited, not for the party itself but because she finally had a reason to wear the ghostface costume that had been sitting in her closet, untouched and unused. 

Ellie was already ready, her costume simple but somehow annoyingly perfect—but that was the price that came with being effortlessly beautiful—and her Ghostface mask thrown lazily on her shoulder. She stood at the bathroom entrance, arms crossed, eyes unwavering as they followed you. You slipped into the tight black dress, pulling it into place with a little struggle as it hugged every curve. You, on the other side, loved taking care of every little detail of your makeup and costume, ensuring your appearance was always on point. “I hate these things,” she muttered under her breath, brow furrowed, though her gaze was anything but annoyed as it lingered on your body. With her hip pressed against the doorframe, she watched as you adjusted the neckline, her head tilted to the side, eyes scrutinizing each inch of skin exposed. “Why’d you have to pick something so revealing?” she asked, voice low, almost a grumble. You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s Halloween, Ellie,” you huffed out, “I can wear whatever I want. Don't be such a buzz kill.” “I meant for Halloween parties. Last year, you were that damn sexy nurse. This year, it’s a tight dress. What’s next? A slutty bunny?” the freckled girl quipped, her lips curling up into a wry smile as she raised an eyebrow at you, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a light chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the small bathroom. “And you’re here complaining,” you retorted with a mischievous grin as you reached for your high heels and effortlessly slid your feet into them. You took a few confident steps towards her, giving her a complete view of your stylish outfit. Her eyes roamed up and down your body. Your dress hugged every curve, revealing just enough skin to accentuate her drool. She licked her lips, imagining what she could do with you in that skimpy outfit, but she had to keep her hands to herself, unfortunately.  “You look fucking amazing.” 

You gave her a soft smile, turning toward the mirror and reaching for your makeup bag on the countertop. “Just need to fix my makeup, and we’re all set,” you informed her, pulling out your favorite berry pink gloss and a tube of mascara, both essentials for tonight. Ellie let out a low chuckle from the doorway, fingers tapping lazily on the frame. “You’re gonna make me want to commit murder tonight,” she joked, eyes flicking over you as you leaned in closer to the mirror. Without looking away from your reflection, you rolled your eyes, your long lashes nearly brushing against your brows. “Oh, shut up. You’ll survive,” you replied, carefully gliding the gloss over your lips. She sighed, tipping her head back against the doorframe. “Honestly, I don’t know why we’re even going. It’s gonna be full of drunk assholes, all crowding around like moths.” “C’mon, El, it’s gonna be fun,” you insisted, catching her eye in the mirror. She rolled her eyes, exhaling dramatically. “Oh, yeah, can’t wait to watch people hitting on you,” she drawled, her voice heavy with sarcasm. You snorted, giving her a smirk as you grabbed your mascara. “Well, thank God I’ll have you by my side, scaring them all away.” “Damn right,” she shot back, and you both chuckled. Finishing up, you turned on your heels to face her, your eyes locking with hers. The two of you were only inches apart now, close enough to share each unspoken word in the air between you. “So, what do you think? How do I look?” you questioned, seeking her approval, though you knew the answer already. Ellie’s gaze drifted over you, her lips twitching into a scoff. “You already know you look hot,” she murmured, unable to hide a small smirk. She seemed momentarily lost as she looked at you, her green eyes flitting from your lips to your eyes, drawn in despite herself. You felt a pulse of satisfaction at her reaction, the way her attention lingered on you. “Ellie…” you murmured, leaning a bit closer, your voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. She licked her lips almost instinctively, her gaze dropping to your glossy ones, and the air between you grew thick, the energy snapping with tension. “...Yeah?” she breathed, her voice barely audible. Her breath hitched as you inched closer before coming to a halt. You smirked, tipping your head to the side. “Can I be your helpless victim?” you teased, catching her off guard with the unexpected line. Ellie’s face contorted into one of confused disbelief, and before you could hold it back, laughter escaped you at her expression. In response, she gave your shoulder a playful shove, rolling her eyes as she fought a smile. “Fuck you,” she groaned, a hint of laughter in her voice, and she ducked out of the bathroom, completely flustered, leaving you grinning after her.

When you arrived at the party, your best friend was glued to your side. She didn’t want you to be alone for even a moment, telling you that she’d stay sober to keep an eye on you in case you decided to drink. However, despite her best efforts, she lost track of you for just a few minutes. When she finally found you, she swore she felt her whole organs sink. You were dancing with a girl. Everything seemed to slow down, and jealousy and pure rage quickly built up inside her as she registered that girl’s hands guiding your hips as she ground on your ass and her lips devoured your neck. When your gaze met hers, you couldn’t help but notice the striking green color of her eyes had turned into an intense, almost ominous shade. Her jaw was tightly clenched, and you could feel a sense of discomfort creeping up on you. It was like you had crossed an invisible line and were now doing something you shouldn’t do. Almost instinctively, you pushed the girl off of you, and before you could give the drunken girl an explanation, Ellie was already walking toward you.

“We’re going back home,” She spoke with a harsh, demanding tone. She grabbed your wrist tightly and forcefully pulled you away from the girl you were dancing with. You didn't even have a chance to say goodbye or explain the situation as she dragged you away.

“Why are you acting like this? Can’t I make friends?” Your words were slightly slurred, the tipsiness settling in as you tried to pull your wrist from her grip, but Ellie’s hold was firm. You didn’t want to leave the party yet; the night had just started and had been so much fun, and her urgency to get you out only made disappointment grow. The music and chatter gradually faded as she dragged you both toward the exit.

“Didn’t look like a friend to me,” she muttered, voice sharp with an edge that cut through your drunk haze. “Looked more like she wanted to fuck you right there in front of everyone—in front of me.” She cast a glance back at the party, the girl long gone already. “Besides,” she added, “—you have me. I don’t see why you need her.” There was an ache in her tone as if she felt betrayed by your actions, a hidden desperation she was trying to keep under wraps. Couldn’t you see? She was right there, ready to be everything you needed, the one person who knew you better than anyone else. You narrowed your eyes, pushing her, testing her. “So what if she did want to fuck me? What are you, my girlfriend?” The words came out in a perfectly thought-out taunt to poke the emotions she preferred to keep hidden under the surface. You couldn’t deny that you’d thought about it too—what it would be like to actually be with her. Her green eyes darkened, shifting from their usual warmth to something intense and possessive, jealousy sparking in the depths. It was rare for you both to argue, but this time it felt like there was something deeper brewing beneath the surface, something that had been sitting there gathering dust, waiting for the right moment to bubble out like scorching lava. There was a palpable tension in the air, more-than-friendly feelings in your eyes. Even a fool would’ve been able to see the unspoken feelings and desires that neither of you could express aloud. Perhaps it was the fear of rejection or the uncertainty of how the other person felt kept you both from taking that step. “I just don’t want you getting hurt or taken advantage of.” She lied, her words sharp, unyielding, and tone laced with frustration and anger. That wasn’t a complete lie, but it was still not the whole truth. She took a slow, deep breath to calm herself down. Gradually, her tense body relaxed, and her previously sharp tone softened. “You’re all I have.” As she spoke again, her eyes, which had been stern, took on a gentler expression, and you could sense vulnerability in her voice, suddenly yearning for ‘reassurance’. “I’m sorry for being rough. It’s just… seeing anyone else with you just… fuck, I don’t know why it pisses me off so much.”  Ellie wanted you to believe she was reacting out of fear because she didn’t want to lose you. But her motives were more complex than that. While it was true that she was afraid of losing you, her actions were purely driven by a sense of selfishness. She strongly believed that you were meant to be together and that it was only a matter of time until you realized she was the one for you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “No one could ever replace you, and I hope you know that.” With a gentle tug of her costume, you pulled her close. Your arms wrapped tightly around her, and you could feel the weight of her body press against yours as she leaned into you. As you held her, you could feel the tension slowly start to melt away, replaced by a familiar sense of safety that usually came with being in her arms. “No, you’re right. I’m not your girlfriend, you can do whatever you want—fuck whoever you want.” Her voice quivered with hesitation, and her heart felt like it was weighed down by a heavy burden. She almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anything, the words tasting sour on her tongue. She knew it wasn’t normal to be so possessive of your best friend, no one acted this way toward their friends. So what was she supposed to do? Lock you up in a glass cage and never let you go? Although the idea was tempting she knew she had to set you free─free enough to find someone at least, even if it felt extremely wrong. What were the chances it would last?

˳·˖𖤐 Despite her promise to let you go, to let you be with whoever you wanted, the girl you’d danced with that night was found dead the following day, her body left in a state so brutal it was as if every ounce of someone’s anger had been carved into her. The pieces didn’t quite fit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to confront it—not yet. Maybe it was all just a coincidence, a horrible coincidence.

˳·˖𖤐 And yet, every time the news flashed across the screen or a passing conversation brought it up, her casual comments made your blood run cold.

“Oh, what a shame,” she’d murmur, not a hint of genuine sympathy in her tone.  “Guess this is what happens when you hoe around,” she’d remark, her voice steady, an almost imperceptible smirk ghosting her lips. “Hm… sucks. ‘s not even her best picture,” she’d add, a detached sort of amusement glinting in her eyes.

˳·˖𖤐 When you tried to confront her and ask questions that had been gnawing at your mind, her responses were so calm—too calm, too controlled. Her voice was smooth as she answered, almost as if rehearsed as she tried to make you feel ridiculous for even asking.

“I was with you last night. What are you implying?” she’d say, her tone just soft enough to make you question yourself. “You sound crazy right now,” she’d whisper, eyebrows raised in concern. “Maybe all these murders going on are messing with your head.”

With every word, she seemed to pull you deeper into self-doubt, her gaze softening, her voice laced with an almost painful sweetness. “Are you listening to yourself right now? I love you, but… you’re scaring me. You’re being paranoid.”

˳·˖𖤐 Her words lingered, a shadow in your mind until you couldn’t tell if it was your sanity or hers that was starting to slip.

˳·˖𖤐 The third person to disappear into thin air was your boyfriend.

˳·˖𖤐 Shortly after that heated argument with your best friend, you got into your first relationship. She gave you a little more freedom to talk to people, to socialize, but her jealousy flared whenever she saw you with him—or anyone else, for that matter.

God, why him? she’d ask herself, the question gnawing at her each time she saw the two of you together. He wasn’t exceptionally bright, his style was awful, and, to her, he wasn’t even remotely attractive. Whenever he was around, she’d mock him or throw out casual, biting jokes. She always seemed to be the only one laughing. Strangely enough, her snide remarks never fazed him—he never seemed intimidated by her like other guys who quickly fell away, discouraged or unnerved after a few seconds of her scrutiny. But not him. He stuck around, seemingly immune to her attempts to chase him off. So she took care of him. You were left with nothing but a single message, his name lighting up your screen in a sudden, unexpected end. He said he had to break things off because he was moving out of town, needing a “clean break,” a “fresh start.” The words felt hollow, calculated, and as you read through the message, your emotions twisted—hurt, anger, betrayal, all swirling within you. It was your first relationship, and he had chosen to end it over a text message without any explanation or warning. You felt like you meant nothing to him, and the fact that he disappeared from your life without as much as a goodbye added insult to injury. You were upset, not because you were particularly in love with him, but because you hated the feeling of being rejected. You had always been in control, the one rejecting people, so it was a blow to your ego to be on the receiving end of a breakup. 

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie, of course, had been there for you, providing support and care during this difficult time. She had to be here, because what kind of friend would she be if she wasn't there for you for something she had caused?

She squeezed you tighter, those strong, toned arms wrapping around you with an unbreakable and relentless grip. Her breath was hot on your neck as she murmured against your ear, lips grazing your skin with a smug smirk. “I told you this would happen,” she’d mutter, words slipping out with that intoxicating blend of annoyance and affection. She’d let her slender, cold fingers trace your spine in a way that left a shiver behind, and her hand would possessively rest on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. “No one—no one will ever love you like I do. No one knows you like this. He could never do what I can.” “You should’ve known better, angel.” There was a dark satisfaction in her voice, almost sounding like she was taunting you, leaning in just close enough for you to feel the heat of every word against your flesh. “Told you he wasn’t the one for you, baby girl.” 

˳·˖𖤐 Not only did Ellie ensure that your boyfriend would never come anywhere near you, but now she seemed to be spending more time than ever clinging close to you, cuddling with you, and sharing the bed with you—all under the guise of offering you comfort. 

˳·˖𖤐 Your friendship had always been intense and boundaryless, it had never been anything but healthy. And it had always been increasingly clear to anyone looking in from the outside that your relationship was more than platonic. Ellie had always been obsessed with you, and her love for you had bordered on devotion. But while others could see this, you remained oblivious to her true feelings, always wondering if she liked you back.

˳·˖𖤐 And that’s when things started to change. Maybe it was the fact that you now lived together and got to spend every second with each other, or maybe it was the fact that your stupid boyfriend was out of the picture─you weren’t sure, but you didn’t mind, and neither did she. Slowly, it was back to just you and her again. Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, and there were no other distractions. It was just the two of you like it always used to be.

You were leaning back on the couch, a joint held between your lips, your eyes heavy and red as you focused on the big TV in front of you. It was Friday night, a time when everyone else would usually go out, but for you, it only meant one thing: movie night with Ellie. The living room was dark, except for the light cast from the TV, making your faces glow in the darkness. You let out a throaty chuckle, taking another hit before sinking deeper into the couch and passing the joint back to her. You were rambling about random stuff as the movie went on, just filling in the background noise at first. Neither of you was really focused on the movie, too high to pay attention to what was happening on the screen. Your mind was wandering to other places, and it was easy to lose track of the scenes as they unfolded.  But then, a steamy scene suddenly caught both of your attention. You could feel the heat rising from the joint and maybe something else; the smoke filling your lungs and a fuzzy feeling spread throughout your body, filling you with a sense of relaxation and mellow contentment. But there was still a tiny fluttering sensation in your stomach, even though you knew it shouldn't be there. It was a strange feeling, like a soft and unexpected rush of excitement, and it made you feel both giddy and nervous all at once. As you watched the steamy scene playing out in front of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of Ellie licking her chapped and dry lips, her green, dilated eyes fixed like a laser on the screen. Her breathing was slightly faster, and you could feel her body tense up as she watched the scene. She didn’t take her eyes off the screen for a second, as if her life depended on watching it. “Y’know, you were my gay awakening,” she spoke suddenly, her husky voice breaking the silence and snapping you to attention. She stared at you, her eyes lingering on every part of your body before settling back on your face. It was a bold confession, coming out of nowhere, and suddenly, you felt your heart beating faster. A dry chuckle slipped out of you, catching in your throat. Even though you were high and a little out of control, her admission had you feeling speechless. “Is that so?” You ran your tongue across your bottom lip, trying to wet it as your throat suddenly felt parched and your pulse thrummed in your ears, hard and loud. “Hmmm-mmmh,” she hummed lazily in response, sounding almost like a low purr in your ear. Her hand rested on your bare thigh, squeezing gently, her touch delicate but firm. Heat pooled in your stomach almost instantly. “Always thinking of you when I touch myself.” “Show me.” You challenged her with a sultry tone.   Ellie scoffed, her scarred auburn brows lifting in disbelief. Had she heard you right? She swore she was hallucinating. “What?” “You heard me. Touch yourself,” you commanded, your voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. The corners of your lips lifted into a smirk, the confidence in your gaze obvious.

“And you’re just gonna sit there and stare like a creep?” She shook her head slowly, an amused smile on her face as if she wasn’t sure whether to take you seriously. But the soft chuckle and the way her eyes stayed locked on yours hinted that she was not entirely opposed to the idea. “Maybe, maybe not.” You shifted on the couch, turning fully to face her, now closer than ever. Practically in her space, watching her, you could almost feel her heart about to explode. Those little pajama shorts you had on had her captivated. Her eyes kept slipping down, caught on how tightly they hugged your curves, tracing every inch of your legs and hips. She tried to keep her gaze on your face, but it was impossible to stop glancing lower.  “If you do it, I’ll do it too,” you added, your voice dripping with temptation as her silence stretched out. And with that, something in her snapped, a fuse blowing in her mind until the only thing left was pure, raw need. No hesitation, no questions—just her fingers reaching into her waistband, spurred on by that hungry look in your eyes. You both sat there, legs spread, your hands slipping inside your panties, each of you putting on a show for the other.   Ellie’s breath hitched, and her fingers moved with fervor, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by how her parted lips let out shallow breaths, quiet gasps escaping as her hand worked. She moved with purpose, fingers gliding through her wetness, quickening her pace to get you to keep up.  “Do what I do,” she groaned, her voice low and rough. You obliged, your fingers following her frantic rhythm.  “Fuck, Ellie,” you moaned, biting back the whimper that her every move pulled out of you. 

She didn’t miss a thing, loving how you trembled and squirmed under her gaze, your body aching, practically begging. Her wildest fantasies were unfolding right in front of her, and she was greedy, wanting every sound, every gasp, every moan.   “You like that, yeah?” she rasped, her voice so rough it made your walls clench. The empty ache inside you was unbearable, your fingers slippery and soaked as you followed her every twist and stroke. You nodded, desperate, moans spilling out without restraint, each one making her move even faster. The sight of her, her touch, her ragged breaths was dizzying. She wanted to own every second, to make you crave her as much as she craved you. Your needy voice rang out, soft and breathy, “Mmmhh… need more, El.” You sounded so desperate, so whiny, it made her heart race. You were just so fucking pretty, and she couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to have her fingers inside you, feeling every desperate pulse, every needy clench around her as you milked her fingers deliciously. Before she could even process the thought, you slid your other hand down, sinking two fingers past your folds with a soft sigh, filling yourself as deep as you could.  The sight made her breath hitch, a low moan slipping out as she watched, knowing that this image would be carved into her brain forever. She could already feel herself getting off to the thought of this moment, over and over again. Your fingers moved in sync, one hand teasing and torturing your clit while the other pumped inside, stroking that perfect spot that made your thighs tense and shiver. Ellie watched, her brows knitted, barely able to tear her eyes away from your sadly still-covered cunt. “God,” she gasped, her chest heaving as she took in every pretty little expression, every sound slipping from your lips as you finger-fucked yourself. She was beyond turned on, completely mesmerized by how good you looked, and couldn’t hold back any longer. With her hand still buried in her boy shorts, she flicked her clit faster, fingers rubbing in desperate, frantic messy circles as she got swept up in the sight of you. “So fuckin’ needy,” she taunted, her voice low and hoarse.

“Gonna...g’na cum,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut, breaths coming out in short, shaky bursts. In a move that sent a shiver down your spine, Ellie reached out and gently tugged your hand away from your shorts, intertwining her fingers with yours.  “Me too—wanna cum with you, need you close,” she gasped, her words breaking into soft moans as her own high built. She squeezed your hand tight, needing the contact as her hips jerked up, chasing her release. Your other hand kept moving, your fingers hitting that perfect, spongy spot again and again until— “I’m coming!” you cried out, your moans reaching a pitch that filled the room, echoing through the walls, your fingers slamming into yourself as you came, waves of pleasure crashing over you. 

“Ooooh fuck!” Ellie groaned, her hips bucking as she rubbed herself faster, her hand squeezing yours hard as she climaxed, her voice hoarse and breathless. 

You sat there, chests heaving, bodies still trembling in the aftermath, catching your breaths in silence as the euphoria slowly faded. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, gradually, reality seeped back in as you both glanced at each other, feeling completely blissful. Her lips pulled into a soft smile, cheeks flushed as her thumb absentmindedly stroked the back of your hand.

Feeling a rush of warmth, you leaned back, wiping your fingers on the soft fabric of your pajama shorts, a quiet contentment settling over you. Ellie tugged gently at your tank top, silently inviting you to come closer. You obliged, sinking into her embrace as she wrapped her arms around you. She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering in her dazed, dreamy voice about how perfect the moment had been, dropping little words of affection she’d usually never say out loud. With the weed still buzzing in her system, it all slipped out way too easily.

You drifted off in her arms, her warmth and steady breaths lulling you to sleep as the TV murmured softly in the background.

˳·˖𖤐 It was as though her infatuation with you intensified after that night, if that was even possible. She couldn’t get you out of her mind, and her focus on every little detail of your appearance became more and more pronounced. You were all she could draw, your lips, your nose, your brows, your eyes. She was convinced that she was the only one who truly appreciated your beauty. She believed that everyone else was too superficial to appreciate you for who you really were. To her, no one else deserved you─not like she did. You were the center of her world, and she couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were like a drug to her, and she craved you more than anything else, her mind was consumed with thoughts of you.

˳·˖𖤐 There was this sick habit of hers, one that she’d never admit out loud but couldn’t shake. Every night, she watched you as you slept, eyes glued to how your oversized shirt barely hung onto your curves. It was like she was waiting—no, hoping—for that shirt to ride up just a little bit more, enough to give her a full view of those soft legs and the tiny slip of fabric that barely covered you. 

You always seemed so relaxed, so at ease around her, never thinking twice about what you wore, especially when you two shared a bed. You’d just crawl under the covers, no pants, no bra, just that soft, baggy shirt. And every time, it drove her wild. Part of her wondered if you knew exactly what you were doing, the way you’d stretch and twist, giving her those little glimpses that made her pulse race—and to answer her silent dilemma, yes, you were doing it on purpose.  She couldn’t look away. Her hand would slip under her waistband, touching herself as her eyes roamed over you, desperate for more than just a view. She couldn’t resist ever since she admitted she’d been touching herself to the thought of you for as long as she could remember.  Even you could feel the tension every time her eyes lingered on your body or lips. Every time she shifted closer, her fingers grazing your thigh just a little too long just to pull away again, chickening out. All you wanted was for her to close that painful gap, to stop playing around and just touch you the way you knew she wanted to. Every night was a silent invitation, a wordless game where every move you made was another way to get her attention, pushing her until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Ellie licked her lips, her eyes glued to the sight beside her. Watching you sleep like this always turned her on─it was the combination of ‘innocence’, vulnerability, and sheer beauty that did it. The slight roll of your shirt had exposed just enough skin to make her heart race, her mind filled with naughty thoughts. You were never aware of how much she wanted to feel you and touch you inappropriately, but she knew it might ruin your friendship, and she couldn’t risk it.  Feeling her arousal increasing with every passing second, she slipped her hand under the covers. She knew it was wrong; she shouldn't be doing this while you were asleep next to her, sleeping peacefully as she came all over her fingers at the sight of your half-exposed body─but that didn’t stop her from doing it anyway. The temptation was too strong, and it was impossible to resist you. “Fuck... You’re killing me…” she thought to herself, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It was late at night, and she couldn't resist anymore.

Without hesitation, she slid her hand into her shorts and started playing with herself. Her green, concentrated eyes never left your body, studying every curve and dip hungrily. Calloused fingers brushed against her sensitive nub gently, her hips slightly jerking away from her hand. She was so sensitive; you had her pussy throbbing like crazy, and the worst part was that you didn’t even do shit. It was her fault, her perverted and filthy mind's fault. But good lord, if she would sell all her organs to touch you. “The fuck are you doin’ to me…” she murmured under her breath as she played with her wetness, feeling how messy you made her. When her fingers returned to her clit, circling it gently, her breath hitched. She knew she had to be quiet; you were occasionally a light sleeper, and she couldn't risk getting caught. She parted her legs further apart as she kept teasing her clit slowly. “God…” She whispered, her breath coming out in short, shallow gasps, causing her voice to be soft and sultry as she rubbed herself with increasing tempo. There was no hesitation or inhibition, just raw, unadulterated desire dripping from every fiber of her being. So fucking nasty. She wondered what your reaction would be if you woke up and caught her in the act, but, yet again, there was something exhilarating about the risk, about the idea of you seeing her in the middle of her filthy act. Her face flushed as she imagined this, her mind filled with naughty scenarios as she rubbed herself harder and faster.  “Mmph... so beautiful…” Her eyes never left your body, even while touching herself. For some reason, it felt so good knowing you were just inches away, unaware of what she was doing. She couldn't help but fantasize about you pleasing her—she needed your fingers, you, and she also fantasized about reciprocating the favor.  “Can't wait to taste you... touch you…” She mumbled, lost in her fantasies. Her body trembled slightly from anticipation, she was close. “Mmm... fuck... gonna cum” Her voice was strained, increasing the pressure on her throbbing clit. It was becoming challenging to stay quiet, and she just hoped you wouldn't wake up to this.

