#plus last night i had probably the worst chest pain of my entire life I’ve never woken up from something like this before and i just could

[capyclub]

this week has been so fucking awful I literally cannot catch a break

[corpsedaydream]

crash

so, here i am with a new one shot.

so before anyone asks if i’m gonna be posting frequently again or anything, i process things by writing about them. if something is running through my mind over and over and i can’t think through it on my own in my mind, writing about it generally helps me. this past weekend was supposed to be a fun long weekend away w my friends but it quickly ended when i experienced something pretty traumatic. i haven’t been able to sleep at all the past couple nights and so i started working on this. originally it was just going to be something private to help myself w the panic i was feeling then i started adding a muse into it and then i realised i was still writing about corpse without even meaning to, so i guess he’s still got me feeling musey.

anyway, i thought about keeping this private bc i’m still rly shaken up about what happened but idk feels like a shame to just let it sit on my computer.

idk if i’m back to this blog yet, i still feel indifferent about it. i’m signed out on my phone and was signed out on my laptop until just now and haven’t opened my inbox.

anyway. here’s the one shot.

word count: 1666 words (i’m not kidding)

trigger warning: car crash, panic attack

__________________________________________________

crash

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up wake up wake up.

The words repeated over and over in your head. You’d had dreams about crashing your car before, but usually you woke up just before the point of impact. This time you didn’t.

This couldn’t of happened, this can’t be real, this is a a dream, I’ve got to wake up.

But you were already very much awake, this was very much real.

The colour had already drained from your face, tears were welling up in your eyes and your heart had already sunk. Your hands were trembling, your chest was completely still, you weren’t breathing in that moment. Your body had reacted before your mind had completely caught up.

“Fuck.” Was all you managed to say as realisation had hit you. You’d gotten into a car crash.

You looked around you, wondering how the others cars on the road were still moving when it felt like your world had just come to a stop when your car had its collision. You heard your dad’s voice in your head, all the things he’d told you when he taught you how to drive, had - god forbid - you ever ended up in a situation like this.

You went through the motions as well as you could. You were in a state of shock and physically, you were definitely there, but mentally, you really weren’t present. You were having an out of body feeling in the most terrifying way, it was a defence from the panic that had overwhelmed you.

-

Corpse felt a surge of anxiety. He had no idea why, either. All he was doing was looking through fan art on twitter, he hadn’t seen anything that usually would make him feel like that. It just throttled its way into himself seemingly out of no where.

It was especially odd seeing that today had been such a good day. Waking up beside was usually something that put him in a good head space.

So he started to call you, you always made him feel better. But then he remembered you were driving and you were a cautious driver, you never answered your phone when you were behind the wheel. You’d told him in the past how tenacious your dad had been as a driving teacher and it had really stuck with you.

Just as he was about to hang up, knowing you weren’t going to answer, you did.

“Hello?” Something was off. Corpse heard it right away in just that one greeting from you.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t even greet you back, he already had anxiety running through him and the unsettling tone of your answer of the phone had only made it increase.

“I think so.” You were so monotoned. Corpse had never heard you speak this way. You were a lot of things, but monotone was not one. You were expressive, bright and dramatic.

“You think so?” He repeated in a questioning way, wanting to know what was wrong.

“Yeah.” You responded so plainly again. Corpse almost wanted to ask you who was he speaking to right now, because surely this couldn’t have been you. This person had your voice, but this was a person he did not know right now.

“What’s going on?”

“I crashed my car.” You said it to him so simply. There was no emotion behind it. His heart thundered as if a terrible hail storm had just broken out. 

“What?!” 

“I crashed my car.” You repeated. Once again so eerily unemotional.

“Where are you?!”

-

Corpse shouldn’t have been driving in the state he was in, but he needed to get to you. His emotions were running so high and he couldn’t comprehend why yours weren’t.

After what felt like the longest drive of his life, he reached the crash site. His panic peaked when he spotted the ambulance, immediately thinking the worst. But then he saw you standing to the side of it. You were up and talking to the paramedics, that was at least a good sign you weren’t seriously injured.

“(Y/N),” He called for you as he got out of his own car. And just like your voice on the phone, your movements were so robotic.

You were normally so open with your emotions, you were such a readable and honest person. When you were happy, you shined, when you were mad, you yelled red, when you were sad, you cried oceans. But Corpse had never seen you in a true state of shock. He’d never seen your fight or flight response. And apparently it was a stillness and unresponsive, the complete opposite to how you were normally.

“Are you okay?” He knew you probably weren’t, but he couldn’t find any clue to how you were feeling. Until his footsteps brought him closer to you.

You didn’t respond to him at all. Even words felt like too much right now. As he neared you, though, he spotted the signs of fear your body displayed that your words did not. Your hands and arms were trembling, your shoulders were slumped, your face was completely pale, sweat dotted all over your forehead despite it not being a hot day, tears were slowly spilling from your eyes one by one, your chest was moving unevenly as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Baby, c’mere.” Corpse didn’t hesitate to gather you in his arms. Holding you so tenderly against him. That’s when he felt that it was more than just your arms and hands that were trembling, your entire body had a slight shake to it. He knew you were experiencing true terror in that moment.

-

The time between your banged up car getting placed onto a tow truck and arriving back at your apartment felt like a blur.

You’d just gotten off the phone with your insurance provider when you’d heard Corpse.

“Are you in any pain?”

"What?” You’d heard him perfectly but you hadn’t once thought about how this had affected you physically.

“Are you in any pain?” He repeated himself.

“I’m not sure.” And you weren’t, but the paramedics had said that adrenaline would be coursing through you right now and adrenaline was the biggest distraction from pain. “I’m gonna go have a shower.”

“Okay.” Corpse watched you with concerned eyes until you disappeared behind your bathroom door. He so badly wanted to help, wanted to make you feel better, break you out of this state you were in that he was so not used to.

-

You didn’t know how much time you’d spent in the shower. But it was long enough that the sky had grown darker and the moon had replaced the sun by the time you emerged. Once you’d gotten dressed, you made slow steps towards your bedroom. Your hands were trembling more violently than before and your breathing was speeding up.

The shock was finally wearing off and reality was getting ready to slap you hard across the face.

“Corpse...” Your voice was so silent, almost as if you couldn’t form a word due to the air that seemed harder and harder to breathe as a panic attack started to take control of you.

Corpse might not have even heard you had he not been on such high alert for you right now. But he was, and so he did he hear you and when he saw the state you were in, he instantly got up from his spot on your bed where he was waiting for you and was wrapping you up tight.

You were hyperventilating so dangerously, your heart felt like it was being encased in treacherous clouds that tightened with every intake of air you struggled to get.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had cried this way. You were breaking down.

Corpse was completely holding you up. Had it not been for him, you would be a crumbled heap on the floor.

-

The both of you didn’t sleep that night.

Every time you were close to drifting off, the crash would replay in your mind on an insufferable loop and you would jolt awake and the panic would restart all over.

And every time, Corpse was right there to hold you through it. He didn’t sleep due to how concerned he was about you.

-

The next day was a little easier mentally, but a lot harder physically. You’d gotten so much emotion out the night before that now the pain could have your attention.

Everything from your hips up felt sore, stiff and tense. Every time you moved your neck was scary because it felt like it was about to snap. But worst of all was your chest. It was hard and painful to breathe. The paramedics had warned you about this. The impact to your chest was going to take the longest to recover from. You kept your breathing shallow, any other kind of breathing made you wince and Corpse noticed.

“You’re hurting.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating what he noticed. He’d known the signs of someone in pain. Plus he had also taken note of the bruises that had appeared on your skin, the colouring of them looking like a painting of a galaxy, all purple and blue. 

“A little bit.”

“Mhm.” He knew it was more than a little bit, but he wasn’t about to argue with you. He looked over you laying beside him, grateful that you were still here, you were alive. A car could be replaced, but you could not.

You were flat on your back because that was really only the current position that felt even the tiniest bit comfortable right now. Corpse was on his side, one of his hands supporting his head as he leaned over you. His other hand began to soothingly run his fingers through your hair and you let your eyes flutter close at the touch.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled back, keeping your eyes shut and feeling exhaustion take over you.

“Try sleeping, baby. I’ll be right here.”

[lovely-jily]

betty

and yet, another taylor swift inspired fic. sorry if you don't understand this, but i've been sitting on it for literally months and am so attached to these characters. please enjoy!

read the lyrics here

read on ao3

Lily, I won't make assumptions about why you switched your homeroom, but I think it's because of me. And I don't necessarily blame you.

Lily, the night I got home I rode my skateboard past your house, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. It was real, you were real again, and the pain I caused you was too real. Everything was too real and most importantly, what I did to you.

I remember when you called me last week before I got home.

"I talked to Inez," you said. I will never forget the feeling of dread, shame, and guilt in my stomach that followed. It hasn't left since that brief one-sentence phone call.

Of course, you heard the rumours from her, Inez can't keep a secret for her life. Inez is the one who caught the other girl and me kissing on the beach, so it was only a matter of time before she called you. I forgot Inez spent her summers by the coast like me and was harshly reminded when she glared down at her and I while she walked by. Usually, you can't believe a word she says most times, but this time it was true. That pains me so much to say.

But, honestly, Lily, I can say with my entire heart that the worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you.

I heard about your party. I've been back a week now and still haven't seen you yet. I know you don't want to see me, but what would you do if I just showed up to explain? Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself, or would you lead me to the garden?

And if you did lead me to the garden, would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only seventeen, Lily, and while I don't know anything, I know I miss you.

Lily, I can trace exactly where it all went wrong. It was after you and I decided to take a break for the summer, with me heading to the coast and you staying here. It was at the school dance at the end of school, and your favourite song was playing from the far side of the gym. I was nowhere to be found, you know I hate big crowds. Plus, I saw you dance with him. I'm not proud of it, but jealousy just took over me, even though I knew you two were just friends.

But it doesn't matter. You found out what happened over the summer, and I wish that this time Inez was wrong and you wouldn't believe her. But this time, the rumours were true.

If I could do anything in the world, I would take it back. I hold nothing in my heart but regret and love for you, and I just wish I could explain that to you. I'm simply a dumb, insecure teenager who made the worst mistake of his life. I know that the worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you.

And yet, I just can't help but wonder what would happen if I showed up at your party. I don't know if you'd have or want me, or if you'd just tell me to go fuck myself. But this persistent and annoying piece of hope in my chest wonders if you lead me to the garden.

And if you did take me there so I could explain, which is the only thing I'd ever ask of you right now, would you trust and believe me when I tell you that it was a stupid mistake? It honestly only chalks up to just a stupid summer thing. Lily, I know it's a terrible excuse, but I'm only seventeen, and all I know is that I miss you more than anything in this world.

The day after the dance was when I left for the coast. That first night I was walking home on broken cobblestones, and all I could think about was you. About you dancing with him and not me, about how much I would hate being away from you, about your red hair and beautiful smile. I knew it would be a long summer without you, and I vowed to try to get as little a taste of you as possible.

That's when she pulled up next to me, the human embodiment of my worst intentions.

"Hey, James, get in. Let's drive," she had said. I knew her from my summers here, and she constantly had reminded me of you.

I knew I shouldn't have gotten into her car, but she had red hair like yours, and, I dunno, she seemed the closest thing to you that I could get.

I knew she wasn't even close to you in comparison, but I was sad, and I really missed you.

I'm heartbroken to say that those days turned into nights, and I may have slept next to her, but I dreamt of you all summer long.

So, Lily, that's how I ended up here on your doorstep. I've planned this out for weeks now, but it's finally sinking in. This is the last time I can dream about what happens when you see my face again. And while it isn't how I would prefer it, I'm just excited to finally see you after all this time.

I know that I probably can't, but the only thing I want to do is make it up to you.

So I showed up at your party.

I can't believe I showed up at your party.

But regardless, I showed up at your party, and I can't help but wonder. Will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?

And if you do kiss me, which I know is a long shot (I can't help but hope), will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it remind you of how much I love you so it can heal you? Will it patch your broken wings?

I'm only seventeen, Lily, and I don't know anything. But I know that I miss you.

I miss standing in your cardigan, and I miss kissing in my car again. I think of you every time I'm stopped at a streetlight. You always looked so beautiful in my passenger seat.

You know I miss you.

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Together Again

John Allerdyce x Female Reader

Request: Hi! I love your your writing (especially the mother nature ones and crush honestly,,,,, art lmao) and I was wondering if you could write something else for John? Like honestly anything I'm just really starved for pyro content 😂 if you don't want to then uh dw 💜

A/N: if you guys want a blurb about wedding vows or baby making sex let me know!!

Warnings: teen pregnancy, swearing, mentions of sex, and some angst.

Word Count: 8.9k

“Hey, I know it’s been a while, but I miss you… and I know I shouldn’t… but I can’t help myself. I’m really sorry for everything I did. I hurt you, I acted out, I ruined all the relationships I had at the mansion…” His voice faltered as tears fell from his eyes.

“Um, you don’t have to call me back… I’m just really sorry for being such an asshole… You deserved better…” 

You jokingly scoffed to yourself.

Typical John, You mused. Never realizing his potential. 

“I love you…” 

The voice message ended. You felt your eyes watering. Despite it all, you missed him. You missed John so much. 

-

He joined Magento’s army, brotherhood, and left you. You didn’t want to side with either of them, Charles or Erik. 

You wanted to run away somewhere, live a small-town life, maybe in Europe or something. You hadn’t really figured out all the details, but you assumed that figuring it out as you went along would suffice. As long as you had John by your side, nothing could get in your way. 

But then he wasn’t by your side. And your entire world came crashing down. 

-

You had woken up to an empty bed. Unusual, since John was in it with you the night before. 

His clothes were gone, and it felt like he had never been there to start with. 

You got yourself out of bed, not even bothering to change out of your pajamas. You wanted to know where he went. 

You made it downstairs to the den, where your friends were seated with some staff members. 

“Ah, (Y/N),” Xavier said. “You’re awake. Please sit down.” 

You sat down on the couch next to Kitty. “What’s going on? Where’s John?” 

“Allerdyce left,” Logan stated with a bitter tone. 

“Left? What do you mean he left?” 

“Magento is forming a new brotherhood of mutants, and he’s planning to attack Worthington industries.” 

“Is this about the “cure”?” You asked. 

Xavier nodded, “John left to join him.” 

No… You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “That can’t be true. He wouldn’t just leave and not tell anyone. He would have told me if he was thinking about joining forces with Magento!” 

“(Y/N),” You looked over at Bobby, “We had an argument in our room late last night. I tried to convince him to stay but—“

“No…” You were shaking. “You’re— you’re lying!” You stood up too quickly and you got a head rush. 

“I wish I was—“ 

You felt like you were going to be sick. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears. Your vision was blurry, and you were sweating. 

You ran to the nearest trash can and dunked your head in as you heaved. 

Kitty held your hair back and rubbed your back. “Let it out. Let it out, (Y/N)...” 

You puked your guts out until you didn’t have the energy to continue. Then, you turned over, moving your head out of the trash and started crying. 

No one knew what to do about you— and Magneto trying to kill a bunch of people was a bit more of a pressing issue. 

-

You didn’t want to go to Worthington industries and fight. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted to be left alone. 

Plus, with your mutation, the X-Men thought you’d be a good guard for the mansion if anything happened. 

It was a few days before anyone came back, and while they were gone you caught a stomach bug. Constantly vomiting, bad cramps, and your chest was extremely sore. 

You didn’t know what to do about it, so you kept a trash can nearby and drank lots of water and took some ibuprofen. 

When everyone returned, Bobby, Kitty, and Rogue, all ran to hug you, knowing you’d need it. 

“I punched him for you,” Bobby whispered. You held him tighter and let silent tears rain down your face as you hugged him. 

The three of them told you about the battle, and what happened to everyone, and a new addition to the team— Scott’s younger brother, Alex Summers, who had apparently been friends with one of the brotherhood members, but decided to switch sides and support his brother. 

He was in the medical bay downstairs with everyone else, getting checked out. 

“What have you been up to?” 

You let out a weak laugh, “Nothing much. I’ve been watching tv and puking my guts out the past few days…” 

Your friends nodded in sympathy. “You’re probably sick from all the stress…” Rogue commented. 

“Yeah, that’s probably it. When it’s a good time, I’ll ask Dr. Grey to give me some medicine other than pain killers.” 

“Good idea…” 

“I’m gonna go shower,” Rogue said, getting up from the couch. 

“Me too! Kitty replied. “Are you going to change Bobby?” 

He looked over at her, “Uh, yeah. I will in a little bit.” The girls walked off, satisfied with his answer. 

You patted Bobby’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk him out of leaving…”

“He’s… He’s stubborn. I don’t think any of us could have convinced him to stay…”

“(Y/N)...” Bobby sighed.

“He never told me about even wanting to leave!” Your words stung in the air like venom. 

“He’s not coming back, is he?” 

Bobby shook his head, “I don’t think so. After the fight, the brotherhood just kind of wandered off… We have no idea where any of them went—“

“And that includes John…”

There was a pregnant pause before Bobby spoke up. 

“He really loves you.” 

“Not enough to stay,” You scoffed. 

“He just didn’t want you to get hurt… And while he’s dumb as shit, deep down, he meant well…”

“It’s just…” You snuffled your nose. “Three years, B. We were together for three years. He confided in me, and we trusted each other and we were gonna move out to the countryside in France or maybe Denmark…” Your cries interrupted your words, and all Bobby could do was hug you. Trying his best to comfort you. 

-

You weren’t sick with a stomach bug from stress— you were pregnant. 

It was simultaneously the best and worst news of your life. Everyone was supportive and kept reminding you, you didn’t have to keep it, you were only 18. 

You weren’t sure what you were going to do. John wasn’t there and you had almost no money. 

You didn’t want to raise a child alone, but you didn’t want to send them into foster care either. 

It was a messy situation, and with each week passing by, your baby grew, reminding you to make a decision. 

“I’m going to keep it. I’m going to stay here and raise my baby. It’ll probably be a mutant, so what better place for a mutant child to grow up?” 

-

Everyone was excited for you and your baby.  Kitty was excited to “be an aunt”, Rogue was excited, ablet a little nervous, with her no-touch rule, and Bobby just wanted you to be happy. 

You found out you were having a boy, and you were so excited, you cried. Jean and Ororo threw a baby shower for you and Bobby, Logan, and Scott helped redo your room so it could function for the baby too. 

Everything was going great. So great, in fact, you didn’t think about him most nights. 

You still longed for John, and you wanted him there with you, to see your baby at the ultrasound screenings, feel him kick for the first time, and decide on names. But you had to remain strong. With or without John, you needed to be a good mom for your son. 

Before and after his birth. 

-

No one was allowed on the roof normally, but you were especially not allowed in your condition. 

Yet you went up there anyway, for a moment of quiet and alone time. 

You had snuck up to the roof before in your 4 years at Xavier’s. Most times it had been to hide with John. Or just lay and star gaze— your head resting on his chest, and his hands either preoccupied with his flames, or they’d be in your hair. 

You placed a hand on your stomach, thinking it would maybe soothe you, but it didn’t really work. 

You heard footsteps, and you quickly looked over to see who it was. 

“Sorry— I uh, I didn’t think anyone was up here.” He started to leave. 

“Alex, no, you’re fine. You can stay.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah! Of course.” He walked over and sat next to you. 

“How’ve you been?” 

“Good, good.” He nodded. “How have you been?”

“Same as you…” You both awkwardly laughed together. 

“That’s good.”

“Mmhmm…��

Alex shifted in his spot awkwardly. 

“Are you uh… are you excited about being a mom?”

You laughed. He was so nervous. “Yeah. I mean, I’m nervous as hell, but I have all my friends around, more than willing to help me, and my life is secure and safe.” 

Alex nodded, shy and awkward, yet attentive. 

“Is… Is Bobby excited about being a dad?” 

You were shocked. “Bobby’s gay.” 

“I know, but wait— isn’t he— is he—“ Alex was so confused. 

“Bobby’s probably my best friend here, his old roommate, um, he’s the father…” 

Alex’s face was red as a tomato. “Oh…” 

He knew about Bobby’s old roommate, seeing as he took over his spot in his room. He didn’t know much, and he was pretty sure he died or something. 

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. You didn’t know…”

“Did he… did he die?”

You rubbed your eyes. “No… he left to join the brotherhood, days before I found out I was pregnant…” Alex listened to your every word. He still didn’t know who this guy was, considering he too, joined the brotherhood during the battle at Worthington industries, but so did a ton of other mutants. 

“I don’t really know how to contact him now, and… I don’t really want to at the moment.” 

“You don’t have to…” Alex said.  “He left, and that’s his problem.” 

“Yep… And besides, I’m not alone. I have my friends and family here.” 

“Yeah, see! You’re doing great.” 

You laughed at Alex’s words. He was cute and dorky. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

-

You were crying. Crying in pain, in joy, in sorrow, in relief— you were extremely emotional. Your baby was finally born. 

Once he got all cleaned up, umbilical cord cut, and was in your arms, laying on your bare chest for some bonding, people started coming in. 

At first, it was just Bobby, Kitty, Rogue, and Alex. They had some flowers, balloons, and presents with them. 

“We got you some things…” Rogue began.

“Awww... how are you guys?” Kitty interrupted. 

“We’re fine. He’s asleep.” You glanced down at your chest. 

“He’s so small.” Alex’s eyes were glossy. 

“He’s all pink,” Bobby observed. 

Kitty hit him on the arm, “He just came out of her vagina!” 

You laughed, “He was a C-section.” 

“Oh, I was a tumor baby.” Everyone looked at Bobby like he grew a second head. “What?” 

Rogue rolled her eyes, “Anyway, we all got you a card and some gifts.” She set them down on the ledge near the visiting chairs and window. 

“You guys didn’t have to do that.” 

“Most of them are for the little guy,” Alex said. 

“Still! He’s gonna be so spoiled…” 

Your nurse walked in after you said that. “Alright mama, we gotta get him weighed and everything. Just get stuff for the birth certificate…” She set papers down on your table tray. “If you’re up for it, you can fill stuff out now, or have someone else do it for you… We’ll be back in a little bit.” 

“Aww, bye…” Your friends cooed at your son. 

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “He’ll be in the nursery, and you can go see him in a little bit. Then if he’s fine, he’ll be back here with me and you guys can hold him.” 

“We can’t stay in here forever. This room is too small, plus Scott and his posse wanna come say hi.” 

“Right, right.” You took a sip from your water bottle the hospital gave you and looked at the birth certificate and other papers with it. 

“So… What’s his name?”

“I don’t know…” You admitted. You hadn’t really thought of a name. 

Well, you had, but it was kind of stupid. 

You wanted to name him after John, his father because he was one of the few things you had left of John. You also wanted to name him after Bobby or Alex, because they’d been some of your best friends and there for you during your pregnancy. 

“Well, you have sixty days to think about it.” Bobby reminded you. 

“Yeah,” You yawned. “Oh boy… Sorry— Sorry, I just—“

“Nonsense. You gave birth like what maybe an hour or two ago? Take a nap. You deserve it,” Kitty told you. 

“Yeah, we’ll go down to the nursery and see if we can spot him.” 

“Okay, you guys sure?”

“Yes, mom,” Alex teased. “We’re sure.”

“Okay, okay.” 

“We’ll be back.” 

Once the four shuffled out of your room, you quickly examined the birth certificate. 

You took a pen and wrote down your name, John’s, and the perfect name for your son. 

-

“Johnathan-Robert Alexander (Y/L/N)! Get back here!” Rogue scolded. 

“Sorry Marie, I just saw a cool bird, and it flew away…”

She ruffled his hair, “Your mom is gonna be mad if we don’t eat lunch. I let you play outside for an extra twenty minutes.”

“Oh, okay…” 

It had been six years since your son was born. You named him after his dad and your two best guy friends. His nickname was Jr, or Junior, because of his initials. 

He took after you mostly, except he had John’s eyes and mutation. 

You and your friends all became X-Men and teachers at the mansion, and they all pitched in to help raise Junior, despite you telling them over and over again that they didn’t have to. 

It wasn’t easy. You were a young mom— there were some pity looks at the grocery store, people asking if Junior was your little brother, you had no biological family around, despite the X-Men making up for it, and you were single. 

Not the end of the world, but sometimes, late at night, you thought about John. 

You know he did what he thought was right, somehow. You just wish he didn’t leave. Keeping you safe, what bullshit. 

Sometimes you resented him and you were glad he was gone. Sometimes you cried and wished he was there with you. 

He would have been a great dad. Nervous, and a little unsure at times, sure, but you know he’d love Junior and do anything for him. 

You were grading papers when your phone rang. 

You didn’t recognize the number, and you had no idea who’d be calling you at noon in the middle of the week.  

It stopped ringing and you didn’t look at it again for the rest of the hour. 

You glanced over at your phone as you took a bite from your salad. The caller left a message in your voice box, which was weird since spam calls usually don’t do that. 

Maybe it was someone with the wrong number, thinking you were a lost loved one. 

Oh god! I better listen to the message!

You picked up your phone and went to your messages. 

Your finger didn’t even hover over and hesitate when it hit the play button. 

-

You were crying. Six years later. Six years later, and he finally reached out. 

You didn’t know what to do. 

What did he want?

You rubbed your temple. What if he’d been in trouble with some bad people? What if he was dying?

You quickly selected his number on your screen. 

“Would you like to call? Yes or no?” 

Your thumb hovered over yes. 

Why didn’t you just push it? What were you so afraid of?

“God…” You groaned. “What am I doing?” 

“No! No, no… I have to call him back. Urgh!” You ran a hand through your hair. 

“Whooooo…” You hit yes, out your phone up to your ear, and let the phone ring. 

You were sweating and your heart was pounding like a drum. 

What if he didn’t pick up?

“Hello?”

“Hi, John, it’s me… (Y/N).” 

-

You asked him to come to the mansion, to sit down and talk to you. He seemed nervous over the phone, but he agreed to come and talk. 

“He called you? After six years of nothing?” Kitty scoffed in disbelief. 

“My number isn’t the same as it was in 2006. Plus who knows what he’s been up too since…” Your words trailed off.

“Why didn’t you ask to meet up at like a Starbucks or the library?” Alex asked. 

“I want him to meet Junior.”

“Are you insane?!” Rogue asked, looking over at you.

“The mansion is a place we’re both familiar with, and he doesn’t have to see him right away…” 

The three all had unsure looks on their faces. 

“It’s my decision. And while you’ve all been more than supportive, I believe he has a right to meet his son. He doesn’t have to be in his life permanently, as much as I’d like that, but he should at least know about him. See him once, maybe.” 

“You’re right,” Kitty spoke up. “He deserves to meet his kid. We may not like him or want him around, but Junior is his son. We can’t change that.”

“Kitty’s right. John’s not the greatest, but he always tried when it came to you, and he deserves to meet his son.” 

“When is he coming over?”

“Tomorrow at 10.” 

-

“Hey, kiddo.” You slowly opened your son’s door and peaked in. “You ready for bed?”

“Yep!” He popped the p. “I fed George and Rock and Socks.” Those were the fish in his little aquarium. “I brushed my teeth, and I put my pajamas on!” 

You gave him a hug, “That’s great, sweetie!” 

Junior sat under his covers in his bed, and you sat on the edge. “What’d you do in your classes today?” 

“Well, Ms. Monroe read us a book about a farm where the cows found a typewriter and made the farmer change the farm up!” 

Wow, starting them young.

“And then she taught us about different types of plants. Did you know broccoli is actually a flower?”

“I did not,” You blinked. 

“Does this mean I don’t have to eat it anymore? People don’t eat flowers!” 

Oh, Junior thought he was so slick. 

“Actually kiddo, some flowers are edible. So, no, you can’t cut out broccoli.” 

He frowned, “But I don’t wanna eat flowers!” 

“Rules are rules… And besides, you wanna eat healthily and get strong, don’t you?” 

“Yeah!” Junior’s face lit up. “So I can beat Gabe when we wrestle!” 

Gabe was Scott and Alex’s 10-year-old brother, who also went to Xavier’s school. He was one of the few kids even close to Junior’s age, making them almost best friends. 

“See! That’s the spirit! Now, do you want me to read to you before you go to sleep?” 

“Hmm… Hmm… Hmm…” 

You laughed a little, “I’ll take that as a no.”

Junior yawned, “Hmm…”

“I’ll let you get some sleep, okay?” You got up, bending down to kiss his forehead. 

“Okay, mom… Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetie.” 

You closed the door behind you as you stepped out. You stood there for a moment to take a breather. 

John was going to love him, you weren’t worried about that. You were worried if you still had feelings for him and you were acting irrationally. 

No, You decided as you brushed your teeth in your bathroom. I’m not acting irrationally. I’ve wanted to talk to him since he left. I have no anger or sadness left in me, and I just want to catch up. 

“(Y/N),” Professor Xavier spoke into your mind. “You’re making part of the mansion shake.” 

“Shit!” You dropped your toothbrush into the sink and tried to pace your breath. 

“It’s alright, dear.” 