When she did come, she pulled her damp and sticky hand out of her boxers, sucking her fingers clean before turning her head slightly to look at you, admire you. You laid there sleeping like an angel, your hair cascading down your face. She watched you with mixed emotions. 

Ellie’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she breathed, and her forehead was damp with sweat, her red-brown hair sticking to her freckled lush skin. Despite the guilt she knew she should be feeling, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She promised herself she wouldn’t do it again, but deep down, she knew it was merely the first of many more. 

˳·˖𖤐 The more she did it, the more confident and bold she became, convinced that you’d never catch her.

˳·˖𖤐 One night, you had a bit too much soda before falling asleep. As the night wore on, you began to slowly wake up, feeling the urge to go to the bathroom.

She was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t notice the slight shift beside her. Your eyes fluttered open just wide enough to catch a glimpse of her hand moving under the covers. Her pale face was flushed, a blush covered her cheeks and her cute nose, her skin coated with a light sheen of sweat. She was biting down on her bottom lip, her eyes tightly shut, trying to keep herself quiet, while her tattooed arm was stuffed deep inside her boxers. Her toned abs tensed up subtly as her perky tits peeked through her black t-shirt, jiggling with every tiny movement she made. Fuck, what a sight. You thought you were dreaming. Hell, you were sure of it. Why would she even do that next to you? You knew you should’ve done or said something, but the sight of your best friend pleasuring herself right beside you only made your pussy throb madly, and the way she dirty-talked to herself to make herself cum. God.

You squeezed your thighs together, pretending to be asleep. Her soft moans made you feel indescribable things, and you felt yourself getting increasingly wet; it felt like torture to lay there and pretend to be asleep while she pleasured herself like that, but at the same time, it was addictive.  So, instead of confronting her, you decided to play along. Wearing slutty thongs to bed became your new routine, and of course, it didn’t take Ellie too long to notice. Some nights, you could feel her lifting your beloved oversized shirt up just a bit to take a better look at your body. It was hard to suppress a smile, but you managed.

“A fucking thong, really? God.” you could hear her mutter quietly.

She’d mumble random shit like, “Wanna fuck you real bad,” when she was close to her orgasm. 

You’d often shift a bit too close to her to make her freak out, interrupting her imminent orgasm. It was entertaining hearing her panic and freeze. The little sigh of relief she'd let out when she looked over you to make sure you were ‘sleeping’ was even cuter to you.

˳·˖𖤐 One day, while doing the laundry, your eyes caught a flash of red fabric peeking out of her sweatpants, tucked deep inside the pocket. A brief moment of recognition made you realize it was your thong, one that you had lost long ago. And you remembered vividly how you had always wondered where it had gone. You knew Ellie had something to do with it—indeed, you were not wrong. “Perv,” you let out a breathy chuckle as you withdrew the thong from her pocket and tossed it inside the washing machine. 

˳·˖𖤐 Though you couldn’t say shit. You weren’t really in a position to, not when you had stolen her boxers—the very ones she had made a mess of the other night, getting off to your ‘innocent’ form in that thong, all sprawled out for her eyes only. Unlike her, you had tucked it away, ensuring she’d never find it—in your bottom drawer, buried beneath a pile of neatly folded clothes.

˳·˖𖤐 Everything had been rainbows and roses since your boyfriend was out of the picture, leaving Ellie with you all to herself, just as she liked it. She’d half-expected this wouldn’t last forever, but she didn’t think it would unravel so soon, too soon.

After your shower, wrapped only in a towel, you realized you’d forgotten to grab fresh clothes. Too lazy to trek back to your room, you decided Ellie’s closet would do just fine. “El! I’m borrowing your clothes!” you called out, already swinging open her closet door without waiting for a response. The woody, warm scent of her filled the small space, mingling with the crisp smell of laundry detergent.

Your gaze drifted downward, catching on a gym bag lying half-zipped. The black fabric looked dull under the dim light, but something about it drew you in. There were dark stains on the shirt peeking out—a rusted, dried red that had you swallowing hard. Right next to it sat a Ghostface mask, its hollow, grinning face staring up at you, taunting you, like it knew something you didn’t. 

Just then, Ellie’s voice cut through the silence, a little too rushed, a little too panicked. “Wait, I’ll get it for you!” You heard her footsteps nearing, but by the time she appeared in the doorway, you were already crouched down, inspecting the items, your fingers clutching your boyfriend’s shirt—now stiff with dried blood—and a stained knife in the other.

She froze, her already pale face drained of color as your eyes met. She didn’t say a thing, didn’t try to explain or reach out. She simply stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for you to make the first move.

“What the fuck?” you choked out, anger tangling in your throat. Your voice cracked, but you didn’t let it stop you. “Why do you have this, Ellie?!” The words were sharp, edged with accusation, and your fingers tightened around the shirt, clinging to the blood-soaked fabric like it was proof of a reality she couldn’t deny. 

Ellie flinched, cursing herself for not getting rid of that piece of evidence. Maybe it was the procrastination, or perhaps she was just too wrapped up in you—you had that effect on her. Her expression flickered between panic and something else, something guarded, as if she were mentally scrambling to find the right lie to feed you.

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like.” Her voice was low, almost eerily calm, meant to keep you from losing your mind and freaking out even more, but it was doing the opposite. “Sit down. I can explain. I promise.” She inched closer, coaxing you back toward her bed, trying to control the situation, as if talking you down would make all of this disappear. But you stepped away from her, backing toward the closet instead.

“Then fucking explain,” you demanded, your voice rising, heat flooding your cheeks as your pulse hammered. Your eyes trailed down to the Ghostface mask lying on the floor, and you kicked it toward her. “What the hell are you doing with all this shit? With my boyfriend’s shirt?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected you, as if that made a difference in the moment. But she cared enough about it to not hold her tongue. You scoffed in disbelief at her correction, and your stern look only prompted her to keep talking, desperate to answer your question. “I found it in the trash,” she began, her tone too smooth, her words practiced. “I was going to take it to the cops.” But you both knew that was a shitty excuse. The explanation hung in the air, feeble and hollow, cracking under the weight of your inquisitor glare.

“That’s a fucking lie, and you know it,” you spat, tightening your grip on the knife, its sharp tip now aimed right at her. 

“Just sit down, please. I’ll tell you everything.” Her words spilled out, each one more frantic than the last, thick with desperation as she inched closer, hands reaching out like she was steadying herself—or preparing to corner you.

You held your ground, pressing your back into the cold closet door, “No, fuck that!” you snapped, refusing to let her control the moment. Her jaw tightened, and in an instant, she lunged forward, catching your wrist and forcing it up against the wood, pinning the knife-holding hand in place.

“Listen to me!” she growled, her voice growing louder, almost vibrating with a tension that rippled between you, making you quiver. Her face was close, too close, so close that her warm breath hit your face, and her eyes locked onto yours, wild verdants unwavering, staring into your dilated pupils.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you shouted, fury shaking the air between you as you pulled at her iron-tight grip. But it was useless. You were sick of her lies, of her half-truths. All you truly desired was for her to lay it all bare for you ‘cause you weren’t fucking dumb, and deep down, you knew it. You had known all along. Her grip only tightened, her knuckles turning white against your skin as her breaths came fast. This Ellie was raw, untamed—a far cry from the girl you had around every day. But in this harsh intensity, there was something real, something you’d been craving for.

“You wanna know the truth? Fine!” Her voice rose, each word bitten off, hard enough to make you flinch. She gazed down at the bloodstained shirt sprawled across the floor, her face hardening, “Yeah, that’s his. And yeah, that’s his blood. He deserved what he got.” 

“What the fuck, Ellie, you had no fucking right—” She slammed her other hand against the wooden surface of her closet door, inches away from your head, causing you to cut off your words before they could be fully uttered.

“He was cheating on you!” she interrupted you, her voice rough with anger, her face flushing red. “I saw him, alright? With that girl from the bar—the one you were always paranoid about. I fucking saw him with her. So yeah, I followed him, and things got… out of hand.”

You scanned her face, searching for any hint of regret or guilt, but all you found was a complete lack of remorse, an expression that only seemed to scream she’d do it all over again if she could. But it was exactly that thing in her eyes that pulled you in even more. “Then why not just tell me?” 

Why couldn’t you fear her? Why weren’t you grossed out? Shouldn’t you have had a typical reaction to her revelation, like screaming or crying over the brutal murder of your boyfriend? Instead, here you were, feeling oddly fascinated, giddy even.

“I wanted to,” she admitted, her voice a little raspier, her eyes glistening with what looked like tears—fake ones. The sudden empathy felt odd, something that didn’t belong to her, and you knew her too well for this shit. “But then I saw you, finally free, happy without him dragging you down. I thought I’d done you a favor. And then I just… couldn’t say it.” 

You pressed yourself harder against the closet door, staring at her like you were seeing her for the first time. You shook your head, “You’re lying,” you stated flatly, watching her mask drop.

“What? You think I’d lie?” she shot back, trying to twist the situation, like you were crazy for even suspecting her. But you knew better. Psychology classes were really paying off.

“Yes, Ellie, you’re lying.” you leaned in, and her jaw clenched as you continued. “You did it to Amanda and that girl at the party? You think I don’t remember that night? Just admit it!” You practically yelled, and a shadow passed over her face like an ominous cloud, her expression hardening again, her eyes growing cold, dark in a way that caught you off guard. One thing was for sure—there was a certain beauty in the way her captivating jade orbs effortlessly switched between the deceptive facade and the cold, calculated gaze of a serial killer. 

“Admit what?” her tone was mocking, like she was daring you to say it.

“That you—” The words stuck in your throat, your gaze slipping to the Ghostface mask on the floor. That’s when she ripped the knife out of your hand, her grip firm as she held it close to you, not quite pressing it into your skin, just close enough to see if it’d rattle you.

“C’mon,” she murmured, leaning in with that daring, dark smile, “say it.” Her eyes flashed with an edge of mania like she was enjoying this, feeding off your reactions, like some sick parasite.

“You killed them all.” you managed, voice barely a whisper, and she threw her head back in a laugh that sent chills down your spine.

“God, do you hear yourself? You sound pathetic,” she chuckled darkly, her knife tracing a line along your cheekbone, slow enough to make you shiver, close enough to cause goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your chest tightened, your heartbeat loud in your ears as her lips curled in that contorted smile. ​​Your breath hitched as she leaned in, her gaze piercing through your irises, capturing every fleck of color.

“What? Gonna kill me now?” you breathed, your words almost taunting, a faint smirk pulling at your lips as her eyes narrowed.

She tilted the knife against your throat but still put no pressure. You felt yourself leaning into it, letting the thrill course through you and that familiar excitement growing in your tummy. “Gonna make me?” she whispered, voice thick and low, and for the briefest moment, her composure cracked—just enough for you to see her desperation, like she was hanging onto a thread. She needed you to stay, even after all this. She couldn’t live without you.

“I just want the truth,” you uttered, your voice soft, never breaking eye contact. And if you did, it was only to let your eyes drop to her lips, she was so tantalizingly close that it was impossible not to. “Drop the mind games. I want the truth.” You didn’t know how the hell you could still want her, adrenaline tangling in your chest, but you did. Maybe even more than before.

Her brows rose in mock surprise as she cocked her head. “You want the truth?” she echoed, lips parting in a cold smirk. “Fine. Yes, I killed your stupid fucking boyfriend. He died like a pussy,” she sneered, anger flashing as she clenched the knife, thinking of his hands on you, touching what had always belonged to her.

“Why?” you whispered, watching her like you were peeling away her layers, seeing her stripped of all pretenses.

“Why do you think?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes like it was obvious.

The words that tumbled from your mouth after her revelation left her almost astonished.

“How’d you kill him?” then, with a morbid fascination you added, “What did it feel like?” your head tilted slightly to the side. 

˳·˖𖤐 The more she went on and on about the macabre details, the more it turned you on. She was taken aback by your enthusiasm and curiosity, the specific questions flowing from your lips with an unsettling calm that she struggled to comprehend. It was almost as if you were savoring every twisted word that came from her. She couldn’t wrap her head around how her dark confessions had led to this moment—both of you naked, with you perched on top of her.

Ellie was gorgeous—way too gorgeous to be a serial killer, or a psychotic person. She was even more gorgeous beneath you, auburn strands of hair splayed across the pillow, messy but not as messy as her dripping pussy. Her breath hitched as your fingers tightened around the handle of her switchblade, the cold metal gliding from her neck down to her chest, drawing lazy white scratches all over her alabaster skin.

A low, frustrated groan escaped her lips as you drew lazy circles around her areolas with the sharp point of the knife, watching with satisfaction as her pink nipples hardened, standing at full attention for you, as hard as rocks and begging to be tortured. You could feel her grow restless beneath you—her hips bucking in a desperate attempt to grind against your pussy, but you lifted yourself ever so slightly, just enough to deprive her of the friction she craved.

“Desperate?” you mocked, your bottom lip jutting out in a cruel pout. Ellie’s eyes flicked up to yours, glazed with lust and frustration, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. A cocky front, even now. But it was just a front, she was so fucking weak for you.

“Yeah,” she rasped, her voice betraying her need, but her eyes showed a glint of defiance. She couldn’t resist trying to fight back. “But you’re dragging this out like a coward.”

You hummed sultrily, letting the blade press just a little harder against her dotty complexion—not enough to cut, but enough to leave faint red marks across her flesh. “Oh, you think you’re in a position to talk back?” you spat, your free hand pinning her wrist above her head as she squirmed. “You’re fucking sick, Ellie.”

“Like you’re any better,” she sneered, though her voice trembled as the tip of the knife traced down her sternum toward her stomach. Goosebumps rose on her sun-spotted skin as her breathing became more erratic, her hips lifting in vain again to seek the friction you kept cruelly out of her reach.

“Not the one going around killing people, am I?” you snorted, the blade now grazing and lingering just below her belly button.

Ellie’s defiance cracked, her voice weaker, more fragile as she muttered, “I did it for you.” it made your heart skip a beat or beat faster—you really couldn’t tell from all that adrenaline clouding your rational thoughts.

“You’re trembling,” you noted with a sly smirk, her cocky grin faltering as the knife inched lower, closer to where she needed you most. Ellie bit her lip hard, a needy whimper slipping through despite her best effort to stifle it.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, one hand reaching up to rest on your hip. Her touch sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t help but lower yourself closer, pressing your body against hers. 

A wicked smirk tugged at your lips, pride swelling in your chest at the sight of her—the usually cold, calculated killer, reduced to this. All because of you. Seeing her this weak for you truly made you want to do the unholiest things to her, things you knew she would never forget about. You tossed the switchblade aside, forgotten as soon as your lips descended on her neck, sucking dark spots on her soft flesh. You let your teeth sink in, biting just hard enough to get a soft sound out of her. The auburnette was so desperate and sensitive that everything seemed to make her moan—every brief touch, every kiss, even your breathing fanning over her skin. She was already half-gone, and you were barely even getting started.

Her skin flushed beneath your lips as you kissed your way down her body, taking your sweet time, savoring each second of her squirming beneath you. Her breaths grew more ragged, her thighs twitching as you moved lower. Ellie’s body was a temple, and right now, it was all yours to worship.

She’d killed for you, it was the least you could do. So, was romance really dead?

˳·˖𖤐 You’d never imagined Ellie would care that much, never thought she’d be capable of that level of obsession. And you didn’t mind it one bit. No, quite the opposite. The realization only made your pussy throb madly, heat pooling between your thighs as your mind replayed her confession over and over like a broken record, focusing on the brutal details she had given you. It wasn’t just the idea of her killing—it was that she did it because of you, because she couldn’t let anyone else have you.

Every single muscle in her body tensed, her legs trembling as you hovered right above her hairy mound. You could see it—the way her wetness coated her folds, her pink clit, swollen and impatient, her pussy practically begging for attention, and it only made you want to tease her more. Your thumb teasingly drew tight, gentle circles on her aching nub, making her whimper almost exaggeratedly.

“Aww, look at you…” you purred, retracting your hand, your voice low, honed in sweet mockery. You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over her sensitive skin. “Soaking wet, desperate for me to touch you. Gonna start begging now?”

Your words made her whine, her resolve crumbling more with each passing second—not that there was any left. Her body betrayed her, hips lifting toward your face, her need palpable. But you weren’t done playing with her yet. You had all night ahead.

Your arms curled around her toned thighs, pulling her closer as you knelt at the edge of the bed, your face mere inches from her pussy. You could see how wet she was, how desperate she had become—there was even a dark wet patch on the sheets beneath her. You smirked up at her, eyes locking with hers as you lowered your mouth to her slick folds. With the tip of your tongue, you spread her moistened lips, and it was enough to make Ellie’s entire body jolt, a choked moan tearing from her throat as you tasted her, her sweet juices coating your lips as you lapped at her with slow, deliberate cat licks.

Ellie’s head fell back against the pillow, her hands gripping your hair with white-knuckled desperation as you ate her out, tongue flicking over her clit every now and then with just enough pressure to drive her mad. You sucked, your lips closing around her swollen bud, and Ellie’s back arched painfully off the bed, her thighs trembling around your head.

“Fuck… fuck…” she gasped, her hoarse voice scratching her already dry throat as her hips bucked uncontrollably and you held her down, refusing to let her squirm away from the relentless onslaught of your mouth.

You smirked against her, the vibrations of your giggle only making her moan louder. “Look at you, El,” you teased, your voice muffled between her thighs. “So sweet ‘n perfect f’me,”

You didn’t wait for a response, diving back in, your tongue swirling around her clit as you slipped two fingers inside her, curling them with brutal precision, finding that sweet spot that had her toes curling, her breath catching in her throat. Her gummy walls clenched around your fingers, and you could feel how close she was, her legs shaking violently.

Ellie’s moans grew louder, more frantic, her hands tugging at your hair hard as she tried to ground herself, grinding against your tongue. But you didn’t slow down—if anything, you fucked her harder, your fingers pumping into her fast and deep, your mouth never abandoning her needy clit, your nose buried in her trimmed bush.

“Beg me,” you commanded as you pulled away to breathe, her core swallowing every inch of your fingers greedily. All those years of plugging her fingers deep inside her wet cunt imagining they were yours instead were so worth the wait.

“I—fuck—” the green-eyed girl’s breath caught, her body shaking uncontrollably, her voice barely a whisper now. “Please… please…” She couldn’t even fucking function; you had reduced her to a broken mess.

“Can’t hear you,” you prompted her, your fingers plunging deeper, harder, until her back arched off the bed, a cry of pure need tearing from her throat.

“Fuck! Please, I need it—I need you—fuck, I’m so close!” she sobbed, her voice cracking as her orgasm crept closer, promising her to see stars, but you weren’t about to give her what she wanted—no, not yet.

You grinned wickedly, pulling your fingers out of her soaked pussy just before she could. A strangled, frustrated sob escaped her plump lips as her body writhed beneath you, her orgasm stolen, leaving her aching and needy.

“Aw, you’re not so smart, are you? You really thought I was going to let you come?” You leaned in, pressing your lips to her ear as you whispered, “Oh no, El… we’re just getting started. You’re not going anywhere.”

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie’s eyes widened with a mixture of frustration and confusion as you told her you’d let her come after you were done using her. You reached for your favorite strap-on, adjusting the harness until it sat snugly around her hips. Her wrists were bound securely to the headboard, the cuffs’ soft, fluffy lining pressing firmly against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as the realization dawned on her, her eyes darting between the toy and your wicked grin. 

Her pupils were blown with lust as she watched you lower yourself onto her, the thick silicone toy sliding in with ease after you’d teased your throbbing bud with its tip. Her hands twitched, desperate to reach out, to touch you, but she couldn’t do much with the handcuffs keeping her wrists locked to the bed, the soft restraints holding her firmly in place. She watched with wide eyes as her cock stretched your needy, wet heat, sliding in and out. At first, your movements were slow and teasing, letting her take in every inch, but it didn’t take long before you picked up the pace, your body already accustomed to its size, moving with a frantic, eager rhythm.

“Fuuuck…” you panted, rolling your hips against the toy, your breath hitching as that familiar feeling built in your stomach. Ellie’s gaze was glued to you—your bouncing tits, your parted lips, the way your body moved smoothly above her. She wanted to touch, to feel you, but all she could do was watch as you used her, as you fucked yourself on the strap like she wasn’t even there. It was cruel, truly. Her body trembled with need as she watched you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure, her pussy throbbing with unmet desire as yours seemed to suck the toy deeper, and for a moment, she swore she could feel your walls tightening around her—perhaps it was the desperation playing a sick joke on her. She couldn’t help but let out a moan.

˳·˖𖤐 She had tried begging but she’d only be met with things such as:

“Cry about it,” you sneered, your voice cold and mocking as you watched her squirm restlessly beneath you.

“You’re such a fucking crybaby,” you murmured, fingers gripping onto her chin and forcing her to look at you as if her desperation was nothing more than a joke to you.

“I’m putting up a whole show for you, and you’re still complaining,” you chuckled darkly, a twisted satisfaction curling at the corners of your mouth as you looked down at her, reveling in her helplessness, your wetness dripping down the harness, making a mess on top of her.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice cracking as she thrusted up. Mewls slipped out of your soft lips as the tip of her silicone cock hit your cervix, desperation written all over her flushed face. “Please let me touch you... let me do something...” Her voice hitched as she choked on a sob, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her glassy eyes locked onto yours, her cheeks streaked with the remnants of her pleas. “Fuck, I can’t—” she cried out, voice breaking again, her head tilting back as she tried to hold herself together. Her gaze flickered back up to you, trailing to your chest, lingering there hungrily. Bushy brows furrowed with longing as she licked her chapped lips.

But you weren’t listening. You were too lost in the pleasure of fucking yourself on her, your head thrown back, sobs pouring from your lips as the strap-on hit that perfect spot against your cervix. Your movements grew more frantic, hips slamming down harder, faster, the toy sliding in and out of your slick folds with ease. The wet sounds of your arousal filled her room, mixing with the desperate, needy gasps that escaped Ellie beneath you, her fingers curling into fists as the cuffs dug into her velvety skin, promising bruises she’d feel long after this was over.

Her eyes glazed over, chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched you ride her with reckless abandon. The sight of you, your body glistening with sweat, pretty tits bouncing with every thrust, was too much for her. She was on the edge, teetering, her body aching to release, but you wouldn’t let her. You wouldn’t let her do shit.

Ellie groaned, frustration and lust mixing in her voice as she bucked her hips uselessly beneath you, trying to gain even a fraction of relief from the sight of you fucking yourself senseless. “Please… please, I’m begging you,” she whimpered, her voice hoarse and broken, and god if it nearly made you squirt. “I need it—I need to come, please…”

You smirked down at her, not stopping, your hips grinding harder, riding the strap with everything you had. You leaned down, your breath hot against the shell of her ear as you whispered, “You’re not coming until I say you can. You’re going to sit there and watch me get off, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.” Cruelly pressing damp and sloppy kisses on the column of her neck, kisses that had her gasping pathetically.

˳·˖𖤐 And it went on and on, her eyes locked on the sight of your milky cum dripping down the thick, black strap, each drop making her bite back a groan. She wished she could taste you. Every time she tried to move or squirm too much for your liking, you’d smack her hard across the face, or switch to a new position just to tease her even more, making sure you were giving her the best view. It was only after the fifth—or maybe the sixth—orgasm that you finally uncuffed her.

The moment her wrists were free, she flipped you over, quick as lightning, giving you no time to react. She pinned you beneath her with a mischievous glint in her eyes, you looked up at her, panting and spent, your brows knitting together in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. She just smirked down at you, spreading your trembling legs apart with ease, her grip firm and unyielding.

“Oh fuck, no—” you gasped out, trying to squirm away as she wrapped her hand around the slick toy, guiding it right back to your abused entrance. She knew she could probably come right then, grinding against the back of the strap, but the thought of pushing you past your limits was far more thrilling. 

“You’re not stupid enough to think I’d let you go so easily, right?” she repeated your earlier words, her voice low and dangerous as she lowered herself over you, your sweaty bodies pressing together. “Didn’t you wanna be my helpless victim, babe?”

The redhead pushed in relentlessly, forcing your pulsating walls to swallow every inch, your back arching as she made you hold on just a little longer. Before long, your legs gave out beneath you as she pounded into you from behind, each thrust deep and brutal, your cheek pressed into the soft mattress. Her hand came down hard on your ass, leaving a sharp sting that burned like a bitch. The smacks kept coming, over and over, until your skin was bruised and your body was shaking with overstimulation. “This is for leaving me high and dry,” she hissed, her voice rough with frustration and desire, slapping the same bruised spot again and again, until you knew you’d be sore for days, unable to sit down.

˳·˖𖤐 When it was finally over, the two of you laid tangled together, breathless and sticky. Ellie’s chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, but a question lingered in her eyes—one that seemed to claw at her even now, despite everything you’d done to show her you weren’t running, that you weren’t disgusted by her nature. You had never been, for the matter, even when you were kids.

“You’re not gonna tell on me, yeah?” she rasped, her voice rough, her grip tightening possessively on your hip while her other hand gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. Her touch was surprisingly tender, contrasting with the weight of her words, like she was scared to hear your answer. It made your heart swell knowing she feared losing you so badly.

But you were so drunk of the overwhelming contentment that you barely registered the tension in her voice. Instead, a sleepy smile tugged at your lips, and you blurted out, “Wanna be my girlfriend?” The question slipped out before you could think, your gaze locked onto her freckled face, admiring every angle and curve, the way the warm dim light softened her expression.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard, before a playful smirk curved her lips. “I am your girlfriend,” she gave your hip a gentle swat that made you chuckle softly, the sound mixing with the quiet hum of the fan.

“Y’know…you’re right,” you mumbled suddenly. Her hand drifted to your back, scratching lightly, soothing you as your body relaxed into hers. You turned your head, meeting her soft eyes again, while something darker flashed in yours. “He fucking deserved what he got,” Your voice was low, carrying a finality that made Ellie’s breath hitch. It was all the reassurance she needed. A wide grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up with something almost feral, a giddy kind of joy. It was a smile so genuine, so purely her, that it was impossible to resist leaning in to kiss her, your lips meeting hers in a messy, heated kiss. 

“But yeah, if you leave me I’m gonna tell on you.”

˳·˖𖤐 She had gotten clingier and more eager after that night, always looking for an excuse to touch you, to keep you within reach. Whenever you went somewhere, Ellie trailed right behind you, like a shadow that wouldn’t leave your side. And honestly, you loved it—you thrived on bossing her around, enjoying how she would drop whatever she was doing just to be with you. If the two of you were inseparable as friends before, it had only gotten worse. Not that the obsessive, morbid love wasn’t there before, but now you both let it show, with no boundaries left to be set, no rules, just whatever twisted thing you both had become together.

˳·˖𖤐 Time flew by, and soon Halloween rolled around again, your favorite holiday. Ellie knew it, too, and she didn’t even try to say no when you convinced her to tag along to a party you’d been invited to. It was supposed to be a small, “close friends only” type of thing, but you dragged her with you anyway, making it clear you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Plus, you’d been at each other’s throats lately, bickering more than usual, and she didn’t want to risk making you any angrier. It was either coming along without putting up a fight or dealing with the idea of you going solo—knowing she’d just end up following you like the little creep she was, lurking in the shadows, making sure no one even dared to touch you.

˳·˖𖤐 The party turned out to be better than either of you had expected. A few drinks in, and you both started to loosen up, Ellie sticking close, practically attached to your side with some invisible rope. It was like she couldn’t let you out of her sight, even for a second, her hand always finding its way to your back or waist, keeping you close. You danced together, swaying in the colorful, pulsing lights, your bodies brushing intimately against each other. Her eyes stayed glued to you the whole time, like you were the Holy Mary herself, and she just couldn’t get enough. You reveled in her devotion, the way her grip on your hips would tighten as you moved. It was such a turn-on.

Eventually, the party began to wind down, and it wasn’t long before it was just the two of you left with Allison and her boyfriend, Lucas. The four of you gravitated toward the kitchen, where Ellie leaned against the counter, elbows propped up on the cold granite. She played with the knives, her fingers casually tracing the handles, sliding them in and out of the block absentmindedly.

Allison scrolled through her phone, her brown eyes squinting at the screen’s dim glow. “Another guy went missing,” she announced, her voice wavering as she scanned through the article. “I bet Ghostface has something to do with it.”

“Tragic,” Ellie muttered, her tone devoid of sympathy. Her eyes remained fixed ahead, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips. You watched her, catching the unsettling indifference in her voice. When she noticed your gaze, she raised an eyebrow in mock innocence, daring you to question her. Instead, she shrugged. Allison went on and on about how creepy it was that Ghostface could be literally anyone, her voice holding a mix of fascination and fear. 

“I mean, think about it,” she said, eyes wide as she gestured dramatically. “It could be your neighbor, your friend, even someone you totally trust! Just wearing that mask and knife in hand, ready to strike any moment. It’s so fucked up!” As Allison thought about the countless times she had passed by potential killers, she couldn’t help but shudder in fear at her luck. How many times had she walked down a dark alleyway, taken a walk alone at night, or even trusted the wrong person? The thought of her mortality sent a chill down her spine and made her wonder how long her luck would hold out.

“Yeah, it’s scary,” you hummed, but then the conversation shifted back to the guy who had gone missing. 

“You’ve got to be dumb to get killed like that, though,” Ellie scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “Came all the way from Michigan just to end up dead? Pathetic. Guess all those muscles didn’t help much.”

Allison frowned at Ellie’s lack of empathy, but she shrugged it off, scrolling through her phone for more details, her thumb flicking faster across the screen. “That’s… awful,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced over at Lucas, who seemed unfazed by the conversation.

Lucas noticed your look and mistook it for unease. “You okay?” he asked, genuine concern in his eyes. “Want a drink or something?”

You nodded, playing into his kindness. “Sure, thanks.”

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Allison’s head before heading to the kitchen, leaving you, Ellie, and Allison alone in the dim living room.

“Wait—” Allison’s brows knitted in confusion, her voice soft but growing with unease. “How’d you know he was from Michigan? It doesn’t say anything about…” Her voice trailed off as she continued scrolling, her eyes flicking back and forth over the screen, trying to make sense of what Ellie had just casually dropped.

Ellie’s smile barely flickered. “Just a guess,” she replied smoothly, her gaze icy and unbothered, creeping Allison out.

You chuckled at the exchange, and Allison turned to you with a confused look. “C’mon, cheer up, Allison! We’re just messing with you. Can’t you take a joke? It’s Halloween!”

Allison’s frown deepened as she glanced between you and Ellie, her eyes clouding with suspicion. She let out a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the unsettling vibe. “You two are… really something,” she said, brushing it off, not wanting to overthink it. Maybe paranoia was just doing her dirty. Oh, if she only knew.

Ellie smirked, she leaned forward, her voice dropping low. “Oh, you have no idea,” she whispered, her tone laced with something dark and final, a warning the girl didn’t quite catch.

Lucas handed you the drink, his face lighting up with an easy smile, completely unaware of the exchange. 

“You guys wanna play a game?” you asked, grinning at Allison and Lucas. The suggestion hung in the air, deceptively playful. Allison exchanged a look with Lucas, her unease melting a bit, as if convincing herself she was just imagining things.

She forced a smile. “Sure. What kind of game?”

Ellie’s grin widened, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “How about something… fun?”

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe it was the thrill of the game or the intoxicating rush of chaos, but after a few questions were answered and it was your turn, your eyes widened in shock as the blade pierced your stomach. Time seemed to slow down as you locked eyes with Ellie, and what you saw there sent a chill down your spine—your girlfriend’s eyes were empty, devoid of emotion—not even guilt shone in her eyes. It was like staring into a void. 

Blood poured from your mouth, warm and sticky, and panic coursed through you. When a week ago she had suggested trying something new, never did you think that would lead to this—her knife buried deep inside your insides, and blood pouring out of you like a crimson-tainted waterfall.

“W-why…?” you choked on your own blood, the words barely audible but with the stillness of the room, they seemed to echo louder. 

Allison and Lucas stood completely frozen, utterly speechless, their bodies rigid with shock as they watched the horrific scene unfold before their eyes, feeling useless and not knowing how to stop it. The crimson blood pooled out of your wound, soaking the fabric of your shirt, while Ellie’s gloves gleamed with a sinister shine. The red wasn’t so visible against the darkness of her attire, but it was there, unmistakable. 

“It was the wrong answer, babe,” Ellie whispered, her words dripping with a sickening sweetness that made your skin crawl, and the innocent faint smile on her face made Allison want to rip her hair out. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Allison screamed, her voice laced with disbelief, her eyes wide as she took a shaky step back.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Lucas followed, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and anger, trying to process the madness unfolding in front of him.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING MONSTER!” Allison yelled, her voice cracking as she cried, her hands shaking.

Your body hit the floor with a heavy thud, and through half-lidded eyes, you saw the panic set in as Allison and Lucas before you stopped breathing entirely. They scrambled for the door, nearly tripping over themselves. Allison’s frantic, manicured hands rattled desperately the knob, her voice shrill as she screamed for help, but the door wouldn’t budge. Locked. 

And she hadn’t locked it. She was sure she hadn’t.

Lucas, desperate to protect her, grabbed a vase from the entry table and hurled it at Ellie, the glass shattering against her shoulder with a harsh crack. It staggered her for a moment, just long enough for them to dart in separate directions, fleeing up the stairs. 

Ellie grinned, her eyes flashing with excitement as she took off after Lucas, her steps heavy but steady, savoring the thrill of the chase, like a cat chasing a mouse. She looked over her shoulder at you before she raced up the stairs. Allison stumbled into the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The auburnette could hear the blonde girl breathing heavily, panicked, the creak of the floorboards giving her away as she backed into the room.

But she decided to take care of Lucas instead, having labeled Allison as the weakest between the two. She successfully cornered Lucas at the end of the hallway. He threw open the door to the master bathroom, eyes darting desperately around for anything he could use to defend himself. He grabbed a towel rack, ripping it off the wall and wielding it like a bat as Ellie advanced on him, her face lit with a twisted satisfaction. A stupid towel rack wasn’t going to stop her, and honestly, it excited her. She loved how people fought for their lives, no matter how fucked up the situation was. It was fascinating to watch, like a wild show of survival instincts kicking in. The panic, the desperation on their faces and in their actions—it was what got her heart racing and made her feel alive.

“You… you’re insane!” Lucas stammered, brandishing the metal rod with trembling hands.

He was taller, bigger, stronger—details that only made the auburnette’s grin widen, her attentive eyes narrowing with anticipation. To her, he was nothing but a challenge, one she was all too eager to take on. Ellie chuckled darkly, her eyes never leaving him as she took one slow, measured step forward. “Only now figuring that out, huh?” She took another step, her shadow looming over him as he shrank back against the tiled wall, his breaths coming in panicked gasps. He swung the metal bar, catching her arm with a glancing hit, but it only seemed to amuse her more. She couldn’t feel pain—not even the faintest pulse of her own heartbeat, completely drowned out by the surge of adrenaline flooding her veins. She felt invincible.

With a swift, practiced precision, Ellie caught his wrist, twisting it sharply until the rod clattered to the aquamarine floor. “Nice try, Lucas,” she hissed before shoving him backward, hard enough that his head cracked against the tile. He slumped to the floor, groaning, his vision swimming as Ellie towered over him. But he fought nonetheless, his hands trying to stop her from sinking the sharp knife into his throat, but it didn’t last long. He didn’t last long.

“That was stupid,” she panted, standing over his corpse, her look sharp and full of disdain. Her face was scrunched in anger, but the adrenaline flooding her veins felt incredible—like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. The thrill of it. A loud noise snapped her from her thoughts. The old wood creaked under her black boots as she headed toward the room where she’d last seen Allison hide.

˳·˖𖤐 The guest bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she shoved it open with a firm kick. Her eyes locked onto Allison, sprawled lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around her still body. Her face was frozen in horror as if she’d seen a ghost in her final moments. Her gaze drifted up—to you, standing just a few feet from Allison’s lifeless body.

“Hey, babe,” you said with a crooked smile, giving her a little wave, clearly nervous but with a spark of excitement in your eyes that made her stare in awe. She remembered that feeling all too well—the jitters, the high that followed her first time. And here you were, cheeks flushed and grinning ear to ear like the fucking Cheshire cat, looking so damn giddy as you took it all in—like a kid who had just discovered their new favorite toy. 

Trying new things had definitely been the right move, and Ellie didn’t regret it for a second, because you were practically glowing. For the first time, you felt truly alive. It hit you then, just how much emptiness you’d been carrying all these years, how you’d learned to live with that hollow feeling. But this? This made you feel whole. Euphoric. Alive in every possible way.

“How’d I do?” you asked, almost childlike, looking up at her with eager eyes, fishing for approval—her approval. It was all you needed, and it felt like trying to impress a middle school crush all over again.

“Pretty good, my love. You did great,” she praised, a hint of pride sneaking into her voice.

“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up, a satisfied grin spreading across your face.

Her gaze softened briefly, a low, amused, throaty laugh slipping from her lips as she pushed a stray lock of hair back with the back of her blood-stained glove, leaving a smudged streak of red across her cheekbone. Her emerald eyes sparkled as she took in the mess you’d created. “You know, for a second there, I didn’t think you’d go through with it. Look at you now.” Her tongue darted across her bottom lip as she looked at you up and down, ready to pounce on you any time now.

You blushed, a bit sheepish, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the floor. “What can I say? Guess you’re a bad influence,” you smirked, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

She tossed the knife aside, and you mirrored her every move, watching as she peeled off her gloves and stepped closer. Her toothy smile widened as she pulled you in, her thumb brushing softly across your cheekbone, still warm from the adrenaline rush, while her other trembling hand rested on your waist. “Oh, yeah? Gonna start blaming me now?”

“Maybe,” you shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

The freckled girl leaned in, pressing her lips against yours, soft and warm and she tasted so sweet.

“Your performance down there was flawless, and your technique…” she trailed off, her eyes trailing down to Allison’s body, “Not bad for your first time. A little shaky on the left stab, but hey,” she shrugged, lips curling into a teasing smirk, knowing damn well that even the gentlest dose of constructive criticism would get under your skin, “we’ll work on it.”

You scoffed and swatted her hand away, but Ellie just giggled, her laugh soft and breathless. “Can’t believe you got that question wrong, though,” she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing your cheek again, she couldn’t keep her hands off of you. That familiar smug smirk tugged at her heart-shaped lips as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a more playful one, her breath warm against your heated skin. “We’ve only watched the first Scream movie a hundred times together,” she said, almost mockingly offended, her green eyes bright with mischief, the ones that told you exactly what she had in mind. And she swore she was falling deeper for you, you had her in a chokehold.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “I only watched it because you were obsessed with it and I thought you were cute,” you admitted.

Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she raised her scarred eyebrow at you. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling her hand drift lower to your waist, pulling you closer, you cupped her cheek, your thumb caressing her blood-stained cheekbone lovingly, staring at her enamored.

Her lips brushed against your ear, voice low and teasing. “You know what I'm really in the mood for?” Her hand slipped lower and lower until it was resting on your plush ass, giving it a suggestive squeeze.

You chuckled, pretending to think. “Pizza?”

She let out a soft laugh. “I was gonna say you, but…” She gave you that crooked, lopsided smile, shrugging playfully.

You snorted, “Oh, well, that too. I just didn’t know killing works up your appetite.”

Her smirk deepened, revealing that dimple on her left cheek you loved so much, her infatuated gaze lingering on your lips almost as if she wanted to swallow you whole. “My bad. Should’ve warned you,” she murmured, then backed you toward the bed behind you, her hands rough but confident, pressing you down as she crawled on top, her breath hot and insistent against your supple skin.

Before you knew it, she was buried deep inside you, slender, calloused fingers curling and pressing against that spot that had you whining, and your legs trembling. Her other hand gripped her switchblade, cool metal tracing up to press it against your throat, and she could feel you squeeze her fingers. “Awwhh, baby,” she taunted, voice dripping with mockery. “You keep squirming like that, and it’s gonna cost you your life.”

You choked out a laugh, though it came out breathless and shaky. “You’d cum at the sight, wouldn’t you?” You bit your lip to stifle a moan, body struggling to hold still as she kept up that relentless rhythm, her fingers stretching and curling deep inside you, making your whole body shudder. You couldn’t help but trap her arm, a weak attempt to slow her down because you knew you wouldn’t last. Not with her pressing a knife on your throat. “Fucking psycho.”

“But you love me.” She said it so matter-of-factly, her lips curling with satisfaction as she watched you nod, helpless and needy, your eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched around her, drawing her in like you couldn’t get enough.

“Yeah, I love you! F-Fuck…” you gasped, grinding down on her fingers, desperate, craving that friction your hungry clit needed. 

Her smitten gaze drifted to the lifeless body sprawled across the room, a proud smirk tugging at her lips. “So proud of you. You did such a good job. Look at her.” She tilted your face, forcing you to take it in. “Your work.” And in her fucked up mind, she truly believed it—your work deserved to be worshiped, just like Picasso’s after he was gone. A masterpiece, painted with every kind of brutal emotion.

You let out a shaky breath, almost dazed. “Yeah, I… I did that,” you stammered, voice breaking, caught somewhere between a whimper and a sob, you could feel it, you were close already and all that praising surely wasn’t helping.

“That’s right,” she murmured, nodding as her eyes roamed over you, taking you in like she was seeing you for the first time, it made you melt. “You’re so fucking hot, god. Made just for me. Perfect for me.”

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe she was right. You felt it deep down, a truth that clung to you. A match made in hell. And as long as you had her, you’d be more than fine.

[eleu22]

You guys do not appreciate Gaz enough so I’m here to sell him to you

this shit is important so yall better read

I truly don’t understand the lack of Gaz love -

ok well

I do at some level

I think the argument usually levied against his character id that he’s boring

but beautifully stated by tumblr user mockerycrow in their character analysis of him

CHARACTERS DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE A TRAGIC BACKSTORY TO BE INTERESTING CHARACTERS

press keep reading to fall in love with Gaz

Who is Gaz?

I’m going to start out with who Gaz is as a character

morality

Gaz is someone who has a strong sense of morality and struggles with the balance between doing the right thing and doing the morally right thing, there’s this debate between long-term morality and situational morality that Gaz struggles with

look im maybe not the most linguistically talented person on earth so im just gonna throw in a few quotes which i think gives Gaz

Gaz is someone who admist chaos and war is trying his best, trying his best to be a good person, to be reliable and to do the right thing

if thays not lovable idk what is

relationship to price

ok so i think this aspect of Gaz’s character is what people tend to focus on

and as much as the omg price’s son shit is cute i think he’s become a vehicle for people to emphasise price’s daddy factor (which like dont get me wrong keep up the good work)

but i think theres so much more to that

i forgot who wrote this but someone said something about Gaz trying to follow in impossibly large footsteps and i think thats so accurate

going back to Gaz’s struggle with morality there’s so much untapped potential in the idea that his idol, may not be an amazing person, having to come to grips with the idea that Price, his role model can look at a woman and child as interrogation leverage is something that i think people need to look into more

OK so now

Untapped Potential

so here are somethings which i

idk if this is like the correct phrasing

headcannon? idk i just think these are parts of Gaz’s character which could be rlly interesting to explore

ahem

yes Gaz is a good guy, but that doesn’t make him passive Gaz has shown moments of anger, like in the interrogation with the butcher when he lunges at him or when him and price first meet

i think the fact that Gaz is so calm and collected but has these moments are cracks in the facade he creates

i believe personally he has a lot of repressed anger whether it be at the world, at himself, at his captain hes an angry dude hes just better at keeping it under wraps

and i know we don’t really have many details on his backstory but cmon there’s no way u sign up for a job like this and don’t have any issues whatsoever

i think this quote is so good for this because he’s harnessed his anger, it’s what makes him good at his job, a knife, a weapon

i think another interesting concept for Gaz is guilt

the fact that he cares about whats right and wrong how does he feel going to sleep at night? do these things haunt him? is he irredeemable?

i think its like that one quote “the dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn’t. My guilt does not purify me.”