You had geological manipulation, and while you had practically mastered it, you still struggled at times. 

You rubbed your face with a towel and sighed. 

You knew getting any sleep was out the door at that point. 

-

You must have fallen asleep at some point and gotten some sleep because you woke up almost an hour late. 

“No, no, no!” You were frantic, slipping on your clothes, trying to brush your hair and somehow rock half-assed bed head and no makeup so you could be presentable in under five minutes. 

“Hey, (Y/N), you slept through your alarm—“

“I know, Bobby!” You were running down the hall to get to your classroom. 

“So I got Junior dressed and ready for the day—“

You slowed down to stop and open your door, looking at Bobby. “Oh my god. Thank you so much…” You instantly wrapped him into a hug. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay…” 

“I’m just so worried… about John and—“

“You’re gonna be fine,” He soothingly rubbed one of his hands on your back. 

“I got no sleep last night… I’m anxious about John coming back too. We’re in this together, okay?” 

“Yeah, together.” 

-

You stood peeking through a window, waiting for him. 

10:00 came, and a rugged, black Jeep pulled through the gates. 

You watched him step out of the car— brown leather jacket, facial hair, and he looked slightly more muscular than you’d last seen him. He’d aged, just like you, but not in a bad way, despite the fact he looked a bit tired. But then again, so did you. 

You left your hiding spot and went outside to greet him. 

“Hey!” 

“Hey!” He quickly checked you out, but it didn’t go undetected by you. “Wow, you look— great!” 

“You too.” You stood there, face to face, unsure if a hug or a handshake was appropriate. 

“So, how have you been?” 

“Good, um— well, a lot has changed since you left…” 

John nodded awkwardly. “But uh… I could give you a tour. Tell me about what you’ve been up to?” 

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” 

“So… Bobby, Rogue, Kitty, and I all became teachers...“ John chuckled. “What? Hard to believe?”

“No, no…” He shook his head. “Are Bobby and Rogue still together?” 

You laughed, “No way! Bobby came out of the closet and Marie sees some guy from New Orleans, I think his name is Remy? I’m not really sure… 

John smiled, “Yeah, he told me— junior year, he didn’t like girls.” 

“It hurt, Rogue,” You admitted. “But she understood.” 

“Well, that’s good, I suppose…”

“Yeah, yeah.” You wandered down the halls a bit, before speaking up. 

“So… what have you been up to?”

“Well, I lived in Genosha for awhile…”

“Magento’s hippie colony?” 

“Hey!” He jokingly scoffed. “It’s not a hippie colony!”

“Okay, Mister.” 

“Anyway, I uh, I started writing…”

You rose your brows in surprise, “Really? What do you write about?”

“Romance, mostly…” John was flustered. “Gothic romance. One of the people on Genosha knew a guy, he’s a literary agent—“

“Wait, are you…?”

“Yeah, I’m an actual published author. I only have two books out right now, the first one came out in 2008, and the other just last year.” 

You were baffled, all this time, and you could have contacted him sooner somehow. “I had no idea… congratulations! That’s amazing!”

“Thank you…” 

“Yeah, of course. You do anything else?”

“My mom died two years ago… I went to her funeral… I saw my dad.”

“How’d that go?”

“Not great… but, you know how it is.” You nodded in sympathy. “Anyway, what’s new with you? Besides teaching… Any new X-Men? Are you… seeing anyone…?”

“Scott’s younger brother joined the team, and he has another brother—“

“Mommy! Mom!” You froze. John noticed your shift in demeanor and glanced from you to Junior. 

“Junior, you’re supposed to be in class.” 

“I was, but then Stacy Brown, the girl with the lizard tongue, threw up, so Stacy got taken to Dr. Grey’s lab and Ororo let us leave early.”

“I know who Stacy Brown is, sweetie. You don’t have to tell me she has a lizard tongue. That’s not very nice to point out people’s mutations.” 

Junior frowned and sulked a little, “I’m sorry…”

“I forgive you.” 

John’s eyes kept moving between you and Junior. When did you have a kid? He couldn’t be any older than five or six. 

“Hi. Who are you?” The kid spoke to him. 

“Oh,” John crouched down to equal eye level. “I’m John… What’s your name?” 

“My name is John, too! Well, actually Johnathan-Robert, I was named after my dad and one of his closest friends, even though his name isn’t actually Johnathan. Everyone calls me Junior though, cause my initials are JR.” 

John was floored. He had a son. 

He had a son, and he left him. He left you. 

Oh, God… 

“Uh, Mr… Mr. John?” Junior asked. “Why are you crying?” 

“Uh, Junior, sweetie…” You trailed off. “He’s your dad.” 

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry…”

John wiped his eyes and stood up, “What for?”

“I made you cry… I’m really sorry…”

“It’s okay. They were happy tears.” He rubbed his eyes. 

“Oh… Do you wanna see my fish? I have 3 of them in my room, they live in a terrarium!” 

“Aquarium,” You corrected him. 

“That’s what I said!” 

John smiled, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Come on, then!” Junior grabbed his hand and led him upstairs. 

-

John moved back in. 

Not with you necessarily, but he wanted to be a part of Junior’s life. He felt like the world’s biggest asshole for leaving days before you found out you were pregnant. 

He joined the brotherhood because he felt like you were the only person who saw him as a decent human being. He didn’t agree with everything Xavier said and stood for, and he was tired of people comparing him to Bobby. 

He wanted to fight for what he thought was right. He wanted to be able to just do what he wanted without hurting the one person he cared about. Which is why he didn’t tell you he was leaving. 

But he knew he hurt you. He knew soon as the battle was over and he claimed one of the small homes on Genosha as his. 

He was scared to reach out the first few months. And then he assumed you left Xavier’s and he didn’t know how to contact you from there. He only just got your number because a graduate from Xavier’s moved to Genosha, giving him your number and telling him you hadn’t left. 

He didn’t even hesitate to call you. He didn’t even care if you cursed him out on the other line, yelling about how you never wanted to see him again. He just wanted to hear your voice one more time. 

What he wouldn’t have done to hold you in his arms again, feel your soft, pink lips against his, your bodies pressed against each other, becoming one. 

But he knew he didn’t deserve any of it. He didn’t deserve you. He knew he fucked up. 

And what hurt him the most was he thought he was worse than his own father. The one who beat him, called him a monster, sent him away to a foreign country, left in the care of strangers— he thought he was worse because he wasn’t there in the beginning. He wasn’t there for the doctor’s appointments, the birth, or his first steps and words. 

You talked to him. Tried to convince him he wasn’t bad, while still holding your ground and making him responsible for just up and leaving. 

“I should have gone with you. You know I would have. I would have followed you to the fucking moon if you asked.” 

“I know… I just thought keeping you out of all that was the best choice.”

“We were fucking kids John! We really didn’t know much. We still don’t! We’re 23 with a child.”

“You don’t have to forgive me. You don’t have to love me again. I just want to be in my son’s life, please.” He was trying his best to not cry again. 

“Most of the time you’re a great guy. I want you in Junior’s life… I just… I don’t know if we can ever go back to how it was before.” I still love you, but I’m not ready to rush into anything…

“Yeah, no, I get that. You have no reason to trust me, and no obligations to date me…”

You sighed, “I want us to be friends. Not for anyone’s sake but for our own… because as much as I should… I don’t hate you.” 

“Thank you.” His voice was breaking. 

“Friends?” 

He nodded, “Yeah, friends.” You wrapped him in your arms in place of a handshake. Neither of you said anything. Nothing needed to be said. 

-

John had been living at the X-Mansion for almost two years. He taught an English class or two and continued to write more gothic romance novels while spending as much time as he could with Junior. 

He became friends with Bobby, Kitty, and Rogue again. He became friends with Alex. He was friends with you, despite wanting more. 

But he knew he didn’t deserve it, and he was just glad to get what he could. 

“So… what do they like, do in Romania?”

You looked up from your lesson plan for the week and gave John a funny look. 

“What do they do in Romania? Aren’t you the one writing about vampires? You should know.” 

“Yeah, but you’re a history teacher!”

“I teach kids about the civil war, Marie Antionette, and the Han dynasty.” 

You sometimes worked together in the library or in one of your rooms or classrooms. John— writing the next chapter of his novel— and you, usually doing lesson plans or grading tests. 

“What are you writing about anyway?” You turned in your chair to watch John scribble words down in his notebook. He preferred to write down on paper first, then type it up. 

“Well, she’s making Von take her on a date since she’s been living with him for a month and he confessed he liked her.”

“Isn’t Von a vampire?”

John nodded, “Half. Anyway, he’s gonna like, take her stargazing on the rooftop. I don’t know what else they’re gonna do after that.”

You pondered for a moment, “We used to do that all the time…” 

“Yeah, um…”

You laughed a little, teasing him. “Do you base all your stories on our romantic endeavors?”

“Not all of them!” He defended. 

“That so?” John hummed in response. “What has the great womanizer, St. John Allerdyce, been up to in his love life the last few years?” 

“Not much,” He admitted. “I went on a few dates, a handful of hookups, but nothing really worked out…” He tried to shake the feeling of longing for you off, “What about you?”

“Same as you. Not much luck, especially with being a young mom, and raising a kid with two of her best friends who are guys, it tends to… scare people away…” 

John swung his legs to the side of the bed, about to get up. 

“They’re pussies,” He said while looking at you. 

You nodded, not noticing he got up, “Yeah, besides I’m busy…”

Your train of thought was forgotten as John’s eyes looked into yours. You weren’t speaking. 

Your eyes glanced down at his lips. They were soft and pink. 

You cleared your throat, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts, unaware John’s brain was on the same page as yours. 

He unexpectedly pressed his lips against yours. You were wide-eyed with shock as he did so. You weren’t expecting that. 

But you were glad it happened. 

He broke away too quickly for your liking. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“Do it again.” 

“What?” John almost thought you were kidding. 

“Kiss me again, Sinjin.” 

And so he did. His lips collided with yours, your mouths moving in sync. 

His weight and force caused you to fall back in your chair, with John straddling your waist. Your hands were tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to moan a little against your mouth. His hands were roaming up and down your body. 

You partially ground against his crotch, causing him to break his lips away from yours and curse. 

It didn’t last long, as he went back to kissing your lips like a horny teenager, pulling your shirt up off of you. 

“Wait, wait, stop.” John froze, looking you directly in the eyes, his face barely two inches away from yours. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Buy me dinner first, before you undress me, okay?” 

You didn’t want to get carried away. You wanted a clear mind before you slept with him again. Kissing and going on a few dates and whatever else you were doing was enough at that moment. 

He nodded, in total awe of you— The small details of your face one could only see if they were this close— “Tomorrow at 7. Does that work for you?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

-

“So I need you— if you can’t that’s fine! You have lives of your own— but I kind of need someone to watch Junior for the night.” 

You really hated asking people to babysit, but it was Kitty and Rogue. They wouldn’t care. 

“Not that we won’t do it,” Kitty said. “But why can’t John watch him?” 

“Well—“

suddenly, Bobby burst through the door, screaming the girls’ names. 

“KATHERINE! ANNA MARIE! I HAVE HUGE NEWS!” 

“What is it?”

“John—“ He looked at you, and then stopped his sentence. 

“Oh… I’m assuming you told them.”

“Told us what?” Rogue asked. 

“John and (Y/N) are going on a date.” 

“Finally,” Kitty let out. 

You were confused, “What do you mean, finally?” 

“Are— are you serious?” Bobby asked in disbelief. 

You nodded. 

“You two are so in love, it’s sickening sometimes!” Rogue scoffed. 

“We are not!” You knew that wasn’t true. You obviously still had feelings and so did he, but love? You weren’t sure if it was that. 

“Please, he never stopped loving you, and you never stopped loving him.”

“Bobby…”

“(Y/N)...” 

You groaned. 

“Look, I’m not gonna push you into saying the L-word anytime soon, but the guy writes romance novels for fuck’s sake! You’re gonna have a great time no matter what.”

Yeah, you thought to yourself as John drove down the crowded New York roads. 

We’re gonna have a great time no matter what. 

You went to some restaurant that just opened. It wasn’t too fancy or too casual, but since it was new, you still needed a reservation. 

After dinner, you walked around the city streets, just catching up, looking at shops and apartment buildings and all the people. 

It almost felt like you were teenagers again. 

Holding hands, watching the sunset…

John pulled out his phone to snap a few pictures. You decided to try and photobomb, making dumb faces and peeking your head into view of the camera. 

John shifted his hands and arms so you were the camera’s main focus. 

The way the sun's rays reflected through the lens behind you making you glow, (John already thought you were most of the time), your goofy smile— he took a picture, but to him, it looked more like a renaissance painting. 

He glanced away from his phone to see you without a lense. 

You still looked like a heavenly being to him. You always did— strong, beautiful, intelligent, witty, and you were an amazing mom.

 He didn’t have anyone to use as a base for “mom skills”, but he didn’t need that to know you were amazing. Not just with Junior, but all the young kids at the mansion. 

Of course, there were times when you faltered or felt like you weren’t good enough, times where you would make the mansion shake on accident, but everyone had weak points. 

John didn’t see you as any lesser for them, he knew your life wasn’t easy. Even if he had never left, it wouldn’t have been perfect. 

But he couldn’t dwell on the past forever, despite how much he wanted to at some of his weaker moments. 

“Whatcha looking at?”

He blinked. “You… The sunset… You look like an angel.” 

You nervously laughed, “Stop it.” 

John put his phone away and got back to your side. 

“I’m serious, you’re beautiful…” 

Your gaze fell down to your feet, not unnoticed by John. 

“Hey,” He cupped your face with his hand, forcing your gaze on him. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me right now, but you will one day… I promise you that.” 

His hand faltered and you hugged him. 

“God, you’re so nice to me.” 

“I don’t deserve you.” He plainly stated. 

You narrowed your eyes at him and pointed a finger. “No self-deprecating talk!”

John laughed at your attitude shift. It was cute. “Alright, but that means nothing from you either.“

“Fine.” 

John kissed the top of your head, causing you to smile like a madman. It made his heart flutter a bit. 

-

Your first date was almost two years ago. It seemed so long ago, yet almost like it was yesterday. 

You woke up to the sound of your alarm. 

You immediately woke up, but John just groaned and stirred in his sleep a little. 

He had an arm wrapped around you, so you had to wiggle your way out of bed. “Come on, sleepyhead…” 

John groaned some more, his grip on you just got tighter. 

“If you don’t let me out, I’ll pee on the bed.” 

John’s eyes shot open, and you smirked to yourself, having been victorious. 

“That would be hot.” 

You gagged as you walked into your bathroom. “Gross!”

John followed you, “You know I’m just joking.” 

You shook your head, a smile evident on your face. “I know, I know.” 

You turned the sink on and began washing your face. John used the empty space in the mirror to brush out his bed head. 

You caught him starring at you a few times as you both went through your morning routines. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing.” He kissed the crook of your neck. “Today’s just gonna be a good day. That’s all. I can feel it.” 

You let his words sink in for a moment. 

“Yeah, today’s gonna be a good day.” 

That’s when John knew. His instinct, gut, or whatever you call it, knew this was it. 

He casually walked out of the bathroom and grabbed a small box. You were preoccupied with applying some makeup. 

He came back in, on one knee in the doorway. 

You looked over at him, nearly dropping your brush on to the floor, your jaw slack. 

“(Y/N), I love you. And this isn’t some big romantic gesture, but love isn’t only seen in big romantic gestures. It’s the small things, the intimate moments. I did have something planned, but I really couldn’t wait. I love you… and…” John’s words trailed off. He was starting to cry. Your eyes were watering too. 

“Will you marry me?”

You nodded, “Yes, yes!” 

John got up and kissed you. Then he slipped the ring on your finger. 

You admired it, “Wow… it’s beautiful…”

“So are you.” 

You kissed him without missing a beat.

-

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

John didn’t hesitate with that. 

People cheered and some jokingly wolf-whistled. Junior made a sour face. 

Your wedding was magical, and despite having to say hello to every guest and dance at least twice, you were happy. So happy. 

John was happy too. He had a big smile on his face the whole time, no matter what and he was so excited to call himself your husband. 

Some people teased him and others were very surprised, claiming John was really out of his element. 

You knew better though. You both just loved each other, and after John spilled his guts on how much he loved you in front of everyone at the altar, he couldn’t care less who saw him like this. 

-

You just had a quick breakfast before you had to teach your first-hour class. You didn’t think anything of it as you were running a bit behind. 

You were fine though, and your schedule was going smoothly, your class was taking notes as you talked about the French Revolution. Students were asking questions when needed, and most of them were paying attention. 

Suddenly, you felt a wave of nausea hit you. You tried to keep it down, but you couldn’t, and immediately darted to the trash can near your desk. 

Your students were murmuring among each other, unsure of what to do. 

“Um… Ms. (Y/L/N)? Are you okay?” 

You used a tissue to wipe your mouth and applied some hand sanitizer. 

“Yeah— um—“ 

You couldn’t come up with an excuse though, for one of your students opened a portal and grabbed John and another teacher. 

John rushed to your aid, asking if you were alright. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“I’m gonna take you to Dr. Grey. Piotr, can you watch her class for a little bit?” 

“Yeah, sure.” He replied, a little unsure and worried about your well being. 

John helped you out of your classroom, despite you insisting you didn’t need help. 

Thankfully Jean was in the lab, so you didn’t have to go looking for her. 

As you explained what happened, John sat at your side like a nervous puppy. 

“Babe, I’m not going to die. I probably just ate something bad and my stomach didn’t agree with it.” 

“Food poisoning is really serious—“

“It’s probably not that.” 

“You rarely get sick aside from the common cold or seasonal allergies.” He reminded you. 

Jean smiled, at how much John was worrying. It showed he cared. 

“Have you had anything else happen to you lately?”

“I’ve been a lot more tired, and more headaches, but that’s just aging, right?” 

“Probably. I’m gonna have you fill this out though, just in case.” Jean handed you a clipboard with a questionnaire attached. 

You read each question, leaving a checkmark or an x, depending on what it was. You handed it back to Jean and she read it over. 

“I’m gonna have you pee in a cup, just so I can test it for a few things.”  Jean opened a plastic wrapping and handed you a small plastic cup. 

“Bathroom’s on the right.” 

You came back quickly, informing Jean you left the cup in the bathroom. 

“I’ll go get that… and I should be back with your results soon.”

She walked out, leaving you and John alone. 

You checked your phone, seeing some missed texts from Kitty. 

 KITTY: Hey

 KITTY: heard you puked in class today :( you alright?

 (Y/N): yeah, I’m in Jean’s lab. She’s testing my urine for something…

 KITTY: oh my god! Are you pregnant?

 (Y/N): What!!?

 KITTY: that’s usually why they test urine. Although, when I’d go to the dr. they’d make me pee to see if there was like protein in my pee or something

 KITTY: idk

 (Y/N): There’s no way!

 (Y/N): Well...

 KITTY: *side eye emoji* didn’t you tell me your period was a little late?

 (Y/N): Yeah, but that’s normal! 

 KITTY: You’re almost 30

 (Y/N): So? Your period isn’t always regular, and we’re the same age

 KITTY: I’m a lesbian. You have a husband. 

 You turned your phone off. What if you were pregnant again?

Obviously, you were in a good place, you would be fine having a kid. (Plus, Junior had been asking for a sibling awhile back.) You just hadn’t really discussed it with John. 

Why mess up a good thing? You, know? You didn’t need another child, but you wouldn’t be disappointed. 

Oh god! You were definitely pregnant and what if John didn’t want more kids? What if your body couldn’t handle carrying another baby? What if—

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking.” John’s hands held yours, trying to keep them from moving. “Are you alright? Do you feel like you’re gonna faint?”

“I might be pregnant…” You whispered. You don’t know why you whispered it. 

“Are you sure?”

“My period is late— but even after five different kinds of birth controls it’s never really been on a regular schedule. Me throwing up could have been morning sickness—“ 

John couldn’t hide the smile on his face. You were rambling about how you were probably pregnant and how worried you were. He just held your hand, and calmly said your name. 

“(Y/N), you’re gonna be okay. You’re an amazing mom, and I’m gonna be with you through all of it this time.” 

You nodded, not trusting your voice. 

Jean came back with your results. 

“So?”

“You must have eaten something bad, or your period is coming up. Some women vomit during PMS.” 

“Am I pregnant?” You asked. 

“No, why? We’re you expecting that?” 

“Oh, no. We’re not— I just thought— cause you made me pee—“

Jean shrugged as she typed on her computer. “I did test for that. But no baby…” 

You nodded, asking what to do next. 

John sat, lost in his thoughts. He was so excited at the thought of you being pregnant. 

Do I want another kid?... 

When Junior had asked for a sibling not too long ago, John said, “No way.” 

Now?

“Just drink plenty of water, and bed rest. I’ll get someone to cover your classes for tomorrow after we disinfect your room. If you don’t puke or have any new symptoms within the next 48 hours, you can go back to teaching.” 

“Make sure she stays in her room, okay?” Jean said to John. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He half-joked. 

John led you up to your shared room, shutting the door behind him. 

“Lay on the bed. I’ll get you some pajamas, and then some water. How do you feel? Do you need more blankets? I’m sure I can get Bobby to cover my next class, I can cuddle with you if you’d like.” 

“No, Sinjin, I’m fine, really… besides, I can make another lesson plan, or finish my book—“

“Oh no, you don’t. Jean said you needed to rest. So, that’s exactly what you’re gonna do. Even if that means I have to sit and watch you.” 

“Creep,” You teased as you changed into your pajamas. 

“Edward did it with Bella,” He argued, while quickly texting Bobby, asking to sub for him. 

“Didn’t you say Stephanie Myer was an ‘embarrassment in the gothic romance community?’” 

“Besides the point…” 

“Okay, Edward Cullen.” 

John removed his shoes and socks and joined you in bed, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” You teased, eyes bearing into his. John kissed your forehead. 

“I would, but you puked up breakfast not even three hours ago.” 

You frowned, “Then don’t cuddle with me! You’ll get sick.” 

“My body is like a furnace. Most diseases don’t last in me.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” 

John shrugged as he draped an arm over you, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb.

You shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, before settling on a position. 

“Hey, Sinjin…”

“Yeah?” 

“What if I was pregnant?” 

John’s hand stopped. 

“We thought I was for a minute, and you looked excited, despite the fact I was freaking out… Do you want another kid?” 

John flinched a little at your sharp question. “I mean… it’s your body. It’s up to you.” 

“No, no, we’re in this together. Do you want another kid?” 

“Honestly?... Yeah, I do. I know I was on the fence when Junior first asked, but that was months ago… I want to experience everything, and be there for you this time… do you want to have another kid?

“Uh-huh.” 

“Okay… Wait— when can we— Jean said 48 hours without puking—“

You glanced over at the clock, “10:43 AM. This Wednesday.” 

“Right. At exactly 10:43 AM, on Wednesday, we can have sex… Oh my god.” John laughed, somewhat disappointed and embarrassed by his words. 

“What?”

“We’re like an old couple, scheduling when to have sex.” 

You laughed, “Plenty of people schedule sex— remember when we were younger? We’d plan around when Bobby and Kitty wouldn’t be around so one of our rooms were empty—“

“Okay, okay… I’ll go to the store and get some viagra.” 

You snorted, “Don’t think you’ll be needing that big guy.” 

“You’re right. I’ll just get some extra large condoms.” John joked. 

“First off, that defeats the whole point of baby-making, and second, you need small at best.” 

“You wound me, woman!”

You smiled stuck your tongue out like a child.

-

When you were in better health, you and John didn’t waste any time— You went at it like rabbits. 

You thought you’d get pregnant on the first try, seeing as you weren’t even trying for Junior, but that wasn’t the case. You had to try a few more times before getting there.

Test after test, until finally, one said positive. 

You and John were so excited, not a dry eye between the two of you. 

“We’re having a baby!” John held you close, his hands down at your stomach. 

“I’m not showing yet, it’s too early…”

“I know, I know,” He sheepishly admitted.  “I’m just excited.” 

“We can’t tell anyone until the second trimester, or well, we’re not supposed to, because it’s such early development right now that something could go wrong, usually it doesn’t— but that’s what all the doctors and books and mommy blogs online say.”

John nodded, he’d read a few books, and some articles online, but he knew you’d already been to doctors before and just knew more. 

“When do you think we should tell Junior?” 

“How are we gonna tell Junior,” You corrected him. 

“He wanted a sibling. This should be easy.” 

You squinted your eyes at him. “If we start to struggle how to explain this to him, it’s all on you buddy.” 

“Alright.” 

-

John knew what was going to happen. He knew what a cesarean section was. He even watched videos, about it. 

But boy, oh, boy, seeing it in person was so much different. 

Your doctor let him cut the umbilical cord, which he was super nervous about. He was anxious about everything. 

Was your daughter safe? What if you woke up before you got stitched up? What if you had a sudden health complication?

His mind raced as he watched your baby get cleaned off and checked on. 

“Is she okay?” 

“So far. We’re going to take her to the nursery to get her weighed and measured and move her mom out of the delivery room. Stay with her, when the anesthesia wears off she’s gonna be pretty sore.” 

John didn’t want to leave your baby girl, but he wasn’t going to disobey your doctor. 

You made it into your recovery room without any trouble, and after a few minutes, your nurse left you and John alone, saying he could visit your daughter in the nursery soon. 

“I’ll wait until our friends and family get here.” 

Your nurse nodded and reminded you to press the button on the side of your bed if you needed anything, before heading out the door. 

-

You named your daughter after your other two best friends, Katherine Anne Allerdyce. John wanted to name her after you, but you argued what if you had another girl? 

He got all flustered and nervous at the idea, which you found cute. 

“Do you wanna hold her?” He asked Junior. 

He nodded and was told to sit down in one of the chairs. 

“She’s so… tiny…” He emphasized. 

Everyone laughed or chuckled at Junior’s demeanor. 

“She was born a few hours ago,” You reminded him. 

“Oh… Yeah.” 

Everyone else took turns holding her and cooing and doting over Kat. 

“Aww, hello… Hello Kat… Aww, you’re so cute.”

“Bobby she’s asleep.” 

“Hush let me hold my niece.”

John frowned. “She’s my child and I’ve held her less than you have.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Babe, let Bobby dote.” 

“Fine…”

Kitty pulled out her phone, “Let me get a picture of you guys! Bobby, John, and Katherine. I think it’ll be cute!” 

“Fine, fine.” John rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

He scooted closer to Bobby and grinned up at Kitty’s phone as the flash went off. 

“Ow!” Bobby winced. “Did you have to use flash?” 

“Aww… you blinked.” She pouted. 

“I was blinded!”

“Hush it, you big baby. Let me take another one.” Kitty positioned her phone to take another picture again. 

“No flash this time!”

“It’s not on!”

John smiled again and so did Bobby. Kitty took her photo and then admired her work. 

“Aww, you guys look so cute together!” 

She handed her phone to John so he and Bobby could look at the picture. 

John smiled. 

He looked tired, normal with age, raising a kid, and being up for hours while his wife gave birth. 

But he was happy. 

His life wasn’t how he thought it would be, but unplanned plans are usually the best ones. 

He had a family— not just you, Junior, and Kat— but Bobby, Kitty, Alex, Rogue, and everyone else at the mansion. He had people to fall back on and that supported and loved him. 

He looked over at you, talking to Alex while sipping from the straw of your hospital cup/water bottle they gave you. His heart yearned. Despite how tired you were, and how you couldn’t even walk at the moment due to giving birth not even 24 hours ago, John still thought you were the most beautiful and brave person he knew. His writing could never compare or encapture your character, no matter how hard he tried. 

But it didn’t matter. 

You both had what you never knew you wanted. 

And you were happy. 

[allandoflimbo]

Take It Back (Chapter 25)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary:  About five years ago, a one night stand with Y/N tore Bucky’s life apart. It was also the night before his wedding. Now he’s married to her sister and she needs a place to stay.

Chapter Warnings: Steve catches Bucky and Reader in the act and it gets messy. Lots of cursing, language, mentions of crude sex.

Take It Back Full Masterpage |

Chapter 24 |

New York City, New York

The Concorde Hotel

The sound of your heavy panting and a sinful zipper fills the hotel room.

You had expected Bucky to show up and for you two to finally talk out a plan, but you hadn’t expected that.

You’re momentarily stunned as you feel the quick chuckle of his breath on the break of your neck where your coral top was slowly sinking down your flushed shoulder.

“God, I’m so sorry. I’ve just wanted to do that for so long.”

It’s a low timber that could leave any woman weak at the knees.

His sexual confession makes you press your thighs together and a jot shoots from your core making you groan. The quick orgasm was still leaving small chills up and down your spine.

Had that really just happened?

You spin around slowly until you’re fallen up against the wall, its surface the only thing keeping you from falling to your knees. It was obvious how much he had worn you out with such minimal effort.

The smug face that haunted your dreams for seven years is looking back at you with no shame and not even a small trickle of regret. A devilish smirk peeks at the edges of his pretty rose lips. Your heart hammers away in your chest - the reality of what was happening not having yet sunk in completely. Your chest warmed up deliciously slow as your eyes glossed over, a feeling of love and simplicity consuming you.