Final Thoughts

anyways guys thanks for coming to my ted talk

i know this was really messy but i just want to encourage some Gaz love because i think he’s a really interesting complex character who we just need to dig a little deeper into

i hope this incites some more gaz love

THANK YOU 😳

[fastandcarlos]

Life With The Verstappen Family : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: a glimpse into the life of the verstappen family and your two little ones who are always causing chaos

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by schecoperez, redbullracing and 2,593,069 others

maxverstappen1: turns out being dad is the coolest thing in the world 💕

139,583 comments

username1: not max as a dad also being the coolest dad in the world

username2: the handsome dad vibes are strong in these pictures 💪🏻

danielricciardo: congrats my friend!!

landonorris: can't believe you're actually dad...wow you're old 😂

maxverstappen1: @/landonorris you're not exactly a spring chicken anymore yourself

username3: is it okay to be this jealous of a small child??

ynusername: can't wait to spend the rest of my life being mum and dad with you 💞

maxverstappen1: @/ynusername I'm definitely the lucky one between the two of us ☺️

username4: I can't believe we get to see dad max at the paddock next year

oscarpiastri: why is your tiny human so cute? clearly yn got all the good genes in there

redbullracing: welcome to the smallest member of our team, we can't wait to have you in the paddock soon!! 💙❤️

username5: the proud smile on his face actually melts my heart

username6: forever in love with max as a dad already 🤧

georgerussell63: who'd have thought you'd be the first to settle down, congrats you two!

charles_leclerc: dog dads are better than human dads btw 🤷🏻‍♂️

schecoperez: sending all my 'how to survive life as a dad' books your way my friend

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,472,293 others

ynusername: turns out max can’t ski and ydn is absolutely showing him up on the slopes ⛷️

138,291 comments

username7: omg look at how grown up yn is getting

maxverstappen1: imma just focus on the first photo and how much my little girl adores me...no idea what you're talking about with the skiing 🙄

username8: yn pls tell me you've got some videos of this lol

landonorris: he is the most uncoordinated man i've ever met and you chose to take him skiing 🤦🏻‍♂️

ynusername: @/landonorris it was ydn's choice, you know max can't say no to his little girl

carlossainz55: i'll have to show him how it's done one day

username9: not ydn falling asleep in max's lap, it looks so comfy there 🤩

username10: anyone else think that ydn looks more and more like max's twin everyday??

username11: how can one family be so cute? 🤔

alex_albon: lily told me you sent a video of max falling on his ass, please say I have permission to see it too?

ynusername: @/alex_albon it's all yours 😘

maxverstappen1: @/alex_albon @/ynusername hey i refuse to give permission for this!!!

lewishamilton: hope you guys are having the best time, tell ydn i've got the biggest cuddle waiting for her when i see her next

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, alex_albon and 1,799,391 others

maxverstappen1: all my babies ❤️🥺

189,382 comments

username12: i dont think my ovaries can take much more of these updates

username13: i can't deal with how adorable these are!! 😭😭

ynusername: guessing i'm not your baby anymore 💔

maxverstappen1: @/ynusername you'll always be my baby 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

landonorris: i thought I was your baby too???

maxverstappen1: @/landonorris go away before i block you again 🙄

charles_leclerc: btw dogs are still better than cats

username14: not charles starting a war of pets in the comments sections

username15: praying i come back as a cat so i can be adopted by the verstappens too 🤞🏻

georgerussell63: can you stop taking sickeningly sweet photos of your daughter so that we stop missing her during the off season please

alex_albon: ydn's position reminds me of how lily looked when i got home last night fast asleep on the sofa

lilymhe: @/alex_albon btw the couch is yours tonight now 🖕🏻

username16: how can these cute photos cause a domestic lmao

username17: it's always max causing trouble even when he doesn't mean to

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 994,293 others

ynusername: forever a third wheel when it comes to these two 🫶🏻

48,193 comments

landonorris: now you know how i've felt for the past six years 🤷🏻‍♂️

username18: i'll come and save you yn!!

danielricciardo: you should be used to it...you third wheeled us for several seasons

username19: ydn is such a daddy's girl its unreal 🤩

maxverstappen1: stop making people feel sorry for you, you choose to hang back and take all these photos hahah

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 JUST LET ME HAVE MY MOMENT

username20: i can't cope with how unserious these two are as parents 😂😂

username21: i wonder if ydn realises how lucky she is getting to travel the world with max verstappen by her side

oscarpiastri: just so you know, lando laughed out loud when he read the caption to this

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri just so you know, he's the worst!

username22: yn must be desperate for another baby so its 2v2

username23: even as a third wheel I'd be happy just being that close to max

schecoperez: come and hang out in my driver room instead!! 💙

lilymhe: i'll save you bestie

ynusername: @/lilymhe knew i could rely on you 😘

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, sebastianvettel and 1,382,291 others

maxverstappen1: why does no one ever warn you that two kids are so much harder to control than one 😂

89,503 comments

username24: emilian you knew what you signed up for when you got yn pregnant

danielricciardo: now imagine being christian trying to take control over both of us hahah 😂😂

username25: max and one kid was cute but max and two kids...wow

schecoperez: you should've listened to me i did warn you

ynusername: all I can see is ydn getting dangerously close to that water you fool 🤦🏻‍♀️

maxverstappen1: @/ynusername i've got everything under control don't worry

username26: how can any man complain when you're kids are that cute

charles_leclerc: i keep reminding you that me and alex are happy to babysit whenever you want us

maxverstappen1: @/charles_leclerc alex I trust...you...well 🤫

username27: its the colour coordinating with ysn that does it for me

username28: is everyone going to ignore how grown up those two babies look these days

landonorris: i can come and join you and see what it's like to practice for baby number three if you want? 😂

username29: lando norris you menace

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liked by carlossainz55, lewishamilton and 2,392,605 others

maxverstappen1: nothing better than when my two loves come and cheer me on, I promise you they are impressed by what daddy does, even if their faves suggest otherwise 🥺

194,382 comments

username30: cannot wait for my social media to be filled with verstappen baby content this weekend

ynusername: no way we're missing a home race, good luck for this weekend my love 💕💕

maxverstappen1: @/ynusername thank you for bringing them to support me, you're the best

username31: max looks so happy to have them there omg

username32: i wish someone looked as happy as max does to have me around them ❤️

carlossainz55: if they don't appear in ferrari at some point this weekend i'm never speaking to you again

alex_albon: and the williams garage!!!

pierregasly: alpine are expecting a visit too!

danielricciardo: and rb, it would be rude not to after all 🤷🏻‍♂️

username33: ydn and ysn are the most popular people in the paddock this weekend hahah

username34: i can't cope with how obsessed everyone is over these two

lewishamilton: i can't believe how big they are, where does the time even go?

georgerussell63: @/lewishamilton you mean to say you've already seen them and I wasn't there to join you 🫢

username35: poor yn won't get a second to breathe racing around all these garages

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liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 1,492,503 others

ynusername: introducing the team to their favourite drivers, and charles 😂

79,305 comments

username36: ah we got the photos to prove they visited guys

charles_leclerc: you best be kidding or i'm never babysitting for you ever again 😡

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc jokes we love you really

danielricciardo: it was lovely to see team verstappen again after so long 💞💞

landonorris: btw ysn said that i was his favourite so snooze you lose max!!

maxverstappen1: @/landonorris if you want to believe my son prefers you to me you think that my friend

username37: look at how soft they all become when they're around verstappen babies ☺️🥺

username38: i just want someone to look at me like charles looks at ysn

georgerussell63: still waiting for my turn excuse me

carmenmmundt: pls come and visit before george actually explodes 🥺

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt i promise we're on our way!!

username39: do people even go to f1 for racing anymore or just to see ysn and ydn??

username40: i saw the four of them at the gates this morning and I swear i've never seen anything cuter...

carlossainz55: there better be another post filled with photos of me and ydn coming up

oscarpiastri: lando has not shut up about the fact he saw you guys...now look what i've got to put up with 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, schecoperez and 2,583,604 others

maxverstappen1: a tribute to the woman that holds our team together, I couldn’t do this without you yn, the best mum and wife in the world ❤️❤️

105,583 comments

username41: how yn puts up with two kids and max i will never know

ynusername: it's the easiest job in the world being by your side with our two little treasures 🏎️🥺

landonorris: yn deserves a medal having to deal with you day in day out

georgerussell63: i've lost count of how many times i've seen yn running around the paddock for you, ysn or ydn

username42: i swear yn is just the best mum ever ❤️

username43: i want to be adopted by yn and yn only

carlossainz55: not forgetting the fact she now is in charge of your two cats too

charles_leclerc: at this point she's pretty much mum to us drivers too with how well she keeps us all in check 😂

username44: i thought it was just fans obsessed with the verstappens, turns out its the drivers too

username45: i expected nothing less from this group of boys who are absolutely whipped for yn

username46: its official, the verstappens are just the best 🫶🏻💕☺️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: black science fiction

As february and black history month nears its end, if you're a reader let's not forget to read and appreciate books by black authors the rest of the year as well! If you're a sci-fi fan like me, perhaps this list can help find some good books to sink your teeth into.

Bleak dystopias, high tech space adventures, alien monsters, alternate dimensions, mash-ups of sci-fi and fantasy - this list features a little bit of everything for genre fiction fans!

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

Something massive and alien crashes into the ocean off the coast of Nigeria. Three people, a marine biologist, a rapper, and a soldier, find themselves at the center of this presence, attempting to shepherd an alien ambassador as chaos spreads in the city. A strange novel that mixes the supernatural with the alien, shifts between many different POVs, and gives a one of a kind look at a possible first contact.

Nubia: The Awakening (Nubia series) by Omar Epps & Clarence A. Hayes

Young adult. Three teens living in the slums of an enviromentally ravaged New York find that something powerful is awakening within them. They’re all children of refugees of Nubia, a utopian African island nation that sank as the climate worsened, and realize now that their parents have been hiding aspects of their heritage from them. But as they come into their own, someone seeks to use their abilities to his own ends, against their own people.

The Scourge Between Stars by Ness Brown

Novella. After having failed at establishing a new colony, starship Calypso fights to make it back to Earth. Acting captain Jacklyn Albright is already struggling against the threats of interstellar space and impending starvation when the ship throws her a new danger: something is hiding on the ship, picking off her crew one by one in bloody, gruesome ways. A quick, excellent read if you want some good Alien vibes.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Includes darker examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson*

Utterly unique in world-building, story, and prose, Midnight Robber follows young Tan-Tan and her father, inhabitants of the Carribean-colonized planet of Toussaint. When her father commits a terrible crime, he’s exiled to a parallel version of the same planet, home to strange aliens and other human exiles. Tan-Tan, not wanting to lose her father, follows with him. Trapped on this new planet, he becomes her worst nightmare. Enter this book with caution, as it contains graphic child sexual abuse.

Rosewater (The Wormwood trilogy) by Tade Thompson

In Nigeria lies Rosewater, a city bordering on a strange, alien biodome. Its motives are unknown, but it’s having an undeniable effect on the surrounding life. Kaaro, former criminal and current psychic agent for the government, is one of the people changed by it. When other psychics like him begin getting killed, Kaaro must take it upon himself to find out the truth about the biodome and its intentions.

Do You Dream of Terra-Two? by Temi Oh

Young adult. A century ago, an astronomer discovered a possibly Earth-like planet. Now, a team of veteran astronauts and carefully chosen teenagers are preparing to embark on a twenty-three year trip to get there. But space is dangerous, and the team has no one to rely on but each other if - or when - something goes wrong. An introspective slowburn of a story, this focuses more on character work than action.

The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord

After the planet Sadira is left uninhabitable, its few survivors are forced to move to a new world. On Cygnus Beta, they work to rebuild their society alongside their distant relatives of the planet, while trying to preserve what remains of their culture. Focused less on hard science or action, The Best of All Possible Worlds is more about culture, romance and the ethics and practicalities of telepathy.

Mirage (Mirage duology) by Somaiya Daud

Young adult. Eighteen-year-old Amani lives on an isolated moon under the oppressive occupation of the Valthek empire. When Amani is abducted, she finds herself someplace wholly unexpected: the royal palace. As it turns out, she's nearly identical to the half-Valthek, and widely hated, princess Maram, who is in need of a body double. If Amani ever wants to make it back home or see her people freed from oppression, she will have to play her role as princess perfectly. While sci-fi, this one more has the vibe of a fantasy.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship’s leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship’s sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Where It Rains in Color by Denise Crittendon

The planet Swazembi is a utopia of color and beauty, the most beautiful of all its citizens being the Rare Indigo. Lileala was just named Rare Indigo, but her strict yet pampered life gets upended when her beautiful skin is struck by a mysterious sickness, leaving it covered in scars and scabs. Meanwhile, voices start to whisper in Lileala's mind, bringing to the surface a past long forgotten involving her entire society.

Eacaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus duology) by Nicky Drayden

Seske is the heir to the leader of a clan living inside a gigantic, spacefaring beast, of which they frequently need to catch a new one to reside in as their presence slowly kills the beast from the inside. While I found the ending rushed with regards to plot and character, the worldbuilding is very fresh and the overall plot of survival and class struggle an interesting one. It’s also sapphic!

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah*

In a near future America, inmates on death row or with life sentences in private prisons can choose to participate in death matches for entertainment. If they survive long enough - a rare case indeed - they regain their freedom. Among these prisoners are Loretta Thurwar and Hamara "Hurricane Staxxx" Stacker, partners behind the scenes and close to the deadline of a possible release - if only they can survive for long enough. As the game continues to be stacked against them and protests mount outside, two women fight for love, freedom, and their own humanity. Chain-Gang All-Stars is bleak and unflinching as well as genuinely hopeful in its portrayal of a dark but all to real possible future.

Parable of the Sower (Earthseed duology) by Octavia E. Butler*

In a bleak future, Lauren Olamina lives with her family in a gated community, one of few still safe places in a time of chaos. When her community falls, Lauren is forced on the run. As she makes her way toward possible safety, she picks up a following of other refugees, and sows the seeds of a new ideology which may one day be the saviour of mankind. Very bleak and scarily realistic, Parable of the Sower will make you both fear for mankind and regain your hope for humanity.

Binti (Binti trilogy) by Nnedi Okorafor

Young adult novella. Binti is the first of the Himba people to be accepted into the prestigious Oomza University, the finest place of higher learning in all the galaxy. But as she embarks on her interstellar journey, the unthinkable happens: her ship is attacked by the terrifying Meduse, an alien race at war with Oomza University.

War Girls (War Girls duology) by Tochi Onyebuchi

In an enviromentally fraught future, the Nigerian civil war has flared back up, utilizing cybernetics and mechs to enhance its soldiers. Two sisters, by bond if not by blood, are separated and end up on differing sides of the struggle. Brutal and dark, with themes of dehumanization of soldiers through cybernetics that turn them into weapons, and the effect and trauma this has on them.

The Space Between Worlds (The Space Between Worlds duology) by Micaiah Johnson

Multiverse travel is finally possible, but there’s a catch: No one can visit a world where their counterpart is still alive. Enter Cara, whose parallel selves happen to be exceptionally good at dying. As such she has a very special job in traveling to these worlds, hoping to keep her position long enough to gain citizenship in the walled-off Wiley City, away from the wastes where she grew up. But her job is dangerous, especially when she gets on the tracks of a secret that threatens the entire multiverse. Really cool worldbuilding and characters, also featuring a sapphic lead!

The Fifth Season (The Broken Eart trilogy) by N.K. Jemisin*

In a world regularly torn apart by natural disasters, a big one finally strikes and society as we know it falls, leaving people floundering to survive in a post apocalyptic world, its secrets and past to be slowly revealed. We get to follow a mother as she races through this world to find and save her missing daughter. While mostly fantasy in genre, this series does have some sci-fi flavor, and is genuinely some of the best books I've ever read, please read them.

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings*

In an alternate version of our present, the witch hunt never ended. Women are constantly watched and expected to marry young so their husbands can keep an eye on them. When she was fourteen, Josephine's mother disappeared, leveling suspicions at both mother and daughter of possible witchcraft. Now, nearly a decade and a half later, Jo, in trying to finally accept her missing mother as dead, decides to follow up on a set of seemingly nonsensical instructions left in her will. Features a bisexual lead!

The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden

South African-set scifi featuring gods ancient and new, robots finding sentience, dik-diks, and a gay teen with mind control abilities. An ancient goddess seeks to return to her true power no matter how many humans she has to sacrifice to get there. A little bit all over the place but very creative and fresh.

The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson*

Young adult. Young artist June Costa lives in Palmares Tres, a beautiful, matriarchal city relying heavily on tradition, one of which is the Summer King. The most recent Summer King is Enki, a bold boy and fellow artist. With him at her side, June seeks to finally find fame and recognition through her art, breaking through the generational divide of her home. But growing close to Enki is dangerous, because he, like all Summer Kings, is destined to die.

The Blood Trials (The Blood Gifted duology) by N.E. Davenport

After Ikenna's grandfather is assasinated, she is convinced that only a member of the Praetorian guard, elite soldiers, could’ve killed him. Seeking to uncover his killer, Ikenna enrolls in a dangerous trial to join the Praetorians which only a quarter of applicants survive. For Ikenna, the stakes are even higher, as she's hiding forbidden blood magic which could cost her her life. Mix of fantasy and sci-fi. While I didn’t super vibe with this one, I suspect fans of action packed romantasy will enjoy it.

Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany

1960s classic. Rydra Wong is a space captain, linguist and poet who is set on learning to understand Babel-17, a language which is humanity's only clue at the enemy in an interstaller war. But Babel-17 is more than just a language, and studying it may change Rydra forever.

Pet (Pet duology) by Akwaeke Emezi

Young adult novella. Jam lives in a utopian future that has been freed of monsters and the systems which created and upheld them. But then she meets Pet, a dangerous creature claiming to be hunting a monster still among them, prepared to stop at nothing to find them. While I personally found the word-building in Pet lacking, it deftly handles dark subjects of what makes a human a monster.

Bonus AKA I haven’t read these yet but they seem really cool

Lion's Blood by Steven Barnes

Alternate history in which Africans colonized South America while vikings colonized the North. The vikings sell abducted Celts and Franks as slaves to the South, one of which is eleven-years-old Irish boy Aidan O'Dere, who was just bought by a Southern plantation owner.

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow

Young adult dystopia. Ellie lives in a future where humanity is under the control of the alien Ilori. All art is forbidden, but Ellie keeps a secret library; when one of her books disappears, she fears discovery and execution. M0Rr1S, born in a lab and raised to be emotionless, finds her library, and though he should deliver her for execution, he finds himself obsessed with human music. Together the two embark on a roadtrip which may save humanity.

Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

Lelah lives in future Botswana, but despite money and fame she finds herself in an unhappy marriage, her body controlled via microchip by her husband. After burying the body of an accidental hit and run, Lelah's life gets worse when the ghost of her victim returns to enact bloody vengeance.

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith

Young adult. Fen de la Guerre, living in a quarantined Gulf Coast left devestated by storms and sickness, is forced on the run with a newborn after her tribe is attacked. Hoping to get the child to safety, Fen seeks to get to the other side of the wall, she teams up with a scientist from the outside the quarantine zone.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

The Splinter in the Sky by Kemi Ashing-Giwa

Space opera. Enitan just wants to live a quiet life in the aftermath of a failed war of conquest, but when her lover is killed and her sister kidnapped, she's forced to leave her plans behind to save her sister.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: The City We Became (Great Cities duology) by N.K. Jemisin, The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull, The A.I. Who Loved Me by Alyssa Cole

[stylesispunk]

'Silent Strain' | part I

Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

next chapter

summary: Joel and you knew that bringing a child into this mad world was a mistake, but he wanted to give you the best that was left of that world after all.

w.c: 12,6k (this was 5k at the beginning)

warnings: established relationship, age gap (Joel is 43 and Reader 32) angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, fluff, not proofreading, sorry. The events of this story happen 10 years after the outbreak.

a/n: New Sunday, new fic? This one was on my drafts and I thought about developing a little bit more because I wanted to write one where Joel wasn't an asshole. This may become a really short series. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Mornings in the QZ were far from a story teller, always bleak as any other, somber and carrying the weight of the guilty grieving each people who has survived this far dealt with.

Many people had become the worst versions of themselves, just monsters they never thought they would be. Others woke up with the survivor’s guilt, after years of letting go their people, family and friends.

And others carried all that, but had found a little spark shinning on their path.

That was your case.

And Joel’s too.

You both had found each other just a few years after the world descended into chaos. After that, you become each other’s anchor until now.

Even when days seemed to be grayer, even when Joel seemed a bit lost after losing his contact with Tommy.

Even on days when the world seemed grayer, even when Joel seemed a little more distant—his thoughts lost somewhere along the frayed edges of his mind, burdened by the loss of contact with Tommy—you held on. You knew what he was feeling; it was a familiar ache, a common wound you both carried.

Tommy was Joel’s last person who shared his blood. His brother, his last piece of family and what the old world had left him.

But he also had you, and that made him alive.

You woke up slowly, the thin, rough blanket tangled around your legs, the mattress beneath you creaking as you shifted. The air was cold, seeping through the cracks in the walls, and the faint light of dawn barely penetrated the small, grimy window. Outside, you could hear the sounds of the QZ waking up, the distant, muffled voices of guards changing shifts, the echo of boots on concrete, and the occasional shout. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to keep the chill at bay.

The room you and Joel shared was small, barely large enough for the bed and a rickety chair in the corner. Outside the doors, there was the rest of the old apartment that worked as a roof for the both of you, and Tess.

The walls were stained with years of neglect, paint peeling in long strips, revealing the bare concrete beneath. There was a small table near the window where a lone candle had burned down to a stub, wax pooling on the surface, solidifying in random patterns. It had been another long, sleepless night, the dark hours stretching on endlessly, and you could feel it in your bones, an ache that went deeper than simple tiredness.

You glanced over at Joel, still asleep beside you, his face etched with lines of worry even in rest. He lay on his side, one arm slung over his face, his brow furrowed as if he were fighting off some invisible enemy in his dreams. The mornings were hardest on him, you knew. Waking up to the same bleak reality day after day, the hope of finding Tommy growing thinner with each passing moment.

A wave of nausea hit you unexpectedly, a sudden queasiness that made your stomach twist. You shut your eyes, taking a slow, deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You hadn't been feeling well for a few days now, just a lingering discomfort you chalked up to the lack of proper food or maybe stress. Nothing in this world was kind to the body or the mind anymore.

You pushed yourself up, careful not to wake Joel, and swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet touching the cold, cracked floor. The chill ran up your legs, making you shiver. You sat there for a moment, steadying yourself, pressing a hand against your stomach as if trying to calm the unease that rolled there. There was a strange heaviness to it, something that seemed different, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The thought crossed your mind, quick and unbidden, a possibility you immediately pushed away. It was too absurd, too impossible to consider. Not here, not now, not in this broken world.

You rose to your feet, steadying yourself on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing against the melted wax. You glanced back at Joel, who still hadn’t stirred, his breathing deep and even. You knew he needed the sleep, needed a moment of peace, however fleeting. You moved quietly toward the window, peering out through the dirt-streaked glass. The world outside was shrouded in mist, the familiar shapes of the crumbling buildings barely visible in the pale morning light.

There was a time when you might have found the sight beautiful, in a melancholic way. Now it just seemed desolate. Empty.

Another wave of nausea hit, stronger this time, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, swallowing hard. You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself. You felt a sharp pang of fear, a sudden flash of panic that cut through the fog of morning fatigue. You forced it down, tried to stay calm. You couldn’t afford to be anything else.

From behind you, you heard the faint rustle of the bed as Joel shifted, his voice rough and low. “You, okay?” he murmured, still half-asleep, his words slurred with exhaustion.

You turned to look at him, forcing a smile, though you weren’t sure he could see it in the dim light. “Yeah… just a bit cold,” you lied softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He blinked at you, eyes heavy-lidded, and then nodded, seeming to accept it. “Come back to bed,” he mumbled, his voice carrying a warmth that made something in your chest tighten. “It’s still early.”

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling the cold air around you, the uncertainty pressing in. But then you moved back to the bed, sliding in beside him, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the thin layers of fabric. He reached out, pulling you close, his arm draping over you protectively, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of safety as Joel stirred Joel stirred, his hand rubbing small, soothing circles on your back. “Are you sure you are, okay?” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

“Yeah,” you whispered, hoping he couldn’t hear the lie in your voice. “Just a headache.”

He kissed the top of your head, the simple gesture sending a pang of guilt through you. “You’ve been getting a lot of those lately,” he noted, concern creeping into his tone.

You forced a smile, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just stress, I think.”

He hummed in response, not entirely convinced but willing to let it go for now. He gently nudged you off his chest, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look at you. His eyes searched your face, and you had to fight the urge to look away. Joel had a way of seeing right through you, and you were afraid he might catch a glimpse of the truth you were hiding.

He frowned, clearly not convinced. “You’ve been saying’ that a lot lately. Maybe you should rest today, stay in bed.”

You shook your head, knowing you couldn’t afford to take a day off. Life in the QZ was unforgiving, and everyone had to pull their weight. “I’ll be fine. We’ve got too much to do, and they’re already short-handed at the ration line.”

You forced yourself to follow suit, pushing through the lingering nausea as you pulled on your worn clothes. The headache throbbed with each movement, but you bit back the discomfort, determined not to let it show. Joel kept glancing over at you, as if expecting you to collapse at any moment, but you just offered him a reassuring smile, even if it didn’t reach your eyes.

Once you were both ready, you stepped out into the harsh reality of the QZ. The streets were crowded, people moving about with a sense of urgency, always on edge. You and Joel made your way through the throng, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you through the chaos.

At the ration line, the day passed in a blur of monotonous tasks—distributing food, managing the restless crowd, keeping an eye out for trouble. But the ache in your head never fully faded, and every now and then, you had to pause, closing your eyes for a moment to steady yourself.

Joel noticed, of course. He was always watching, always worrying, though he tried to hide it behind a gruff exterior. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked again when you took a brief break, his tone betraying his concern.

“Yeah, just… It’s probably just the air or something,” you said, shrugging it off. But you could tell he didn’t believe you.

“See you later, then?” he asked before parting ways with you to your different duties.

“Yeah, see you later,” you replied, forcing a smile, trying to reassure him. Joel lingered for a moment, his eyes searching yours, he planted a kiss on your lips before turning to head off to his assigned area. You watched him go, feeling a mix of guilt and relief. You hated lying to him, but what could you say? That the world seemed to be spinning just a little bit too fast? That every time you bent over, a wave of nausea washed over you? It would only make him worry more.

The hours dragged on, the sun creeping across the sky, bringing with it a sticky heat that clung to your skin. By midday, your headache had grown worse, a steady throb that pounded behind your eyes. The noise of the crowd seemed to amplify the pain, voices blending into a harsh cacophony. You rubbed at your temples, willing it to stop, but it only seemed to make it worse.

At one point, while lifting another crate filled with canned goods, a sharp pain shot through your abdomen, causing you to drop the box with a loud thud. A few people nearby turned to look, but you waved them off, trying to catch your breath. The soldier supervising the line glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “You good there?” he asked, his tone half-concerned, half-annoyed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you muttered, bending down to retrieve the cans that had spilled onto the ground. Your hands shook slightly, and you felt a bead of sweat roll down your back. The soldier didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further, turning his attention back to the line.

“Then clean the mess you made” he ordered.

You nodded, swallowing down the nausea that threatened to rise again. “Yes, sir,” you replied, bending down to pick up the cans. Your fingers felt clumsy, and every time you moved, the pain in your abdomen seemed to sharpen, making it difficult to keep your breathing steady. Sweat dripped from your forehead, stinging your eyes, but you pushed through, determined not to draw any more attention to yourself.

As you gathered the last can, another wave of dizziness hit you, and you had to steady yourself against the crate to keep from toppling over. You glanced over your shoulder to see if the soldier was still watching, but he had already turned away, his focus elsewhere.

You took a deep breath, trying to will away the nausea, when you heard a familiar voice behind you. “Hey, you, okay?”

Turning, you saw Tess standing there, her face set in a concerned frown. “Yeah,” you lied, forcing a weak smile. “Just a rough day.”

Tess studied you for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t look so good,” she said quietly, stepping closer. “You’re pale… and sweating like hell.”

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, just… tired, I guess.”

Tess didn't seem convinced. Her sharp eyes swept over you, taking in every detail — the paleness of your skin, the way your hands trembled slightly as you held the cans. Her frown deepened, and you could practically feel the gears turning in her head.

“Look,” she said slowly, almost carefully, “I know you well enough to tell when you’re lying. And right now, you’re doing a pretty damn poor job of hiding whatever this is.”

Your heart started to pound in your chest, an uneasy thump that only made the nausea worse. You swallowed, glancing away from her probing stare. “I said I’m fine, Tess,” you repeated, but your voice came out too shaky, too uncertain. Even you didn’t believe it.

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “Don’t bullshit me,” she murmured, her tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve been off for days now… the headaches, the dizziness. I’ve seen this before. And I’m pretty sure you know what I’m talking about.”

You stiffened, shaking your head quickly. “No, Tess,” you whispered, almost desperate. “It’s not that… it can’t be.”

Tess’s expression softened, but there was still a hint of stubbornness there, a determination to get through to you. “Listen,” she began, her voice a little gentler. “I’m not trying to scare you, but… you need to face this. If it’s what I think it is… then you’ve got a lot to figure out.”

“Please, Tess. Not now” you pleaded.

Tess hesitated, her eyes searching your face, but she nodded slowly, relenting — at least for the moment. "Alright," she said quietly, though the concern in her voice hadn’t faded. "But you can’t keep running from this forever."

You felt a lump in your throat as you looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. "I just… I can’t think about it right now," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "There’s too much going on, and… Joel…"

Tess sighed, crossing her arms. "I get it," she replied softly. "But, you know, you’re not alone in this. Whatever it is, you’ve got people who care about you. Joel might be rough around the edges, but… he’s not going to turn his back on you. Not now, not ever."

You swallowed hard, nodding, though you still felt like you were balancing on a knife’s edge. "I know," you said, though doubt still gnawed at you. "It’s just…"

"It’s scary," Tess finished for you, and you could only nod again, feeling suddenly very small. "But you don’t have to go through it alone, alright?" she added, her voice softening. "I’ve got your back. Always."

You gave her a weak smile, grateful for her support, even if the fear still twisted inside you. "Thanks, Tess," you whispered.

She patted your shoulder, her touch gentle, almost sisterly. "Let’s get back to it," she said, glancing back toward the line. "But promise me… you’ll think about what I said."

You nodded again, though your mind was spinning with a hundred different thoughts. "I promise," you murmured, even though you weren't sure if you meant it.

By the time you got back to the apartment, the sun was already low in the sky, casting long shadows through the broken blinds. Your legs felt heavy, your head still pounding from the stress of the day. As you pushed open the door, you were met with the stale, familiar scent of the small, dimly lit space that you and Joel called home. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint creaking of the floorboards beneath your feet.

Your eyes scanned the room, and they quickly fell on Joel sprawled out on the bed, his face slack in sleep. But what caught your attention was the nearly empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the table next to him, beside a few scattered, white pills. A flare of anger ignited in your chest.

You walked over and grabbed the bottle, knocking it down onto the floor. The sound of the glass hitting the wood was loud, but Joel didn’t stir. Frustration bubbled up inside you. “Joel,” you called out sharply, but he remained still, lost in whatever numbness he’d sought.

With a forceful shove, you shook his shoulder, your voice rising. “Joel, wake up!” you demanded. His eyes fluttered open slowly, bleary and unfocused. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, and groaned.

“What?” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep and whatever haze the whiskey and pills had put him under.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “What the hell, Joel?” you spat out, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and worry. “You’re drinking and taking pills again? You promised me… you promised you’d stop!”

Joel blinked again, pushing himself up on one elbow, confusion and irritation crossing his face. “It’s just… it’s just to take the edge off,” he slurred, running a hand over his face. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I do get it,” you shot back, your voice sharp. “I get that you’re hurting, Joel, I get you want to know where Tommy is but this is not the way.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed, some of the grogginess leaving his gaze. “I’m trying,” he muttered, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “I’m doing the best I can, alright? It’s not that easy…”

You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “I need you, Joel,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I need you here, with me… not drowning in a bottle. We’re supposed to be in this together, remember?”

He looked away, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. Finally, he let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. “He is my brother, the only family I get left.” he muttered, almost too softly to hear.

“What about me?” you asked, voice trembling.

Damn, why were you getting so emotional.

Joel's brow furrowed, clearly caught off guard by your question. He blinked, as if trying to process your words, and then his expression softened. “What are you talking’ about?” he asked gently, taking a step closer to you. “Of course, you're my family. You know that. You’re everything.” His fingers brushed against your arm, tentative, as though he was still uncertain if you’d accept his touch.

You felt a lump forming in your throat, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Then why does it feel like I’m not enough?” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Joel's thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “You are, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice steady but soft. “I promise you are. I’m just… I’m scared. Scared of what could happen to you… to us.”

You looked up into his eyes, searching for something—an answer, a reassurance, anything to ease the turmoil inside you. "How are you feeling'?" he asked suddenly, his voice quieter, more tender than before.

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts. "I… I don’t know," you admitted honestly. “Tired…”

Joel nodded slowly, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest on your shoulder. “I know, I get it,” he said quietly. “But you gotta promise me… if there’s something’ wrong, you’ll tell me”

You nodded, “I promise.”

You wrapped your arms around Joel, pulling him into a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours was a small comfort, a fleeting sense of security in the chaos that seemed to be swirling around you. As you clung to him, the guilt and the weight of the hidden truth about your pregnancy settled heavily on your shoulders.

Joel held you close, his hand gently rubbing your back, his touch reassuring and steady. “I’m sorry,” you murmured into his shoulder, the words escaping almost involuntarily. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Joel’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for,” he said softly. “We’re in this together, you hear me? We’ll get through it. We’ll figure it out.”

You nodded against him, feeling a mix of relief and deep-seated worry. The truth about the pregnancy was still looming, a secret that was becoming increasingly difficult to keep. Every time you looked at Joel, you could see the love and concern in his eyes, and it made the weight of your silence feel all the more burdensome.

As you slowly pulled away from the hug, you wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your emotions. Joel looked at you with a soft expression, his worry evident but tempered with the resolve to support you no matter what.

The thoughts of your pregnancy, the uncertainty of the future, and the fear of how this might change everything were still swirling in your mind. You felt a pang of guilt as you remembered Tess's words, and you struggled with the decision of when and how to reveal the truth.

Joel seemed to sense the inner conflict you were grappling with. “If you need space, or if you need to talk about it,” he began, his voice steady, “just let me know. I’m here for you, no matter what.” You nodded, forcing a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel. I… I just need a little time.”

He nodded in understanding, and as you both sat down, the silence between you was filled with an unspoken promise of support and love.

You woke up a little later, feeling the soft warmth of Joel’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist. For a moment, you simply lay there, savoring the comfort and the faint sense of security his presence provided. The room was quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of Joel’s breathing.

Gently, you eased yourself out of bed, careful not to disturb him. You tiptoed out of the bedroom, the coolness of the apartment a stark contrast to the warmth you’d left behind. As you walked through the small living space, you noticed that Tess was already up, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

She looked up as you entered, her gaze softening. “Hey,” she said quietly, setting the cup down. “How’re you feeling?”

You offered her a small, tired smile. “Better, thanks,” you replied, taking a seat across from her. “I just needed some space to think.”

Tess nodded; her expression thoughtful. “Did you think about what I say?”

You took a deep breath, considering Tess's question. “A little,” you admitted, your voice soft. “It’s just been overwhelming, and I’m not sure how to handle everything yet.”

Tess studied you for a moment, her eyes reflecting both concern and a hint of sadness “And?” she reached across the table, placing a comforting hand over yours. “I understand it’s overwhelming,” she said gently. “But you have to face it.”

You glanced down at your hands, gripping the edge of the table as if it might anchor you to the present moment. The room felt too small, the weight of your thoughts pressing heavily on your shoulders. “It can’t be…I’m scared” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

Tess took a deep breath, her expression softening. “Take the test, I’ll go with you” she said, showing support.

“Wha-wha-what? I don’t have any test” you said, voice trembling

Tess gave you a small, understanding smile, her hand still resting over yours. “I know,” she said softly. “But there’s a way to get one. I can ask around… discreetly. I have a contact who might be able to help.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through you. “You’d do that? For me?” The idea of someone knowing, of even a whisper of this spreading through the QZ, sent a chill down your spine. But the calm certainty in Tess’s eyes steadied you.

“Of course,” she replied without hesitation. “I’ve got your back, always. We’ve been through worse, haven’t we?”

You nodded slowly, though the tight knot in your stomach seemed to twist even more. “Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, trying to sound convinced, even though nothing had felt quite like this. “But what if… what if it’s true, Tess? What do I do then?”

Tess squeezed your hand gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Then we figure it out, step by step,” she said. “First things first, we need to know for sure. Until then, try not to let your mind spiral, okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding again, though your mind was already a storm of thoughts and worries. You could feel the weight of this new reality settling onto your shoulders, heavier than anything you’d felt before. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try.”

Tess stood up, giving your hand one last comforting squeeze before letting go. “I’ll see what I can do tomorrow,” she promised. “Go back to bed and try to rest.”

Your mind raced with possibilities and fears as you made your way back to the small bedroom, trying to steady your breathing, to find some calm in the storm of your thoughts.

When you slipped back into the darkened room, Joel was still lying on his side, one arm stretched across the bed as if reaching for you even in sleep. You carefully lifted the blanket and slid back under it, trying not to wake him. But as soon as you settled in, his arm instinctively curled around your waist, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of safety.

Joel's voice came out in a sleepy murmur, rough around the edges. “Where were you?” he mumbled; his breath warm against your neck. You could feel the weight of his arm, heavy and reassuring, holding you as if he sensed your unease.

“Just… talking to Tess,” you whispered back, trying to keep your voice steady.

His grip around you tightened slightly, his thumb tracing small circles against your side. Even in his half-asleep state, there was a protectiveness in the way he held you. “Everything okay?” he asked, still drowsy, but there was a hint of concern creeping into his tone.

You hesitated for a second, your heart beating faster. You didn’t want to lie, but you also couldn’t tell him—not yet, not until you knew for sure. “Yeah,” you finally replied, trying to sound convincing.

Joel made a low, comforting sound, a mix between a hum and a sigh. He nuzzled closer, his lips brushing lightly against your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as sleep tried to claim him again. “We’ll figure it out… whatever it is.”

You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let his words soothe the fear gnawing at your insides. But all you could do was rest your hand over his, feeling the roughness of his skin beneath your palm, grounding yourself in his presence.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, more to yourself than to him. “We always do.”

Joel’s breathing began to slow again, deepening as he drifted back to sleep. You closed your eyes, pressing yourself closer against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“I love you” you whispered to him, breaking the silence. You were afraid of losing him.

For a moment, there was only the quiet of the room, the soft hum of the distant generator outside, and the gentle rhythm of Joel's breath against your skin. You wondered if he'd even heard you, or if your whispered words had been lost in the space between wakefulness and sleep.

Then, you felt his grip tighten around you, his hand moving to hold you closer, almost as if he was afraid, you might slip away. His lips brushed against your shoulder, a tender, lingering kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice a deep, husky whisper in the darkness. There was a raw honesty in his words, an openness that you rarely heard from him, as if he understood the fear hidden beneath your confession.

His lips pressed against your shoulder again, this time firmer, more deliberate. "Ain't nothing gonna change that," he added softly, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb stroked gently over the fabric of your shirt, tracing soothing patterns that spoke of comfort and promises unspoken.

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, feeling a mix of relief and longing. The fear still lingered, but in this moment, held in his arms, it felt a little more manageable. You leaned back into him, feeling the strength in his body, the steady beat of his heart against your back.

Joel held you tighter, as if sensing your need for reassurance. "We'll get through this," he whispered. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together. You and me."

You nodded against him, unable to find your voice, your heart swelling with the weight of everything unsaid. "Together," you repeated softly, your hand squeezing his, grounding yourself in his presence.

For now, that was enough.

Joel woke up slowly, his body protesting against the cold air that had settled in the room overnight. He blinked against the dim light filtering through the cracked blinds, reaching out instinctively to your side of the bed, only to find it empty. His hand moved across the sheets, finding them cool, your warmth long gone.

He sat up, a frown creasing his brow as a flicker of worry ran through him. He scanned the room, half-expecting to see you in the corner, maybe getting dressed or lost in thought, but the room was still, too still. He called your name, softly at first, then a little louder. No answer.

His heart quickened as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing his jeans from the chair and yanking them on. The apartment was quiet, eerily so, with no sign of movement or life. His boots hit the floor with a dull thud as he pulled them on, his gaze darting around the small space.

Where the hell were you?

He moved quickly to the kitchen, eyes scanning the counters, the sink—anywhere you might have left a note, a sign of where you’d gone. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the building settling around him. He glanced toward the front door, noticing Tess's boots missing from their usual spot. A knot of unease tightened in his chest. Neither of you were there.

He ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. You wouldn’t have left without telling him, not without saying something. And Tess—she was always up to something, but she never left you behind. He felt his pulse quicken, a gnawing sense of dread creeping in as he grabbed his jacket from the hook near the door, slipping it on with practiced haste.

Joel pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, his boots echoing against the worn floorboards. He looked around, scanning for any sign of you or Tess. The hallway was empty, but a few doors down, a neighbor—a middle-aged man Joel recognized but didn’t know well—was stepping out, adjusting his coat.

“Hey,” Joel called out, his voice sharper than intended. The man looked up, surprised. “You seen them?” He gestured back to your apartment.

The man shook his head slowly, clearly unsure who Joel was referring to. “Nah, haven’t seen anyone this morning,” he replied. “Everything okay?”

Joel forced a tight smile, though his stomach was churning with worry. “Yeah, fine,” he muttered, turning away. He started down the stairs, moving quickly, almost without thinking. His mind raced, a thousand worst-case scenarios flashing through his thoughts. Where could you be? Why hadn’t you said anything?

He made his way down to the ground floor, heading toward the small communal area near the entrance, where a few people were already gathered, murmuring quietly among themselves. He scanned the room, his eyes searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of you or Tess.

“Joel!” A voice cut through the chatter, and he turned to see one of Tess’s contacts—Danny, a wiry guy with a nervous energy—waving him over. Joel’s heart jumped. Maybe Danny had seen you.

“Where’s Tess?” Joel asked as he approached, not bothering with pleasantries.

Danny’s face tightened slightly, and he glanced around, lowering his voice. “She went out early, looking for something… didn’t say what. Figured you knew.”

Joel clenched his jaw, frustration flaring in his chest. “And her?” he asked, his voice edged with urgency. “You see her?”

Danny shook his head. “No, man. I just saw Tess.”

Joel felt a chill run down his spine. He took a step back, his mind racing with questions. If Tess had gone out and you weren’t with her, then where the hell were you?

He turned, scanning the room one more time, then made a decision. He needed to find you, now. Whatever this was, wherever you were, he wasn’t going to wait around and let worry tear him apart.

You sat in Lydia's small, cluttered living room, nerves thrumming beneath your skin like a live wire. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and old books, a comforting combination that somehow made you feel more at ease, despite the circumstances. Lydia's place was a small haven in the chaos of the QZ, filled with mismatched furniture, faded floral curtains, and a few potted plants she somehow managed to keep alive. The doctor herself, an older woman with graying hair pulled back into a messy bun, moved around the space with a calm, practiced efficiency. Her hands were steady, her expression focused but kind.

Tess stood beside you, her presence a quiet reassurance. She had her arms crossed, her foot tapping lightly against the worn wooden floor as she watched Lydia prepare a small kit on the table. Lydia glanced over at you, her eyes soft with a mixture of concern and affection. “You look pale, sweetheart,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You’ve been keeping up with your food and water?”

You managed a small nod, though your stomach felt like it was tied in knots. “Yeah, just… a lot on my mind,” you murmured. Your voice sounded small in the stillness of the room.

Lydia nodded knowingly, her gaze flicking to Tess for a moment before returning to you. “I’ve seen that look before,” she said softly. “It's not easy, being in this kind of situation… but you’re not alone, okay?”

You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat again. “Thanks, Lydia… I just… I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to do if… if it’s true.”

Lydia came over to you, setting a warm hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to be scared,” she said kindly.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as she handed you a small, well-worn plastic device. A pregnancy test. It felt surreal holding it in your hand, the weight of it much heavier than its actual size.

Lydia’s expression softened. “The bathroom is down the hall,” she instructed gently. “Take your time, and when you're ready, come back out. No rush.”

You glanced at Tess, who gave you a reassuring nod. “Go on,” she urged softly. “I’ll be right here.”

Swallowing hard, you stood up, clutching the test in your hand, and made your way down the narrow hallway to the small, dimly lit bathroom. The old mirror above the sink was cracked, reflecting your nervous expression in fragmented pieces. You took a deep breath, feeling the cool tile under your bare feet, and tried to steady your racing heart.

The minutes stretched out as you stood there, staring at the test in your hands, feeling the weight of this decision. You knew that everything could change in an instant—your life, your relationship with Joel, everything you thought you knew about the world and your place in it.

You finally gathered your courage, took the test, and set it on the sink. You watched it like it might explode, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness. You could hear the muffled voices of Tess and Lydia down the hall, their words indistinct but soothing in their familiarity.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, you saw the result. Your breath caught in your throat, your knees feeling weak. You stared at it, your mind struggling to catch up, to process what you were seeing.

It was positive.

You felt a wave of emotions crash over you—fear, confusion, a strange sense of disbelief. You gripped the edge of the sink, needing something solid to hold on to, to keep yourself from spiraling. Tears welled in your eyes, unbidden, and you blinked them back, swallowing hard.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself before turning back toward the door. You stepped out of the bathroom, your face pale, your hands trembling slightly.

Tess was the first to notice, her eyes widening as she saw your expression. She moved quickly to your side, her hand gripping your arm gently. “Hey… what’s the result?” she asked, though the look on your face already told her everything.

Lydia stepped closer; her eyes filled with empathy. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Just take a breath.”

You looked at them both, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s… it’s positive,” you admitted, your heart pounding. “I’m… I’m pregnant.”

Tess squeezed your arm, a mixture of concern and determination on her face. “Okay,” she said firmly. “We’re going to handle this. We’re gonna figure it out.”

Lydia nodded; her expression warm. “You’re not alone in this,” she reassured you. “We’ll do what we can to make sure you’re safe… and healthy.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears spill over despite your best efforts to hold them back. “What… what do I do now?” you asked, your voice shaking. “I don’t want anyone to know this, okay?”

“Joel’s has to know” Tess said.

“No.” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, a flash of panic twisting through your chest. “No,” you repeated, firmer this time. “I can’t… I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

Tess’s eyes narrowed slightly, but her expression remained calm. “Why not?” she asked gently, though there was a hint of insistence in her voice. “He deserves to know. He’s going to find out sooner or later.”

You shook your head, feeling the tears start to flow again. “I just… I’m not ready,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “He’s already dealing with so much, with losing contact with Tommy, and… I don’t want to put this on him. Not when I don’t even know how I feel about it yet.”

Lydia placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her touch steady and grounding. “It’s okay to feel this way,” she said softly. “But Tess is right. Joel will need to know eventually. He’s your partner… in all of this.”

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath. “I just need some time,” you murmured, feeling a deep ache in your chest. “Please… don’t say anything to him. Not until I figure out how to even say it myself.”

Tess sighed, a mixture of frustration and understanding on her face. “Alright,” she agreed quietly, but you knew she was lying.

She walked towards the door before you saying to Lydia “I’ll pay you later.”

“There is no need, I’d do anything for this one here” she said, squeezing your shoulder.

Tess gave Lydia a small nod, but her expression was tight, her jaw set. You could sense the conflict simmering beneath her calm exterior. You knew Tess well enough to recognize that she wasn’t pleased with your decision. She paused at the door, one hand resting on the frame, before turning back to you.

“Alright,” she said again, this time her voice softer, almost resigned. “We need to get back. Joel’s probably tearing his hair out by now.” There was a hint of a wry smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. You felt a pang of guilt; you could only imagine how worried Joel must be at this point.

Lydia gave you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she said softly. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

You managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Lydia… for everything,” you whispered, feeling a rush of emotion swell in your chest.

Tess opened the door and stepped outside, waiting for you to follow. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, before moving to join her. As you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, Tess glanced at you, her expression unreadable.

“You know he’s gonna ask where we were,” she muttered, keeping her voice low. “And you know I won’t lie to him.”

Your heart sank a little. “I know,” you admitted quietly. “Just… don’t tell him yet, okay? I need to be the one to do it, Tess.”

She nodded, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. “You better tell him soon,” she warned her tone more serious now. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

Two days had passed since you were delivered the news, and as you went through your shift, the morning sun cast a pale light over the QZ, and the usual noise of activity buzzed around you. You focused on your tasks, trying to push through the lingering fatigue and nausea. Despite your efforts to stay steady, a wave of nausea hit you suddenly, making your stomach churn violently.

You stumbled to the side, clutching your midsection as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Before you could react, the contents of your stomach erupted, and you doubled over, throwing up onto the ground. The sudden and intense discomfort left you gasping for breath, feeling a mix of embarrassment and distress.