You’ve felt something similar when you saw that wedding dress, the one you still couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way you had felt when you saw it was the same way you felt right now as you tried your best to keep your focusing on the figure standing in front of you.

Bucky notices the change of air between the both of you, just by that look in your eye, and soon his are mimicking yours; Love. Simplicity.  

What was sexual lust and carnal need only a few minutes ago, had now transcended into something delicate and sweet.

A short breath escapes his chest as you hook both your pointer fingers into the loops of his jeans, pulling him forward until his face fell naturally against yours. You didn’t care that your pants and underwear were still pulled down and that you were vulnerably on full display.

You pressed your lips against his and kissed him as your life depended on it.

For the first time since yesterday, you finally allowed it all to sink in. You and Bucky were now in each other's arms, together. A couple? You weren’t sure. All that you were certain of was that Bucky Barnes was in your arms, and you were kissing him like you had wanted to for the last seven years that you’ve known him. He returns it eagerly.

It was a sweet kiss, mostly a peck until you had his bottom lip tugged in between both of yours. You pulled back with a moan.

Your soft eyes slowly flickered open and you were surprised to see him already staring down at you with so much admiration in his eyes, that when you decided to speak, you couldn’t help that it came out so breathlessly.

“And that’s all I ever wanted.”

His gaze drifts down to your parted lips.

A curse escapes Bucky as he closes eyes.

With a soft nudge and a twist of his head, he allows his nose to hit the side of yours, and he just stays like that - smelling your sweet perfume and the softness of your bare hips in his hands. He squeezes you there just softly enough to leave his indents on your flesh.

Carefully, he raises his left hand to the top of your head and his eyes open again as he drags his fingers over the top of your hair.

He sighs contently as he caresses your tenderly and watching your face. He couldn’t help but just look sometimes.

You were beautiful.

He continues to trail his fingers until they are down at your arms. You whimper softly as he rubs small circles onto your forearms, the little hairs grazing the tips of his prints.

You allow him to take your hand in his.

Then, you feel it.

You swallow thickly as your eyes land on his lips.

You loved him so much. But the reminder of his commitment killed you.

You hold his hand in yours and bring it chest level. He looks down as you caress his hand, as your thumb grazes the unsettling silver band on his ring finger.

It shines brightly, and it was as if you knew that the insides were branded with her and his initials with a date. The same exact date after the night you and him made love for the first time.

His eyes follow yours when he sees the smallest of tears in the whites of your gaze.

Your name escapes his mouth, almost cautiously.

Aside from the pain and the tormented reminder that he wasn’t yours yet, a sad smile plays on your mouth, “I love these hands,” a long breath escapes your lips as your eyes flicker close again still in a post-orgasmic blaze. You bring his hands up to your lips.

You kiss him there softly, “but this ring.”

Bucky swallowed hard.

“What we just did was so wrong,” You continue softly, “What we did all those years was wrong because we are doing this to her unfaithfully. We need to tell her the truth, Bucky. This can’t keep happening while she doesn’t know. I already feel like an awful person because of it. Regardless of how we might feel about her right now.”

He licks his lips.

Bucky flips his hand around so he’s now holding yours, your fingers inside of his much larger hand. He squeezed tightly.

Your eyes meet his and he’s staring at you without batting a single eyelash.

“I know. I just couldn’t help it,” He moves up until his front is against yours and the heat radiates off his body once more. You react naturally as your body moves in just as close to his, “Do you know how many times I pictured you instead of her?” You gape at him.

Because, no. You never would’ve guessed that the last five years while you were suffering, hating yourself, feeling guilty because you couldn’t be with him and yet you wanted him, that he was picturing you the entire time.

“How many dreams I had of you riding me-“ his voice drops several octaves lower and it makes your body tremble, “screaming my name?”

Your eyes bore into his now black ones and you know yours probably look the same.  You swore he could feel the pulse on your wrist quicken against his fingers because you could feel it in your bloodstream.

You tilted your head at him almost comically as your body continued to hum for his, hum for a damn second round.

“Bucky.” You begged.

“Baby,  you’re my perfect fit. I promise. We will tell her.”

You felt salty tears in your throat as you croaked out.

“When?”

Soon. So I can have you. You saw the wires turning in his head until he finally spoke.

“In the next few days.”

You bit your lip and nodded. You both stood there quietly in a mix of giggles and soft moans as he helped you pull your undergarments and pants back on properly.

A soft pink-tinted the edges of his cheeks as he buttoned it up for you, almost like he didn’t just take you up against a hotel room wall.

You whisper a small thank you and after one small last peck, you let him take your hand and drag you towards your bed.

He’s the first to sit down, and once you do so yourself, he’s got his hands already on you again. Although this time his hand is in your hair and he’s just holding your head tenderly.

“We have to talk about everything,” he runs that damn thumb over the back of your head, “I especially need you to talk to me about you and Steve. Before I can officially go through with any of this, I need to know the extent of it.”

You let your head fall shamefully as you tried to rack your brain for the correct words to start this conversation right.

You straighten yourself up, taking his hands in your own hand. “Look-“

A knock on the door startles the both of you and your heads both shoot up simultaneously towards the direction of the hotel door.

Both of your stares linger on it.

It comes in waves, first, you’re both shocked, then afraid, and then confused.

Bucky looks over at you and he sees a look on your face that he notices is probably the same way his own is right now.

He drops his voice down to just below a whisper.

“Are you expecting someone?” Your eyes stay on the door for a second longer before you shake your head.

“No, no one knows I’m here.” “Are you sure? Just me?” Your eyes squint together as you try to think. An unsettling feeling settles in your gut as you think about the only possible person it could be.

“I mean, I told Steve but I never gave him the room number.”

Bucky curses as a hand runs down the bridge of his nose.

You continue to shake your head, more to yourself than anything.

“He wouldn’t bribe someone downstairs would he?”

Bucky sighs. “This is Steve we’re talking about. He’s been crazy about you since the moment he met you, plus I hired him for a reason. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

You shake your head in denial, once more. Your face quickly pales.

“Or, it could be housekeeping.” You insist.

Another persistent knock rings out throughout the room.

Bucky quickly gets up and your heart jumps from zero to one thousand as you quickly seek out his hand to make him sit back down.

Bucky notices your worried stance and the fear in your eyes and he lets out a small sigh.

He bends down and takes your face in his hands, “Look, I’ll go hide in the bathroom and you go see who it is.”

You bit your bottom lip worriedly and then finally nodded. Giving his hand one last squeeze, you watched him go into the bathroom, shutting it closed behind him.

You wait for it to click.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way towards your door. You weren’t sure what to expect, and that scared you.

When you open it, your worst suspicions are confirmed.

His blue-green eyes softened as his eyes lay on your worried ones. You physically see the weight lift off his shoulder as an exasperated sigh leaves his lungs as he takes a step towards you.

He wraps his left arm around your waist and his right one goes to the back of your head as he hugs you closer towards him.

You never felt so uncomfortable, so guilty.

You allow your hands to linger on his back for just a second, its dark grey texture digging into the crooks of your fingers.

You feel him inhale your scent and that does it for you.

“Steve.” His hold tightens around you. He walks you both in all the way and shuts the door close behind him. When he pulls back he takes your face into both his hands and he searches your face for anything out of the ordinary. Almost as if you were physically hurt.

“I was so worried. You haven’t been answering your phone.”

He leans into for a kiss but you quickly pull away. It ends up being a small peck as only the tips of his lips catch yours.

Your hand goes to his chest as you stare up at him confused. “How’d you get my room number?”

“I asked at the front desk.” He shrugs, “I was goddamn worried about you.” He plays with your strand of hair on your shoulder, twirling it around his finger. The other drags across your face and then catches your hand again.

“Why are you here?”

He stares into your eyes, taken aback.

You hadn’t meant for it to come out so sharply.

“What do you mean why am I here? I’m your boyfriend.”

There’s a long silence that borderlines awkward as your eyebrows lift and your eyes look around nervously.

Steve gives you a confused look. He watches the flicker of different emotions across your face. Finally, you speak out and his hand tightens on yours.

“Steve, you kicked me out.” You whisper painfully, “What makes you think this is still a thing, after what happened?” It was like you physically slapped him. He literally recoils and you swallow hard at what you were doing to him.

So much guilt.

Steve takes in a deep breath as he shakes his head.

“I told you to go and make things right, and then for you to come back because I would be waiting for you. You told me you still wanted to try. I gave you a chance to make things easier for you, for us,” he moves in closer, eyes on your lips, “I didn’t break up with you.”

You try to make sense of what he’s saying as you back away from him.

“I told you that the reason I gave us a try is that I wanted to regardless of the past. But then that night-“ “That night we couldn’t have sex. And that’s okay. It’s because you hadn’t moved on. But now you can.”

It was like you were punched in the heart. You watched his hopeful eyes and your heart broke in pity for him. He thought that you telling Bucky how you felt would mean he could finally have you.

He takes your other hand in his and pulls you in until you are right up against him. You look away quickly trying to avoid looking at him as much as you could. You could feel his breath on your face and you could feel his heavy glare on you.

Your eyes flicker only briefly towards the bathroom door, where your lover was.

His best friend.

“Is that why you’ve been leaving me on read? Because you thought I didn’t want to be with you anymore?”

“Steve…”

“I love you.”

He says it so quickly and so passionately that for a second you forget about pushing him away. Your heart hadn’t prepared you for his declaration and you’re staring up at him with hot tears in your eyes.

No, this was your fault. You led him on. And now he loved you.

What had you done?

“So much.” He grits out. You were hurting him and it was hurting him. You physically recoiled just as he had done earlier as you tried to pull away from him.

Sharply, you turn your head to look away.

“Steve.”

Bucky was leaning against the sink as he heard everything. The position you were both currently in was a tough one and his own best friend just told you he loved you, and god knows what else he was doing to you.

Was he trying to kiss you?

Steve’s grip tightened on your hands as rejection aimed a tough blow into his stomach. He felt the pain.

“Please,” and it had him in a vice grip, “Say it back, please.”

God. What had you done?

You sniffed loudly as you continued to try and pull away from him. Your eyes flickering once more towards the bathroom door, as if you were involuntary asking for help. It was a subconscious action.

“Why do you keep looking over there?”

You stilled as your eyes slowly drifted back to his. His brows were furrowed as he darted his gaze from the bathroom door and then back to you.

He took your long silence as an answer in it itself. He stood up a bit taller and looked down at your now pale face, like a true woman caught red handed.

He took a step back from you and quickly dropped your hand. You tried to open your mouth to answer but nothing came out.

“Is someone here?” He only allowed you a few seconds to answer - to which you failed miserably - before making his way towards the bathroom door in a heavy stance.

“Steve-“ you tried to stop him, but it was too late.

He quickly swung open the door only for the both of you to be met with a pair of blues that looked nothing short of fearful.

You felt your heart’s pace quicken inside of your chest as you stared at the two men.

Steve’s hand was still tight around the doorknob as his breath quickened at the sight in front of him.

You watched as Bucky’s Adam apple bobbed heavily and as he took a step back. His eyes dart towards yours briefly.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve asks. The silence is long - too long. Steve takes another step towards Bucky which makes him flinch slightly, “I mean, I’m sure there’s a good reason as to why you’re in my girlfriend’s hotel room.”

Bucky took a deep breath at Steve’s choice of words.

“Steve-“ Bucky starts.

Steve looks back at you, “because she told me that things didn’t work out.”

You gulp nervously.

“You didn’t let me ex-“ you try.

“Let me explain, man-“ Bucky says at the same time.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” It’s a roar.

Steve’s exclamation startles both of you. Steve’s red now and he’s towering over Bucky, making Bucky bend against the bathroom sink almost abnormally.

“You knew- you knew how I felt about her,” Bucky’s collar is now in Steve’s fists as he’s got Bucky’s face only a few inches away from his, “You knew I liked her and you still went on and chased her. Even after I told you to stay away.” You were worried about two of the most important people in your life, but Steve’s statement sparks a deep interest in you.

What did he mean he told Bucky to stay away?

Bucky’s hands were wrapped tightly around Steves’ as he tried to pry him off of him.

“Get off of me, Steve.” Bucky was repeating calmly as Steve confined on.

“How could you? And the entire time you had your own damn girlfriend,” Steve suddenly shoves Bucky towards the side making him topple over against the wall, the sound of his head hitting against it echoing painfully around the room.

This stuns you and you wonder if Bucky is hurt, “Steve, stop!”

Steve stares down at Bucky, breathing hard.

“She told me what you did. And on your own wedding day.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker up from the floor to meet yours and you see the question in them. You hadn’t told him yet that Steve knew. One more person out of the two of you knew about that night.

Steve felt the pain in his heart and the betrayal in his blood.

“Why?!” Steve roared. It looked like he was going to pounce on Bucky again and you and him both flinch.

A soft whimper escapes Bucky.

“Please stop!” You begged.

You hated watching him in pain.

Steve’s eyes snap up to yours.

“You’re defending him? Y/N, baby, look at what he did to you for so many years of your life. How much time he wasted. And then you tell him you still love him and he sends you away to some damn hotel? Doesn’t the fact that he hasn’t even told his own wife about this make you concerned? I’m protecting you. Someone who actually loves you.” Steve looks between the both of you, “This isn't loving. This is some messed up situation that clouded your mind just because he slept with you. Please don’t this just because of one night. If he really loved you he would’ve told you back when you were still twenty-two.”

“You don’t know anything.” Bucky spats as he manages to lift himself onto one arm on the floor.

“Fuck. I love her-“ Steve tried ones more time, pointing a daunting finger down at Bucky, “You knew!”

“I know you fucking did!” Bucky hollers, “I know, man, and I’m sorry. I know you liked her, and I rooted for you, I did, but then I fell in love with her. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry this entire mess happened.”

Steve took a deep breath as he started between both of you, allowing Bucky to finally stand up on his two feet.

Steve’s eyes finally landed on Bucky and Bucky swallowed thickly, wondering if he should prepare for another blow.

Maybe even a punch to the face.

But Steve’s voice is surprisingly calm.

“I used to think you were a good guy. You were my best friend.” “I’m still all those things, just let me explain it to you.” “Like hell, you are. You’re a cheater and you’re a traitor. And you stole my girl.”

Bucky’s breath hitched.

“I’m going to tell, Ashlyn! This week. We’re finally going to tell her the truth.” Bucky exclaims, “You’re right because she deserves to know. She deserves to know about all of this.”

“Let me ask you something. Before you came here, did you know that I and her were a thing?”

Steve asks slowly, looking between you and Bucky. Your eyes fall to the floor below you and, if possible, you feel even worse.

Bucky gulps as he looks between you and Steve.

“Yes, I knew.”

Steve nods.

“Steve, I’m gonna tell her. I’m tired of this hiding just as much as you are.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly, “And then what? You’re gonna let me have my girl back?”

The fire that ignites in Bucky’s chest is severe, and a big wave of jealously washes over him. His nostrils flare as he takes in your body, your gorgeous face.

You.

The love of his life.

The answer is simple and he doesn’t have to think twice before saying it.

“No.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyes are hard as he eyes Steve down.

“No, because she’s not your girl.”

Your breath hitched and you watched as Steve’s face fell. It was as if his angry and fierce attitude suddenly left his body and all that was left was a broken man.

You could practically see Bucky’s fingers itching to take his friend into a tight hug and apologize.

This situation - you should’ve known that no one would get out of it without getting hurt.

You felt so bad for Steve as you watched small tears fill his eyes.

He quickly blinked them away and cleared his throat.

“Please man, just stop forcing it onto her.” Bucky breathes out, tired. A small chuckle in the form of a sob escapes Steve’s lips as he looks down towards the floor.

It’s then that he sees it the far left corner of the little foyer:

The filled condom, tied off at the end;

Fresh.

He feels his heart break again as he nods his head quickly. He had never felt such pain in his life before.

And from the two most important people in his life.

With eyes brimming with tears, he looked directly at Bucky, meeting his eyes.

“You’re not my friend anymore.”

His voice cracks as he says it.

He spins around to face you and you want nothing more than to say how sorry you are for leading him on for so long.

“Don’t call me.” He tells you.

You’re left stunned as Steve walks out of the room, letting the door slam close behind him.

There’s an dark black Audi SUV with tinted windows parked right outside The Concorde.

The woman inside the car sits in the backseat and she watches the entrance cautiously, a pair of Dior sunglasses framing the top half of her face.

She asks the driver to drive up a bit as she sees a familiar figure leaving the same building where her husband had just walked into about a half-hour before. The man looked distraught, very visibly upset.

The revelation shocks her and she quickly dials a number in her contacts.

It answers after a few rings.

“Meet me at my office. Ask Wanda to come, too.”

She quickly hangs up as she pushes her sunglasses farther up the bridge of her nose.

“Jarvis, to the tower, please.”

The car starts to move out of it’s parked spot.

“Yes, Mrs. Barnes.”

Two pairs of eyes followed the woman in concern as she paced back and forth in front of her desk.

She wore a small coat and tight jeans, her red heels clicking with every step.

“Are you sure it was Steve?” Wanda asked.

Ashlyn spins around almost too quickly and narrows her eyes at Wanda.

“Do you think I’m blind, Wanda? Yes, it was Steve! Five years missing, and one day he shows up out of the blue? I just want to know why he looked so upset. Something happened in there.”

“Maybe it was work-related, Ashlyn. Maybe he’s trying to get his job back?” Natasha inquired as she crossed her legs in front of her.

“I don’t know. Something was really off about Bucky, to begin with, it’s why I followed him. And then…” she trailed out in thought.

Wanda and Nat shared a look with each other.

“I told you how my sister was back, right?” “Yes.” They both answer without a beat, but both tones lingering in slight fear.

They knew things Ashlyn didn’t.

“Apparently, she and Steve are involved now. Something is going on and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they’ve both showed up at the same time after five years.”

“I think you’re overthinking this.” Nat quipped.

“Am I, Nat?” Ashlyn asked back. Nat knew for a fact that Ashlyn actually wasn’t far off but she was going to off her boss and a good friend like that.

Nat swallowed nervously and looked away.

“Maybe just ask Bucky, yourself?” Wanda asked innocently. She caught Nat’s eyes, “Or not, I don’t know.”

Ashlyn looked around her desk, “I could, I could. But there has to be another way.” “Honestly, Ashlyn. What is on your mind? You seem to think there’s more to this than there really is?” Nat asks shrugging, “I’m afraid to know what you’re thinking.”

Ashlyn leaned forward onto her desk as the tip of her left foot tapped on the floor. She was thinking.

“I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out..”

Cars slowly passing right down on main street

don't keep driving, let me say something

You were sitting on the bed in a lost daze, the used condom was now thrown in the trash, and Bucky was running his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands.

“Do you think he’s gonna say anything?” You ask, staring blankly at an empty spot on the ground.

Truth was, you were still hurt by the way Steve had spoken to both of you. But you were also now afraid. If Steve had reacted that way, you could only imagine how your sister would.

Bucky shook his head back and forth.

“No, I don’t think he would do that,” a long sigh leaves his lips, “But this is still a mess.” You nod.

There’s another break of silence.

“I think we should talk now, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes meet yours and he nods. He sits down next to you and takes your hands into his.

You were still looking away, so damn afraid.

“Look at me.”

You take in a deep breath before tightening your hold on his hands. You look up until your eyes meet.

“I’m sorry about you and Steve.”

You rub your thumb over the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry, too.” You say.

“We’ll have a better chance to talk to him. We can make this better I promise. I know he’s so mad at us right now, and it was wrong of me to cross the line that I did, he’s not wrong. But I think he just needed to get that anger out of his system.”

You nod.

“What is it?”

“I just, he kind of has a point,” Bucky’s eyes narrow at you in confusion, “Why did you wait this long to tell me you loved me? Why not when it was easier?”

“The same reason you didn’t,” He clicks his tongue as he looks away, “Look at the situation we were both in. I was dating someone I thought I was supposed to be with, you were so much younger than me, and I thought you were way out of my league.”

A soft chuckle escapes you.

“What? Me out of your league?”

Bucky gives you a small smile and nods.

“Yes,” suddenly his little smile fades and he looks down at where your hands are clasped together, “Now let me ask you. I need to know why you think I didn’t love you when I so clearly told you I did.”

Your eyes look into each other soothingly and you can’t help but lean in and kiss him on the lips. Bucky moaned as you release your left hand from his, running it up the side of his jaw. You let your lips linger together for a second longer before you look up at him through hooded eyes.

“Come here.”

You whisper almost silently.

Bucky follows you as you climb up the bed towards the headboard. You pull him along with you with your right arm, bringing him to lay down next to you.

It’s these moments that you always longed for with him.

You feel the goosebumps on the surface of your skin as he runs his own hand now up your jaw and into the hair right behind your ear.

“Tell me.”

Your fingers linger on the tips of his nose and his lips as you start telling him. “Nat had told me something when we were first becoming friends. I think she was afraid I was catching feelings for you and she told me to be careful because you have a tendency of coming off a bit strong. She said you were like that with other girls when you and her were dating,”

“Jeez, I didn’t even know you knew about me and her.” “Anyway. I thought that I was reading the signs all wrong. I thought maybe that was just how you were - sweet. I was reading too much into our moments. But sometimes those moments became so strong, that I thought it was crazy you didn’t feel the same, but since I wasn’t your girl and because you never actually asked me to be, or let alone told me how you felt, that it was all unrequited.”

“Baby…”

“It was always her. You always gave her everything I wanted. And I don’t mean material things. Your time. You always gave her all your time, and I still loved you through it all.”

Bucky whimpered quietly as he leaned in and captured you in a toe-curling kiss. His hands dragged from your head down to your back and down the side of your arm. He tucks it underneath and grabs you by your waist, pulling you tighter into him.

You feel his tongue play at your bottom lip and your open yours to let him into your hot mouth. You groan and your wrap your left leg around his torso.

He pulls away way too soon, and he’s nudging the side of his nose against yours. He chuckles against your lips, his thumb flicking the bottom one playfully.

“Nat and all her overprotectiveness. All this time we felt this way and we did nothing. All this time wasted.”

“But we have now.” You whisper. You hook your leg even tighter around him, bringing him flush up against you.

Bucky leans his head into you and places hot kisses into your neck and your shoulder.

“I want you in every way I can take you.”

You groan, pulling back once again to kiss him again.

This kiss is more intense and gains heat quickly.

“Steve said something earlier that perked my interest,” you say between kisses, “He said that he told you to stay away from me?” You let out a moan as he sucks on a spot on your neck that makes you grind against him. “Yes. Remember that one time back before I was married when I cut you off?”

Your eyes squint together in confusion. Suddenly intrigued, you push him away just slightly so you could look at him. “Wait. Steve, told you to cut me off?” “He didn’t want me getting too close to you. Said it was getting inappropriate. I think he was afraid I was going to fall in love with you, or worst, make you fall in love with me. Or at least that’s what Sam said.”

“Wait. Sam?”

“Don’t worry, Sam doesn’t know anything. He just knew I had a crush on you, but little did he know that I was really in love with you.”

Your mind was boggled now as you threw your head back against the pillows.

“Jesus. All this was going on behind the scenes and we knew none of it.”

“I don’t know. I think it says something that all our friends saw something there before we even knew it ourselves.”

“And now they hate us." “They don’t hate us, things are just misunderstood right now. I’ll explain everything to everyone, we both will. And it will be okay again.”

“I hope you’re right. I miss everyone like crazy,” you run your hands up the sides of his face and look at his beautiful features, “But not as much as I missed you.”

Bucky pecks you softly.

“Look, I wanted to tell you. I am so sorry for all those mean things I said to you.” “Bucky-“ “Please. Just listen. I called you the worst things possible, but it’s only because I was so hurt. I don’t really think them of you, I would never in a million years. Especially when I told you that you weren’t capable of love,” you voice slightly cracked and he pecked you again for good measure,  “It wasn’t true. You are the best thing I’ve ever loved.”

You feel the small burning in the back of your eyes.

“Bucky….” He shuts you up with a deep kiss. Within seconds he’s got both your legs wrapped around his waist and he’s kissing you hungrily.

Your small fingers go to waistband of his jeans and then he’s helping you by unbuttoning his pants.

“It’s so hard not being able to touch you,” you whimper when you get a chance to pull away from his mouth, “But we can’t. Not until we tell her.”

Wanda is practically skipping down the hall when Nat catches her by her arm. Wanda yelps as Nat yanks on it, causing the perky girl to spin around dramatically in a 360.

“Don’t say that hurt, because I know it didn’t,” Nat says with her hands on her hips, a sly smirk on her lips.

“What do you want, Nat?” Wanda asks shyly.

“I want to know what you know.” Nat narrows her eyes as she walks up to Wanda, like a prey.

Wanda stares up at Nat tauntingly, trying to come off dumb.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nat narrows her eyes at her.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Wanda quickly looks away and spins around to go back down the hall. Maybe if she just ignored it…

Bucky trusted her.

Nat rolls her eyes.

“Look, I know you know something about Barnes, and I might know something, too. Maybe we could help him.”

Wanda stops in her footsteps at Nat’s words, but she doesn’t fully turn around.

“I know about Y/N, and I might’ve said something to set him to go after her. I know you know something too. Barnes has become a real asshole since Y/N left, but he’s only nice to three other people. Ashlyn, Sam, Me…and you.” Wanda closes her eyes tightly together.

“Nat, please." “Wanda. None of us are on Ashlyn’s side. I’ve been skeptical of her since Bucky’s father was still alive, and I know you can’t stand her either.” Wanda swallowed nervously. Was this a trap?

“What are you suggesting?”

Nat walks up closer to Wanda and continues in a whisper. “I’m thinking we find out what’s going on and we help Bucky. Maybe there’s a reason why Mr. and Mrs. Barnes never had sex on their wedding night. Maybe Bucky is the good guy and Ashlyn isn’t. Maybe its been Y/N all along.”

“And what about Steve?” “I’ll track him down. Something about all of this is just off, Ashlyn is right about that. I knew Steve always had feelings for her, but I know for a fact that Y/N never wanted anything romantic with him. Not unless she felt like she had no choice.”

Wanda narrows her eyes at this, finally interested.

“So what exactly are we doing?” “We’re going to help our friend and get him what he deserves.” Wanda blinked back at the gorgeous redhead.

“Y/N?”

Nat chuckles at Wanda’s answer and simply replies, “Redemption.”

___

@wxntersoldxer16​ @void-imaginations​ @heykarsyn​ @avashroom​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @lunaticbarnes​ @benhardygalileo​ @wildmavs​ @runaway-escape​ @stevieboyharrington​ @kimvmarvel​ @chipilerendi​ @hardygal69​ 

[dontshootmespence]

You Won’t Forget Again

Summary: Your ex, Sam, shows up out of nowhere after three years, but something is different. You should care, but you don’t.

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Reader

Word Count: 2,100

Warnings: Squirting, voyeurism, caning, slight degradation, Sam’s massive cock (it’s a warning don’t at me), dubcon if you’re reading into it hard, but I wrote it as consensual, think that’s it. 

A/N: For those of you 18 and over! This fulfills my size kink square for @spnkinkbingo, probably my last fic for this 2019 round (though I plan to black out the card when time allows.

Two weeks since your breakup with Craig. Two weeks without a half decent lay. You were losing your mind a little bit. As the heat built between your legs, coming seemingly out of nowhere, you scoffed and went about your mundane housework, wishing the feeling away. Even with Craig it wasn’t the best. He was a sweet enough guy and all, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know what he was doing, it was just that you’d been introduced to…so much more. And now life without it seemed just a bit too commonplace for your taste.

With Sam, what could you possibly say about Sam. It was electric and desperate and intense and everything you’d ever wanted. Plus, he was about the nicest guy you’d ever met. No nice in fact that he walked away because he wanted to protect you. From what exactly, you weren’t too sure. He’d refused to even elaborate. Leaving your mind to entertain the worst possible thoughts while missing the only man you’d ever truly loved.

Sure, you could take care of yourself, but that was getting monotonous and frustrating. Sometimes you just wanted to lay back and let someone else do the work. Get lost in a feeling of heat and wantonness and depravity.

As you turned the knob on the washing machine, the machine vibrated against you and pushed your horniness into overdrive. You collapsed into the couch and tried in futility to find something on TV or Netflix to distract yourself but to no avail. Instead, you slipped your hand into your yoga pants and attempted to just get it over with. No ceremony. No nothing. Just a feeling so you could get back to your everyday bullshit.

A knock at the door startled you. You grunted in frustration and got up to look through the peephole of your apartment door. “Sam?”

What the hell was Sam doing here? You hadn’t seen him in three years. Double checking, you realized you weren’t seeing things. He was there in the flesh and more cut then ever. You cursed your body for the immediate reaction to his presence.

“Y/N, it’s me. Sam. Open up.”

For some reason, you did without question. He towered over just as he always had, but something about his bigger muscles and the way he carried himself made you feel even smaller than when you were dating. The feeling sent a delicious shiver up your spine. “Sam, what are you doing here?”

“What? You haven’t missed me?”

“I mean, of course I have. But the way we left things, I assumed I would never see you again. You said you didn’t want to drag me into whatever the hell it is that you do.”

“I was overreacting,” he said quickly, his lips curled up in disgust. Disgust at what? “And I miss you.”

Something wasn’t right. He spoke the words you wanted to hear but the emotion behind them just wasn’t there. But despite your reservations, you found yourself speaking the words you’d suppressed for three years. “I’ve missed you too,” you said softly, catching yourself. “Wait, Sam, I’ve moved on. I’m with someone else now.” It was a big fat lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

Except he called you on it.

“No, you’re not. You’re breathing heavily. Your pupils are dilated. All indications of arousal.”

Okay, that still sounded like Sam.

“Just because you turn me on doesn’t mean I’m not with someone else,” you said defiantly.

He closed the few paces between you, eyes boring into you as he called you out again. “I know it doesn’t, but you’re not with anyone.” He began to circle you, like prey in an open field, but you resigned yourself to your inevitable fate. You did want him. You did miss him. What was one more night? “And you want me.”

“I don’t remember you being this cocky,” you replied, lips upturned into a smirk. “I always thought that was your brother’s territory.”

He bristled at the mention of his brother, which you planned on questioning, but all words left your mind when he backed you up against the wall, his thick, muscular arms pinning you in place, as he lips crashed into yours and coasted down the side of your neck.  His large hand made its way under the collar of your baggy t-shirt and pulled your breast free as he nipped at your heated skin. “I have missed this,” he said, biting down on your nipple. “The way you react, your moans…this cunt.”

Sam quickly slipped his free hand into your pants, two fingers sliding so easily into your eager pussy. “Lie to me and tell me you haven’t missed me.”

“I can’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”

There was no ceremony involved as he pushed your pants down and grabbed your ass in both hands, hoisting you up against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist. Not only was Sam the best lover you’d ever had, he was also the biggest, and you shuddered at the thought of his cock filling you after so long without. You’d asked the gods to not think. They provided the opportunity. “Fuck me, Sam.”

Somewhere between him entering your apartment and now, he’d managed to pull his cock free from the confines of his jeans. He slid into your slick cunt, the burn of his size more than welcomed. “Fuck, I forgot how big you were.”

“After tonight, you won’t forget again.”

He took you by surprise and slid in all the way, silencing your cries with a hungry kiss that took your breath away. You’d gladly never breathe again to stay in this moment. With your wrists pinned together above your head and his frame holding you steadily against the wall, he pumped in and out of you, his teeth leaving marks all over your collarbone. As you came over his cock, your juices soaking his bottom half, he whispered against the shell of your ear. “You always were such a little slut for me.”

A husky laugh escaped your mouth and you went limp, feeling more fulfilled then you had in months. Hell, years. Sam had ruined you for all other men and here he was doing it again. “Thanks for that, Sam. I needed that.”

“You don’t think I’m done with you, do you?”

“Honestly, I thought you just wanted a good fuck and I was willing to be that.”

As you walked away from him, hoping to fall back into the couch, he slapped your ass and pulled you back into his chiseled chest, his other hand cupping your pussy. “And leave this sweet cunt that quickly. No way. Let’s go out.”

“Where?” You asked. He’d been back in your life for ten minutes and fucked you against the wall and now he wanted to go out on a date?

“Some place I found since we last saw each other. I think we could have some fun there.” The glint in his eyes told you were in for a hell of a night.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

-----

After insisting you change into a black lace lingerie set he’d picked out of your drawer, he drove you in silence to a hole in the wall nearly 40 minutes away. He parked and you got out of the car, legs shaky, cunt throbbing in anticipation. In the confines of the car, you’d had plenty of time to imagine where he was taking you, a sex club of sorts, that was obvious, but you’d imagined something dark and sinister looking, bathed in red light, more and more depraved sex acts around ever turn, but what greeted you was something all together more clinical. You signed in at a desk in the front and were ushered to a room depending on what you wanted to engage in. Sam led the way toward a voyeur’s room, gathering you toward him in the back of the room behind the other watching guests.

On the stage were two men and a woman. She was being filled at both ends, face blissed out in ecstasy as they took her relentlessly. “We’ll be going up next. I’m going to show everyone what a little slut you are for me. What you’re willing to do for me.”

Your entire body overheated at the thought of being on display for so many pairs of eyes, but you didn’t care. Because he was right, for whatever unexplainable reason, you were willing to do whatever he wanted so long as he kept you feeling like this. Wanted and wanton.

“When we go up, you’ll do as I say. Quiet when I tell you. You speak when I tell you. You do what I tell you.”

“Yes, Sir.” You felt like you were in a trance, a powerful spell put upon you keeping you pliant. But you knew there was no such thing.

Without words, your positions were switched with those on the stage – once viewer, now performer. “Strip,” he whispered in your ear. He grins at the crowd when you begin to disrobe, telling them all that you’ll do whatever you’re told. What’s happened to the Sam you once knew? Why are you doing this? Why don’t you care?

Once you’re bare, you truly feel the pairs of eyes scanning your body, but you focus on Sam as he brings an apparatus over and bends you over it. He spins it around and spreads your pussy with his fingers. “This is all from watching. Whose slut are you?”

“Yours, Sir.”

You awaited his cock, wanting to feel that sense of fullness again, but it didn’t come. Instead, a quick strike of something thin and long caused you to squeak in pain. Your mouth dangled open in surprise and when he told you to count them, you did as he commanded, number after number leaving your lips with each sting of the cane in his hand. “Six!” You cried out as the tears streamed down your cheeks.

The pain flared outward and you heard the cane clang to the floor before Sam tugged your hair at the root and yanked your head backward. With one swift movement, he entered your soaking cunt and turned the apparatus around so you were facing the crowd. Out of instinct, you tried looking away, but he pulled your hair so hard you grimaced in a mixture of pleasure and pain, and were forced to look at the audience as they took in your depravity.

Few sounds fill the room save for the slapping of his thighs against your ass, you own strangled whimpers and the murmurs of the audience before you. “She’s going to squirt for me, let’s watch,” he says, enjoying the act of performing as much if not more than your viewers.

Your breasts swing free of any confines as he pounds into your cunt. “Quiet.” You hadn’t even realized you were speaking. You were pretty sure you weren’t breathing, let alone speaking. Biting your lip, you choked back the sharp pain in your scalp and focused on the force of his thrusts, each one taking you higher and higher and closer and closer until you came, your juices flowing down his body and the stage under your feet.

Legs still shaking, your forced onto the floor, cunt to the audience and told to clean up your mess. “That’s what good girls do.”

You did as he commanded without a thought as to why and watched him put his clothes back on out of the corner of your eye. “Stand up.” On jellied legs, you managed just long enough to go limp in his arms. The ceremony of performance is now gone and he leaves with you over his shoulder without another word to your watchers or clothes on your body.

In the car, he said little other than the fact that you’d been a good girl, which left you ecstatic for the ride home. Or what you thought was home. “From now on, the show is mine and mine alone.”

Just ten minutes after he’d dumped you in the car, he pulled you out, running quickly into a motel room that he’d apparently occupied for some time. Had you ever felt like this before? Even with Sam?

With a satisfied grin, he grabbed two pairs of cuffs from a bag on the floor, slipped them around your wrists and attached them to the bed. “I thought you were taking me home,” you managed to say.

Echoing earlier, he cupped your pussy and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Now that I have this again, I’m never letting it go.”

[noblechaton]

happy new years dudes! 

this post is a sort of run down of my last year or so and rlly it’s just me rambling about my (sometimes gross, warning to all gross-haters out there (like me)) health issues so feel free to look past this

2020 was probably the single hardest most stressful year of my entire life so far and while some reasons are uh. kinda obvious. it sort of especially crunched down on me as it was the first year of my life where I had a persistent health problem for the entire duration

back near the end of 2019 (october 19th I think) I noticed this weird pain in my chest and it scared the heck outta me when it didn’t go away after a few days so I managed to get to go to the doctor for the first time in maybe an actual decade? to try and sort it out bc like on one hand my habits were(/are) bad and the day beforehand I’d been running on a horrid amount of sleep and my only food was bad fast food stuff for breakfast and dinner

anyway the appointments started coming after that as test after test cleared me of. well. anything. there wasn’t really anything weird found after a stress test or uh. this one test where they ran a wand over my body with some goo on it. idk what its called

so naturally I was really just totally lost bc the pain was still there up until around late january?? I think? my memory gets a bit hazy here bc so much had happened but I’m pretty sure that shortly after it faded away (mid february-ish?) I felt normal-ish but then had this awful headache that just straight up wouldn’t go away that lasted a month or so that got so bad I broke down and begged for a hospital despite knowing my bill was outrageous already but I managed to go anyway and got a CAT scan then and an MRI a few days later that turned up nothing again. legit nothing (aside from a kidney stone lol) and just like the chest stuff it faded

some time after that I got really shaky aches and pain sin my wrists and ankles that hurt super bad that I sort of didn’t talk about but at that point at least it was something I could sort of cope with and it eventually stopped after a while (I think this was bc of an antidepressant I was on that I just. immediately stopped taking as a result of the pain) 

but eventually that gave way to what was the worst of it where I spent around 2 months being entirely unable to eat or drink /anything/. I mean anything at all. water of any sort, crackers, it all came back up and. really really sucked. I lost a lot of weight and struggled a lot and I still struggle to talk about this one bc it was so traumatic and I’m terrified of it coming back to this day (I still don’t eat or drink all the stuff I used to eat or drink and maybe never will. I almost entirely avoid dairy of all kinds now which might tie into my current problem??)

obviously I got multiple tests for this. two cameras down my tummy and an emptying study and all of which turned up.............nothing. nothing I didn’t already have anyway. nothing that could be causing it and then of course shortly after the last test, the one that I thought would definitively answer what was wrong with me,(the emptying one), I was so desperate for food that late one night I devoured some awful fried chicken from the grocery store in the middle of the night and fell asleep and the next day I could finally, thankfully sort of eat again. my dad cooked up salmon for me since it’d been in the freezer and I tried it and it mostly stayed down and then from there it stopped happening all together

this one still stresses me out and again I’m fucking terrified of it bc I still have no indication on what it is or was

but that brings me to the last month or two? (which is a good ~4-5 months? from that last thing I think. my perception of time is fucked and filled with me being pricked with fluids and stuff bleugh) which has been mostly this weird discomfort/pain in my left side that’s almost always there (but has faded sometimes) with the occasional awful discomfort uh. between my legs back there. and this awful burping habit where I taste the last thing I ate for a while

this one’s hard to pin down and I haven’t been to a doc for it (yet, I wanna go and get a colonoscopy and even asked about a stool test that one doc said no to?? and plus it’ll probably be even harder now than it was before) and I’ve been on various laxatives (started back when I wasn’t eating as not eating meant getting anything out was uh. difficult) that all sort of dipped in usefulness. lately I’ve been drinking a glass of prune juice every day or two and it seems to do the most help but it’s still there

now this is odd for me bc I’m not even sure I’ve been constipated or anything and there’s a few theories I’ve had that range from me having IBS to it being tied to my body recovering from 2-3 months of not eating or uh. removing waste. to suddenly doing it a lot (this is also my theory on the belching since my neck/throat used to hurt a shitload on account of all the acid and stuff coming back up but it’s sort of slowly felt less bad?). I also sometimes feel super zoned out and foggy but that might just be my bad sleeping

lately I’m sort of wondering if this is maybe all a neurological thing?? or maybe some sort of mental snap caused by stress from my life. it’s been hard for me to consider much else beyond a deep mental issue after so many tests ended up with good results

I’m not smart enough to know for sure but. idk. a year of nearly nonstop bodily pain no matter what I did (exercise, no exercise. eating better, eating worse, etc.) with every single possible test done beyond a select few providing no results has sort of left me as a terrified wreck without anywhere to turn and it just sucks. I’m tired of being so scared of my own body

and all of that on top of. y’know. everything going on in the world. it fucking sucks

last year was real fuckin bad man and I can only try and hope that this year gives myself and everyone else a reprieve at least. a moment to breathe and be consistently happy again. thank u guys for still hanging around me and enjoying the piddly amount of original content I put out. 

I wanna do more for this acc since it, and you guys, got me thru a lot of this last year or so (I even got to see Glaciator in the hospital once lol) and I intend to start streaming myself playing video games over on twitch more often but I can’t make any promises rn. all I can do is hope to continue putting out even the dumbest of posts that y’all might get even a tiny laugh out of

[captainsaveasmut]

Heartache

Pairing  》 Chris Evans x black!plus-size reader

Synopsis 》 Follow Evans through his emotional journey as he tries to understand why his relationship failed and work through his heartache

Warnings 》 angst / slight smut / mild profanity

You know

Maybe you’ve never been in love like I’ve been in love

And maybe you’ve never felt the things that I’ve felt

But this is what I told my friend

I said, you know, sometimes you get lonely

And I cry, I cry

And the tears would fill up in the wells

In the wells of my eyes, baby

And then it got so bad, it got so bad

Till one time I thought I’d roll myself up in a big ol’ ball and die

       - Lenny Williams / Cause I Love You

Why did no one warn me that it was going to hurt this bad? Why did no one give me a heads up on the pain that I feel in my chest? In my heart? Why am I here? I am the cause of this. That’s why I’m here. Our last argument constantly replays in my head like a broken record. Haunting me when I’m the most vulnerable.

I don’t baby. I don’t know why I couldn’t see it, but I see it now. I see how distant I was from you. How much I didn’t appreciate you… care for you… love you. You wanted my attention. You needed me and I didn’t see it, but now I do; when it’s too late.

"You don't care! You never cared!"

"Pay attention to me!”

"Why can’t you see that you are the reason why our relationship is failing?”

“I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

That was the last thing she said to me. It cut me deep. It caused me the most pain because it wasn’t until then that I realized that I lost her. Next thing I know she’s gone. Everything packed up and off to the next destination. Damn, I didn’t realize how small and empty my house is without her. Dodger is great company, but something is still missing- she’s still missing. What was once we and ours are now me and mine. But what’s so funny about her leaving is that I didn’t think she was going to. I’ve been single for quite some time before Y/N, but now that she’s gone the feeling almost seems foreign to me. Like I’ve been with her all my life.

We’ve been bickering for a couple of months and I thought it was just another argument. Same shit, different day. I would’ve never guessed that she would leave me. I mean I knew she could (and a part of me wanted her to in the heat of the moment), but that would mean that we would have to start over from scratch. Since I tolerated our bullshit, I assumed that she tolerated it too. We aren’t getting any younger, this was the best we could do… or so I thought. Wouldn’t she be more comfortable staying here than leaving to hopefully find something better (that may or may not be out there)? Wasn’t she content like I was? This was just a bad cloud over our relationship, that seemed to take some time to pass. Every couple goes through it; no big deal, right?

Sucks to have an immature mind. Mine just ruined a relationship that could’ve last. Our relationship started to break apart when we started talking AT each other instead of TO each other. Almost everything she said in our arguments was true. I did stop caring at times and would get lazy in the relationship. I’m a busy man, what can I say? Is that an excuse- at the moment, yeah it was, but now I know I was just pride getting in the way. Y/N had her faults too, don’t get me wrong. She was controlling and immature at times, but I guess I brought it out of her. I was lethargic and she was fed up. She wanted to fix it but, I was too arrogant to go about it.

After Y/N called it quits and moved out, I was “cool” for about a week or so. After that, I became the new resident at “sulk city”. The heart sure does know when it’s broken and it makes sure to remind you of its brokenness, no matter how much you try to ignore it or distract yourself from it. It felt like a ton of bricks just landed on my chest and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I was slacking in my career, I couldn’t focus, I didn’t have the strength to go outside the house or get out the bed for that matter. I was depressed. My boys gave me “legit advice” (or whatever they called it) and told me to go out and explore my options. "Man, why are you still worrying about Y/N? She’s a dime a dozen. You’re fucking Captain America, you’ll find a new one by tomorrow. You need to get your panties out of your ass first. Can’t move on buddy, if you’re crying and shit.”

I can honestly say I’m not surprised my fellas’ idea of “moving on” is having meaningless sex with any and every female that walks past me, but I decided to give it a shot. What’s the worst that can happen to a heartbroken man anyways? I went to a small house party with them and met this beautiful woman named Angela. She was sexy, there was no denying that, but she wasn’t Y/N. But that’s the point, right? To find someone new? So, I filled my body with alcohol, drowning any thoughts of my ex, and had a great time with Angela. She was definitely interested in me; hanging onto me throughout the entire night, and I willingly let her.

“Maybe you’ve never been in love like I’ve been in love and maybe you’ve never felt the things that I’ve felt.”

     - Lenny Williams

We were having a great time, drinking and dancing, next thing I know she’s whispering in my ear that she was ready to leave. We all know what that means. I planned to take our private party back to her place to finish what we started, but Angela wasn’t the patient type and had other plans. And now I have a beautiful, naked woman in the backseat of my car, waiting for me to take her right then and there. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I haven’t had sex with another woman in the past three years, a century in relationship years. This was new territory. I didn’t know what she liked, her hot spots, hell I didn’t even know her, but I had to get over Y/N one way or another. So, I undress and slip in the back with her. I was having sex with a stranger in my car.

Everything was going well for the most part, until it wasn’t. She was straddling my lap, grinding herself on my crotch, as we made out. I quickly slipped a rubber on and it was smooth sailing from there. She loved it. If her moans didn’t tell me then her body did. Angela began kissing all over my neck and collarbone as she rode me; my hands latched to her hips as I met her halfway. Was I getting over Y/N? I thought I was until Angela kissed and sucked a spot on my body that instantly makes my body go weak.

My earlobe.

I don’t think she realized the severity of what she just did to me. My body just went numb under her and a hard groan escaped my lips along with a name, which wasn’t hers. You can probably predict who it was. She surprisingly wasn’t fazed by it. She just claimed that once she was done with me that her name would be the only name I groaned out. She just shrugged it off and kept riding, but I, however, couldn’t just shrug it off. It bothered me. Not the fact that she didn’t care that I practically yelled out another woman’s name, but that she sucked on my earlobe in the first place.

First things first, you have to understand the importance of my earlobes. My earlobes are my spot- the spot. The same spot that Y/N discovered and has always taken advantage of for the past three years. She sucked on my earlobe when we made love and when she wanted to make love. That was HER spot. Y/N’s spot. Angela and I weren’t making love; we were fucking. And even if we were making love, Y/N claimed my earlobes as hers or at least I claimed them for her. That was Y/N’s spot as much as it was mine. No one but Y/N knew how much it affected me and now I’m starting to feel like no one but Y/N is allowed to activate that feeling. It didn’t feel right if it wasn’t her doing it.

Once I came to grips that my earlobes belong to Y/N and that sex wasn’t going to help me get over her, I told Angela to stop. I removed myself from under her and put my clothes back on while handing back hers. She complied but she wasn’t happy about it. You can bet your bottom dollar that she gave me a few words while she got dressed too. I just sat there and took it. Oh, and I can’t forget the hard-ass slap she gave me before she stormed back into the house. I deserved it.

After that sad attempt of “moving on”, I went back to my lonely, depressed state. My boys came by again, made fun of me, and tried to hook me up once again but, I was done. I can’t go through that shit again. They eventually gave up and left their poor excuse of a friend in his empty home. I don’t even know what to do with myself anymore. I love Y/N and I want her back but I think it’s too late. No one waits around seven months to get back with their ex. Especially if they were the ones that were dumped. She probably moved on by now. She’s a good woman, so I know someone already claimed her as theirs. Someone better than me.

Someone, please make it stop! Just tell me what to do because I’m a hopeless wreck at this point. My friends were no help, so maybe I should ask someone wiser and who understands women. "Christopher, if you feel this strongly about her then you need to win her heart back. Nothing is worse than losing the one you love, especially if there was a chance to get them back”, my mother told me & she was right. I needed to get Y/N back, but I couldn’t find the strength to come face-to-face with her.

“Go get her back dumbass!”

“Shut up! It’s over. She’s gone.”

I guess I was embarrassed that I waited this long to finally do something about it. Or maybe it was my big, dumbass ego trying to prevent what it ruined in the beginning. Either way it goes I was scared. Scared of being rejected by her. Scared that she wouldn’t give me another chance. And so here I am, lying in the middle of my bed, tears of frustration filling up in the wells of my eyes, as I deciphered through my options.

Should I get her?

Should I not?

Should I get her?

Should I not?

A ball of hurt and heartache formed in my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. “I need her. I need Y/N.”

And just as those words fell from my lips, my body immediately lunged itself from the bed and out the bedroom. I grab my car keys (no wallet, no phone) and race to my car. I had no idea what I was doing exactly, but I was determined to leave my pain and misery. I started the car, backed out the driveway, and drove off. As I traveled down the road, I tried to put together some last-minute confession of my love for her, but honestly, I was a fucking wreck and nothing I came up with seemed to be good enough.

My mind ran a mile a minute, as my foot pressed harder on the accelerator & my hands steered me though the dim-lit streets. I pull into her neighborhood until I reach the familiar, cozy, one-story house. I stare at the exterior of the home for a while, before my hands opened the car door and my feet guided me out of it. I walked up to the driveway, to the stoned walkway, up to the porch, until I came face to face with the front door. Here it is. The moment of truth. I didn’t want to knock on the door, but my hands decided otherwise and did it for me AND rang the doorbell, as to say that it was urgent for someone to answer the door. No please. I NEED them to take their time. Give me a minute to pull myself together.

“Can someone answer the door!”

That voice. It was enough to make my heart pound and my body go limp. I wasn’t ready! Just as I was about to back away from the door and HUAL ASS, the door opened. A handsome Ethiopian man, with a stubble beard and intense eyes, answered the door. I am very secure in my sexuality, believe me, but this man was gorgeous. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model of some kind. I sure hope this isn’t the next guy she moved on to. It would just crush me more than I already am.

I stood there, rocking on the heel of shoes like a fool as I tried to let other words besides “I” come out of my mouth. The man looked confused and worried as he stood there looking like a god. I felt stupid. What am I even doing here!? Man, this is embarrassing. I looked passed the man to see Y/N’s close friend, Jean and another guy peeking from behind him. The comical look on Jean’s face made me want to shit myself. No, now THIS was embarrassing. I looked passed all of them, avoiding eye contact. Words still haven’t come out of my mouth and it felt like I’ve been standing here for hours!

“Hey, can I help you?”

“I- I- …”

“Adam baby who’s at the door? And why are y’all crowding aroun-”

There she was. As much as I wanted to avoid eye contact, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. This girl sure does get better with time; like a fine wine. She looked perfect.

“Chris?”

She sounded shocked and confused, yet it had some type of joyful undertone to it. I would expect her to react that way. I mean it has been almost eight months and I’m sure I’m the LAST person she would expect on her porch at 10:47 PM, but it was time we made up for lost time.

Was I nervous? Yes.

Scared? Yes.

Sick to my stomach? Yes.

Did I know what to say? No.

Did I want to have this conversation? Not really.

Was I ready for whatever she was going to tell me? Hell no!

But I can’t let another second go by without trying to get her back. So, I pushed all instinct to run and hide aside and faced her like a man. I was sick and tired of this heartache. It was time I attempted to fill the hole in my chest again. I needed my girl back.

“Hey Y/N.”

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[axwalker]

The Trade 10

Synopsis:  Liam is running for Cordonia’s presidency. To assure his victory, Constantine makes an arraignment behind his back for him to marry the rich ambassador’s daughter: Alexis O’Brien. Due to her father’s threats, she has no other option that seduce Liam and make him fall in love with her. But what happens when she falls for his best friend? (AU)

Pairings: DrakexMC

Warnings: I love drama and chaos so this will probably get a bit dark. In this chapter there is mention of rape, if you get triggered by this issue, don’t hesitate to send me a message and I’ll be glad to explain what happens without reading it. A lot of angst and heartbreak

Please note that this is my first series and English is not my first language. I really love ALL kinds of feedback.  Don’t hesitate to comment!

Disclaimer: Some of the dialogues and settings as well as most of the characters belong to Pixelberry (except for Alexis O’Brien and her evil father George O’Brien JR).

To catch up: Masterlist

To my beautiful, incredible beta readers @drxkewalker @pedudley thanks for helping me with your ideas and support and reading so many snippets! Your comments always make me smile !!    @mskaneko Thank you so much for this new mood-board, I LOVE it, it’s just perfect 

Love you girls ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

I'm tagging those who asked, if you want to be added to the list, just ask :)

 @drxkewalker @pedudley @pug-bitch @burnsoslow @lauzales​ @desiree---1986​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @yukinagato2012​ @kingliam2019​ @ibldw-main​ @desiree---1986​ @debramcg1106​ @mskaneko​ @msjr0119​

After confronting her father, Alexis felt exhausted. Years of fighting him had taken a toll on her. The loss of the only man she had ever loved was the last straw in a series of tragedies that her own father had provoked, and she felt like she didn’t have the strength to fight him anymore

The worst part was to think about Drake, about his pain, the disappointment in his voice, the hateful look on his eyes. Alexis had done everything she could so he would hate her, but now that it was done, she didn’t know how she was going to actually live with it. She hated herself much more than he would never do.

Alexis heard the knocks at her door, and tried to ignore them; too tired and too sad to answer, but the tapping persisted. Finally, she went to open it, decided to chase away whoever it was.

“Max.” She sighed. “I can’t talk to anyone right now, I’m sorry.” She made an attempt to close the door, but Maxwell put his foot between it and the frame. His heart tugged seeing how destroyed she seemed, how swollen and red her eyes were.

“I’m sorry Blossom, but I really don’t think you should be alone right now. Plus, I brought my three best friends.” He grinned showing her a whiskey bottle and a plastic bag with two pints of ice cream. “Jack, Ben, and Jerry.” She smiled through her tears. “Please, Lexie, we can talk or get wasted or eat ice cream or all three, I can show you my own version of a Coke float.” He winked.

She let him in. “I really need a drink right now.”

They sat on the balcony eating ice cream and drinking silently for a while, each of them thinking about their broken heart.

“I really loved him, you know?” Max broke the silence. “I’ve had intense relationships before, but Rashad was the first one I truly loved. The worst part is that I’m pretty sure, he loved me too. And he’s ready to let all those feelings go to waste for some stupid political ambitions.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t do the same Blossom, don’t let your desire of being the First Lady stop you from loving Drake. I’ve known him since we were kids and I’ve never seen him more desperate or broken than today. He really cares for you.”

Alexis turned her head to him, anger stirring through her entire body. “My desire of being First Lady?” She laughed bitterly. “Please, Maxwell! You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She gulped her whiskey, refilled her glass, and gulped its content again.

“You’re right Lexie, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on.” He took her hand. “And for the little I heard, neither does Drake. Perhaps if you actually talked to one of us, we could understand you better.”

Maybe it was all the alcohol she had ingested but suddenly she found herself opening up to him. “I did a horrible thing in my youth, something Drake would never be able to forgive me for.” She sighed sadly. “Because of that mistake I have to protect someone and my father is taking advantage of it. If I don’t do what he says, the person I care about the most in the world will get hurt.” She gulped yet another glass and quickly refilled it again.

Max couldn’t believe his ears “Wait a minute Blossom.” He lifted his hands. “Are you being this cryptic on purpose? I don’t understand anything. What do you mean your father is taking advantage of it? I mean he’s your father, Lexie. And I can assure you there’s not much Drake wouldn’t forgive you”

“Well, this is one of those few things, Max. He hates me now, but even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to forgive this. And yes, George is my father. He’s also the most despicable man on earth. And I assure you, his threats are not empty. He wants control of Cordonia’s commerce, and nothing will stop him until he gets what he wants.”

Maxwell was starting to understand. “So he wants you to marry Liam, the next president, to help him.”

She nodded without adding anything else.

Max stood up. “I understand better why you insisted that you liked Liam when it was so obvious you were falling for Drake, and why you left him like that.” He turned around to see her crying. “Oh Blossom, you should talk to them, I promise they would try to help you, both of them.”

She looked at him terrified “No, Max! Promise you won’t tell them anything. Either of them. Please, you don’t know how much there’s on stake here. If something happens to my- ... I can’t even consider it.”

Maxwell sighed, visibly uncomfortable “Ok, Lexie. I won’t. I think it’s a horrible idea, but I won’t say anything.”

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Drake woke up feeling like crap. After getting wasted at the bar, one equally drunk Leo had taken him to his cabin, where he had slept uneasily, seeing her face every time he closed his eyes.

When he had set the meeting with Liam, Drake had planned to be honest with his best friend and tell him that he had fallen for Alexis too.  It was the first time in his life that Drake felt that kind of wild passion; of deep connection with someone, so he was determined to fight for her. But now, all the consequences of his carelessness were about to crush him. Drake had to face the fact that the sweet, passionate woman he had seen in her, simply didn’t exist. The fact that he had betrayed his best friend for someone who didn’t love him back. The fact that deep down he had always known that she was too good for someone like him, someone his own mother had abandoned. Alexis had been born to shine in Liam’s arm, to be his wife and rule beside him.