Nearby, a few of your co-workers glanced over, their faces a mixture of concern and discomfort. One of them approached, a frown on his face. “You alright? Maybe you should sit down or get some fresh air.”

You shook your head, trying to regain your composure. “I’m fine,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. “Just… give me a moment.”

The soldier supervising the shift, who had already been keeping an eye on you, approached with a stern expression. “What’s going on? You can’t be throwing up in the middle of work. If you’re sick, you need to go home.”

You tried to protest, but your weakened state made it hard to argue. “I’m okay,” you said weakly. “I just need a minute.”

Before you could say more, Joel appeared, his face etched with concern as he hurried over to you. He placed a supportive hand on your back. “You need to go home,” he said firmly, his eyes filled with worry. “You’re not doing yourself any good pushing through like this.”

The soldier gave Joel a skeptical look. “She needs to get back to work. We can’t afford to have people slacking off.”

Joel’s expression hardened, and he took a protective step forward. “She’s not slacking off. She’s sick. You wanna have her work herself into the ground? Take her home, and I’ll deal with it.”

The soldier seemed taken aback by Joel’s intensity but eventually relented, grumbling under his breath. “Fine. Take her home, Miller. We don’t need sick people on duty.”

Joel nodded, helping you to your feet and wrapping an arm around you for support. “Let’s get you outta here,” he said gently, guiding you toward the exit.

As you walked out of the QZ, the cool air was a welcome relief, but the anxiety and guilt still gnawed at you. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Joel glanced at you, his eyes softening. “You don’t need to apologize, honey.” With Joel’s reassuring presence beside you, you made your way back to the apartment, each step feeling a bit heavier as you faced the reality of your situation.

When you and Joel arrived back at the apartment, you were both greeted by the quiet, familiar surroundings. Tess was sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes lifting from a worn-out map she’d been studying. She looked up as you entered, her expression shifting from concern to relief.

“Hey, you’re back,” Tess said, standing up quickly. “How are you feeling?”

Joel helped you inside, guiding you to the couch. “She’s not feeling great,” he said, his voice low. “She had another wave of nausea at work.”

Tess crossed the room, taking a seat next to you on the couch. “Alright, let’s get you comfortable,” she said, her tone gentle. She reached for a blanket and draped it over you, her eyes scanning your face with worry.

You nodded weakly, feeling the exhaustion and the strain of the morning catching up with you. “Thanks, Tess,” you murmured, settling into the couch as Joel stood nearby, his hands resting on his hips, clearly trying to mask his concern.

Tess turned to Joel. “You should take a break, too,” she suggested. “I can keep an eye on her for a bit.”

“No.” Joel glanced at you, “I want to know what’s happening, and don’t lie to me” he demanded, especially to you.

You frightened under his stare. You looked over at Tess looking for a way of reassurance.

Tess met Joel’s gaze steadily, her own concern evident. “Joel,” she began softly, “we need to approach this carefully. We don’t want to push her too hard.”

Joel’s eyes softened slightly, but his jaw remained set. “I just want to understand what’s going on. She’s been sick for days, and I need to know why.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of both their stares. “Joel,” you said quietly, “I’ve been… trying to manage. It’s been hard to admit, but… Tess might be right. I’m not sure how to handle it all.”

Tess reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What we’re dealing with isn’t just a simple illness. It’s important that we address it properly.”

Joel’s expression shifted from frustration to deep concern. “What are you saying?” he asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with worry.

“Joel, I…I” you wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t find the words or the courage to do it.

Joel's gaze was intense, waiting for you to continue. Tess’s hand on your shoulder was a grounding presence, urging you to find the strength to speak.

You took another deep breath, the lump in your throat making it hard to talk. “Joel,” you began again, your voice trembling, “I’ve been feeling… really sick, and it’s more than just the usual stuff. It’s… it’s because…”

Again, your voice got cut.

“Because of what?” he demanded.

“She is pregnant, Joel” Tess answered for you.

Joel’s face went pale as he absorbed Tess’s words. His eyes flickered between you and Tess, trying to reconcile the new information with what he had seen in you recently. The silence in the room grew heavy, punctuated only by the sound of your shallow breaths.

Joel’s hands dropped to his sides, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “Pregnant?” he repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. His voice was a mix of confusion and pain, and he took a step back, needing space to process this revelation.

You nodded, tears threatening to spill again. “I didn’t want to tell you like this,” you said quietly. “I’ve been trying to manage, but it’s been really hard.”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly as he tried to gather his thoughts. He turned away from you, his face contorted with frustration. “Goddammit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair again, the tension in his body palpable. “This… this is just too much.”

You flinched at his outburst, tears spilling freely now. “Joel, please—” you began, but he cut you off, his voice rising.

“Do you have any idea what this means?” Joel’s tone was harsh, though there was a tremor of anguish beneath the anger. “We’re barely surviving as it is, and now… now you’re telling me you’re pregnant?”

Tess stepped in, placing a firm hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Joel, this isn’t helping,” she said sharply. “She needs support right now, not anger.”

Joel shrugged off her hand, his frustration boiling over. “I know, I know,” he snapped. “But it’s a lot to take in! I can’t just ignore it!”

You watched, your heart breaking as you saw Joel’s struggle to come to terms with the news. “Joel,” you said, trying to reach out to him despite your own pain, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to add to the stress, but I didn’t know how else to handle it.”

Joel’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the anger in his gaze faltered, replaced by a deep sadness. “I just… I don’t know how to fix this,”

he said, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. “I thought we had a chance to figure things out. Now everything’s just falling apart.”

Tess moved closer; her voice softer but firm. “Joel, getting angry won’t solve anything. We need to focus on what we can do now. What matters is getting her the help she needs.

“We were supposed to leave to find Tommy and now we won’t be able to.” He said, angry.

“What?” you asked, absorbing the new information.

Joel’s gaze dropped to the floor, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. “We were planning to leave for Tommy’s,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “But with this… we might not be able to. We’re stuck here now, trying to figure out how to manage all this mess.”

You stared at him, the realization hitting you like a cold wave. “Wait, you were planning to leave? To find Tommy?”

Joel nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, Tess and I thought it was the best chance for us. Tommy’s got connections, and he might be able to help us get through this. But now…” His voice trailed off, the anger and sadness mixing in his eyes. “Now, everything’s fucked up.”

“When were you planning to tell me?” You asked, hurt.

Joel’s face fell at your question, and he looked away, struggling to find the right words. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” he said, his voice rough. “Things were just… so complicated. We thought we had more time to figure things out before we had to tell you.”

You felt a pang of hurt at his words. “So, you were just going to leave me in the dark? You were planning to leave without even talking to me about it?”

Joel looked back at you; his eyes filled with regret. “No, that’s not what I meant. Of course you were coming with us.”

“But now I’m a burden.” You uttered a thought Joel perhaps was having.

Joel’s face tightened at your words, the weight of your accusation clearly hitting him hard. “That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, his voice strained. “You’re not a burden, never say that again.”

You stood up, your emotions swirling, a mix of hurt and frustration. “Then why does it feel like everything’s falling apart because of me?” you asked, your voice trembling.

You stood up, your emotions swirling, a mix of hurt and frustration. “Then why does it feel like everything’s falling apart because of me?” you asked, your voice trembling. Tears began to spill down your cheeks, the weight of the situation overwhelming you. “I’m pregnant and I don’t know what to do. I thought you were going to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay, but—fuck this!” You turned abruptly and walked towards the bedroom, trying to escape the chaos of your emotions.

Joel's heart ached as he watched you go, his own emotions roiling. He hesitated for a moment before following you, his steps heavy with regret and worry. He reached the bedroom door just as you were sinking onto the edge of the bed, your shoulders shaking with sobs.

“Hey,” Joel said softly, his voice carrying a note of desperation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this. I was just… scared and confused. I should’ve been there for you, and I wasn’t.”

You didn’t look up, focusing on trying to control your breathing. “Leave me alone.” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, feeling his presence beside you.

“Leave, Joel.” You sobbed.

Joel’s heart sank further as you pushed him away, the pain in your voice cutting him deeply. He hesitated at the bedroom door, torn between his desire to comfort you and the need to respect your space.

“Alright,” Joel said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I’ll give you some time. I’m sorry.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your emotions.

As Joel retreated, Tess quietly entered the room. She found you on the edge of the bed, still shaking with sobs. Without saying a word, she sat down beside you, offering silent support. Tess’s presence was calm and steady, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside.

“Hey,” Tess said gently, placing a comforting hand on your back. “I’m here. Just breathe. We’ll get through this.”

You looked up at her, your eyes red and tearful. Tess didn’t try to force conversation; instead, she simply sat with you, her hand a reassuring presence on your back. Slowly, the comforting silence and Tess’s steady presence began to soothe you. Your breathing gradually steadied, and the tears started to subside.

Tess helped you settle into a more comfortable position on the bed, making sure you were warm and covered. As you drifted off to sleep, the emotional exhaustion finally taking its toll, Tess stayed by your side, her watchful gaze softening with concern.

After a while, Tess glanced toward the door and saw Joel standing there, his expression one of deep regret and sorrow. He looked as though he was trying to come to terms with everything that had happened. Tess gave him a sympathetic nod before turning her attention back to you.

“I know this isn’t the ideal situation,” Tess began, her tone firm yet understanding. “But she needs you now, Joel. More than ever.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his eyes flicking from Tess to where you lay curled up on the bed, still trembling from your tears. “I don’t know if I can do this, Tess,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with the weight of his fears.

Tess placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “You’ve got to try,” she urged. “She’s scared, and she needs you to be there for her. You don’t have to have all the answers, but you do need to stay. You need to lay down next to her and protect her, like you always have.”

Joel looked at her, conflicted, the fight still lingering in his eyes. But Tess didn’t back down, her gaze unwavering. “She’s not asking you to be perfect, Joel. She’s asking you to be there.”

For a moment, Joel hesitated, the weight of the decision hanging heavy in the air. But then, slowly, he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He walked over to the bed, his movements careful and deliberate as he lay down beside you, his presence cautious but steady.

You stirred slightly, sensing his nearness even in your sleep, and instinctively moved closer to him, seeking the comfort you had always found in his arms. Joel wrapped an arm around you, holding you gently, as if afraid you might break. And as Tess watched, she saw the fear and anger in his eyes slowly give way to something softer.

The room was quiet, save for the sound of your breathing, as you finally found peace in sleep. Joel stayed awake, his thoughts still tangled, but his grip on you never faltered. Tess left the room quietly, leaving the two of you to find whatever solace you could in each other.

Joel lay beside you, staring up at the cracked ceiling of the apartment. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind raced, replaying the argument from earlier and the harsh truths he had tried to push away for so long. The room was quiet now, but his thoughts were anything but.

His gaze shifted to you, lying peacefully next to him, your breathing soft and even. You looked so small, so fragile, and it hit him all over again just how much had changed in the span of a few hours. The life growing inside you was a reality he couldn’t ignore anymore, no matter how much he wanted to. He watched you, his heart heavy with a mix of fear, guilt, and something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time—hope.

The thought of becoming a father again terrified him. After Sarah, after everything he had lost, he didn’t know if he could survive that kind of pain again. But here you were, carrying his child, and it was as if the world was asking him to take that risk all over again. He didn’t know if he had it in him, but as he watched you sleep, so peaceful and trusting, he realized that you were counting on him.

Joel stayed awake through the night, his thoughts swirling with memories of Sarah, the life he had lost, and the uncertain future ahead. He wanted to protect you, to shield you from the harshness of the world outside, but he didn’t know if he was strong enough to protect you both from the dangers that lay ahead. The weight of responsibility felt crushing, yet he knew he couldn’t turn away—not now, not ever.

As the first light of dawn began to seep through the cracks in the curtains, Joel’s exhaustion finally began to catch up with him. His eyes grew heavy, and despite his best efforts, he drifted into a restless sleep, his arm still draped protectively over you.

When he finally woke, the apartment was filled with the pale light of early morning. He blinked groggily, his mind still clouded with sleep, but something felt off. The warmth of your body beside him was gone. He reached out, his hand finding only the empty space where you had been.

Panic flared in his chest as he sat up quickly, his eyes scanning the room. The bed was cold where you had lain, and the room was eerily silent. “Where the hell are you?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair as he forced himself out of bed.

His heart pounded in his chest as he searched the small apartment, calling your name, but there was no answer. The sense of dread he had felt the night before came rushing back, stronger than ever. He knew you couldn’t have gone far, but the thought of you out there alone, especially in your condition, made his stomach twist with worry.

Joel threw on his jacket, his movements frantic as he prepared to leave and search for you. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you, not when he had just realized how much he needed you. As he headed for the door, he stopped short, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, to think. You were strong, capable—he knew that. But still, the protective urge in him screamed to find you, to bring you back and keep you safe.

With one last glance around the empty apartment, Joel stepped outside, his mind racing as he tried to figure out where you might have gone. He couldn’t lose you—not now, not ever.

Joel knew you had a habit of going to certain places when you needed space—when you needed to clear your head. He made his way through the maze of streets, his mind fixated on finding you. As he walked, his thoughts spiraled. What if you were angry enough to leave the QZ? What if you’d decided you didn’t want to face him again? The guilt from the night before weighed heavily on him, and the fear that he’d pushed you away was overwhelming.

He headed towards a small, secluded spot behind one of the less-used buildings—a place you often went when you needed to be alone. It was out of sight from most people, offering a rare bit of privacy in the crowded QZ. As he turned the corner, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, sitting on an old, crumbling bench, your hands clasped tightly in your lap.

Relief washed over him, so intense it almost brought him to his knees. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in the sight of you. You looked small and lost, your shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world had finally settled on them. But you were safe. You were here. That was all that mattered.

He approached slowly, not wanting to startle you. The crunch of gravel under his boots made you look up, your eyes meeting his. The raw emotion in your gaze—fear, uncertainty, and something that looked like regret—hit him like a punch to the gut.

Joel stopped a few feet away, unsure of what to say, how to bridge the gap that had opened between you. His mouth opened, but no words came out. What could he possibly say to make this better? To fix the hurt he had caused?

“I didn’t mean to leave,” you finally said, your voice small and fragile. “I just…needed to think.”

Joel nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I get it,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. He took a cautious step closer, wanting to reach out, but unsure if you wanted him to. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have let you leave like that.”

You shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “It’s not your fault. I just—” Your voice broke, and you wiped at your eyes, frustration evident in the gesture. “I don’t know how to deal with all of this. It’s too much, Joel. Everything is too much.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Joel crouched down in front of you, his hand still on your shoulder, his gaze locked onto yours. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now,” he said softly.

“There isn’t a place for raising a baby.” You spoke, looking down at your hands, the thoughts swirling in your mind too overwhelming to express. “Lydia could help me,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “She could help me…terminate it.”

Joel’s reaction was immediate, his voice hard and unyielding. “No.” The word came out sharper than he intended, and he saw you flinch. He softened his tone, but the resolve remained. “We’re not doing that.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. “But, Joel, what if—” you began, but he cut you off.

“I said no,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “We’re not ending this.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. “But I’m scared, Joel,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “What if we can’t do this? What if it’s too much?”

Joel crossed the room in two long strides and knelt in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t lose you.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked into his eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “You’re not alone in this,” he murmured into your hair. “We’ll do it together. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

You clung to him, the fear and uncertainty still gnawing at you, but for the first time since you’d found out, you felt a small measure of comfort. Joel wasn’t backing down, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

“I love you and I won’t leave you alone, baby” he whispered, kissing your lips.

Joel’s words wrapped around you like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of your fears. You clung to him, your grip tight but gentle, as if you were afraid, he might disappear again. The warmth of his embrace, the sincerity in his voice, and the tenderness of his kiss were all anchors in the storm that had been swirling inside you.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice thick with emotion. You could feel the tears drying on your cheeks, replaced by a sense of tentative hope. The weight of your worries didn’t vanish, but Joel’s presence made them seem a little more manageable.

Joel gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the remaining tears from your cheeks. “We’re gonna get through this,” he said firmly. “I don’t know how, but we will. We’re a team. We’ve faced worse before.”

You nodded, finding strength in his conviction. “Okay,” you murmured, feeling a flicker of warmth in your chest. “I’ll try to believe that.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to yours. “We’ll figure it out together,” he promised. “But right now, my focus is taking care of you and the baby.”

Hours later, the apartment was quiet once again, save for the soft hum of a generator and the occasional creak of the building settling into its nightly stillness. You had managed to distract yourself with small tasks around the apartment, trying to keep your mind occupied and calm. The weight of the conversation with Joel still lingered, but his earlier reassurance had brought a sense of calm you hadn't expected.

You were in the middle of organizing some supplies when you heard the front door open. The sound of footsteps followed, and a few moments later, Joel's voice cut through the quiet. It was a familiar, comforting sound, but this time, it was tinged with an edge of frustration.

“You think this is a joke?” Joel’s voice was sharp, and you could hear the anger in his tone.

You quickly moved toward the front of the apartment, concern etching across your face. When you reached the living area, you saw Joel standing in the doorway, his face set in a hard line. Beside him stood a teenager—a girl who looked no older than sixteen. Her clothes were ragged, and she had a wary, defensive posture.

The girl’s eyes flickered between you and Joel, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. Joel’s anger was palpable, and it was clear that the situation was tense.

“Joel, what’s going on?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though you felt a pang of anxiety at the sight of the girl and the intensity of Joel’s demeanor.

Joel's eyes shifted to you, the anger in them still evident but now mixed with a hint of exhaustion. “She’s got a name,” he said, gesturing toward the girl. “Her name’s Ellie.”

Ellie looked up at you, her eyes wary but hopeful. Joel’s expression softened slightly as he continued, “Turns out she’s supposed to be delivered to the Fireflies.

You glanced at Joel, understanding dawning. “You’re going to take her to them,” you said, looking back at Ellie. “And you’ll have the chance to find Tommy along the way.”

Joel nodded, a hint of resignation in his stance. “Yeah, that’s the deal,” he said.

“But what about—”

Joel cut you off gently. “I know it’s a lot to take in. We need to leave now. There’s an opportunity for us to get out of the QZ and head to a place where things might be better. But it means we have to move fast.”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, glancing between you and Joel. “I don’t want to be a problem,” she said quietly. “If it’s too much—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “It’s not that. I just… I’m not sure what to do. I mean, this is all so sudden.”

Joel stepped closer, his expression earnest. “We don’t have much time. We need to move quickly before things get worse. I know it’s hard, but this is our chance to get out of here. To find some place where we can start over.”

You looked at Joel, the weight of his words sinking in. “And what about the baby?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “How will we—”

“We’ll figure it out,” Joel said firmly. “We have to. There’s no time to waste. This is our chance to make a new life, to give the baby a better chance.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the situation. “Alright,” you said finally, nodding. “I’ll do it. We’ll go. Just… let’s make sure we’re ready.”

Joel’s face softened with relief, and he gave a nod. “Good. Tess will be back soon. We need to pack up and get out before anyone notices we’re gone.”

As you hurriedly packed, a thought clawed at the back of your mind, growing louder and louder until it burst out of you in a shaky whisper. "But I’ll be a burden," you said, your voice breaking. "I’ll slow you down, Joel. You know it."

Joel stopped what he was doing, turning to face you. "No," he said firmly, the word cutting through the tense air like a knife. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was a fierce intensity in his gaze, something raw and unwavering.

"You’re not a burden," he insisted, his voice low and filled with emotion. "You're the reason I wake up every day. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you, baby. Without you… without you, nothing makes sense anymore."

Your breath hitched, and tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, his words breaking down the walls you had built around your fears. Joel’s hands trembled slightly as he continued, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek.

"So, if this is the chance I have to give you a life you deserve in this shithole," he went on, his voice steady but thick with emotion, "then I’ll take it. I’ll take you with me and give it to you and our baby. I promise you, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re both safe. I won’t lose you. Not now, not ever."

You could feel his sincerity, the depth of his determination to protect you and the life growing inside you. You felt a wave of emotions crashing over you—fear, relief, hope, and love, all swirling together. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, letting his words sink in.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I… I don’t know if I’m ready for this, for any of this."

His grip on your face tightened just a bit, his gaze never wavering. "Neither do I," he admitted. "But we’ll figure it out. We’ve faced worse, and we’re still standing. We’ll get through this. Together."

You nodded slowly, your heart hammering in your chest. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. "I’m not letting you go," he murmured.

Ellie stood by the door, her arms crossed, an incredulous look on her face. "Are you seriously risking your pregnant girlfriend?" she asked, her voice sharp with disbelief. She looked between the two of you, clearly struggling to understand the situation.

Joel turned his head, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features, but he kept his voice calm. "It's not that simple, kid."

Ellie scoffed. "Seems pretty simple to me," she shot back. "You're dragging her and… whatever's in there—" she gestured vaguely toward your stomach, "—through god knows what to get me to the Fireflies. What if something happens?"

You took a deep breath, stepping forward to meet Ellie’s eyes. "I know what I'm getting into," you said firmly. "I can take care of myself."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and what if you can't? I mean, what if you get sick or something? What if you get hurt?" Her voice softened, just a bit, the worry evident. "It’s not just about you anymore."

Joel’s jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. He turned to Ellie; his tone more measured. "I get it, Ellie," he said. "But leaving her here… leaving her in this place… that’s not an option either."

Ellie threw her hands up. "Great, so it’s a lose-lose situation."

You couldn’t help but let out a small, dry laugh. "Pretty much," you said, trying to inject some lightness into the tension-filled room.

There was a beat of silence, the reality of the situation settling over everyone. Joel reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "We’ll figure it out," he murmured, more to you than anyone else.

Within a short time, Tess arrived, and the group of you prepared to leave the apartment, stepping out into the uncertain world beyond the QZ. The prospect of escaping to a new place, combined with the responsibility of ensuring the safety of both Ellie and your unborn child, loomed over you.

Joel led the way, his eyes scanning the area as you followed, Ellie close behind. The journey ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for a new beginning.

As you stepped out of the QZ and into the unfamiliar landscape beyond, the weight of your situation pressed heavily on you. The world outside was a mix of desolate ruins and overgrown wilderness, a stark contrast to the relative safety of the quarantine zone. With each step, you could feel the gravity of the journey ahead, not just for yourself, but for your unborn child and Ellie, who now looked up to you as a beacon of hope and guidance.

Joel walked beside you, his presence a constant reassurance in the chaos. He kept a vigilant eye on the surroundings, his hand occasionally reaching out to make sure you were close. Tess, ever practical, moved ahead, scouting the path and ensuring that it was as safe as possible.

Ellie followed behind, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. The harsh reality of the world outside the QZ was a stark contrast to the relative safety she’d known, and she looked to you and Joel for guidance and protection.

The landscape seemed to stretch endlessly, with the occasional remnants of civilization scattered among the ruins. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with potential threats and unknown challenges. Yet, with Joel’s hand firmly grasping yours and Tess leading the way, you found a small measure of comfort in the unity of your group.

As you walked, Joel glanced at you occasionally, his gaze softening when he saw the lump forming in your throat.

With each step you took away from the QZ, you felt a mixture of trepidation and hope. The future was uncertain, and the dangers were real, but you were determined to face them head-on, for yourself, for your child, and for the family you were trying to protect.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Little surprise

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot inspired by the recent news, you should have seen my face yesterday when the first thing I saw was the photo on insta, I just know that Max is going to be the best dad :) If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

You’d been carrying the secret for days now, and it felt as though your heart could burst every time you looked at him. Max, with his carefree smile and bright, sparkling eyes, had no idea that your world had shifted entirely. Every night, you’d lie next to him, your hand resting protectively over your stomach, wondering how you’d tell him that the two of you were about to become three.