When he finally arrived at the Beaumont’s estate, Drake had made up his mind; the best thing was to let her go. Let her be happy with Liam and try to move on, even if he had no idea how he was going to be able to do that.

At Ramsford, he went directly to the brothers’ study, where he knew Liam would be working already, and entered it without knocking.

Drake immediately saw in Liam’s demeanor that that morning he wouldn’t be facing his best friend, the brother he had grown up with but the politician, the future president of the country. He wasn’t intimidated. 

“Sit, Drake, please.” Liam was comfortably seated with his elbows resting on the desk, the tips of his fingers touching. “Could you tell me where have you been these past two days? Where did you take Alexis?”

Drake looked straight at him, he wasn’t going to lie. “To my cabin near Portavira.”

Liam looked back at him coldly. “Could I ask why?”

“She had a panic attack two nights ago and needed to go away, so I took her to the only place I could think of,” Drake replied calmly, staring back at his friend.

“Was Max with you?” Liam was getting angrier at the second, the tension between the two almost brothers growing.

Drake growled. “Fuck Liam! Is this an interrogatory?” Liam seemed imperturbable, so Drake answered the question. “No, he wasn’t.”

Liam's posture remained calm, without showing all the rage he was feeling. Before asking the next question, he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. “Did something happen between you? Did you two…” Liam swallowed, unable to complete the sentence.

Drake had never felt so guilty and stupid at the same time. “Listen, Liam, the only thing that should matter now is that she cares for you.” 

-He is not denying it- Liam thought furious.

Drake felt a, now familiar, pang in his chest. “Alexis told me she cares for you before she left with Max.” He stood up to pour himself a drink from the minibar and gulped it down.

Liam remained seated looking at the man that had been his best friend for over twenty years. He felt betrayed by him, but seeing how rattled Drake seemed, a hideous thought started creeping his mind.

“Drake,” he stood up to pour himself a scotch too, “are you in love with Alexis?”

Drake arched his brows, mockingly. “You know me better than that Li, I don’t do love. I don’t absolutely feel anything for her, but she does for you, end of the story.”

Liam thought about what he was about to say. “Alexis and I are not really together yet. However, I’m planning to talk to her today. If she accepts to be with me, I don’t want you near her.”

Drake sighed. “Li-“

Liam raised his hand interrupting him. “I don’t think you’re understanding me, Drake. I won’t care about our friendship the same way you didn’t care about it these past two days. If I see you near her, I will end you.”

Drake shook his head and spoke with a deep voice, anger in his tone.  “No, Liam, is you who doesn’t get it. I don’t care about her at all. Do whatever you fucking want.”

“It’s settled then. If she wants to, she belongs with me.” He patted Drake’s back and sat again. “Let’s forget about this and keep working on the campaign”

Drake nodded, he was going to need another whiskey.

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Alexis woke up next to Maxwell, both of them had passed out together on the balcony after the third bottle.

She looked at the time on her phone.

“Shit! I have to meet Li in thirty minutes for lunch.” She saw Maxwell looking intently at the estate’s parking. “What is it Max?”

“I don’t want to worry you Blossom, but Drake’s jeep is here.” The mere mention of his name made Alexis’s heart skip a beat but she tried to hide it.

“Well, he’s Liam’s future Chief of Staff, I imagine they have a lot of work to do. I’m sorry to chase you Max but I have to take a quick shower and prepare myself to my-” She took a deep breath, “date with Liam.”

Maxwell took her by the shoulders, “I remember what you told me last night Lexie, and I still think you should talk to both of them, or at least with Drake.”

She shook her head. “That’s never going to happen. Now if you don’t mind, I really need to take a shower.”

Thirty minutes later, Alexis was ready to go have lunch. She felt a hole in her stomach thinking that she had to feign interest in Liam, hurting him make her feel sick. At 1 p.m. sharp, the young candidate knocked at her door.

“Hi, Liam! What are you hiding there?”

He grinned giving her a beautiful bouquet of pink roses.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” She gave him a small smile and put the roses on a vase next to her bed.

“Are you ready, Alexis?”

“I am, where are you taking me?”

He smiled fondly at her. “I prepared a little something here with Bertrand’s help.” He offered her his arm, she sighed deeply to calm her nerves and took it.    

They walked around the gardens until they finally reached a little gazebo. Bertrand and his staff had prepared a beautiful table with colorful orchids, elegant porcelain china, and crystal champagne glasses.

“Wow, this is beautiful!” Alexis felt relieved that they were hidden in the center of the gardens where they didn’t risk running into him.

“It’s all for you Alexis, you deserve the most gorgeous things in the world.” He pulled a chair so she could sit and made a gesture to call the waiter behind her.

After pouring them a couple of mimosas the waiter went looking for the appetizers giving them some minutes alone.

Alexis was feeling uneasy, so she drank her glass in almost one gulp.

“Are you alright Alexis?” He touched her hand across the table and stroked it softly.

His touch wasn’t electric as Drake’s but comforting, almost soothing, something she desperately needed.

“I’m fine Li, thank you.” Alexis gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was going to have to improve her acting skills.

“I hope you like this, there’s not a lot of good restaurants around the Beaumont’s state.”

“I think all this is lovely Li, I really do.”

The waiter came back with the appetizers and placed them in front of them.

“It smells great.” Alexis felt sick with pretending, but she forced herself to eat something.

Liam raised his glass. “What shall we toast to?”

She raised her glass as well. “To this date?”

“Perfect, for it to go great.” They clinked their glasses.

Alexis took a small bite of the salmon’s mousse in front of her. “It’s delicious”

“I’m glad you like it, you said that you liked everything, so I chose this  It’s one of my favorites”

He reached to take her hand between his again. “I would really like to get to know you better Alexis. Really know you.”

She sighed thinking about the conversations she had had with Drake just 24 hours ago. About all the things they had shared, all the confidences and secrets. Feeling her eyes watering, she took a sip from her drink. “I’m here, Li. Ask anything you want.”

He looked straight at her eyes. “Why did you leave the party at Lythikos two days ago?”

She shook her head, unwilling to share her secret with him. “I had a difficult moment with my father, our relationship is … complicated.”

“And for that, you needed to leave two days?” Liam asked, arching his brows.

“Yes,” Alexis stated simply.

He rubbed her face with his hand. “If there’s something I can help you with, just tell me Alexis, and I will.”

“Thank you, Liam. Everything is fine.” She smiled. “This is excellent too.” Avid to change the subject, she pointed at the main course the waiter had just brought them.

“Ah! Carbonara pasta, it was my mother’s favorites. She used to cook it all the time, so it became my favorite as well.”

She reached to stroke his arm across the table. “How old were you when she…?”

“Nine, it was very hard. After her death, my father married Regina, and she is not the warmest woman in the world.”

Her heart tugged at his sadness. “I’m sorry, Li. You must have a lot of good memories of her.”

“I do. She loved to sing and play the guitar. She used to take me, Leo and Drake to these picnics and played with us. She was a great mother, I’m sad you could not meet her, she would have loved you”

-No, she would have hated me- “I’m sure I would have loved her as well”.

They spent the next hour talking about happy memories of their childhoods. Alexis was happy to hear all about Liam’s and Drake’s pranks when they were little boys. Finally, they finished their dessert.  

Liam looked tenderly at her for a long moment before he spoke. “Alexis, I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I want you to know that I am serious about this, about us. I’m a man who knows what he wants, and I want you. Desperately. You are the most beautiful, charming, fascinating woman, I have ever met and I want you in my life.”

This was it. Her future, her fate had finally caught up with her. Trying to put all memories of Drake out of her mind she smiled weakly at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Me too, Li.” He took her chin between his fingers and softly kissed her.

After a few seconds, they parted and Liam cleared his throat before speaking. “I just want to clarify something. Everything that has happened before today does not matter because we were not officially together. However, as I told you before, I am very serious about you. If you accept to be with me, nothing like that can happen again. The next time that you have a problem, you come to me and no one else.”

She didn’t know how much he knew about the two days she had spent with Drake but judging by his words much more than she thought.

“I understand, Li.” She tried to ignore her heart aching. “From now on, it’s only you and me. You don’t have to worry.”

He stood up giving her his hand so she could stand in front of him, he caressed her cheek with his thumb and kissed her passionately.

Alexis was feeling a mix of guilt and despair, it didn’t matter how much she tried, her heart, mind, and body belonged to Drake now, and she was going to condemn Liam and herself to a loveless life. She knew Liam wasn’t completely certain about her, that he was going to need some reassurance from her part.

“I trust you, love.” Liam looked at her lovingly. “In fact, I was thinking that I could introduce you as my fiancée tonight.” Alexis inhaled a deep breath, he stroke her arm gently. “I know that it’s a little early for that and that I haven’t officially proposed but I cannot think of a better way to introduce you tonight.” He leaned to kiss her. “With my choice of career, it’s where we are headed anyway. You know that darling, right?”

She nodded, trying to pass her sorrow for emotion at his words.

“Yes, of course.”

“You’re making me the happiest man in the world.” He took her hands and pressed them against his lips.

“I’m happy too, Li. Let’s go back to the state, I need to prepare for the Beaumont Bash tonight.”

He gave her his arm again and they walked back to the mansion unaware of the pair of chocolate eyes watching them from the East balcony.

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Thirty minutes before the gala Olivia knocked at Drake’s door.

When he opened it the first thing she noticed was the strong smell. The whiskey odor came as much from him as from the room itself.

“What the fuck, Drake? We have to be at the bash in 30 minutes, we’re supposed to look impeccable and you look like a Whiskey barrel just rolled over you.”

“Leave me alone Nevrakis, I’m in no mood for the gala.”

“You do not have a choice, Walker. So, go hop into the shower while I look for a proper suit. That is if I can find one that’s not stinking of whiskey. NOW”

After the shower, he came back into the room and found a blue suit on the bed. He got dressed and joined Olivia who was waiting outside.

“Care to tell me what was that pathetic pity party about?”

Drake kept on walking. “None of your business”

“Come on, Walker we are usually honest with each other, so cut the crap.”

Drake didn’t respond. His mind was full of images of Liam kissing Alexis, taking her by the arm, acting like she was his. He felt a sudden urge for whiskey that only deepened when they arrived at the gala. There they were, together. She looked stunning in a golden lamé dress and he looked like a Prince in a black tuxedo, the perfect picture of success.

Occupied with her own jealousy, Olivia took a moment to notice the change in Drake’s attitude. Drake’s fist clenched at both sides of his body and his usual sarcastic smirk had transformed into a rageful scowl addressed at his best friend. Luckily, Liam was too busy greeting his guests and holding the American woman to notice.

“Drake, for the last time. What the hell is going on?” She followed his gaze and suddenly, realization washed over her. “Oh fuck! You like that woman! That’s why you disappeared for two days at the same time as her. My staff told me that they saw you coming out of my cellar with some girl, it was her. Liam’s girl.”

He turned at her furious. “She wasn’t with Liam then.”

“Well, she sure is now” Olivia and Drake witnessed how Liam placed a kiss on Alexis' cheek and whispered something in her ear. Olivia took Drake’s arm reassuringly and walked towards the new couple.

“Come on, we are obliged to greet them. We’ll do it fast and then we’ll get wasted at the bar. Both of us”

Alexis felt his piercing chocolate eyes on her before turning her head.  Her breath hitched, her hands started to shake, and her heartbeat increased considerably, threatening to throw her heart out of her chest. She inhaled, trying her best to hide the anxiety. Liam must have seen Drake too because he immediately tightened his grip on her waist possessively.  

“Welcome to the gala, Olivia” She offered Liam her hand and he kissed it before adding coldly, “Drake.” He looked directly into Drake’s eyes. “You both know Alexis, my fiancée.”

Drake could physically feel his heart shattering at Liam’s words, but he did his best to show them a cool, aloof façade.

“I’m very happy for you both.” He addressed himself to Liam first and then added looking at Alexis, “you make a beautiful couple.” Drake took her hand as Liam had done with Olivia’s. Without taking his eyes off of hers, he turned it, brushing a small kiss on the sensitive skin in the back of her wrist. Her fragrance immediately flooded into his nostrils, intoxicating him. A furious blush colored her cheeks, and her eyes were actively avoiding his.  Alexis prayed that Liam hadn’t noticed, but he had turned his head to talk to Olivia.

“Well, we have more guests to greet, see you both at dinner.” Liam turned to Penelope and Hana who were entering the ballroom.

“Come on Walker” Olivia patted his back.“Let’s get wasted”

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Maxwell was at the door looking over the last details of the party when he witnessed the exchange between Alexis, Liam, and Drake and felt deeply sad for all of them. Maxwell didn’t fully understand Alexis’ reasons, but she had seemed so scared at the idea of anyone finding out about her father’s threat that he had made an impossible promise. However, seeing his two best friends treating each other as enemies and Alexis so utterly devastated made him make a new decision. He was going to have to break his promise.

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Liam and Alexis had the first dance of the night as it was the tradition for the honor guests at the Beaumont Gala. He was an amazing dancer and swirled her around with ease and confidence, holding her tightly against him. She tried to remain calm as long as she could but seeing Drake had deeply shaken her. She couldn’t avoid feeling insanely jealous when she saw him arrive with Olivia. Without even noticing it, her eyes looked for him all across the ballroom until she felt his gaze from the bar. Alexis locked eyes with him over Liam’s shoulder. Drake was clutching his glass, his knuckles almost white as he watched them together. His eyes didn’t leave her for one second, but she wasn’t sure what was on them, finally, he broke their eye contact, drank his glass, and left.

Drake watched Liam and Alexis slide along the room together, unable to detach his eyes off of them, feeling like a blade slowly pierced him, every time Liam whispered something on her ear or pulled her closer to his chest. Only one day before, she was completely his and now she was dancing in another man’s arms like their story hadn’t even happened. He dreaded the mixture of things dwelling in the pitch of his stomach, the intense hatred mixed with his feelings for her, stronger than ever.  As he watched her move, he realized that her eyes were looking for someone across the ballroom, and then they stopped when they locked with his own gaze. Rage flooded through his veins. How dare she taunt him like that? He didn’t know what game she was playing at, but he wasn’t going to stay to find out. He gulped what was left of his whiskey and left the room before the song was finished.

When the song was finally over, she excused herself with Liam and decided to leave the party for a few minutes. She saw a door open in the hallway and entered the room to calm down before coming back to the gala.

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Tariq watched Alexis and Liam greet their closer guests. He hadn’t forgotten about how Alexis had humiliated him at that bar a month before.

“Hi T!” Tariq turned to the beautiful woman next to him. “Do you know her?” She cocked her head towards Alexis.

Tariq arched his brows “I met that whore in a bar, she behaved like she was above me before leaving with Drake Walker, and here she’s a month later parading in Liam Rhys’ arm like she’s a fucking virgin”

A smile formed on her lips, this was going to be much easier than she thought. “You know, I might have a little idea of how you can teach her what a real man is, T.”

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Alexis entered the study so fast she didn’t realize that Drake was already there leaning his back against the wall drinking a glass of whiskey. Her heart stopped, she turned around as fast as she could to leave the room when she heard his voice.

“Are you following me, O’Brien?”

“No, I’m sorry I- I didn’t see you come in here” her soft voice made him even angrier.

He placed the glass on the desk and moved in front of the door to prevent her from leaving the room.

She took a sharp breath “Let.Me.Pass”

As much as he hated her, he wanted to be as close to her as he could. It was driving him mad.

She inhaled sharply “What do you want Drake?”

Drake took two steps in her direction making her walk backward until her back was against the wall, he placed his hand against it, trapping her, his left arm on one side of her, the wall on the other.

“What do I want?” he scoffed “What do I want?” He leaned towards her. Her heart started racing furiously, being this close to him made her feel drunk.

He looked at her intently “I want you fucking out of my head. I want you to tell me what sick game you’re playing at, because I saw you looking for me while you were dancing with your fiancé.” His face was only a few inches from her, his raspy voice in her ear had the immediate effect of goosebumps emerging all along her arms. He noticed them so he stroke one arm gently, locking his gaze on her. “I want to know why you’re trying to drive me insane.” He got closer to her, smelling her neck, almost kissing it “I can feel the effect I have on you, O’Brien.” Her breath hitched when he took her chin between his fingers “And you know what? Twenty-four hours ago, I would’ve killed for you” He got even closer to her mouth “I want you to know that I would’ve done anything to make you happy” Her smell was making him lose all self-control, he finally crashed his mouth with hers kissing her hungrily, Alexis responded to the kiss even more desperately, tugging his hair between her fingers. He stopped furiously with himself for giving in to her, so he grabbed her hands “but now? Now, I despise you, and I want you out of my life, that’s what I want.”

The contempt and hurt on his eyes were too much for her to bear. She freed herself from his grip and pushed him away. “Don’t worry, Drake. You got it. Now let me pass.”

He raised his hands mockingly taking a step backward so she could pass. “By all means, Ms. Rhys”

She left the room shutting the door angrily after her.

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He was waiting for her at their usual meeting point.

“I talked to Tariq, he was easier to convince than I thought, he will make it look like she wanted it, don’t worry”

“Are you sure? It has to be credible”

“Don’t worry, he understands. I also have a photographer in the right position. Soon, all Cordonia’s news will be talking about the new future first lady and what a whore she is, Liam will be humiliated.”

He smirked before kissing her. “That’s perfect”

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Maxwell saw Drake walking furiously towards his room

“Drake!” Maxwell ran behind him “Fuck, Drake! Stop! I need to tell you something important!”

He stopped. “What do you want Beaumont? I'm really not in the mood for your nonsense right now.”

“I know, it’s about Lexie.”

Just hearing her name hurt. “I’m not interested.”

“But, Dr-“

“Are you deaf Beaumont?? I’M.NOT.FUCKING.INTERESTED.”

Maxwell had spent his childhood being friends with Drake and his frequent outbursts; he wasn’t going to be impressed easily.

“She needs you!” He yelled back “She’s scared and desperate and needs you.”

He stopped dead in his tracks at Maxwell’s words and turned around slowly.

“What do you mean scared? Of what?”

“I don’t know. She wasn’t very expli-”

Drake sighed, annoyed “She’s messing with your head, Beaumont. It’s what she does best”

“Argh! Would you shut the fuck up and listen for one second?” He yelled.

Drake arched his brows, he wasn’t used to seeing that side of Maxwell.

“She told me that her father is threatening with… something… and because of a mistake that she made when she was younger, she has to do what he says. That’s why she’s with Liam. Believe me, Drake, I spent last night comforting her, she’s incredibly sad and desperate.”

Drake scoffed but a small part of him wondered, her father was certainly capable of doing something like that, and it would definitely explain a lot of what had happened between them.

Maxwell watched his best friend debate with himself.

“Look, she didn’t even want me to tell you, hell she begged me not to. But she was terrified, I swear Drake. Please talk to her”

Drake knew right then that he didn’t have a choice. Not really. If she was feeling scared ... terrified, he had to be there for her, he had to help her.

“I’ll talk to her Max”

Max grinned relieved. “Now?”

Drake ran a hand through his hair. “Not now, we just  fought and I’m still very drunk from the party, but tomorrow, first thing in the morning, I will make sure she’s fine.”

“Ok, buddy.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “I’ll go to sleep now and…” He patted Max on his back. “Thank you Max, you’re a good friend.”

Tariq watched from the corner he was hiding, how Drake and Maxwell say good night to each other before taking the left corridor to their rooms. When they were out of sight, he took the right side of the hall where he was told Alexis’ quarters were. He put his hand on his pocket to make sure the key to her room was still there when he felt it, he grinned to himself thinking about her all alone in her room. His night was definitely going to be unforgettable.

[shutupandshipit]

Little Life - Ch.6

Summary:  A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.

…..

Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 6/16

Previous <- Chapter 5

Chapter 7 -> Next

Master Post

Chapter 6: 4 Months

Izuku was lying on top of Katsuki, head pillowed on his chest and body blanketed, when he shifted to prop his chin on his threaded fingers. He considered Katsuki for several moments before asking, "What do you think about coming out to the others?"

Katsuki's phone promptly assaulted him. He batted the offending piece of technology away as pain lanced through his nose and teeth, holding his nose as he glared down at his mate. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

"I don't know," Izuku mumbled quietly, tracing nonsensical patterns into the bare skin of Katsuki's chest. He sighed, and looked back up. "We've been together for almost eight months. I want to be able to talk to Ochako, Iida, Todoroki and Mom about us. I want to be able to sit with you on the couch in the common room and eat with you and hold your hand around everyone without them looking at us like we grew an extra head. All we do is eat together sometimes, and they already do that. And..." He trailed off, cheeks growing pink as he dropped his head down again. Soft lips pressed to Katsuki's skin, breath moist and hot.

"And?" Katsuki prompted when it seemed like he wasn't going to continue. He let go of his face, cupping the back of Izuku's neck instead.

Another sigh spread out against his skin. Izuku turned his head so that his cheek was resting against his breast bone. "I don't want to have to sneak around anymore. Mostly though, I just want to be able to claim you. I hate seeing other alphas eyeing you like they'd love to get you under them. Like you're a piece of meat." He nuzzled up into the heat beneath Katsuki's jaw, and Katsuki purred in response. "I know it bothers you when other omegas are talking to me, trying to blanket me in their scent even though they could never hope to cover up yours. Everyone always assumes we smell like each other because we train together in the mornings. I hate it."

Katsuki threaded his fingers into Izuku's curls, gently scratching at his scalp until Izuku's chest began to rumble. He hated it too, and in the weeks since coming out to Kirishima, he'd considered the idea multiple times. They had already agreed that they wouldn't officially mate until they'd had a chance to live together outside of high school, that had never been under negotiation. This other secret had begun to wear at him though in the last couple of months when his need for contact had been the highest, steeling kisses in an empty classroom and hidden touches when he really needed them. If he could take what he needed in the light of day, it'd be easier. He thought it would make everything simpler even if it would invite others into their business and unwanted comments, it would just make things easier.

He also hated the idea with a passion that rivaled his fifteen-year-old ire. He hated that people would know this secret little part of Izuku that up until then had been only his.

The thought of pack was an intoxicating plus though.

So, he said, "Okay. Sure. Yeah."

Izuku's head snapped up, nearly striking him in the chin. "Really?"

"What? You don't actually want to?"

"No, it's just that I wasn't expecting you to agree so quickly."

Katsuki shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. "They're going to find out eventually. We're not exactly subtle, and I'm sure at least a few know already. They're not all as oblivious as you are."

Laughing, Izuku kissed the underside of his chin. "That was almost a compliment."

"Yeah, well, it had to happen at some point."

"How are we going to do it though?"

"Well, if you tell your dumbass friends and I tell my nosy ass friends, it'll spread without any work from us. The whole school will literally know before the day is over. The two top students dating will be the hottest gossip any of them will hear the entire time they're here. It'll be worse than when Beady Eyes and Amajiki got engaged."

"Why do you know Amajiki's name, but not Mirio's?" Izuku asked with a happy little laugh.

Katsuki waved away the question. "Kirishima never shuts up about him. You'd think they were the ones engaged."

"Well, Kirishima is a really loyal friend and gets excited for the people he cares about."

"Yeah, sounds like some green-haired dumby I know." He grinned down when Izuku huffed.

They settled more completely into each other. It wasn't ten minutes later that Katsuki felt something very stiff pressing into his abdomen. "Deku," he said threateningly. He could almost feel as Izuku's face flush with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry!" he whined, "I've been really pent up lately, and we haven't done this in a long time. It's been longer since we've had sex. You haven't been feeling well so I haven't said anything. I didn't want to pressure you or anything."

Katsuki huffed. Like Izuku could ever pressure him. Since getting pregnant, his libido had been admittedly nonexistent unlike his research had told him. Probably because of all the puking and headaches and harboring a literal leech in his body or something. Even now with Izuku's dick pressing into him, the offer of sex wasn't all that appealing when before he would have already been ravaging the idiot.

"I haven't gone into a rut in months, so I haven't even had that," Izuku mumbled.

'Yeah,' Katsuki thought, 'That makes sense.'

They'd learned during this year's sex-ed that when an alpha's omega got pregnant, it completely shut off the hormone that caused both parties to have their cycles. All energy went into providing for their omega and growing pup. Something about an evolutionary survival mechanism. He was just lucky Izuku was too dumb to connect the dots.

And there were so many dots to connect at this point. Any two would lead to the same conclusion.

Katsuki mulled over the concept silently, letting Izuku stew in his embarrassment for a little while longer. "We can have sex on one condition," he said, and Izuku startled against him, "You're topping. I'm not in the mood to put in all that work. That, and you're always so goddamn loud when you bottom, and I don't want that purple ball haired pervert listening at the wall. If you bend me into a pretzel again though, I'm never going to let you touch me again."

Izuku laughed as he pushed himself up to lean in for a kiss. "Okay, I can do that," he said.

Katsuki willingly wrapped his limbs around Izuku, and melted completely into the heat of his touch.

.....

The next morning, they went downstairs to the sound of Sunday morning cartoons in each others clothing. Izuku slumped in a near unconscious, whining heap across Katsuki's shoulder. He was a terrible morning person even when it was already ten.

"Kacchan, I'm tired! Let's go back to bed," he wheedled, but Katsuki ignored him.

They were completely drenched in each others scents and pheromones from the night's activities, and their appearance caused the kind of shock that he'd planned on. All heads turned to them in complete silence as he dragged the useless heap into the kitchen to grab several water bottles. He wasn't about to cook for the fucker after getting wrecked by him the night before, so he just grabbed fruit and granola bars before beginning the trek back upstairs.

Kirishima grinned widely at him, and he jerked his chin up in silent greeting.

As he mounted the stairs, he heard Mina hiss accusingly, "Did you know about this, Eiji? You've been holding out on me, jerk!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kirishima replied innocently.

"Kirishima!" the group shouted in outrage.

[iwroteinapastlife]

Artist

It’s @chlonathweek day 5 and we gettin angsty up in here~

***

“No, Chloé. Since Sabrina will be out of town for the rest of the week, you’ll have to pick a different partner for the art project.”

When he was six years old, Nathaniel’s mother had told him that life was about opportunities. Every moment was an opportunity, from the greatest of life’s changes to the smallest of life’s details. Every moment was a choice—a choice of stay or go, a choice of start or stop, a choice of do or don’t. Every choice had its consequences and it was on those consequences that human lives were decided. On those consequences that opportunities were taken.

And it was a simple fact of life, she had told him, that the consequences unknown, the opportunities left untaken, were the ones he would dwell on the most.

Perhaps it was the thought that he was sick of dwelling that brought Nathaniel to take the opportunity presented before him. That brought Nathaniel to raise his hand.

“I’ll do it.”

A general level of friendly chatter had sprouted in the class as students had begun discussing project plans, but conversation eased to halt then. He knew every set of eyes in the room was on him. His eyes were only focused on one.

“No,” she immediately said. She addressed the teacher, but those cold eyes never left him. “Madame Bustier, I’d prefer to do the project on my own.”

He tried not to let his fear show. He tried not to run from that soul-shaking gaze.

“Chloé, that would leave Nathaniel without a partner too. Plus, working with the class artist will be beneficial to your art grade.” In his peripheral, he saw Madame Bustier wave him forward. “Thank you for volunteering, Nathaniel. You can come sit next to Chloé for the rest of class.”

The twitch of her jaw. A look like murder. Then eye contact was broken and in just that split second before she turned to face forward again, Nathaniel swore he saw something more. Something painful.

If he did, it was hidden again by the time he was sitting down next to her. The rest of the class went on with their discussions, though he didn’t miss the glances of Marinette and Nino as they not-so-subtly spectated.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kurtzberg?” Chloé immediately snapped. “What do you want?”

“What’s the matter, Chloé?” he asked absently as he opened his sketch book to a new page. “I thought you’d be happy to have a partner who can do all the work for you.”

Wait. Shit. The words had slipped out almost as if reflex—fighting fire with fire. Except in this case, it was more like fighting a candle with a flamethrower.

Her jaw fell slightly ajar and her brows pinched together in fury. Her eyes though; swimming in her eyes was a splash of genuine hurt.

Chloé pressed her lips together and looked away without another word. She began gathering her supplies and throwing them in her purse. Guilt was an immediate led weight in his stomach and he knew that in his head, he would be kicking himself for many years to come for being rude to his fucking soulmate. Especially when he was actively trying to get closer to her.

“Wait, Chloé, I’m sorry.” He set his hand on her notebook just as she was reaching for it and that fed up look was on him again.

“Look, I don’t know why you wanted to be my partner and I don’t care. You’re right. You can do the project by yourself.” Even though he wasn’t holding the notebook hostage, she made a point to yank it out from under his hand. A moment later, she stood up and the school bell followed her out the door as if on cue.

He scrambled to grab his stuff and rushed out after her. She had a naturally fast walking pace, but she was definitely going faster than usual. “Chloé, wait!” She had already managed to make it to the school’s front door when he caught up to her. “Chloé!”

“Leave me alone, Kurtzberg,” she spat, still not slowing down.

“Wait!” He caught her wrist and the tips of his fingers met the exact mark that had started this all.

She spun to face him. “What!?”

He didn’t let go. He didn’t move. He was paralyzed under that icy gaze and he didn’t think this far and he didn’t know what to say but he needed to say something and, “The first time I ever spoke to you was when I defended Marinette’s floral design against you,” he blurted.

The worst possible combination of confusion and irritation. “So??”

“So…” His heart slammed against the inside walls of his chest and he knew he couldn’t turn back now. “That exact design is tattooed on the back of my left shoulder.”

At first, there was no change in her expression. It was as if her entire being had come to a screeching halt and the only thing her body knew to do was keep breathing. Then the wrinkles in her forehead softened the slightest bit as understanding took confusion’s place. Irritation, however, remained steady.

“Okay, and?”

He blinked. “And? Chloé, we’re—,”

“Soulmates?” she cut him off. “Yeah, I know. Newsflash, Kurtzberg,” she slipped from his grasp and held up her hand, putting his signature on display, “Your art gets spread around the school like wildfire. I’ve known for years.”

Years.

“Why didn’t you—?”

“Tell you? Are you serious? How was I supposed to tell you when you hated me from the start? When I had to watch you date someone else for two years, call someone else your soulmate for two fucking years? How was I supposed to tell you!?”

That cold fury didn’t budge, but now that hint of hurt he had seen earlier was as present as the guilt weighing heavy in his chest. Seeing her then, an avalanche of understanding came crashing down over his head. He doubted the pain he could clearly see now was even half of what she’d been holding inside. He didn’t know. He had no idea. This whole time, his soulmate was in pain because of him and he didn’t know.

“I… I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say but God that didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Yeah,” she said flatly. “Me too.”

With that, she turned to leave, and again, Nathaniel caught her wrist. Heaving a tired sigh of frustration, she faced him once again. “What do you want, Nathaniel?”

He didn’t know, if he was being honest.

In this moment, he wasn’t in love with her. He wasn’t desperately hoping to kiss her, nor did her clear displeasure with his presence make his heart break. His pulse didn’t spike from a look alone and his name on her tongue sounded no different from any other. She was beautiful—he would have to be blind not to see that—but he didn’t find himself sneaking peaks at her during class nor filling his sketchbook with her visage. When he woke in the morning, his first thought wasn’t of her and he didn’t see her face behind closed eyes when he lay down at night.

He didn’t know her favorite color or her favorite song. He couldn’t tell you what her pet peeves were or what tiny joys she found in life. He had no idea if she preferred the books or the movies, the comics or the show. He couldn’t possibly guess what seemingly harmless topic would spark a 10 minute rant, or what activities she secretly loved that she never wanted anyone to know. Did she like pineapple on pizza? Sprinkles on ice cream? Could she walk somewhere without listening to music? Did she take a water bottle with her everywhere? Chapstick? Lip gloss? Did she prefer writing with pen or pencil? Blue or black ink? Coffee or tea? Hot or iced?

He didn’t know. Chloé Bourgeois was, for all intents and purposes, a total and complete stranger. He didn’t even know if she was human.

“I want to know you,” he finally said.

“Why?”

She was listening. Giving him a chance. The anger was fading from her tone and though she sounded tired, for the first time since he saw her tattoo, he felt he might actually have a chance. An opportunity.

His grip on her wrist tightened the slightest bit, as if afraid that if he let go, she would leave and that opportunity would be lost forever. “Because I don’t know about you, but I know that it would be the biggest regret of my life if I never even tried to get to know my soulmate.”

The slight brightening of her eyes. The tiny intake of breath. It was subtle, almost nonexistent, but he didn’t miss it. The reaction to him calling her his soulmate.

“But you hate me,” she argued. He could hear her desire to fight subsiding with every word. “Don’t try to tell me that you don’t, because we both know that isn’t true.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I do.” His first impression of her had been awful and what he’d learned from Marinette after that had only made it worse. She was a bully, she was selfish, and with her father being the mayor and the richest man in Paris, she was also untouchable. He had never thought to look any deeper than that, because that was all the reason he’d needed to dislike her. But if she was his soulmate…

He shrugged, giving her the smallest of smiles. “And I’m clearly wrong.”

Chloé didn’t say anything. She stood there, looking back and forth between his eyes with an expression that he could only describe as exhausted and unsure. Eventually, her gaze dropped to where he still held her wrist.

With one last reluctant squeeze, he released her. She cradled the wrist in her other hand and swiped a thumb over the tattoo, staring at it as she thought.

“You’re right,” she finally said, voice low. When she looked up again, her usual air of confidence had returned. “You are wrong.” He couldn’t glean from her expression whether that was good or bad. He swallowed thickly, waiting on her every word. She let out a long breath, and with it, an immense weight seemed to ease off her shoulders. “And I probably am too.”

So…Did that mean…?

She fished her cell phone out of her purse and unlocked it. “Give me your number,” she said as she handed it over.

A flurry of pins and needles washed through him then as sincere blue eyes met his. It was the first time she had ever looked at him like that—ever looked at him with anything but antagonism. It wasn’t a happy look, but it was new. And it wasn’t…cold. Her eyes shined like the first day of spring and he could feel their warmth slowly spreading through him. It was a feat just to look away.

He tried not to let his fingers shake as he typed his information into her phone and handed it back.

“I’ll text you about the art project,” she said, and with one last look over her shoulder, walked away.

[hunnywrites]

Growing Pains: Chapter Four

Summary: Life is hard when you’re about to turn 18. It’s even harder when you realize you might be completely out of love with your long time boyfriend, and you can’t stop thinking about the new boy in town.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC, Steve Harrington/OFC

A/N: When I say that Teddi is gonna be risking it all this fic I mean it. Our girl is about to get us all real stressed out from her on out. 

Hopper had let Teddi drink on a few occasions. It was only ever beer. On her sixteenth birthday he had taught her how to shotgun a can and told her that if anyone ever asked where she’d learned it it hadn’t been from him. Tonight though, the two of them sitting on the couch, Hopper grabbed two tiny glasses and filled each of them half way full with some whiskey. Teddi was clutching onto her glass, unable to make herself stop crying completely. Hopper was patient while he waited for her to speak. He just sat there beside her, waiting until she was ready.

“...I don’t think I want to be with Steve anymore.” she finally said. 

Hopper tensed a little. “Did he-”

Teddi shook her head, sniffing loudly. “He didn’t do anything. That’s part of the problem. He’s like...totally amazing. Like, he brought up all of the marriage and kid stuff and I don’t want that with him. I mean, I might not want it with anyone. But I don’t want it with him,” she took a drink, the alcohol helping her get her true feelings out. “When I kiss him it’s like...ugh, I don’t know. Like kissing my brother or something. I’d rather kiss Heather, and I don’t even know if I like girls.”

Hopper sat there on the couch, his mouth slightly open, blinking wildly. He drank the rest of his whiskey, pouring more into his glass. “Okay...there’s a lot for me to unpack there,” he said with a heavy sigh. “The simplest answer I can give you...break up with the guy.”

Of course Teddi knew that. Heather had already told her that. She had told herself the same thing even. But it wasn’t that simple. “I can’t do that. I don’t wanna hurt him.” Teddi groaned, sinking in her seat. 

“And you think pretending to like him is gonna spare his feelings?” of course it wouldn’t. Teddi would just be stuck in a miserable position until she snapped and she hurt Steve even more than she would now. 

Teddi sighed, taking another drink. “Can’t you just like...make yourself love someone again?”

Hopper chuckled. “Trust me, kid, it’s not possible. Things would be a hell of a lot easier if you could,” he grumbled. “Alright, I’m gonna tell you something that might sound a little...conflicting here, but you need to start being a little more selfish,” Teddi raised an eyebrow. “You’ve always put everyone else before yourself, Teddi. Don’t get me wrong, I love it about you. You know how proud I am of you and El and how selfless you two are. But look at you. You’re making yourself miserable to spare someone’s feelings. Steve’ll be fine. You’re still kids. He’s got plenty of time to find someone else. You both do.” 

Teddi chewed on her bottom lip. She was gonna have to bite the bullet and end things with Steve. It was what was best for the best of them. She decided against bringing Billy up with Hopper. That was a completely different issue that she would have to deal with on her own. Not to mention it might actually cause Hopper to have a stroke. “...Thanks, dad. You’re right. I should just break up with him.” she said with a heavy sigh. 

Hopper smiled over at her, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “It’s no problem, kiddo. I’m sorry I’m not better at all this...boy talk.” he said with a chuckle. 

Teddi smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re better at it than you think.”

Hopper’s proud grin was back. “Yeah? Huh...well, what do you say I find us some I Dream of Jeannie reruns? You loved watching her when you were a kid.” He picked up the remote, flipping through the channels.

“Sounds perfect.”

—-

The next morning Teddi wouldn’t get out of bed. She wouldn’t get out of bed when Hopper made her her breakfast of champions, a stack of eggos with strawberry jam and a Coke, or when he sent El in to ask if she was sick. He wondered if maybe she had called Steve after he’d gone to bed and ended things. He knew teenage girls tended to mope around after a breakup. Eventually Hop couldn’t stand it anymore. It was almost noon and Teddi hadn’t moved from her bed. So he called in the big guns. 

“Teddi?” Hopper called softly, knocking on her door. “There’s someone here to see you.” Teddi didn’t answer. 

“Don’t worry about it, chief. I got this,” Heather said, holding up her hand and shooing him away from the door. Hopper shot her an unsure look before letting out a grumble and heading for the couch. Heather slipped into Teddi’s room, shutting the door behind her. “God, Teddi, what happened?” 

Teddi slowly sat up in her bed, making room for Heather. Heather wouldn’t tell her so, but Teddi looked truly pathetic. “I have to break up with Steve.” was all she said, looking at Heather with wide, sad eyes. 

Heather rolled her eyes, scoffing loudly. “You mean you haven’t even done it yet? Have I ever told you how dramatic you are?”

“I can’t make myself yet!” Teddi groaned. “I feel like the worst person ever. He took me to the movies last night and everything was fine. Then we went back to his place...I couldn’t even make myself have sex with him. I ended up crying. God, Heather, I’m such an asshole.” she hid her face in her hands. 

“You are not,” Heather huffed, pulling Teddi’s hands away from her face. “...Can I be honest? I’ve sort of been waiting for this to happen for a while,” Heather confessed. Teddi looked at her best friend with a confused frown. “I mean, it was fine in the beginning and everything. But you two have sorta grown into two completely different people now. And you just don’t like…” Heather stopped to think of the right way to word it. 

“We don’t match?” Teddi asked with a sigh, repeating Billy’s words. 

“Exactly! You don’t match. Steve’s a nice guy, don’t get me wrong, but he’s...I mean, he’s nice.” she cringed a little as she said it. “He’s a sort of too much of a pushover for someone like you.” she explained. 

Teddi let out a small laugh, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her knee. “So you’re saying I should date Tommy H?” she joked.

Heather made a face. “Gross. No. Even if you and Tommy were the last two people on Earth. Demand a recount,” they both laughed. Heather tugged on Teddi’s arm lightly. “I think we should go out. Do something fun.” Heather suggested. 

“I have to go to work-”

“I already called Freddy and told him you weren’t coming in. You’d just bum out the kids. And Steve isn’t supposed to be working today so that means we can go to the mall and put a nice dent in that nest egg of yours.”

Teddi laughed a little. She supposed it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It had been awhile since she’d gone out for some retail therapy. Plus, it would probably be better than having Hopper hover outside of her room all day and she did need new clothes. “Fiiine. Just let me get dressed.” Teddi changed from her pajamas to a pair of black bike shorts and an old, dark red, plaid shirt she’d jacked from Hopper. She left it unbuttoned, tying the front of it in a knot and slipped on her boots. 

Hopper pretended to be nonchalant as Teddi and Heather made their way through the living room and announced that they were going to the mall, but Teddi knew he was relieved to see her out of bed. Heather offered to drive. When she started the car, the radio came to life, playing I Feel Love by Donna Summer loudly. Teddi shut it off with an angry jab of her finger.

Heather smiled sheepishly. “...Sorry,” 

The mall was packed like it always was on weekends. Heather took Teddi’s hand, pulling her through the crowds of people and towards the Gap. “Teddi, you have to try that on. It’s so you,” Heather came to an abrupt stop in front of one of the mannequins. It was a leopard print sundress that was the same jade green as Teddi’s eyes. Heather grabbed one of the dresses up to the rack, holding it up to Teddi. “You’d look so hot in it!” she assured her. 

“...Alright fine,” Teddi said with a short laugh. “I’ll try it on,” she grabbed a few other things that had caught her eye before disappearing into one of the dressing rooms. She’d been slightly dreading this part of shopping. Her body was different now. Her clothes hadn’t been fitting as well as they once had. She felt almost embarrassed to look at herself once she had stripped down to her underwear. Everything had changed. Her hips were wider. Her butt and thighs. Her stomach no longer had that toned look that she’d gotten from working at the pool. Even her face seemed fuller. More round.

Teddi let out a loud sigh, trying on the sundress first. She took in her reflection for a moment before her shoulders slumped forward. “God, Heather. I look like friggin’ Shannon Tweed.” Teddi groaned, turning in a circle in front of the mirror. She wasn’t entirely sure if that was a bad thing or not.

“Let me see!” Heather said, pushing the curtain aside. “Whoa baby. Those puppies came from all that free ice cream Steve’s been giving you?” 

Teddi blushed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t forget all the stress eating.” she mumbled. 

Heather rolled her eyes, turning Teddi back to face the mirror. “Teddi, you look totally hot in this. You have to get it...maybe just throw a sweater over it or something before you leave the house though so your dad doesn’t like totally freak.” 

Teddi laughed. She looked at her reflection, tilting her head slightly. Heather was right. She didn’t look bad. Just different. A good different. “I guess it doesn’t totally suck.” she finally agreed.

 “Definitely doesn’t suck. God, what’s Harrington’s damage?” Heather asked. Teddi thought back to the night before and how she had covered herself up in front of Steve like she had been embarrassed of her new figure. Steve hadn’t said anything about how she looked now. Like he hadn’t noticed at all. 

Teddi remembered the way that Billy had looked at her at the pool. Her cheeks burned just thinking about it.

“...I’m totally getting ice cream before we leave.” Heather muttered. 

Between the two of them, Teddi was sure they had tried on everything in the Gap. The two girls ran from store to store, trying on new clothes and shoes, each time coming out with more bags than they had coming in with. Heather even bit her tongue long enough for Teddi to stop by the comic book shop. 

The day out had definitely helped lift Teddi’s mood. She hadn’t thought about Steve at all for the last few hours. Even when they stopped into Scoops Ahoy so Heather could get a double scoop of USS Butterscotch. But like all good things, they must come to an end. 

Teddi and Heather were walking past the bookstore when she spotted him. There was Billy; in his jeans that were like a second skin and a Def Leppard shirt. He had his arm around a girl that Teddi recognized. Her name was Mckenna. They’d had english together their senior year. She was a nice enough girl. The two of them were walking out of the movie theater, Billy seemed to be laughing at something Mckenna was saying. 

“Oh no…” Heather mumbled beside her. As if he could sense Teddi watching him, Billy turned, their eyes locking. His smile faded into an almost annoyed expression as he walked by Teddi and Heather. “God, men suck.” Heather muttered. 

Teddi let out a soft sigh. “Yeah…” she didn’t know what she had been expecting. She had a boyfriend. And Billy was an attractive guy. Of course he was gonna ask some other girl out instead of her. But that look he had given her. What the hell had that been about? The longer Teddi dwelled on it, the angrier she got. 

Heather wrapped an arm around her best friend. “...You wanna go stress eat a giant cookie?” she asked carefully.

Teddi was silent for a moment before she nodded. “Yes please.”

—-

It wasn’t very often that Teddi closed at the pool. Usually she preferred the morning shifts (even though she was definitely not a morning person). But Freddy had called and sounded a little desperate, so she figured she’d take the shift. Late shifts at the pool were pretty easy to handle. There usually weren’t as many people around and all of the classes ended in the afternoon. The only downside was that she would be working with Billy. Of course she would be working with Billy. 

When she had showed up for her shift he was perched up in the lifeguard’s chair. He gave her a short wave when he saw her. She ignored him. That was her game plan for the day. Ignoring Billy. It wouldn’t be too hard. She was already avoiding Steve in the hopes that he might break up with her so she wouldn’t have to do it herself. El had already promised to cover for Teddi in case he called home asking for her. 

But now everyone was gone. The pool had officially closed about twenty minutes ago, and Teddi was walking around picking up the things people had left behind throughout the day to add to the lost and found. Billy was skimming a few leaves that had fallen into the water. The only light was coming from the pool, casting an eerie, blue green glow on the pair. Teddi was well aware that Billy was watching her. 

She walked behind him, leaning over to pick up a pair of lone goggles under one of the loungers. “What’s your problem, Weird Girl?” he asked finally. Teddi jumped at the sound of his voice. She turned to him, shifting awkwardly under his gaze. 

“I could ask you the same thing with the look you were giving me at the mall yesterday.” she spat, crossing her arms. 

Billy raised his eyebrows, letting out a laugh. “The look I was giving you? You looked like you wanted me dead.” she supposed she couldn’t really argue there. She was sure she had started scowling when she saw Mckenna with him. 

“...I have a lot of shit going on. I can’t be all smiles and rainbows all the time.” she argued. 

“With Steve?” she hated the way that Billy said Steve’s name. Like it was some sort of joke she wasn’t in on.

“Not everything is about Steve, you know.” and while that was true, Billy had been right on the money. Teddi felt even more annoyed with him. 

Billy fought a smile, leaning against the pool net in his hands. “Then how come your eyes glaze over every time I bring him up?” Teddi wanted to whack him with that pool net. 

“They don’t,” she scoffed. “And what do you care anyways? Aren’t you going out with Mckenna now?” 

Billy smirked slowly. “Jealous, Teddi?”

“No.” 

“Sure seems like it.” he argued. 

Teddi glared up at him. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” 

Billy laughed, almost like he couldn’t believe what Teddi had said. “Me? Sweetheart, you’re the infuriating one. You’re a tease.” 

Teddi gaped at him. “Excuse me?” 

Billy let out a dry laugh, leaning in towards her. “Like you don’t know? You flirt right back with me and flash that little doe eyed look at me every time you’re around. You pull a guy in hook, line and sinker and then you rip it out from under him and start mentioning Steve. You think I’m gonna hang around waiting for you to dump his ass like some little lost puppy?” 

Teddi couldn’t argue with him. She did flirt with him. She returned the looks he gave her. And she was with Steve through all of this. Maybe it was childish of her, but Teddi hated it when people proved her wrong. She always had. Hopper had said she was a bit of a sore loser. 

So she reached out, her hands pressing hard against Billy’s bare chest, and shoved him into the pool. It really did make her feel a little better. Billy pushed back up to the surface, glaring up at Teddi and wiping his face. She smiled down at him, her hands on her hips. 

“What are you, five?” he spat. 

“No. But that felt really good,” she said with a laugh. Teddi stepped forwards, reaching down for Billy’s hand to help pull him out of the water. That had been a mistake. Billy grabbed her wrist roughly, easily pulling her into the water with him. She screamed before she went under. Billy was laughing when she resurfaced. Teddi glared at him, spitting out the mouth full of water at him and pushing her hair out of his face. “Asshole.” she snapped. 

“Giving you a taste of your own medicine, Weird Girl.” he teased, swimming closer to her. 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” she asked with a huff. 

“Because you like weird shit, and I want to.” he said evenly. Teddi rolled her eyes. 

The two of them waded there in the water, neither moving to get out of the pool. Billy was closer now than he’d been before. Teddi would barely need to reach out to touch him. “...I didn’t like seeing you with Mckenna.” she finally confessed.

“I don’t like seeing you with Steve.” 

Teddi let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “This is stupid. We barely know each other.” she said it more to herself than to Billy. 

“Does it matter?” he asked. She supposed not.

Teddi swallowed thickly. “I think- I think I’m gonna break up with him.”

Billy smirked. “You think?”

“I am. I have to. I’m not in love with him anymore.” saying it out loud to Billy, Teddi realized that it was the right decision. For her and Steve. It probably helped that she could feel Billy’s hands just barely ghosting her sides. 

“You’re giving me that look again, Teddi.” he said lowly. 

“What look would that be?” Teddi asked quietly. She realized she was turning the pendant that Billy wore around his neck in her fingers. They didn’t look away from each other. 

That wolf like grin was back. “Like you wanna kiss me but you’re too chicken shit to do it.” he teased. 

Teddi wasn’t sure who made the first move. Maybe it had been her. Proving she wasn’t chicken shit. They kissed, their arms wrapped tightly around each other, with no intention of letting go any time soon.

[softspokentulip]

circadian darling

chae hyungwon x gender neutral!reader

fluff, speckles of angst; “soulmate au where soulmate marks can manifest in various ways: from first words to flower blooms, anything can guide you to your soulmate - the only other person in the world whose mark matches your own perfectly. these marks can be clear as day, or they can be much more subtle.

however, in rare cases, where the mark might be too subtle, it is possible to have two kinds of marks, one of which manifests later in life. this is generally seen in cases where one type of mark isn’t enough to find your soulmate.

you are one such case. (you just don’t know it.)”

word count: 7926

          It is… 3:24 AM.

          You never intend to pull all-nighters. Some nights it’s harder to ignore the feeling of wakefulness than others. Like tonight, which finds your body exhausted from a long day, your eyes struggling to keep open, but your mind unable to just shut up.

          This is how it’s been your entire life. You’ve long since given up on finding ways to make yourself fall asleep: that one trick people swear up and down works like a charm has, at most, made you yawn. You’ve had enough warm milk and soothing teas to last you a lifetime. Playlist after playlist of calming music, rain audio, and even hypnosis videos do nothing for you. On nights like these, it’s easier (and less stressful) to wait for dawn, go about your daily business, and take a nap if you can while the sun watches over you.

          And you hate it.

          You hate that falling into bed is a gamble every night of whether you’ll get some rest. You hate the fatigue that haunts you most days; you hate the sympathy from friends, family, and strangers alike. They already pity you enough when they find out you’re markless - can’t you get a break from being poor (y/n)?

          3:26 AM glows bright red against your skin.

          Evidently not.

          A paper cup is set down in front of your face. “Rough night again?”

          You lift your head from where it rests atop your arms, tired gaze rising to settle on a familiar - sympathetic - face. Instead of answering, you grab the cup and bring it to your lips. The bitterness burns your tongue, jolting you alert. Nyx cringes from where she stands beside the table, as if she’d taken the sip herself. “Jesus, how do you drink that crap?”

          A chuckle bubbles out of you, sounds as resigned as you feel. “It wakes me up fast.”

          “You know, with creamer wakes you up just as quickly. Though, I guess the taste probably helps.” She nods to herself as you take another swig, the taste less shocking with each swallow. “Well, it’s your taste buds anyway, not mine.”

          You place the half-drained cup back down in front of you, and she looks like she wants to say something. “It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” you interrupt. “The first sip is the worst. Shouldn’t you be working?” Sure enough, glancing towards the counter grants you the sight of one of her coworkers impatiently watching your table. They look about ready to drag her back. She must follow your gaze because you hear her swear under her breath before brushing off her apron.

          “Right. Just, before I forget-” she rests a hand on your shoulder, and the ink sheep on her wrist blinks its eyes at you. You distantly observe that its outline is a lighter shade of black than usual. Huh. “Are you gonna be okay for the concert? If you end up feeling too tired that day, we don’t have to go.” The sheep’s head droops at her words, and a quick peek at her expression shows a hint of resignation. And you’re not a fool; you can take a hint.

          So you smile and shake your head. “I’ll be fine. You’ve been looking forward to seeing Monsta X for months. I can handle being a little drowsy.”

          Nyx doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but the coworker from before calls out her name and she takes a step back. “Alright. But please, if it gets worse, go see a doctor!” Her shout draws a few curious eyes, and you can see the red on her cheeks even from here. You roll your eyes, but hold your thumb up nonetheless. She smiles, satisfied, before turning and rushing behind the counter.

          You smile to yourself, too. You’re happy knowing she’ll be meeting her soulmate soon.

          Then your attention returns to your coffee and you frown.

          The things you have to do just to stay awake.

          The young child, whose scraped knee has been long forgotten, stares at you with wide eyes, equal parts curious and nervous. “Um,” his voice comes out small, but you’ve grown used to it by now. “I’m sorry you don’t have a soulmate.”

          And who said kids can’t be cruel? Still, you know his heart is in a good place - plus older people have said about the same much crueler. The sting to your heart is laughably ignorable. “It’s okay, Charlie. I don’t mind it. I can focus on myself, and it’s not as if I can’t be loved. I have my friends and my family, right?.” You swipe the alcohol pad across the bleeding scrape and immediately blow cool against it when he whines.

          “Mhm.” He responds, though he keeps staring at your hands. With a fond smile, you show him a selection of band-aids and happily apply the Hello Kitty one he chooses over his knees. Charlie finally starts again when you gesture that he’s good as new, and that he can go rejoin his friends. “Can I draw on you? Maybe your soulmate is lost and needs help finding you!”

          That makes your heart ache. Kid, I’ve tried that all my life. But he’s only six years old, he doesn’t understand that this is final yet, so you smile instead. “Of course. Let’s go find a marker.”

          Your voice echoes hollow, but he doesn’t seem to notice past his glee.

          It is 6:15 PM when something.. wet? scrawls across the skin of your left forearm. 

          The wind from your car’s air conditioner rolls over whatever it is, cooling it as soon as it drags across you, and, rightfully alarmed, you let out a confused hm and turn away from your phone call to inspect it.

          And you swear your heart stops beating.

          “What is it?” Nyx’s voice reaches through the static, but you don’t hear her.

          Because, just inches from the smiling red heart Charlie had drawn on your palm earlier today, in bold black ink and unfamiliar handwriting, - and an entirely different language - is something you definitely did not write.

          안녕하세요?

          “(y/n)? Everything alright?”

         Oh fuck that feels weird, the ink starts shifting on its own; the letters reshaping themselves, and the closest you can describe the sensation is the feeling of fingertips trailing along your arms so gently, as if in awe of you. And when the feeling subsides, when the new letters settle against your skin, your mind draws a blank.

          Hello?

          “I,” you struggle to be clear and concise, to talk in something louder than a whisper. You can hardly hear yourself, you doubt Nyx can. “I’m coming over.”

          “Now?!”

          “Now.”

          If you flinched even the smallest bit, you could smack her in the forehead with how close Nyx is holding your arm to her face.

          (And the only reason the temptation isn’t there is because you’re preoccupied wondering what the hell is going on.)

          Her eyes are so wide, you would worry about them rolling right out of her head if you weren’t just as wide-eyed, fighting back years’ worth of pent-up tears threatening to make an appearance.

          “Why do I recognise this?” She mumbles.

          “I did not write this my-”

          “That’s not what I’m saying!” She hurries to elaborate, looking up at you with teary eyes of her own. Her grip tightens around your wrist and elbow, and she gives your arm a small shake. “I believe you, (y/n). But this - this is fucking weird. Why did your soul mark develop now, instead of all those years ago? How? I don’t.. This doesn’t make any sense.” The uncertainty in her voice clenches your heart until it feels like it’ll shatter apart. You pull your arm free from her grip and hold it against your chest, as if cradling the mark.

          “I don’t know either! If you haven’t noticed, neither of us is majoring in soul studies!”

          Nyx deflates at your frustration, sheepishness clear in the tremble of her lips. You take a deep breath, a moment to wipe at your still unshed tears, and the dark letters catch your attention. It’s almost funny, how a single word could turn your world upside down. With a shuddering sigh, you bring your arm to your lips and kiss the message. It tastes of hope. “Please be real,” you whisper, voice muffled against the ink.

          Your friend hops to her feet abruptly, quickly stealing your attention back. There’s an excited fire in her eyes. “We have to go see a soul mark analyser! They’ll probably know what’s going on, right?” A chill settles in your bones, old and too familiar. You remember all too well your last experience with an analyser - which had started just as everyone else’s but ended with no good news, with none of the comforts you had been promised. You still remember the way your mother had wept as she cradled you, but you don’t know if she’d been trying to protect you or herself from the truth. You remember the unique and mortifying experience of giving your good friend the news in class the next day, how she hadn’t quite understood the first time, just like you hadn’t.

          Your discomfort must be obvious, or maybe Nyx knows you well, because she takes your hand and gives a reassuring squeeze. “We don’t have to go.” But you should. “I won’t let you go alone, but we don’t have to go at all.” You should.

          A hush falls over the room as she waits for your answer. For a few seconds, you seriously consider declining. You don’t want to get your hopes up only for a soulmate - your soulmate - to be ripped away from you again. It had been easier to come to terms with it because your hopes had been crushed so young, you could spend your developing years accepting it. If it happens again, will the pain be too fresh to heal from?