It had to be perfect.

The idea came to you one quiet morning while watching a race replay. Max had barely opened his eyes when he muttered something about karting, his first love, before pulling you close and falling back asleep. That was it. You’d tell him in a way that connected to the thing he loved most—apart from you.

For days, you planned in secret. You found the tiniest little kart online and had it shipped as quickly as possible. When it arrived, you giggled as you placed it carefully in the living room, tying a big red bow around it for effect. It was perfect.

The hard part was waiting for the right moment. You wanted it to be a day when you were both relaxed, away from the chaos of the world, just the two of you. So, one sunny afternoon, you suggested lunch at your favorite café.

The day was as perfect as you could have hoped. Max was in an especially good mood, teasing you about how you always ordered the same thing and stealing fries from your plate like a mischievous child. He talked about an upcoming race, his plans, and how much he missed the simpler days of karting.

“You’re quiet today,” he noted, nudging your arm gently as the two of you walked back to the car.

“Just enjoying the moment,” you said, slipping your hand into his.

He grinned, lifting your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. “I like that.”

The drive home was filled with soft music and the kind of comfortable silence you loved. As you neared your apartment, your nerves kicked in. Was this the right way to tell him? What if he didn’t react the way you imagined? What if—

“Hey, you okay?” Max’s voice pulled you from your spiral. He parked the car and turned to look at you, his blue eyes filled with concern.

You nodded quickly, plastering on a reassuring smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

Inside the apartment, you stayed a step behind him, your heart pounding. As he kicked off his shoes and walked into the living room, he froze.

“Uh…” His head tilted, his gaze locking on the tiny kart in the middle of the room. “Did you… buy a toy kart?”

You stepped closer, biting your lip to keep from laughing at his confusion. He circled the kart, inspecting it like it might suddenly explain itself.

“Why is there a bow on it? Did someone send this to you?” He turned to look at you, his brows furrowed.

You took a deep breath, feeling your chest tighten with anticipation. “No, it’s for you.”

“For me?” He looked even more puzzled now. “What am I supposed to do with this? It’s tiny!”

“It’s not for now,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you struggled to contain your emotions. “It’s for later.”

Max’s confusion deepened. He stared at you, the kart, then back at you. “Later?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “Max… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His mouth fell open, his eyes wide as he tried to process your words.

“What?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, a tear slipping down your cheek as you smiled at him. “We’re going to have a baby.”

The shock on his face slowly melted into something softer, more tender. His eyes glistened, and a disbelieving smile spread across his lips.

“You’re serious?” he asked, stepping closer to you, his voice filled with awe.

You nodded, unable to speak as emotions overwhelmed you.

He let out a soft, breathless laugh before pulling you into his arms, holding you so tightly you thought you might break. “A baby,” he murmured against your hair. “We’re having a baby.”

When he pulled back, his hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I can’t believe it. You… you’re incredible. How long have you known?”

“A few days,” you admitted with a small laugh. “I wanted to find the perfect way to tell you.”

He glanced back at the kart and chuckled, shaking his head. “This is perfect. It’s… amazing. You’re amazing.”

His hands dropped to your stomach, his fingers splaying over the fabric of your dress. “There’s really a baby in there?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

“There really is,” you confirmed, placing your hands over his.

He was quiet for a moment, just staring at you, before a grin broke across his face. “I can’t wait to meet them. I can’t wait to be a dad.”

His excitement was contagious. You laughed as he scooped you up and spun you around, his joy filling the room like sunlight.

The rest of the day was spent talking about everything—the future, names, the nursery, and all the ways he wanted to be the best dad in the world. Max couldn’t stop touching your stomach, even though he knew it was too soon to feel anything.

That night, as you lay in bed, his arms wrapped protectively around you, he whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice sleepy.

“For giving me this,” he said, his hand resting gently over your stomach. “For making me the happiest guy in the world.”

You smiled, feeling his love radiating around you. “You’re going to be an amazing dad, Max.”

“And you’re going to be the best mom,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that your little family was already filled with so much love, and you couldn’t wait for the journey ahead.

[wwooyology]

#WIP : The Nanny Diaries | J.WY

「pairing」 : wooyoung x fem!reader 「word count」 : TBD

「synopsis」 : after being let off yet another part-time job, you were sent into a panic as your mother's hospital bills started to pile up. you had no help from your family, seeing as they saw you and your mother as insignificant, so you and your mother only had yourselves to rely on. seeing your desperation, your best friend tells you about a nanny position for a well-known CEO, and you are quick to apply. however, you had not expected the world of chaos you had just thrown yourself into or how you would fall for the little girl's dad so quick.

「genre」 : romance, fluff, angst, small amount of crack, drama, smut, age gap, ceo!wooyoung, dilf!wooyoung, nanny!reader

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, readers mom has cancer, familial trauma, mental breakdowns, arguments, mentions of death, death, grief, wooyoung is both a tease and mildly closed off, age gap (8 years), reader is depicted to be twenty-two, bullying, violence, betrayal, multiple unprotected sex scenes, dilf wooyoung (yes this deserves its own warning), sir kink, kissing, blackmailing, child endangerment, (will add more as I write)

「also starring」 : choi san as wooyoung's best friend who also runs a well known company, giselle and natty as your childhood best friends, kang yeosang as wooyoung's childhood friend who teaches yoonha's class, huh yunjin as the girl who is concerningly obsessed with wooyoung and also a huge pain in your ass.

「notes」 : hello everyone!! I have had this idea in my head for a LONG time now and as I was working on the outline I realized that this wasn't going to be a smaller fic - so I have decided that I am going to make a wip post for the reason that it's going to be pretty long and has a lot of plot to it. I hope everyone will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed and will enjoy writing it, thank you all!! <3

spoilers ➻ one | two | three

「release date」 : TBD

「current word count」 : 13.4k

「taglist」 : OPEN

➻ please send an ask or reply to this post if you would like to be added to the taglist after this fic is finished. 18+ ONLY, you must have your age visible on your blog. any blank blogs and MINORS will NOT be added!!! also, if you are on my perm. taglist, you will automatically be added to the taglist, so you do NOT have to ask to be added!! <33

also please double-check your blog settings!! with certain settings, I will NOT be able to tag you, so please make sure you check that before asking to be added!

additionally, I will be ignoring and deleting any comments and/or asks from blank and/or ageless blogs asking to be added to the taglist!

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[goldengalore]

Ready

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants kids. Y/N isn’t sure what she wants. Feeling pressured to make up her mind, she agrees to something she’s not ready for.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut

A/N: Hello! It’s been a while. This fic is based on this ask I received forever ago. Enjoy :)

***

Y/N has always been on the fence about having kids.

As a young teenager, she assumed she would have them when she grew up, fell in love, and got married. Social norms, along with her own childish naivete, made her believe that this was the only path one could take in life. Having children was the next logical step to marriage, which was the next logical step to falling in love.

And then she matured and realized that life is not nearly as cut-and-dry, that having kids is a choice, not a necessity, and that she can absolutely go her whole life without having any if that’s what she wants. This realization came as a relief but also felt somewhat unnerving because how is she supposed to know what she wants? She is quite possibly the most indecisive person on the planet, so it’s no surprise that she has bounced back and forth between wanting and not wanting children throughout her entire adult life.

On one hand, she thinks of her friends who have kids and how their lives have become utterly consumed by the little humans that require their constant care and attention. There is just so much that Y/N wants to experience and achieve before settling into a life like that.

Not to mention the horrors of pregnancy. It’s not exactly a walk in the park, having to carry a human life inside of you for nine months and then give birth to it. The health complications, the irreversible bodily changes, the sheer, agonizing pain of childbirth.

And yet, on some days, she fantasizes about becoming a mother, of holding a tiny life in her arms and nurturing it into a full-grown adult. An important character in these fantasies has always been the sweet, thoughtful, loving partner by her side who takes equal responsibility for their child. This person was always a faceless individual—an idealistic depiction of the kind of partner Y/N hoped to find someday.

And then Harry came along.

Sweet, thoughtful, loving Harry who, unlike her, was always sure of his desire to have kids. For him, it was never a question of whether he wanted them but a question of when.

That moment finally arrived for him a year ago. But Y/N wasn’t sure if she felt ready yet.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked her one day. “I don’t mean that in a judgemental way. Bringing a child into this world is scary for anyone, including myself. I’m just curious to know what your specific concerns are.”

“Well, there’s the usual stuff, like whether or not I’ll be a good mother—”

“You’ll be a phenomenal mother.”

She smiled at him, then continued, “Or whether my kids will be able to have a good future with so much chaos in the world...” She trailed off hesitantly.

“But there’s something else,” he said, gently urging her to share what was really holding her back.

“I… I’ve always been terrified of the idea of having to raise a child alone, either because something bad happens to the father or he leaves out of the blue or we break up and I’m left to take care of this child by myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I… I’ve never been able to shake this fear.”

“Doesn’t sound ridiculous to me. I was raised by a single mother, so I know it’s not an easy job.” He reached for her hand and kissed her knuckle, never breaking eye contact. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You know that, right? We’re in this together. We’re a team, always.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Well, I’m alright with waiting until you feel ready. I want us both to feel ready before we jump into this.”

In the six months following that conversation, the topic would crop up several more times, like after Harry saw her interacting with his godchildren at a party or they walked past a cute baby in a stroller at the grocery store. Y/N didn’t mind discussing the topic. It gave her a chance to ponder and become more comfortable with the concept of motherhood.

Yesterday, Harry returned home from a month-long movie shoot in Sweden. Y/N surprised him by showing up at the airport. What he doesn’t know is that she has another surprise in store for him.

While he was in Sweden, she decided to go off her birth control and now wants to try for kids.

She plans on telling him later tonight once they get home from their friend’s birthday party. They’ve been all over each other tonight. That’s what being apart for a month does to them. Hell, even a week apart is enough to turn them into a couple of horny teenagers that can’t keep their hands off each other.

“You look so hot in that dress,” Harry whispers in her ear, half-joking because they both know this is his fifth time saying that tonight.

Emboldened by a couple glasses of wine, a tipsy Y/N whispers back, “I want you to put a baby in me.”

His eyes widen. He chuckles. “That wine bringing out your wild side?”

“I’m serious,” she states, glancing around to double check that no one is within earshot of their conversation. “I went off my birth control a month ago, after you left for Sweden.”

He stares at her blankly, like her words haven’t quite sunk in.

“H, I’m ready to do this.”

“Really?”

She smiles. “Yes.”

“We’re doing this,” he says as it finally sinks in. He kisses her wine-stained lips. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N can hardly keep her composure on the way home. Harry appears to be in the same boat, as he keeps sneaking glances at her while driving, his hand caressing her thigh. While he’s always been a responsible driver, she can sense the impatience in his maneuvers tonight.

Once they’re home, it’s almost a race to the bedroom. Harry gently pushes her onto the bed and climbs on top of her.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to watch you walk around in this dress tonight”—he runs a hand down her front—“and not be able to bend you over and just slip my cock into you?”

She moans as he cups her pussy through her dress with a firm hand. He lets her grind against it for a minute before pulling away to take off his clothes. She follows suit.

Soon, they’re back on the bed, sharing another series of ardent kisses. By the time he goes down on her, she’s already dripping wet and he licks it up as if he hasn’t had a drop of water in days. Her hips grind against his tongue like they did against his hand just a moment ago. It doesn’t take her long to orgasm.

He shifts up the bed to hover over her body. He kisses her again while lining up his cock with her entrance. As he slides into her, she feels a slight discomfort from being stretched open for the first time in a month. He pulls out and pushes in a little deeper each time to let her adjust until he fills her up completely and she’s too immersed in pleasure to have a single coherent thought anymore.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he says, starting to pump in and out. “Gonna come inside you, yeah? Gonna come deep inside your tight little cunt and fill you up, put a baby in you. Is that what you want?”

Those words flip a switch in Y/N’s mind. She makes an involuntary noise that makes it seem like she’s agreeing with him, so he picks up his pace. Just as he finishes inside her, the terrible realization dawns: She is not ready to have a baby. Not at all.

“I love you,” Harry whispers in her ear, his body resting flush against hers as he comes down from his high.

Tears spring to Y/N’s eyes as she realizes what she’s done, what they’ve just done. When she doesn’t reciprocate his statement, he lifts his head to look at her. A tear escapes her left eye at that exact moment.

Concern furrows his brow. “Lovie? Hey, what’s wrong?”

She just shakes her head while staring at the ceiling.

“Y/N.” He caresses her cheek, urging her to look at him. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt? Did I go too—”

“We shouldn’t have done this. It was a mistake,” she says in a trembling voice.

“What are you talking about?”

She tries to sit up. Harry moves out of her way.

“I’m not ready, H. I’m not ready to have a baby.”

His face falls. “I— But— Then why did you say you were ready?”

“I don’t know… To make you happy?” She covers her face and hears him sigh heavily.

“Y/N, you can’t— You can’t lie about things like that just to make me happy. It’s not like we were deciding what to have for dinner. We’re talking about having a baby, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know that. Of course I know that. But I just— I see the disappointment in your face every time we talk about this, every time I tell you I’m not ready. You seem so sad, Harry. I hate it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not able to hide my emotions as well as I thought I could. That still doesn’t mean you should lie to please me. I thought we were past foolish antics like this.”

She squints at him. “Foolish antics?”

He sighs again. “I didn’t mean it like—”

She turns away from him and gets off the bed.

“Y/N.”

She shuts herself in the bathroom. For a brief moment, a part of her resents him. Resents him for being ready to have kids before she was. For bringing it up so often. For making her feel as though she needed to lie about being ready just to make him happy.

But now, as she stares at her teary-eyed reflection in the mirror, she knows she has to take responsibility. She is the one who led him to believe that she was ready when deep down, she knew she wasn’t. He never once pressured her to make up her mind or acted like he loved her any less for not wanting kids yet. He never made her feel any type of way about it. He has done nothing but be the supportive, understanding partner he’s always been. It was her who doubted that. She let her own paranoia get to her.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

A few moments later, he knocks again.

“Please, lovie? I’m getting worried.”

Finally, she opens the door. He takes in her red, puffy eyes and tentatively places his arms around her, only pulling her in when she steps into his embrace.

They stand there silently until he says, “Why don’t we head over to the pharmacy and get you a morning after pill?”

She agrees, so they get dressed and head out. The ride to the pharmacy is a quiet one. Every time she glances at Harry, his eyes are focused on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel, and he appears deep in thought. It’s the complete opposite of their ride home from the party, when he could hardly keep his hands or his eyes off her. She tries to think of ways to break the silence, but nothing feels appropriate. The last time she felt so awkward and unsure about what to say around Harry was when they first started going out and she was terrified of saying the wrong thing.

When they get back from the pharmacy, she swallows down the pill with some water and they head back to bed.

***

Y/N: Hey H, you on your way home? Hope you’re hungry, I made your favourite for dinner 😊

H: I have a business dinner tonight. Mentioned it this morning

Y/N: Oh! Sorry I forgot about that. I’ll save some in the fridge for you for tomorrow

H: Sure, thanks

Y/N stares at the message. She can’t tell if she’s reading into things or if Harry’s replies really are as dry and aloof as they sound. Her propensity to overanalyze everything makes it difficult to know. Ever since the incident in the bedroom a few days ago, it feels as though Harry has been avoiding her. Spending long days at the studio, coming home late at night when he knows she’ll be asleep, giving short replies, taking longer to text back. They haven’t had sex again since then either.

After scrutinizing their text conversation for twenty minutes, she comes to her senses and realizes that she can’t keep going on like this. It’s driving her crazy. What she needs to do is talk to him. But he’ll most likely be tired when he gets home.

At first, she thinks she’ll sit him down tomorrow morning and talk it out. But when he walks through the front door just after eleven o’clock that night, she can’t help herself.

She stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of tea, when he enters. The dark circles under his eyes are noticeable. He has been willing to sacrifice his sleep just to avoid being around her any longer than he has to. Her chest constricts.

“Hey,” he says, placing his phone and keys on the counter. “You’re still up.”

“Can’t sleep.” She stares down into her half-empty mug, the remainder of the tea quickly growing cold.

“How come?”

“I can’t stop thinking.”

“About…?”

She swallows the lump in her throat and looks up at him. “About whether or not you’re upset with me and how I can fix it.”

He frowns. “Why would I be upset with you?”

“Because of what happened a few nights ago.”

His frown dissolves into something different—sympathy? Guilt?

“Y/N, I’m not upset with you about that.”

“Are you sure? Because it seems like it. You’re gone before I’m even awake and you come home when I’m going to bed. We’ve barely talked or kissed or cuddled in the past few days. I know you haven’t been that busy since you got back from Sweden, so… I don’t really see any other explanation.”

He stares at her wordlessly for a long time before speaking. “You’re right. I have been avoiding you. But it’s not because I’m upset with you. It’s because I’m upset with myself. I feel like I pressured you into doing something you obviously weren’t comfortable with. I never saw myself as someone who pressures people into doing things they don’t want to do. So, I suppose I’ve been feeling some shame and guilt about it… and then avoiding you because it’s hard to face these feelings.”

Y/N sets her tea on the counter. She never could’ve guessed that Harry felt this way. She was so convinced that he was mad at her, it didn’t even occur to her that he might just be feeling guilty about it all. After how long she has known him, it should have been obvious that the latter is more consistent with his character, but her anxious brain wouldn’t even let her consider that possibility. She walks over and wraps her arms around him.

“H, I had no idea you felt that way.”

He squeezes her tightly, resting his chin on her head. She turns her head to the side so that her cheek is against his chest.

“To be honest, there were times I felt pressured when the topic of kids came up,” she says. “But a lot of that pressure was created by my own fears and insecurities. I just hated disappointing you over and over. I was scared your feelings about me, about us, would change if I kept saying I wasn’t ready.”

“This hasn’t changed how I feel about you or us. Y/N, I want you more than I want kids. Way more. If you decided one day that you don’t want them at all, that still wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

She pulls back to look at him. “Are you sure? That’s a dealbreaker for a lot of people.”

“Well, not for me. Not when it comes to you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Suddenly, he lifts her up onto the counter and stands between her legs.

“So. What did you get up to today?” he asks, planting a kiss to her collarbone.

She rests her hands on his chest. “Hmm, what did I get up to? I hardly remember anything other than obsessing over this whole situation.” She laughs.

“Aw, lovie, I’m sorry I had you all stressed out.”

“It’s okay.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you. Help you relieve all that stress.” He peppers kisses along the side of her neck and jaw.

She sighs softly and closes her eyes. “I would like that.”

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[uno-san]

Bill Cipher Vs. Self-Hatred

Howdy y'all! Today I just wanted to go over some thoughts I had over everybody's favorite triangle that may or may not have occurred to some of you already. Naturally this will contain Book of Bill Spoilers.

To start off our little essay I thought it would be important to first sum up my thoughts on one of Bill's more complicated relationships: Stanford

Now we've all seen his dynamic with Stanford plenty of times in the show but with recent information coming from both the Book of Bill and thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com more light has been shed on the subject from both Bill's perspective and Ford's.

There's more than meets the eye when it comes to dissecting Bill's interactions and thoughts on Stanford, with the ever enlightening "EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES" making theorists scratch their heads. Within the Book of Bill are these codes and their meanings: hbh grfwru ri d gliihuhqw nlqg/ zkr zdqw wr pdnh klv sdwlhqw eolqg

eye doctor of a different kind/ who wants to make his patient blind

Qeb alzqlo pxvp/ qeobb pfmp x axv/ tfii jxhb qeb sfpflkp/ dl xtxv

The doctor says/ three sips a day/ will make the visions/ go away

Ixvvb hdwhu/ edeb eloob/ zrxogq'w gulqn/ xqohvv lwv vloob

Fussy eater/ baby billy/ wouldn't drink/ unless its silly

As well as:

Finding out that both Stanford and Bill have a genetic mutation that made them Black Sheep suggests the possibility that Bill saw a kinship within Stanford. After all, he did make the offer for Stanford to join him. No doubt being able to sympathize with Stanford's situation yet misreading his motivations, causing the rift in their once savable relationship once Bill's lies were uncovered.

Now I'll admit it was others who came up with this theory in particular, especially when drawing comparisons of how Stanford was treated and how Bill allegedly was for having a strange eye. Stanford, in some form of other, might represent how Bill was before he saw the destruction of his world by his hands. A mere outcast looking for his place in the world. To be believed rather than ridiculed or "fixed".

Self-Hatred

And now we get to the Bill we all know today:

The chaos loving and nightmare inducing three-sided maniac, who may be hiding more insecurities than he ever let on in the show, thanks to the Theraprism.

Someone far more traumatized

Who's had to convince himself to fully be the bastard he is today

But if the theory that Bill had a type of kinship with Stanford thanks to their mutations was true, then wouldn't it be possible that his relationship with someone else might represent the inner struggle with himself?

For you see, the original title of this post was...

Bill Cipher Vs. Stanley Pines

As my own theory is that Stanley Pines is what Bill decided to project his self-hatred on. Nobody can doubt that the two have similar qualities, yet as I read the Book of Bill and thisisnotawebsitedotcom I couldn't help but notice the absolute malice that Bill has for Stanley whenever he's mentioned.

There have been many opponents before that have strived to take Bill down. Whether that was the Shaman, the Anti-Cipher Society, or Time Baby, none of his interactions with them have appeared as vitriol as compared to Stanley.

Not even Stanford has this same reaction, who, by really no contest, was the closest to ever defeating Cipher by himself. Both with the gun that he near successfully killed Bill with and the secret of the barrier of Gravity Falls he refused to give up. Bill didn't even have a real interaction with Stanley until the last episode.

Yet it isn't Stanford that causes Bill to break while he's in the Theraprism. It's Stanley.

"-A resume-inflating, cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of DENIAL AND shamelessness!"

"Self-pitying"

"Stupid"

"Smug"

"Hack Jokes"

"UNWORTHY"

Now it could be just me, but those are a lot of specific insults to fling somebody's way that you've barely interacted with. Especially if Bill credits the Twin Swap to Stanford entirely as opposed to allowing Stanley the credit.

"STEP RIGHT UP, it's time to play my FAVORITE GAME!! BOOTLEG SIXER over HERE spent a LIFETIME trying to hide his humiliations, BUT I'VE BEEN INSIDE HIS MIND, so NOW they’re ALL YOURS for the low low price of BEING MY NEW PAL! ITS SHOWTIME FOLKS, AND THE ONLY WAY TO LOSE IS TO BE NAMED STANLEY PINES!"

“SHAME:TM - IT'S THE ONE FRIEND WHO NEVER LEAVES!”

This out-of-character hatred doesn't come from the fact that Bill thought Stanley wasn't worthy, it comes from the fact that Bill sees himself in Stan. Who by all means is a lying and conniving screw up. Somebody who let his family down.

This could possibly be proven by the poem Bill had wrote about Stanley:

The whole poem suits my point but I decided to highlight the sections that caught my eye specifically. That when you put into consideration Bill's clear trauma and regret about the Euclidian Massacre, his own words can clearly be flipped back on him.

That he sees himself as a curse and a mistake. A self-made monster. Someone who's left the past behind when the loss of his home is still on his mind.

And what truly gets under Bill's skin about Stanley Pines?

"He got his life and family back.

His big break, it finally came,

Redemption from a life of shame"

Stanley got back what Bill can't.

[snail-noodle]

"my my my... what do we have here?"

you shivered in fear at the gigantic being before you. you and your cookie friends had tried your best to seal the rift in the tree with white lily cookie. however, your actions proved pointless. white lily cookie's powers were still too weak and your time had run out. you all watched in horror at the towering cookie grinning down from above.