          But then you look back at your mark, at the questioning greeting on your arm, and you remember the ghost of a lover’s touch, the tingling warmth that had started small but wasted no time encompassing your entire being. Your heart leaps, soars through cloud nine and all the other clouds around it, and you have to make sure this is real.

          “We’ll go.”

          It is 1:43 AM, as you scroll through stories on your phone, that you realize you never tried to respond.

          How easily you forget the fatigue weighing you down. Careful not to make too much noise, you slip out of bed and find your way through the dark to Nyx’s writing desk, grabbing a pen before creeping out of her room.

          You sit down in the hallway, right beside the bedroom door, and pull the cap off. You don’t let yourself think long, fully aware that you’ll fill yourself with doubt if you do.

          Hello? Are you really there?

          And you wait. You’d forgotten your phone inside, and you don’t want to risk waking her by going to get it, so you sit in silence, staring at the wall across from you. What’s a few minutes alone with your thoughts? 

          It feels like centuries crawling along, too slow. You almost want to cry; were you wrong? Did you truly not have a soulmate and had just gotten your hopes up? You’d heard stories of people exhibiting false soul marks, usually caused by a soul unable to accept the loss of their soulmate. Could the same happen to those who never had soulmates to begin with? Was your heart aching so deeply for a soulmate, even now? You thought you’d long since accepted the fact, so why was this happening to you?

          Did you accept that? Yes, you’d brushed it aside, buried it, lived with it since you were eight years old. And of course you were devastated during your adolescent years, but you’d persevered. You were stronger now, weren’t you?

          Another moment’s silence with no response saw you sighing as you rubbed the corners of your eyes and told yourself it was because of drowsiness. You were about ready to retreat to bed to force yourself to sleep, but then you felt it. The faint touch of a pen tip - not your own - pressing your skin. Without another thought, you focused on the new ink slowly drawing itself out on your arm. Syllables formed words you didn’t recognize, and once the writing stopped, they began to trace into new letters, which formed words you did.

          Finally. You kept me waiting, darling.

          Tears suddenly burst forth, drip-dripping onto your arm, and the words smear the tiniest bit. You scramble to pat yourself dry, staining your pajama shirt in the process, before hurrying to respond.

          You’re real. I can’t believe you’re real. And you kiss your words, hoping they can somehow feel your lips.

          A much shorter wait before new words bloom, feeling like a gentle brush of another’s lips. Of course I’m real. Why are you crying?

          They’re happy tears. I didn’t think I had a soulmate. You take a deep breath. I think my soul missed you, even though I didn’t know you.

          Three taps appear as miniscule dots on your skin, and you can’t help but laugh and wonder what they look like when they’re thinking.

          I’ve always been here.

          And I missed you too.

          Exactly seven days later finds Nyx driving you to the clinic of one Dr. Valerie Luneiros, a soul mark analyser that works a town over - and the only one in the area who could fit you into their schedule so soon. You weren’t driving - at Nyx’s insistence: “You should be as stress free as possible.” Which was honestly a nice sentiment, one you were sure you’d appreciate.

          Except you couldn’t possibly be more stressed out.

          You’d been chatting pretty steadily with your soulmate for a few days after that first night. It had been a lot of fun, learning more about each other, establishing a comfortable dynamic. On more than one occasion, after discovering that anything that could be used to find one another would erase itself from your arms, you’d playfully tried to find ways to circumvent that. Naturally, none of them worked, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind. Being able to just talk and joke with someone in a way only you could was the most precious thing in this world to you. 

          (It should have worried you how quickly you’d grown attached, but again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind.)

          But then, a few minutes after the clock struck 8 PM four days ago, you’d received a message: I’ll be away for a while. Good luck with the analysis.

          And that had been the last response you’d gotten. At first, the silence wasn’t so bad. You still had a life to live, after all. Your days were too busy to feel impatient, and you spent your nights either resting fitfully or keeping your mind off the lack of messages with work and stories. When your patience had finally run out, during one night when you’d been unable to sleep and were uninterested in any of your usual distracting tasks, you’d written them a simple Hope everything is okay. And you would’ve been fine, even without a reply, but when it had promptly disappeared, anxiety lunged and wrapped around you like a serpent around its prey.

          Was your soulmate all right? Were they safe? You tried not to worry too much, comforted yourself with the trust that they would explain their radio silence once they returned.

          But four days is a lot of time to ruminate.

          And on top of that, a soul analysis clinic was definitely the last place you ever wanted to set foot in. The scent of sterilization and marginally too-strong citrus was too fresh in your memory, made you nauseous at the mere thought. The first expression of pity ever directed at you was forever burned into your brain, a wound once covered now unveiled and festering. You could still feel the cracking of your little heart once you understood what you’d been told, once you understood why your mother was crying.

          Thoughtlessly, you bring your fingertips to trail along your forearm, tracing the ghosts of letters long washed away.

          The faint sensation of fingers stroking on the other side brought you calm for at least the rest of the car ride.

          Dr. Luneiros’ clinic smells of hot chocolate.

          And to give them more credit, Dr. Luneiros themself is incredibly patient throughout your very unhelpful and highly confused explanation of what’s going on. They nod calmly along, take down notes diligently, and offer you comforting smiles whenever you need to pause. And when they ask if you could go more in depth about your soul mark history, they make it clear you can say no. So despite the anxiety about being in a place like this, you’re grateful that Nyx suggested coming here in the first place.

          But when they ask questions about your sleep schedule, - completely out of left field - you wonder for a moment if this is somehow an elaborate plan to get your possible insomnia problem checked out. Though when you glance Nyx’s way, ready to chew her out, she seems as confused as you feel. As you spill the details, - some of which has your friend gasping, like the time you’d spent three full days asleep - they jot down more notes and nod the more you share. They sort of resemble a bobblehead, actually!

          Until they suddenly smile wide and let out an “I see,” When they set their pen down and rest their stare on you, there’s a shocking amount of joy in their eyes, the constellations on their right cheek pulsing a bright golden glow. “I know what’s going on.” They say so simply, as if those five words don’t knock you out of orbit and leave your mind struggling to wrap around the fact that this makes sense to someone.

          “First of all, I’d like to apologize for the analyser that saw you when you were younger - and have a word with him. Every analyser knows no one is born without a soulmate. Though this kind of mark was discovered fairly recently, so I suppose I can understand how he missed the signs.” Dr. Luneiros stops themself from rambling on when they spot your confusion. “Right, anyway. (y/n), it’s not that you didn’t have a soulmate and now suddenly do. You’ve had one all your life; you just didn’t know how to look for them.”

          Your heart leaps into your throat and settles, choking your voice when you finally manage to ask, “What?”

          They nod, as if you’d said something to nod at. “As you know, soul marks can manifest in various forms, such as on your body, as physical objects, or even in your head.” And it’s your turn to nod, because you’ve known this since you could first remember anything. “Good. Well, they can also manifest so deeply within a person as an effect on one of their bodily functions.”

          You’re connecting the dots -  and Nyx must be too, because you see her through the corner of your eyes, staring at you with a gradually growing smile.

          “It seems your soul mark is present in your circadian rhythm, and that you and your soulmate’s are currently unaligned. Which explains why your sleeping patterns are so irregular.”

          Nyx lets out a cheer so loud and hugs you so tightly, you’d think it was her who the news was for. Still, you can’t dwell on it long because your stunned thoughts are screaming just as loudly. I’ve always had a soulmate. The realization fills your aching heart to the brim with relief, and you suddenly want nothing more than for your soulmate to be here with you already. You want to share this excitement with them, want to rejoice alongside them. Fuck, you want to see them in front of your own eyes, hold them with your own hands, kiss them until you run out of breath. Still, there is a lingering confusion that threatens to drown out your joy.

          “If that’s the case, then how are we chatting back and forth now?” You hold up your now blank forearm. “I thought people could only have one soul mark.”

          The analyser hums. “That’s usually true, yes. However, in special cases such as these, where the initial mark might be too difficult to follow, a second, clearer mark type manifests - generally an indeterminate but short amount of time before the soulmates are destined to meet.” They can barely finish getting the words out of their mouth before Nyx is screaming again and blurring your vision with how suddenly she shakes you.

          “Does that mean (y/n) will meet their soulmate soon?!”

          Oh, now you really feel lightheaded, and not just because of how much you’re being shaken.

          Did you know we’re apparently destined to meet soon?

          Washed away.

          Is everything okay?

          Washed away.

          Please answer me.

          Washed away.

          You know I can see you erasing this, genius. Are you ignoring me?

          Washed away after three minutes.

          Are you not excited to meet me?

          A short pause, before a dark cool line suddenly swipes along your forearm and washes away shortly after.

          I am. My makeup artist is too - she wants to strangle you.

          A response that draws a laugh out of you, tinged with relief and amusement.

          Your makeup artist? Are you a model?

          Something like that. You’ll know soon enough.

          Oh, mysterious. It’s not illegal, is it? I don’t know how well that lifestyle would suit me.

          Please stop writing on Mr. Hyungwon’s arm. You are making my job very difficult.

          It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, but you don’t blink. You see fragments of what must be a name - their name - and rush to copy what you remember down on a nearby piece of paper. Maybe anything revealing would erase itself, but as you stare down at the name you’d written, you figure that if you remember it yourself, then it should be fine.

          And you do remember parts of it. And it looks.. almost familiar.

          When you go to write on your arm again, you see your previous conversation has been washed away. Hyuwon? Your question erases itself a second later.

          Don’t make me laugh, darling, I’m supposed to sit still.

          But close.

          With each day that the concert crawls ever closer, sleep finds you easier than the night before. You feel better rested than you ever have. Your taste buds suffer less and less scalding black coffee, and you find yourself more attentive at your work - and throughout the rest of your daily tasks. Five days before the concert, when your outfit finally arrives (talk about a close call) and Nyx insists on coming over to see you model it, she’d sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with her hands, eyes glimmering with sudden tears, when she’d finally seen you since letting herself in. “I’ve never seen you so awake before!” she’d cried.

          (Followed by: “And the outfit looks so good on you! You’re gonna turn so many heads, but none of them are gonna be able to do anything about it!”)

          The universe, as it turns out, can be as blatantly obvious as it can be painstakingly subtle. Your soulmate is closer to you than ever before, and the likelihood of you meeting them the day of the concert is high. They must be attending from a different country - South Korea, if you had to guess. After all, you’ve determined that Korean is the language your soulmate is originally writing in before the mark translates it.

          And you feel a kind of excitement you haven’t felt in years, a rush of butterflies sweeping through your ribcage, wings beating harshly enough to crack bones. You swear your heart swells in size when you so much as think about your soulmate, drumming in harmony with the butterfly wings. It feels like your body has purged itself of a suffocating decay you didn’t know had taken hold, and you’re finally breathing through uncorrupted lungs for the first time. Flames eat away at thorns overgrown but make no moves to burn you, leaving a trail of soft kisses in its wake instead.

          It is… so fucking cheesy.

          But you can’t find a single part of you that minds. You think this must be what love is, and you hope your soulmate feels it too.

          It is, without a doubt, the most expensive hotel lobby you’ve ever been in.

          “And you’re certain this is the right place?”

          “I’m sure. I’m - he said it would be fancy, but.. God, I feel like we should’ve brought a present.” She rubs over the mark on her wrist, a nervous habit formed years ago, and it brings your attention to two things: one, the sheep is no longer a sheep, but a wolf almost done shedding its disguise, and two, the outline is now almost a stark white. The imagery is.. definitely concerning, but you figure the universe wouldn’t be cruel enough to deem people soulmates that would hurt each other. That doesn’t sit right, and soulmate or not, if the person on the other side of Nyx’s connection even thinks about trying anything, you’re not afraid of setting them and the universe straight.

          Anyway, you shift your focus to gauging her reaction. She seems seconds away from exploding, but the fuse is lit with both awe and insecurity, so you’re unsure which will set her off first. “We’re fine, Nyx. Let’s just find our room, okay?” When she nods, you head towards the grand staircase in the center of the room, your bags having been taken care of by an actual bellhop. You can’t help but awe at the chandelier casting an elegant golden light, shadows dancing in the corners of the lobby and adjacent halls. Carefully polished marble floor peeks out from the edges of the intricately patterned scarlet carpet, like you’re a movie star attending a high class debut. You absolutely don’t want to find out how much it costs to stay for the two days and nights her friend had paid for. Nyx had insisted it’d be all right to share, apparently, which led you to believe he’d been willing to pay that time for two rooms. “I couldn’t dream of affording this, holy shit.”

          “Please don’t remind me,” she almost whimpered. “I might throw up on all this rich stuff, and then we’d really be in trouble.” Her thumb traced over her mark, and the wolf followed her touch. “I’ll talk to him once we get to our room.”

          “Right. Let’s just focus on getting situated.”

          That night, at about 10:15 PM, despite how tired you are (and the refreshing lack of underlying wakefulness), you manage to write to them.

          So.

          So?

          I think we’re going to meet tomorrow.

          Is there something special about tomorrow?

          Kind of. And I have an idea I need to fly by you.

          I’m listening, darling.

          I want to draw something on my cheek. Something only we would understand.

          Interesting. And I assume you want to keep it on all day? Meaning that so will I.

          Right. Are you in?

          Definitely. I’ll find you tomorrow.

          Not if I find you first ♥

          Shit, that sounded creepy.

          Just a little hahaha

          Nyx won’t stop inspecting your face, and it’s honestly making you feel more unsure about the whole idea than you’d like to be.

          “Why did you write that?”

          You hum, trying to appear calmer than you feel. “For fun.” A silence stretches between you - and glancing at her through the reflection shows you her furrowed eyebrows and small pout. “What, you’ve made worse jokes.” Her response is an instant huff as she crossed her arms over her chest, and there’s a huge visual contrast between her all-dark and mature outfit and the bratty puff of her cheeks. The urge to pinch those cheeks grows, but you doubt she’d appreciate that, so you stay your hand.

          “Whatever, my jokes are great.” There’s a playful whine in her voice, and you know she’s not taking the conversation seriously. “Now come on, we have to get there soon if we want to check out the merch! Oh, and to see if there’s any fun little events they have planned!” Her “sour mood” brightens in seconds, and she’s rushing to make sure everything is ready to go. Your gaze returns to your reflection, the fondness in your eyes when you stare at your handiwork not alarming you as much as it would’ve a few weeks ago. Carefully written out in black face paint, you have your way to identify your soulmate.

          Hyuwon.

          On the drive to the concert hall, words slowly form on your arm that brings laughter to your lips.

          I should’ve expected this. You’re ridiculous, darling.

          I can’t wait to tell you in person.

          That I’m ridiculous? How kind of you.

          That I love you.

          Hours later, maybe a minute or two after it hits 6 PM, and you’re contemplating what sort of soft pretzel to buy, a drop dead gorgeous concertgoer catches your attention by extending a handkerchief towards you. Confused, you inspect the soft fabric before taking it. “Thanks?” You wonder as you start to pocket it, but they stop you with a laugh and a shake of their head.

          “Your makeup’s running a little bit.” To emphasize their point, they tap their cheek.

          “My makeup?” Your free hand instinctively imitates their gesture, but nothing stains your fingertips. “What do you-” and it clicks so suddenly, your breath hitches mid-sentence. The Monbebe’s expression flashes bewilderment and your heart plummets, falling so abruptly that you can’t catch it. You shove the handkerchief back into their hands and sprint to the nearest bathroom, forgetting about how long you’d had to wait to be so close to the front of the line. You barely get out an excuse me before you’re gripping the edges of a sink and gazing at your own reflection in one of the many mirrors.

          Just in time to see the final letters of what had once been there vanishing.

          Ten minutes before the concert starts, as you sit surrounded by the overwhelming energy of hundreds of people, something cold presses your arm.

          I’m sorry.

          Six minutes later, you bring yourself to respond.

          I guess I was wrong.

          ?

          Two more minutes and your arm is wiped clean. Nyx cheers happily beside you, and you smile when she looks your way.

          We aren’t going to meet today.

          The lights dim before you can see if your words are gone.

          Nyx says something you don’t hear over the screams and music.

          “What?” You call, unable to even hear your own voice, and she points towards the stage. Sure enough, when you look back, all of Monsta X is up there, each of them dancing incredibly, and you lose yourself in awe for a moment. One of the taller members radiates such effortless grace, even when he sings, and you can’t drag your attention away from him. His gaze sweeps over your area, almost as if he could sense your own stare, and he makes eye contact for a second. It somehow feels longer, and there’s a calm that falls over you as you smile back at him, waving without a second thought. He must get embarrassed, because you barely see his (indescribably adorable) smile before he’s turning his head away - and then the choreography carries him to the other side of the stage, and you’re reminded that Nyx had been trying to say something.

          When you shift your focus back to her, she’s leaning much closer and gesturing between her arm and the member who’d just looked at you - you think. You glance at her arm, and through the strobe lights, you see the wolf on her wrist has rid itself entirely of its sheep costume and is now completely white, with colors seeping into the inner edges of its shape. It wags its tail and seems to bark towards the stage. “Holy shit, Nyx!”

          It seems that wasn’t what she was trying to point out, because you see more than hear her groan as she briefly checks her arm. Then she stops before she can look back up - no screaming, no jumping around, no frustration at your not being able to hear her. Nothing. “Nyx?” You brace yourself to catch her just in case, but she stands still, unwavering, gaze slowly lifting to the stage.

          The song ends, and as you move to follow her line of sight, you see one member - not the one from before - looking back this way before the lights fade out.

          After the concert ends, the world comes crashing down as you wait to get out of the parking lot.

          You’re stuck waiting in a too-long line of other cars all trying to get out too, humming the last performed song under your breath and thinking about the man you’d waved at. As much as you tried not to focus solely on him for the rest of the concert, you’d found your gaze repeatedly drawn to him. There was just something that clicked in your head when you watched him, a serenity you’d never felt before (and one you hadn’t expected to feel at a concert, of all places). And more than once, you’d caught him stealing glances towards your side of the stage, though you hadn’t made eye contact again.

          Nyx hiccups, and it draws you out of your thoughts. You don’t need to look at her to know she’s all cried out. “How am I ever going to meet him?” She whispers, more to herself than for you, and your heart stills.

          The disappointment from earlier rears its head. You’d really been hoping to find your soulmate today. They’d agreed to go along with your idea - hell, they’d loved it, if their reaction was anything to go by. So why didn’t they follow through? Had they gotten cold feet? Did they not feel ready to meet yet?

          As you waited, moving your car along inch by agonizing inch, the disappointment slowly gave way to heavy-hearted understanding. A part of you had been anxious at the mere thought of meeting them all day, and though no part of you felt relieved when the word vanished, you were starting to rationalize: maybe it was better this way. Maybe you both just needed more time to get to know each other. Maybe it would be better to decide when you would meet, to discuss and have time to prepare for it. It wouldn’t be so bad, you reasoned, waiting a little longer. You’d been “soulmate-less” most of your life - what was waiting to meet them a few more days, weeks, months?

          (Not years. Years would be too much to handle.)

          (You’d really miss being able to sleep easily, though.)

          “What is meant to be, will be.”

          In the passenger seat, Nyx sighs. “Right.”

          Right.

          It takes thirty minutes to finally reach the hotel, despite what had been a mere five minute drive this morning. Leaving a concert was a nightmare, you decided.

          “My legs ache.” She croaked as she tried to massage her thigh.

          The image of her jumping excitedly about during the concert makes you chuckle. “Would you look at that, if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.”

          Her eyes are almost entirely shut when she glares at you, and you know she’s nursing a headache. “Shush. Carry me?” As she asks, she lifts her arms towards you as if you’d already agreed.

          “No way,” you shoot her down, even though you crouch in front of her. A small cheerful noise comes out of her as she rests against your back, and you grab her thighs as she wraps her legs around your waist. Once she’s situated, you stand back up and start carefully climbing the pompous grand staircase (you hadn’t been able to find the damn elevator). The bag she holds swings back and forth at the movement, and you lift your chin to avoid getting smacked. “We have Tylenol in our room, take it once we get there.”

          “Thank you!”

          You regret the decision to carry her up all the stairs to reach the floor of your room.

          Nyx’s voice is muffled from where you lay with your face pressed into your pillow. “I’m so sorry. I really thought you were gonna put me down at some point.” You raise your head when she presses something cold to your hand and you say a small thank you before taking the water bottle she offers. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

          You drink until there’s a slight discomfort in your stomach, then you set the bottle aside and push yourself to sit up. You need to get yourself cleaned up. “I’m fine, just tired. I’m gonna go take a shower, then I’ll probably pass out or something.” You gather your pajamas and make your way towards the bathroom, and pause. With a glance back at her, you see her staring down at her mark, a colorful wolf sleepily curled around her wrist. “You’re meeting your online friend soon, aren’t you?”

          She perks up, her gaze lifting to settle on you. “Yeah! He’s exhausted and I am too, and since we’re here for two days, we agreed to meet tomorrow.”

          As you close the bathroom door behind you, you hear a knock at the door.

          Thankfully, you had a mind to get dressed in the bathroom, because when you step out, there’s a stranger casually conversing with Nyx.

          “Hello?” You wave your hand to catch their attention, and when they look at you, they both quickly erupt into shit-eating grins. That’s an expression you know means mischief, so you prepare to slip back into the bathroom and pretend to never have come out, but Nyx is jumping to her feet and hurrying to grab your hands before you do.

          “(y/n), this is my soulmate!”

          Suspicion melts away, and you smile at the two of them. “Whoa, congratulations! How did -” Getting another look at him, you realize it really is a member of Monsta X. No wonder she wasn’t sure if she’d meet them. “How did he find you?”

          She turns to look at him over her shoulder, and even though you can’t see her expression, you just know that it’s full of love. He smiles back at her so softly, like he’s been doing it all his life, and as happy as you are for them, you can’t help but feel like an intruder.

          You’re glad to see her so happy, really, you are.

          But if you have to spend one more minute in a room with these two when the sting of not having met your own soulmate is still too fresh, you’re gonna burst.

          “You don’t have to go, really.” The apology is clear on her face. Behind her, her soulmate - Changkyun, he’d introduced himself - glanced between you and his phone, typing something you vaguely suspect may be about you. You’d asked earlier if there was something on your cheek, since he kept glancing at it, but he’d shaken his head and smiled at Nyx, as if there was a joke you weren’t in on. “Please don’t go just sit next to the vending machine. I feel terrible.”

          “You don’t have to,” Changkyun pipes up, setting his phone down on his lap and focusing on you two. “I have a friend who wouldn’t mind you hanging out in his room.”

          “Maybe not, but I won’t intrude on a stranger. Besides, I can think of a lot of people who would mind me hanging out with someone from Monsta X so casually.” At that, he snickers, conceding you the point. “I’ll be okay, really. There are some seats and tables set up near the vending machine. I’m not gonna be sitting on the floor. You two have fun, yeah?” You turn to head down the hall - and stop. “Well, not too much fun, please, I have to sleep he-”

          The door slams shut, but you can still hear Changkyun’s laughter, muffled as it is.

          At 11:59 PM exactly, as you’re watching the decent quality videos you’d taken earlier, the familiar sensation of new ink writing itself out on your arm steals your attention. The words translate faster than ever.

          I told you I’d find you today.

          You can’t help the scoff that slips out, but while you’re reaching for your own pen, the most melodic laugh to ever grace your ears sounds off from in front of you and your breath catches in your throat. Footsteps slowly approach you, whoever it is (you know who it is) stops just as their legs come into your field of vision. When they crouch, you still can’t quite see their face, but you recognize the outfit (you know who this is). A hand grabs your own, their long fingers tracing shapes over your skin, reaching up until they touch the words (their words - and it feels just like the ink reshaping itself, but so much better because it’s real). You let out a shaky sigh when their other hand gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You can look at me.” A soothing voice whispers, as if they’re as in awe of you as you are of them, and like the sailor allured by the siren, you happily obey.

          The first thing you focus on is the fondness swimming deep in his dark brown eyes, and it takes a moment for you to register: that fondness is for you. His lips, plush and pink and oh so kissable are drawn into a soft smile, his head tilted slightly as he tries to get a better look at you. The hair that falls over his eyes is beautiful and so fluffy, you wonder how it would feel to run your hands through it (and pretend not to get flustered at your own train of thought). His touch spreads warmth throughout your body, your heart beating so much faster than is probably healthy, but you really don’t mind. On his own arm, you spot Korean words you’ve never written before, and yet you recognize it as your own handwriting.

          He ducks his head a little more, gently coaxing you to look into his eyes again - and holy shit, you recognize him. This is the man from the concert, the one who’d looked at you, the one with the adorable smile and the aura of natural grace.

          And there’s that instant, easy tranquility falling over you again.

          “I’m sorry.” The hand not holding yours strokes a knuckle over your cheek, the slight furrow of his brows regretful, and you understand what he means. (And you don’t like that almost melancholy look in his eyes.) A smile that mirrors his own tugs at your lips, and you shake your head slowly as you tentatively interlace yours and his fingers. A faint pink kisses his cheeks, and when he flickers his gaze up to lock with yours, you swear there are galaxies lost in his eyes.

          Your heart falls again, but this time he’s there to catch it. “It’s okay,” he perks at the sound of his voice, and when his smile softens even more and he looks absolutely smitten, you wonder if that’s how you look, too. “Your makeup artist..?” He nods with a sigh of relief that brushes against your lips. Your cheek grows warmer, which you just know he can feel beneath his hand. (Sure enough, his little chuckle confirms your thoughts.)

          His smile somehow grows fonder, and you know you’re in love.

          “My name is Hyungwon. Not-” he interrupts himself with a quiet laugh that you lean forward to hear better, nearly pressing your foreheads together. “Hyuwon.”

          Laughter comes as easily with him in front of you as it did when he was miles away. “Okay. My name is (y/n.)”

          After heading back to his room (which he promised he’s not sharing, so it'd be just the two of you), you lose track of time from how much you guys talk, or just bask in the pure joy of having finally united. However, your body doesn’t.

          You don’t expect the yawn that parts your lips, and he says something that sounds a bit like cute. “Tired?” At your nod, he hums before falling into curious silence. (Just as you expected, he looks breathtakingly cute when he’s thinking, his lips forming a small pout as he stares passed you.) Once he must find what he wants to say, he shifts away from the center of the bed and pulls the covers back, patting the mattress. “Sleep with me?”

          The offer sincerely warms your heart, the butterflies beating harder against your ribs, and you have no chance to stop the wide smile that comes to your face as you stare at him. I love you so much already, your mind sighs. Your chest feels tight, your heart aches so sweetly, and you don’t mind any of it. The soft yellow of the lamp on his bedside table casts him in an angel’s glow, and not for the first time since you met him, you awe at his beauty. How lucky I am, you muse as you nod and carefully lay yourself down in the spot he’s left you, that you are my soulmate, Hyungwon.

          Hyungwon’s posture stiffens a second before he relaxes. He leans over you to turn the lamp off, the trace scent of jasmine and home gently embracing you, and you close your eyes. The light clicks off, he shifts back into his place beside you, and a comfortable silence falls around you. For a few minutes, there’s hardly any movement or sound, just the soft hissing of the humidifier and your own breathing.

          The feel of his hand wrapping around yours underneath the blankets startles you half to death. You turn to peer at him through the darkness - only to find he’s already staring at you, his lips quirking into a smile when you make eye contact. He pulls you closer by your joined hands until your faces are so close, your breaths intermingle between you, and then he brings your hand to his lips. The kiss he presses into your skin is delicate and loving, unbelievably so, and when his gaze flickers from your knuckles to your eyes, you nearly gasp at the raw affection you see in them.

          “Goodnight, 자기야.”

          Though the word sounds unfamiliar, it still warms your heart all the same. “Say that again.”

          He raises an eyebrow, his smile turning amused. “자기야?”

          “Ja - gi - yah?” You repeat slowly, looking at him to see if you’d said it right. He laughs under his breath, but it’s a fond noise. He props himself onto his elbow and reaches across from you again, grabbing a nearby pen and quickly scribbling it down on his arm. As expected, when you glance at your own arm, the word has written itself out - and rather quickly translated itself.

          Darling.

          Your heart just about melts. As you turn to stare at him again, he chooses that moment to lean down and press a kiss against your cheek. “Goodnight, 자기야.”

          “Goodnight,” you breathe, almost stunned into silence when you meet his eyes.

          I love you, they promise.

          It’s the best sleep you’ve had in your life.

[bensboynton]

Good Enough b.h; Part 4

hey hey hello!! sorry this took so long i’ve just been working on a lot of requests recently. 

let me know what you think happens next!!!!!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: swearing as always, angsty, unedited, mentions of cheating, mentions of self-esteem issues, drunkenness, lots of mentions of alcohol

recap

“So it’s settled!” Lucy spoke giddily, clapping her hands in excitement, “Girls night!”

You couldn’t help but feel the same giddiness, after all, it was practically radiating off her. Tonight would be good! A nice, calm night in with your favorite girl in the world and nothing could mess that up.

Or so you thought.

You were in a slump.