"it's been so long since we've seen new faces! we were starting to get bored being by ourselves in here..." shadow milk cookie smirked as he took a look at each cookie standing before him. when his eyes had reached you, his gaze stayed far more longer on you than the others. you trembled from his piercing stare, a small whimper escaping from your lips as you backed away and hid yourself behind pure vanilla cookie.

shadow milk cookie chortled at the pathetic display. "Oh, how I have missed the faces of fear from you cookies! Never gets old!" now that the rift had opened big enough for him to pass through, shadow milk cookie stepped out of the silver tree that had kept him and the others imprisoned for so long. the smaller cookies screamed in terror as they scrambled to get out of his way. every footstep he took practically shook the earthbread beneath their feet.

"pure vanilla cookie!" fear clouded your mind as you tugged your leader's arm in desperation. "what are we going to do?!" anxiety gripped your heart when he hesitated to think of a solution. one of the most powerful beings in all of cookiekind has just been unleashed and is ready to bring chaos to the world once more. just how on earthbread will any cookie be able to stop such beasts?

before pure vanilla cookie could even think of an answer, you cried out in alarm as you were suddenly lifted into the air. the other cookies screamed your name as you watched their forms grow smaller and smaller. you gasped as you were face to face with the grinning jester.

"what a cute little cookie you are." he eagerly examined you as if he were a child that had been given a new toy, turning you this way and that. "it's been ages since i had a little pet to dote on. you'll make a fine addition to my collection!" your mind raced as you tried to understand what you have just heard. a collection? a pet to dote on? what on-?!

your thoughts were interrupted as you heard a snap of... fingers? confused, you found yourself locked inside some sort of bird cage; the bars were thick enough to keep you from escaping. shadow milk cookie cooed as he watched you attempt to break free. "no-!" you tugged and pulled at the bars keeping you in.

"no! y-you can't keep me in here! Please!" you cried out to him in desperation. shadow milk cookie only giggled and shook his head, "ah, ah, ah! you're staying right by my side, my little cookie." you shuddered in fear as he began to summon his powers once more. shadows seeped out from your surroundings and from his body. multiple cold blue eyes stared at you and the cookies still down below.

"now, my dear..." with a clap of his hands, monsters of every kind stepped out from the shadows, ready to obey their master. with a manic grin, shadow milk cookie spread his arms out in grandeur to the cookies below. with a perfect view from above, you could only watch in horror as your friends were surrounded at every side by monsters of different sizes.

"let the show begin!"

[scarlethexelove]

Please Don't Leave Me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4281

Warnings: Angst, Pregnant!Reader, Natasha being an ass, injuries, Depression, Wanda being the bestest of friends.

Part 2: Gone

A/n: Had this one in my head for some time and finally decided to write it. As it always seems these fics just seem to run wild and get longer than I mean them to be. I can tell you all right now I'm pretty sure your not going to like the ending very much 😅

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

“Natty.” You try to get your wife's attention as she moves around the room quickly. Natasha is shoving things in a bag. “Nat.” You try again, but she doesn’t stop. Frantically moving around the room grabbing whatever she can. “Natasha!” You finally yell at her. She still doesn’t stop her movements. “Y/n I can’t right now.” She says shoving the last of her things in her bag. “Nat I have something important to tell you.” You try to reason with the woman, but she just zips her bag throwing it over her shoulder and walks past you. “There are things you don’t understand. I have to go.” You grab her arm and she finally looks back at you. “I really need to tell you this.” You try to reason with her. Your eyes pleading with her just to let you talk. But she shakes her head and pulls her arm from your grasp. “There are more important things than you right now.” She makes it to the door letting it creak open. “We will talk when I get home.” She doesn’t face you, only slightly turning her head before she is gone. “Don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” You see her hesitate in the door but she shakes her head before slamming the door shut behind her. 

Your heart shatters in your chest as your legs buckle beneath you. A muffled thud is heard as your knees hit the ground. Your hand covers your mouth as a sob escapes the depths of your chest. You pull the small stick from your back pocket looking down at the two pink lines. “I’m pregnant.” You whisper to yourself like somehow Nat will hear you and come back, but you know she won’t. To Natasha her job has always been more important than anything. She loves being an Avenger and helping people, but it always comes at a cost to you. You had a sliver of hope that maybe just maybe this could change that. After what she had gone through in the red room she was pretty sure that she couldn’t get you pregnant but here you are. The prospects of having a child had given you hope that maybe she would come back to you. Be the loving wife that you know she can be. The little pink lines now taunting you as tears splash down on the plastic blurring your vision and the once prominent lines. 

It seems like hours before you finally pick yourself up off the ground. Finally having cried all the tears away. Pulling yourself off the ground as you wipe your cheeks before making your way to your shared bedroom. It is empty, too empty. The book Nat was reading was still sitting face down open to the page that she had left it on. Moon light shining through the curtains illuminating the dark room. You don’t bother turning on the lights or changing clothes as you crawl into the cold bed. Seeming much larger now than ever before. You curl in on yourself, exhaustion from all the tears you have cried catching up to you. A pain in your chest as you finally drift off into nothingness. 

Over the next few days multiple new stations report of the Avengers fighting one another. The chaos and destruction of a German airport. You place a hand over your lower stomach as the news flashes. ‘Natasha Romanoff aka Black Widow has broken the Sokovia Accords. Now wanted for treason against the federal government.’ If you thought your heart couldn’t break more you were wrong. 

It has been nearly four months since that fateful day. The day your world shattered around you. You had hoped that one day maybe Nat would try and contact you but those hopes had been dashed over a month ago. She had moved on and so should you. You slowly pack your things in the home that you once shared with your wife. You’re not even sure if you should call her that anymore. A single tear running down your cheek at the thought. You still love her deeply but you can’t live like this. You have a baby to think about now, you need to live for them. Placing your hand on your growing stomach as you gently rub your finger up and down feeling their movement and smiling. 

A phone ringing breaks you from the tender moment. You grab your phone looking down to see an unknown number calling you. Your heart stops a moment wondering if after all this time it is finally Nat calling you. You're so distracted by the tight feeling in your chest that the phone stops ringing and the call ends. You still stare blankly at the screen before it starts to ring again. Phone lighting up in your hand once again still showing unknown as the caller. 

This time you press the answer button. Your movements are slow as you bring it up to your ear. You open your mouth but no words come out, your breaths coming out erratic as you begin to panic. Your ear is soon filled with a soft voice. “Y/n/n?” That voice is distinct but not your wifes. “Y/n are you there?” The voice asks again. “W-Wanda?” Your voice trembles as your mind catches up. Your best friend is on the other side of the line. 

This is the first time you have heard from any of the Avengers for a long time. Tony once stopped by but you refuse to let him in. You didn’t listen to any of the words coming out of his mouth as he spoke through the door. If it wasn’t for him you don’t think you would be in this position right now and maybe your hopes for a better future with Nat would have come true. Wanda had sent a few letters letting you know she was ok. You couldn’t obviously send anything back due to now knowing where she was and the nature of the events and why she was also on the run. 

“Y/n/n?” Wanda’s voice breaks through your mind once again. “I-I’m sorry Wands. What were you saying?” Her words had been muffled by your mind. She shakes her head like you could possibly see her doing that. “Nothing sweetheart. Are you ok?” She can tell that something isn’t right. “Not really. I, I’m alone.” Wanda’s heart breaks for you. She may be on the run but she hasn’t been alone. “I’m tired, Wands.” You know you shouldn’t be thinking that with a child on the way but it has been hard. Tears start to fall down your cheeks as you sniffle into the phone. 

Wanda made a decision right there. “Sweetheart, I'm going to send Vision to come and get you.” She knows it could be dangerous to have you with her but she also knows that you’re not a wanted fugitive so if for some reason that she is caught you will be left alone. But she will do everything in her power to keep you safe. She can’t stand to hear you this hurt and down. “W-what if that gives away where you are?” You question not wanting to bring her into any danger. “I’m safe here. If you want to, you can come here. We have to move every so often. You don’t have to if you don’t want to but I’m not going to leave you alone. You always have me.” You cry tears of happiness for the first time in a long time. “Yes.” Your voice is small but hopeful. 

You land with Vision somewhere in what you believe to be Belgium. Vision never mentioned anything to you about your pregnancy which you are thankful for. You see Wanda bound out of the small quaint house on the outskirts of the town. You watch as she stops in her tracks a few feet away from you. Your head dropping, not wanting to see her reaction. Scared that she wouldn’t want you around any more. 

“Y/n/n.” Wanda says quietly trying to get you to raise your gaze to hers but you don’t look up. Tears well in your eyes, scared to move, scared to look your best friend in the eye. Hands cup your face gently making you look up into green eyes. A soft smile on her face. “You're pregnant.” It’s not a question but a statement from the woman. You nod your head as she pulls you into her arms hugging you as tightly as she can without hurting you or the baby. 

Just then the flood gates break. A sob leaves you as tears cascade down your cheeks into Wanda’s shirt. You bury your head in her neck. A hand rubbing gently up and down your back as you're held for the first time in months. Your legs give out as you clutch to Wanda for dear life afraid that you're going to wake up and she will be gone. Wanda holds on gently guiding you both to the ground as she lets you cry. Your tears soak her shirt as you sob for what feels like forever. Wanda whispers reassurances in your ear as she just holds you. Her gentle motions on your back, not ceasing. 

Wanda lets you get out your pent up emotions. Sitting with you until your sobs turn into sniffles. “She left me. I never got to tell her.” You whisper, still gripping onto Wanda. “What sweetheart?” She asks, trying to get you to elaborate. “Natasha. I-I haven’t heard from her. She, she left that day to Germany. I tried to tell her. She, she told me that there were more important things than myself.” Wanda’s eyes swirl red with anger. How could Natasha do this to you? All she wants to do is fly off and break Natasha like she broke you. But Wanda comes back to reality when you grip her tighter, scared she will leave you just like Nat did. 

“Please don’t leave me.” If it was even possible Wanda’s heart broke for you more. Like herself you don’t have any family. All of yours were gone long ago, but you had found a family in the Avengers, a wife. But that family is now broken but Wanda is determined to show you that she is still your family. “I’m not going anywhere sweetheart. I will always be here for you.” She kisses your head smiling. “And for the baby.” More tears come to your eyes but from happiness. 

“So you and Vision?” You give a watery chuckle. Wanda nudges your shoulder and laughs. “Yeah.” She smiles happily when you pull back to look at her. “So like does he come with a vibrator setting?” You ask half joking half serious. “Oh my god Y/n!” Wanda exclaims, shocked by your bold question. You two laugh as she helps you off the ground leading you into the house. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to mention something to Nat?” Wanda asks you softly, causing you to look up from the book your head is buried in. You let out a sigh as this constant conversation. “If she wanted to know how I was doing she could have called me the same way you did.” You rub your swollen stomach. So close to meeting your precious little one. “Wands I know you are looking out for me and I also know how pissed you are at her. I also know that you partly want to tell her to rub it in her face on how royally she screwed up. She has had almost 9 months to find me. And I know that you said she has mentioned that she has done it for my own safety but at least hearing from her once would have been something. Instead she went no contact. The famous Black Widow knows how to send encrypted messages if she really wanted to.” 

Wanda knows how much you are right and every time she has to touch base with the team she has been distant and cold with Nat. She so badly wants to break her heart the way she has to you. She knows how much you still love Nat and would love to be a family. These times are hard though with everyone on the run so she bites her tongue and nods her head to your words. 

To get your mind off of things you put your book down and swing your feet off the bed. “Hey Wands, it's a nice night, maybe we can all take a walk.” Vision appears in the doorway. “That sounds like a lovely idea Y/n.” You smile at the synthezoid before giving a questioning look to Wanda. “Sure.” She nods her head. “But someone is going to have to help me with my shoes.” You chuckle trying to reach down to your feet which you can’t reach. The other two laugh before all of you put on some clothes and help you with yours. 

Wanda and Vision are holding hands as you walk through the streets of Edinburgh, the quiet street clearing your mind as you three walk peacefully. Vision stops Wanda to talk a bit as you waddle over to a window with a news cast playing. You watch on as a breaking news cast flashes on the screen. As the scene plays out in front of you you gasp. “Wanda.” You call for her. The conversation dies between the two as they come up behind you seeing as the screen plays footage of New York being attacked. You all stand there silently as death and destruction is shown on the screen. Tony Stark missing flashes on the screen and Vision looks to Wanda. 

“I have to go.” Vision says kissing Wanda’s hand that is still laced with his. He starts to walk away dropping her hand, Wanda pleads with him to stay. You start to drown them out as you watch the screen. Terrified that you may see something about Natasha come across it. Screams of pain makes you turn around seeing Vision impaled on a staff. “Vision!” Wanda screams, her hands glowing red ready to fight. 

Someone else blasts Wanda from behind sending her flying into a building across the street. With you close proximity you're thrown back hard. Trying to brace yourself you hear a sickening crack as your wrist impacts with the ground. You scream out in pain. “Y/n!” Vision yells when he hears your cry of pain. You turn on the ground seeing him do the same. The two who attacked turned him over on his back and the thing that stabbed him placed the sharp end of the staff on his head.

Vision’s screams can be heard through the quiet streets. You struggle trying to get yourself up knowing your wrist is broken, cradling it close to your chest. You watch as red balls of energy slam into the two creatures throwing them back. Wanda runs towards Vision using her magic and pulling you safely over to him. Pain is written all over her face as she looks over the both of you. She uses her magic to lift all of you off the ground pulling you closer to her as she tries to fly you all away from the area. You all are almost hit by a beam causing Wanda to have to bring you all down. Wanda lands you both down gently laying you on the ground before turning to catch Vision with her magic. 

“The blade, it stopped me from phasing.” Vision says as you see a bright yellow line in his body and he seems to be glitching. “Is that even possible?” Wanda asks, helping him sit up against the wall. “It’s not supposed to be.” He says, you can tell he is in pain. Your adrenaline is pumping so your wrist is just a dull ache at the moment. Wanda hovers her hand over Vision, her magic flowing and pulling the opening closed slowly but not completely. “I’m beginning to think we should have stayed inside.” You mumble feeling guilty that this could have been avoided if not for you avoiding your feelings about Nat. 

You and Wanda are pushed back by Vision as one of the creatures grabs Vision flying off and fighting against a building. The other comes and attacks you and Wanda. Wanda puts a barrier of magic around you. She starts to fight the female creature as your heart races in your chest. 

You lose sight of the both of them fighting. Wanda’s magic dissipates from around you allowing you to move forward looking for your friends. You can hear it now so clearly in your head like she actually is yelling at you. Natasha’s voice tells you to run and protect yourself, but Wanda is your best friend and she has been there for you. So you push that voice away following the commotion. You run into the train station seeing Vision propped against a railing. Wanda stands red surrounding her hands as the two creatures look ready to fight once again. 

Squealing of wheels from the train moving past has you all looking. A dark figure in the shadows looms behind the moving train. The female creature throws her trident-like spear at the figure when the train passes. The figure catching it perfectly as he walks into the light you see Steve Rogers. You try to get up behind the female creature but she quickly turns wrapping her hand around your throat. 

“Y/n!” Wanda screams. The female creature throws you back and you land on your back crying out in pain. You feel a gush of liquid between your legs after you hit the ground. Wings fly in front of you as Sam Wilson collides with the creature. You let your hand drift down feeling the wetness and bring your fingers back up into view, relieved that it isn’t blood, but your heart drops when you realize what is happening. You gasp in pain from the sharp feeling in your stomach. 

Wanda uses her magic again to pull you towards her and Vision. Wanda pulls you into her lap. That is when you spot her in the distance. The hair color may be different but she is still herself. Natasha fights with Steve against the creatures. You have tears in your eyes as you look up at Wanda. “Wands, I think my water just broke.” You groan in pain again. You can see the panic in her eyes as she looks around the area. It’s not long before the fighting is done and the other three walk over towards you three. 

Natasha stops dead in her tracks when she sees you. Your swollen stomach has her chest rising and falling a bit fast. She thinks maybe it could be someone else's but she knows deep down that the baby is hers. She wants to cry but she turns stone cold hiding her emotions. Hating herself for leaving you, for never reaching out in all this time. You cry out in pain causing her to look back to you. You're curled in on yourself in Wanda’s lap. “It hurts.” You whimper.  Wanda holds you closer to her. “I know sweetheart.” Wanda looks to the other three. “We need to get them out of here.” She can see the two men side eyeing her before Steve speaks up. “Quickly, get them to the Quinjet.” 

Natasha moves to help you but you pull away. “I have her, can you help Vision?” Wanda says flatly, Nat can only nod moving away and helping Vision up. Wanda effortlessly lifts you in her arms and you all make your way to the Quinjet. Your contractions are getting strong and closer together. Natasha can only watch from afar as you whimper in pain. Wanda helps you and Vision sits close holding his side. 

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Wanda says brushing the hair sticking to your forehead out of the way. “We will be at the compound in 30 minutes.” Steve explains. “Steve, I don't know if she can last that long.” She iterates looking back down at your pained face. “It’s the best I can do Wanda.” She sighs gently stroking your cheek. “It’s ok Wands. I’ll be o-” Your cut off by another contraction. All Nat can do is look on with regret. 

Once the quinjet finally lands Wanda lifts you in her arms again and runs into the compound they enter and see Rhodey talking to a hologram of Secretary Ross. “We need medical.” Natasha says out, causing Rhodey to turn and for Secretary Ross to start arguing. You can’t concentrate on what they are saying but you know it isn’t great. Rhodey ends the call and signals for medical, who come in with Bruce. 

As they wheel you away the team follows. Before Wanda can head in after you Nat grabs her arm. Wanda whips her head around anger evident on her face. “Please just tell me. Is it mine?” Wanda gives an amused chuckle. “Of course it’s yours.” She pulls her arm from Nat’s grasp and follows you in the room. Nat lets tears slip down her face. She left you alone pregnant with her child. Not once contacting you in the last nine months. She had told herself she was doing it to protect you and to keep you out of this life, but she was wrong and she sees that now. She understands now why Wanda became so cold towards her after a few months. She has to fix this. She has to be able to win you back and to become the family she always wanted and she will do anything to get that back. 

Natasha can hear your cries of pain as you go through labor wishing more than anything she could be there with you but you don’t want her to be. But you chose Wanda and she understands why. She soon hears other cries. The crying of her child as they are born. Tears slip down her cheeks as she hears them. The boys know not to go around her or to talk to her at this moment. She is breaking on the inside and all she has to blame is herself. 

An hour later Wanda walks out and comes over to Nat. Her head is down, not looking at the younger woman waiting for a scolding, but that doesn’t come. “You can go meet your son.” Wanda speaks with no emotion to her voice. Natasha looks up and Wanda can see she has been crying but that doesn’t change how angry Wanda is at her. “I have a son?” Nat whispers. Wanda just nods her head and moves out of the way. 

Natasha slips into the room quietly. Her heart stops seeing you laying in the bed with a blue bundle in your arms and a smile on your face. More tears spill as she quietly makes her way over to you. You don’t look at her until she is standing right next to you. “He’s beautiful.” Nat mumbles trying to stop the sob that so desperately wants to escape. You have a soft look on your face and she can’t read it. “Meet Alexander Pietro Romanoff.” You smile down at your son. Natasha lets the tears freely fall. “Romanoff?” She questions you. “Romanoff.” You repeat looking back up at her with a soft smile. She feels a flicker of hope that she can fix this, that she can have her family.

“Do you want to hold him?” You ask her softly and lightly lift him the best you can with your broken wrist. Nat nods and takes him from you holding him in her arms. She has so much love for him already that more tears well in her eyes. You watch her as she holds the baby and cries. 

“I’m sorry.” Nat whispers. “I'm so sorry.” She looks at you with teary eyes. “I know.” Is all you can respond with. She looks back down at the now sleeping boy. Just looking at him and remembering all of his features. She had seen the flicker of green in his eyes, the same as hers. But he looks so much like you. He is just as beautiful as you are. 

Loud beeping makes Nat’s head snap up. Your face is now pale and your eyes are closed. The sheets are staining red between your legs. Doctors rush in as she backs away holding her son close to her chest. He starts to cry with all the noise and commotion. Her heart rate picks up and she starts to panic. The voices of the doctors are muffled to her ears as she feels the blood rushing around. She can only focus on you, your face pale and your body limp in the bed as doctors work around you. They soon wheel you out of the room mentioning something about you hemorrhaging and needing to go to surgery. 

Nat starts sobbing in the empty room. All that is left is herself and her son. She slides down the wall begging to whatever is out there in the universe that you will be ok. That you will come back to her and your son. Promising that she will do better and be better. She will be the wife that she had promised in her vows. She will do anything for you to take her back, just please let you live. She whispers in the emptiness. “Please don’t leave me.”

[sassysnowperson]

How Not to Read Terry Pratchett's Discworld Novels

With the very exciting fantasy books poll bracket going on Discworld and how to read it is in the zeitgeist again. I figured I would take a crack at adding to this important topic with a guide drawn from my own chaotic mess of a reading journey:

Learn that Terry Pratchett is a fantasy author that several people whose reading taste you admire enjoy. He apparently blends comedy, good plotting, and a world that is both grounded and satirical and you're a big fan of all those things.

Fabulous! Decide to read some of his work.

Go to your local library. Love a good library. You're new to the area, so you're also exploring the library for the first time, too.

You have found Terry Pratchett! Points to you! Pull a book off the shelf at random. It's called The Dark Side of the Sun.

Start reading. Realize that this feels more like sci-fi than fantasy. Sigh in smug superiority about people who get the two confused.

Realize about halfway through that this is not, in fact, a Discworld book.

Nobody warned you the guy wrote other things!

It's still good, tho. Maybe a little rough but this was an older book and the author clearly has potential. Let's try again.

Review his works. The vast majority are Discworld. You are highly unlikely to grab another non-Discworld book. Go back to the Terry Pratchett section of the library.

Oh hey he wrote a book with Neil Gaiman! You've hears of that guy!

Grab Good Omens off the shelf.

Take it home, realize, much sooner, that this is also not a Discworld book. Still enjoy yourself thoroughly. You should read more of this Gaiman dude, too.

But okay. For real this time. Go back to the library and don't leave without *CONFIRMING* you have a Discworld book this time.

Grab a book. Look at the cover. Read the back Discworld! Ha HA! You've done it!

It's called Thud.

You are utterly gripped by a story of a man wrestling with himself, his growing child, the political tensions of a city and extremism that echoes reality beautifully while still being entirely true to itself. It's a story of responsibility and love and building communities and Fantasy Chess. You are driven nearly to tears by the sentence *WHERE IS MY COW?*

You emerge from the book fundamentally changed as a person, and finally understanding what all the fuss is about. You are now a Terry Pratchett reader for life.

You realize Thud was in the middle of a series. That was a part of another series. That explains why there was a feeling that you were supposed to know some of these people already.

You finally find one of those flowcharts and figure out a more sensible reading order.

I always sort of laugh when people ask where to start reading Discworld, because Thud would be first on absolutely nobody's sensible Terry Pratchett reading order. I'm still tempted to recommend it though!

(My actual advice: Going Postal if you love con men being stuck doing the right thing, Wee Free Men if you like YA and smart angry girls owning their own power, Guards! Guards! *and* Men at Arms if you like crime shows with heart and are okay giving earlier work a try (the quality gets better and better, but I think it needs at least two books to get you into it), and Monstrous Regiment if you like gender and queer feelings, anti-war books told in the middle of a war, and/or would prefer a stand alone novel...and, you know, Thud if you want a great read and don't mind some chaos.)