It’s to be expected for you to be upset after a bad breakup, but you felt like pure, unadulterated dog shit every single second of your life. The only things that motivated you to get out of bed was filming, your cast-mates, and Lucy.

Ever since that one day at lunch, you and Lucy have been having at least one girl’s night a week, but usually it’s more than that.

And by “girls night” you mean playing a game where you drink as much alcohol as you can in a before you black out. Because as bad as it is, alcohol helps ease the sharp ache in your chest.

The sharp ache that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. Because he hurt you and made you upset more times than you could possibly count, you should be glad he was gone. But you weren’t. He should be the one that was hurting. But he wasn’t.

It probably isn’t helpful seeing all the pictures of him with new girls and people on instagram tagging you in pictures of the two of you together. It hurts to breathe, sometimes.

It’s crazy how you can pour you life and soul into someone for two years, and have it all go away in a second. Now he’s gone and he moved on, and you’re just… stuck.

And the worst part is you can’t help but blame yourself! You always blame how you dress, or act, or talk. And you just turn all the pain on yourself because you’re too in love with the person who actually hurt you to blame them. You’ll just lie in your bed all night, replaying everything in your head and thinking about just how bad you fucked up.

When Y/BF/N left, you had spent days being mad at yourself for overreacting. You had let yourself become a shell and allow yourself to believe you deserved it. And you still believed that, but you wouldn’t tell anyone about it.

But nonetheless, your friendship with Lucy was prospering due to the excessive amount of alcohol you now drink together, and you had these girl nights down to muscle memory. It was a lot of fun, a good way to unwind after a long day. And today was definitely one of the longest day of your life.

You got barely any sleep and had a 10 hour filming day. You were over everything. Especially people. You just wanted to cozy up in your bed with some wine and shitty snacks.

You’ve slept more in the past few weeks then you had in most of your life. You were emotionally tired, and you tried to make up for it for going to bed early and sleeping in late. But you were just… not present.

It’s been a few weeks since the breakup, and you’ve been trying to put up a front to get people to stop worrying, responding “I’m okay, I promise” when someone asks. You weren’t not okay, but you weren’t perfect either.

You felt like you could obliterate a tank physically, but mentally, one wrong word and you’d be sent headfirst into a painful nervous breakdown. And the fact that you were the reason that Rami had to redo the same take twenty seven times today. Twenty seven!

You were so out of it, you couldn’t remember your line or you’d literally forget you were filming halfway through. He was frustrated but he’s too nice to slap the shit out of you and tell you to get it together, like he should’ve done.

You had immediately collapsed on your bed as soon as you wrapped for the day, not even saying bye to the other guys. You took a thirty minute nap before you were awoken by your phone ringing rather loudly right in your ear. She must’ve recieved your text about how shitty your day was.

“Do you want me to bring rosé, white, or red?” Lucy asked enthusiastically into the phone, and before you said anything, she answered her own question. “Actually, I’ll bring all three. Plus the bottle of Bacardi I have leftover from my birthday. I’ll see you in 10. Hang in there babe. Mwah.”

Lucy hung up the phone, and you threw it back down onto the covers while leaning back against the headboard of the bed in your trailer. You already had a headache and you hadn’t had a drip of alcohol today, and your neck was slightly stiff due to the uncomfortable angle it was at while you had taken a nap.

Your mind drifted to filming, before your heart dipped lower in your chest as you suddenly seemed to remember the existence of Ben.

Ben.

And speak of the devil, a notification pops up on your phone screen. “benhardy just posted a photo.”

You had barely seen Ben all day, much less talked to him, and you weren’t really sure where you two stood. You loved being around him and spending time with him, but you were stuck. Literally. You had no idea what to do, or say, and Ben is really annoyingly good at sending mixed signals. He’s impossible to read.

The picture he posted was an old photo from a magazine cover shoot he did the year before. It was in black and white, and made your heart do a flip. You groaned at the effect that he had on you just by posting a dumb picture.

You had gone out to get coffee with him a few times since the incident, been on dinner duty with him (dinner duty is a term coined by Joe; it’s when two people are in charge of picking up the food the cast had ordered that night), but lately, you’ve both been oddly silent to each other.

You found yourself feeling normal when you were with Ben. The emptiness went away, it was like Ben filled your chest with a chocolatey warmth and that scared you. Because you didn’t want history to repeat itself.

You had been through enough pain and breakups to last you your entire life, you were sure of it. You had joked with Lucy that you’d adopt a baby and build a cottage in the forest and just become entirely self-sufficient. It was like a little fantasy of yours. Not having to rely on anything(or anyone) to live.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to pursue anything with Ben, or if he even felt anything other than friendship towards you. And you were so confused. You thought about texting him, before deciding against it and busying yourself with preparing for your girls night with Lucy.

For someone who you don’t see a lot during the day, you sure think about Ben a ton. And by “a ton” you mean all the damn time. It was frustrating, to say the least. You were thinking of him right fucking now!

Getting coffee? You’re thinking of Ben. Shooting a scene? Thinking of Ben. Writing songs? Thinking of Ben. Singing? You guessed it, thinking of Ben! It made you want to put your headphones in and play a song as loud as you could to try and push him out of your brain.

After the breakup, you couldn’t write a word for any song onto paper. But when you’re with Ben? You could write an entire concept album on the exact shade of green that his eyes were. And that annoyed you, but also confused you as to what exactly you were feeling.

You threw a package of pizza rolls into the microwave, grabbing some nail polish and face masks out of your small storage compartment near your bed. You doubted that you and Lucy would actually be sober long enough to use them, but it was worth a try.

Before you knew it, an enthusiastic knock was heard at the door, and it made your heart soar. You opened up to see your platinum-blonde haired best friend with a huge duffle bag full of clothes, alcohol, movies, and snacks. She was wearing a matching silk light pink pajama set, the exact same as yours, except blue. “Ready to get wasted babe?”

You laughed at Lucy’s comment and pulled her into a tight hug before ushering her into the trailer, locking the door behind you. She immediately started unpacking her bags and grabbed two glasses from the top cabinet and poured you both a completely full glass of wine.

You grabbed the pizza rolls and your wine glass and migrated over to your bed, setting the rolls down after downing three large gulps of wine. You and Lucy just made small talk about your day’s, Lucy asking you about filming that day.

“Okay, I want to make a toast.” Lucy murmured, clearing her throat dramatically before holding up her glass.

“To girls nights, and to… I don’t know, actually,” Lucy paused and bit her lip, “to really shitty wine, I guess.”

“Amen,” you agreed, lightly tapping Lucy’s glass with yours before downing another large portion of the wine.

--

When Lucy said you two were getting wasted, she wasn’t kidding. You had both finished two bottles of wines, and done a few shots of the old vodka Lucy had brought from home.

And you couldn’t see straight.

The room was slightly tilted and spinning, and your eyes felt incredibly heavy. You tried to go and grab a bag of snacks from the counter, but you almost fell over so you decided to stay seated on your bed. You and Lucy were starting to spew nonsense that made zero sense, but had you both crying in laughter.

You had also prank called Joe, but you failed miserably. He actually found your drunkenness quite humorous. You also took an instagram picture of you two drinking a glass of wine, and you captioned it “girlk nighy.” (You were a shit speller when you were sober, so being drunk really didn’t help)

The comments were quickly taken over with people laughing about your drunken state, and also telling you to be safe. Joe and Gwil both commented asking why they weren’t invited to the party, and right before you shut your phone off, you got another notification.

Ben liked the photo, but didn’t comment. It made your stomach flip, although that definitely could’ve been the alcohol. You wanted to scream and put your head through the wall, because someone liking your stupid instagram post shouldn’t make you feel like you’re gonna throw up.

Lucy decided that she wanted to watch Pretty Woman, so she put it on and dimmed the lights in the trailer, getting lost in the story. You had started crying almost as soon as Vivian met Edward, because you knew the rest of the story.

And you wished you had someone like that to love.

Lucy had put a video of you in tears on her instagram story, tagging you before returning to the movie. About halfway through, though, you both seemed to have passed out. The last thing you remember is a conversation between Edward Lewis and Vivian Ward lulling you to sleep.

--

You woke up a few hours later, the TV had turned itself off and you were still drunk.

Like, really, really drunk.

And your thoughts were irrational, but all you could think about was Ben. Lucy was laying next to you in your bed, dead asleep, but you just wished it was Ben who was there next to you, just like he did after the breakup. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his arms and go to sleep. But you couldn’t.

You searched through your bed, trying to find your phone. After finally finding it hidden, Lucy’s body unfortunately laying on top of it, you opened the calling app and hesitated. Should you call Ben? You eventually decided that you didn’t have anyone else to talk to, so you did.

You dialed Ben’s number and crossed your fingers in front of you like a first grader, hoping that he’d still be awake at 4 am.

“At the tone, please record your message. If you are finished recording, please hang up or-”

You hung up the phone quickly, swearing under your breath. You dialed the phone number in again, listening to it’s painfully slow ringing. The anticipation was building up so much in your chest you could’ve burst.

“Y/N? Hello? Are you okay?” you heard a tired, yet confused British voice say. All the air in your lungs disappeared for a moment.

“Bennie!” you slurred, rolling over in bed and giggling like a schoolgirl at the sound of his voice. Ben chuckled tiredly at the nickname, clearly confused about what was going on.

“Are you okay?” Ben asked again. You almost said yes, as saying you were fine had become a habit of yours.

“Actually… I’m not really? I don’t even know what I’m saying right now.” Your words were a jumbled mess, and you heard Ben take a sharp inhale on the other end of the line.

“I hope you’re done drinking now?” You nodded quickly. Forgetting that he couldn’t see you, you then told him that yes, the alcohol was put away.

“I’ve just been thinking. A lot. Like, a lot.” You started to ramble, eliciting a tired chuckle from the blonde boy.

“Yes, that happens to be a common thing that humans do.” You wanted to punch him in the throat for being so sarcastic, yet smooth even at four in the fucking morning.  

You could already tell you were going to regret saying anything to him, but your sober thoughts turned into drunk words way too fast and next thing you knew, you were spilling your heart out to Ben on the phone.

“You know? I’ve been fucked over a lot! A ton. So much. So so much,” you hiccuped lightly as you twisted a strand of hair around your finger, “and they all start and end the same way. I fall in love, he says he loves me, blah blah blah, we have sex in a car once or twice, a few months pass, and bam, he leaves me. And it’s always me who gets hurt. Why is it always me? What did I ever do to deserve that?”

Ben was eerily silent on the other end of the line, but to stop an awkward silence, you kept going.

“And everyone keeps asking me if I’m doing okay, if they need to go ‘beat him up for me’ and I always say I’m okay. Everytime. And I’m sick of it! I’m sick of pretending that he didn’t rip my heart out of my chest. Because he did, and I can’t sleep because every time I close my eyes I see him! And I can’t eat because it reminds me of all the times we’d go out to eat at 3am because we were bored. And I can’t drive because it reminds me of all the road trips we used to take to Venice to visit his cousin.”

There were tears streaming down your face, your words beginning to get jumbled. And you knew what was about to happen, but you didn’t have the mental capacity or willpower to try and stop it.

“And now, I see you every day and I think about that day you carried me back to my trailer, or when you held me so tight you were the only thing keeping me from shattering into a thousand pieces. And then we go out to pick up dinner for the band, or you smile at me or you laugh at something I said and I feel my heart soar. And I can forget about him. When I talk to you, the pain goes away for a second. Suddenly, he’s not at the forefront of my mind. You are. And I hate that! I hate dependency. I hate being someone who needs to rely on other people for happiness because I’m a lot to handle! I have so much baggage.”

Your words got caught in your throat for a second between the hollow sobs that were echoing in your trailer.

“I’m a lot easier to deal with when I’m happy. Always have been. And no one wants to deal with me when I’m sad or sick or in a shitty mood. They always leave me. And I hate that I like you so much, I hate that I adore being around you. Because I don’t want you to hurt me the same way he did. ‘Cause there’s definitely something wrong with me! Has to be! Three of my boyfriends have cheated on me. Three. I just wish I knew what I was doing wrong so I could stop. I don’t want to get hurt again.”

Still, silence on the other end of the line. The noiseless environment was so quiet it was loud in your eardrums. You felt like you were going to burst into a fiery, red-hot mess of tears and anger and anxiety. You were about to combust.

“You don’t care. Silly of me to think anyone cares, really,” you paused for a moment, tears silently rolling down your cheeks, “see you around, Bennie.”

You swore you heard him try to say something, but you passed it off as your ears ringing from the massive amounts of poison(wine) running through your veins.

And with that, you ended the call and fell back on your bed, laying your head close to Lucy. And darkness consumed you, pushing you into a sleep so deep you were almost unconscious.

—

“Holy shit,” Lucy groaned loudly, “I’ve never been this hungover in my entire life.”

“You and me both.” You responded glumly. You had vague memories of the night before, but nothing much. The last thing you remember is passing out halfway through Pretty Woman. Your head felt like you had just awoken from a coma, you could barely open your eyes.

And your throat hurt so bad, you could’ve swore you woke up with strep throat.

You drowsily grabbed your phone from it’s spot next to you on the bed, and your eyes opened wide at the notifications on your lock screen.

You had seven missed calls from Ben, and 7 text messages.

ben: can we talk

ben: call me back

ben: answer my calls

ben: y/n

ben: y/n please call me back

ben: hello?

ben: please answer

You closed out of the texts and were about to call him back when an urgent knock rattled through your trailer. You raised an eyebrow at Lucy as you walked over to the door. She shrugged, so you expected to see a PA or something, but to your surprise, a certain blonde British man was on your doorstep.

Ben.

You both made eye contact and, for a few moments, just looked at each other. Ben opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out at first. He looked distressed, and Ben was never distressed. The look on his face was unsettling. “The call… did you mean it?” he asked suddenly. You wracked your brain for a few moments, trying to figure out what he meant by “the call.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What call?” you wondered aloud.

“T-The call. You called me last night. Did you mean it?” Ben seemed panicky, his eyes desperately searching yours for something. Jesus, did you do this to him?

What the fuck did you say on that phone call?

“I’m sorry Ben. I don’t remember I was so drunk but…” you trailed off, biting your lip gently, “I probably didn’t mean it. Whatever I said. I’m an emotional drunk.”

Ben’s eyes dropped to his shoes and suddenly the cool air around you seemed to turn stale.

“What did I say? Was I mean? I’m sorry I just… don’t remember.” You were speaking to him with a slight desperation in your voice.You hoped you hadn’t hurt him.

“You don’t know what you said?” Ben asked in slight disbelief. You shook your head side-to-side, causing Ben to just shake his head and kick his shoe into the step he was standing below on your doorstep.

“Never mind. See you around.” He spoke quickly, all emotion and warmth leaving his voice immediately. And with that, he swiftly left you standing on your own doorstep, confused and slightly worried. You could’ve sworn you heard his voice crack in sadness, but you couldn’t be too sure.

Like you said, you’re always fucking things up.

taglist(strike through means tag won’t work): @sweetheartben​ @benhardyseyes @ziggyspurplehaze @mrsmazzello @orchideax @ellalisaa @valeriecarolinaw @rexorangecouny @hardzzellos

if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask and i’ll add you! <3

[sublimediscord]

Tagged by @galaxyparchment (here) (HAHAHAHA THREE FOUR YEARS LATER SORRY)

Rules: Use five minutes, and only five minutes, to write a drabble. No re-reading, no editing. (HAHAHAHA I CHEATED SO MUCH AT THIS)

Based on Crywolf’s “Stay”

(tagging @phoenix-angel-suyari and @setsailslash because bite me I love you both <3)

Your eyes open to dawn, to the feeling of the bed tilting empty. To the sounds of feet padding across the thin carpet and a the slide of wood-on-wood. You blink, arm stretching over the expanse of cotton to your right and fingers curling to catch at the sheets as your other hand knuckles the sleep from your eye. 

“Shit, sorry Rals.” You blink again, gaze tracking the word to its source in the faint light. “Didn’t mean to wake you, kiddo.”

“Y-Y-Yancy,” his name is cut to pieces by a yawn, “wh’ time’s it?”

You don’t wait for an answer though, roll over through the still-cooling sweat spots on the bed. Grunt when you prop your head up on the same arm you’re using to rub at your eyes and bear down a little too hard, squinting to read the dim numbers on the clock. You’ve been meaning to replace its batteries for probably three months now. That or get a wired one. 

“Six thirty?” You roll back, arching your shoulders as you do and popping your back. The action makes something lower throb lightly, and you can’t help but shiver in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant. “What’re...you’re never up this early, Yance. Why--”

“Rals,” The bed dips the way it should when Yancy’s knee meets the mattress, the weight of it finally right in your mind as he sits, “you know why.”

You reach out to him without thinking, eyes closed once again. Your fingertips skate through the dusting of red-blond hair on his arm, and you follow it up, up, up, until you reach his bare shoulder. You trace lines between the freckles you know are there without even having to look, can feel his skin rising into goosebumps. Can feel something deep in your gut rising with it, both of you shivering at the same time. 

“Yance,” you mumble as you throw your free arm arm over your eyes, trying to keep out the sunlight that’s still beneath the horizon. As if doing so could prevent it from crawling up over the mountains at all. The want, the need, to make this moment last, to stretch it like a rubber band until it’s on the verge of snapping, throbs in your chest - pulsing in time with your heart. “c’mon, come back to--”

“We can’t do this, Rals.”

 The rhythm in your chest turns cold. Drops into your stomach.

“I don’t c--”

“Raleigh, please.”

There’s something in Yancy’s voice. Something you don’t want to think about. Your mind doesn’t care what you want, though, and your arm drops as your eyes crack open again. In the near-dark, it’s hard to make out your brother, but his eyes are impossible to miss. The same pleading, the same begging, that’s in Yancy’s voice is buried deep within those twin pools. 

“Please don’t let a mistake screw up the one good thing you already have.”

Yancy shifts until the hand you have on his shoulder falls to the sheets. The cold in your stomach freezes. Sharpens. You swallow reflexively. It doesn’t help. 

“Yance, please don’t--”

“You have Chuck.”

“But--”

“No, Raleigh. We’re not doing this. We can’t.”

He turns his back on you and stands, the bed righting itself. Everything suddenly feels wrong, wrong, wrong, and fear roars in your ears. 

“Yance, c’mon--”

You cut yourself off this time, eyes coming fully open as you sit up. The sheets tangle around your legs as you try to free yourself. A pressure wells in your chest, burning its way up your throat and threatening to spill out, and you only just barely manage to hold it back. 

“Yancy. Please,” the word breaks whatever wall you’d been trying to build, the pressure finally winning, and a single sob rips its way out of you. “This doesn’t have to be hard, or weird, or,” you trail off, trying to think of the right words to say, the words to get your brother back in your arms where he’d felt so right. Where nothing had felt complicated, nothing had felt out of place--everything had, for the first time, felt like it’d belonged. 

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, just stay.”

“I can’t.” He says it like a fact. Like it’s something immutable and unchangeable, as simple as one plus one equaling two. His posture shifts, though, drawing in on itself, his shoulders hunching. “This was a mistake. You don’t want this.”

“But I do, Yance. I do. I have, for years, just--you gotta believe me Yance, please--”

Yancy’s entire back stiffens, his shoulders flying up to near his ears. You can see a flush creeping up his neck and into his ears--

(And, oh, doesn’t that just remind you of the firsthand knowledge you now have of exactly how far down that red tinge really goes)

--before he’s whirling back to you, his eyes--

His eyes. 

You’ve known your brother all twenty-two years of your life, were practically put through high school by him when your genetic donor--you refuse to think of that walking pile of horse shit as your father--walked out on the pair of you. You’ve learned how to read him. Have gained such an intuitive awareness of him that even now, years after he moved out to “give you your own space, kiddo,” you can still feel his presence like an extension of your own arm. Can tell where he is from the soft sounds he makes when he walks, when he thinks, when he sleeps. Can tell what he’s thinking from the tilt of his hips, the part of his lips, the swirling currents behind his eyes. 

Deep within your brother’s eyes, there’s more than just pleading. There’s pain. Agony. And, so quickly you almost miss it, the worst possible thing.

Hope. 

Hope that you watch Yancy snuff out with a small shake of his own head.

“You don’t want this, Rals.”

He says your name like he’s begging. Like it’s a prayer. His hands move toward your shoulders, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his palms brushing against your skin before he seems to realize what he’s doing and drops his face forward into his hands.

“You can’t want this. Please kiddo, go be happy with Chuck. Don’t,” there’s a hitch in his voice then, and it splits your chest wide open, “don’t become me, Rals. I-I couldn’t live with myself if--”

Blood roars in your ears--not in anger, but the same way it had when Chuck’d taken you skydiving for your second date. 

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” your voice sounds steadier than you feel, your arms and spine the consistency of jello even as you somehow manage to remain upright, “because I already decided for myself.”

But Yancy is still shaking his head, because, you realize with a start, he doesn’t get it. 

“I told Chuck.”

Yancy’s eyes are on you with a suddenness that makes a kernel of fear in your guts pulse coolly. When he speaks, his voice is strained. 

“What?”

You have to swallow past the lump in your throat. One of your hands reaches out to grasp at his wrist where it’s hanging limply at his side. You manage to your fingers behind the gentle curve where hand and arm meet, curling them to keep your grip; you can feel Yancy’s pulse racing through the contact.

“I told Chuck how I feel about you. How I’ve felt about you my whole life. And,” another swallow, your eyes darting away from your brother’s face before you force them back, “and he doesn’t mind.”

The denial is clear in Yancy’s face, mouth opening to make it real, so you continue speaking as if you hadn’t noticed. 

“He said he won’t make me choose if you won’t. And, I love Chuck, I do, but,” you squeeze Yancy’s wrist lightly, the fear in your gut writhing like a living thing, “but I love you too. I don’t regret what we did last night. I’ve wanted it for so long, wanted it so much, I don’t know how I’ve survived the past few years. I--”

Your voice cracks at the edges, and you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to. 

“I just know I won’t--I can’t, I--I don’t want this to be the last time. I can’t do this without you, Yance.”

There is resolve in Yancy’s eyes. You watch it--the need to sacrifice of himself to do what he thinks is right for both of you, and especially for you, his little brother--war with your words. Watch it war with the hope that refuses to be crushed, the same hope you feel fighting the fear deep in your belly. 

“I know it won’t be easy,” you whisper, “I know it’ll be hard, and that sometimes it’ll suck, but we can get through it the way we have everything. Mom dying, Richard leaving, all of it. We got through it together. So, please Yance.” 

You tug at his arm lightly. Can feel his pulse zip. 

“Just...stay. Please.”

Through the haze of tears gathering at the bottom of your lids, you watch the resolve in his eyes crumble. His head bows, eyes closing, and you feel something cool and wet land on the back of your hand. When he speaks, it sounds like a little like relief, a lot like love, and, maybe, just a little bit like the future.

“Okay, Rals. Okay.”

[booksinpublic]

Endometriosis and male birth control

I turned 30 last November and I'm just now realizing the all-consuming power that my menstrual cycle has on my body. Like most women I know, I've been constantly medicated via injections, implants and pills for more than 15 years, trying to find a birth control option that doesn't ravage me with cramps, cause ruptured cysts on my ovaries or thrust my mind into a vicious darkness at random and always-inconvenient moments. 

Maybe I would have reckoned with my natural cycle by now, soothed it and learned how to live with it in peace, had I removed birth control from the equation for any significant stretch of time. I don't know. But I do know I've never wanted kids, and I really like having sex with dudes (and ladies, but they’re polite enough to not randomly impregnate their partners). Male contraception doesn't exist, ergo I've always been on birth control. I've lived with the consequences of unproven, barely tested, hormone-ridden contraception methods my entire adult life, often signing up for consequences even my doctors didn’t anticipate. I've been hospitalized twice in the past two years with heart attack-like symptoms, only to have my period start between the EKGs and X-rays, explaining away my discomfort in one bloody rush. The gut-smack of realization -- Of course it’s my period, I’m such an idiot -- never fades. The second time I went to the hospital, it was in Austin, Texas, during a work trip to cover SXSW in March 2019. After nearly 10 years of reporting at shows like E3 and CES, I don’t exactly look forward to most conventions, but SXSW is different. I enjoy the casual, creative vibe of the show, and this year, I had a lineup of fantastic interviews. I was eager to get going. 

My period started because I had recently switched to the pill from Mirena, a high-hormone intrauterine device that for half a decade pushed my emotions to spike and plummet unpredictably, and possibly contributed to years of debilitating nausea. 

I vividly recall the day I had the Mirena implanted; IUDs were still relatively new on the mainstream circuit and there weren’t many first-hand accounts of the process online. My gynecologist said I might experience some cramping that night. I felt a pinch around my ovaries as she inserted the device with its dangling strings, t-shaped polyethylene body and 52 mg of LNG, a steroid hormone that mimics progesterone. I drove home, cramping slightly but pleased I didn’t have to pop a pill every day to maintain my non-parent status.

By that night, I was curled into a ball on the bed, clutching my abdomen, riding waves of the worst pain I’d ever experienced. That remains true to this day. I questioned everything that night, but mostly, it exists in my memory as a blur of white-hot agony. I kept the Mirena, of course. Eventually, my periods became erratic, punctuated by agonizing bursting cysts on my ovaries every few months, aftershocks of that initial night. Still, I kept the Mirena.

Fast forward five years. I’d just had the Mirena removed and was in a month-long waiting period before my gynecologist would add Skyla, a smaller and lower-hormone IUD, to my anatomy. After living with Mirena for so long, I forgot to pack my temporary birth-control pills for the Austin trip. On the third day of the show, my period arrived. Before I started bleeding, I had a fantastic day. I interviewed one of my literary idols, Neil Gaiman (and a bonus Jon Hamm), and had the rest of the afternoon to write; it was a dream situation for a convention like this. I walked to a coffee shop to work alongside some colleagues, opened my laptop, and was hit with an intense wave of nausea. My mind was gradually swathed in fog; my stomach roiled and acid hit the back or my throat. I couldn’t eat the soft pretzel I’d ordered. A colleague asked if I'd drank too much the previous night and I laughed it off, heart threatening to leap straight out of my throat. I went back to my hotel room, exhausted, and tried to finish my story. What should have taken an hour took four, and even then my editor called the draft a fever dream. I puked three times while writing it. Dizzy, short of breath, heart thundering in the pressurized cabin of my chest, I tried to eat dinner and sleep. I actually ate half of the burger I ordered. The night wore on, my colleagues went to a SXSW party, and once midnight rolled around, I tried to sleep. The tornado under my ribcage sent prickling tingles down my limbs, making my hands shake and sweat. Sleep eluded me. The signs of a heart attack are different for women and men. Many “traditional” symptoms, such as sharp pain in the chest, don't always appear in women. I knew this, vaguely, and my own body was out of whack enough that I Googled "female heart attack symptoms." I matched them all with uncanny accuracy. The websites I visited recommended calling 911 -- but then, they always do. Around 4:30AM, I called my boyfriend and then a 24-hour nurse line. I explained my symptoms and was advised to call an ambulance. After another half hour spent trying to convince myself I could fall asleep if I just tried a little harder, I got a Lyft to St. David’s South Austin Medical Center (that was $13, compared with an estimated $1,000 for an ambulance). I puked again in the waiting room bathroom, light-headed and paranoid my left arm was going numb. My period started (idiot). Over the following four hours, the doctors ran a few tests, I took some anti-nausea medication, and that was that. I was young and relatively healthy -- it was probably just anxiety or indigestion, according to the hospital staff. Even as I sat in the back seat of the Lyft on the way to the hospital, I knew the tests wouldn't return anything notable. They never did. Which, generally speaking, was a good thing. I wasn't having a heart attack -- great -- but I wasn't all right, either. There were a range of possible causes for my symptoms in Austin, and the same culprit may also be responsible for the years of isolating stomach issues I've experienced. However, by the time I left the hospital, it was clear that these episodes of heart-attacky symptoms were tied to my menstrual cycle. I did some quick online research and found a number of results that might explain my situation, all of them related to my period. This was new information. I knew about PMS and PMDD, the more extreme and debilitating version of PMS, but I'd never heard either word attached to heartburn or heart attacks specifically. I'd seen a gynecologist regularly for the past 15 years, but in the mess of other, more pressing consequences of female birth control, heartburn just never came up.

This is how it goes. I switch contraception methods and a fresh new hell is unleashed on my unsuspecting body, whether it's pain or emotional turmoil or fatigue or personality tweaks or changes in sex drive, and it takes me longer than it should to realize my symptoms line up perfectly with my new sterility regime. Shockingly, I'm not always thinking about birth control, though it's always, always in my life. All of this is to say it's bullshit there is no widespread form of male contraception yet. 

THE MALE BIRTH CONTROL CON | An informational interlude by Jessica Conditt

For men, the options are, essentially, condoms or vasectomies. Vasectomies are effective, but they’re also designed to be permanent. In an outpatient procedure, surgeons snip or block the vas defrens, which normally serve as the sperm highway in a man’s scrotum. Planned Parenthood describes the process as relatively pain-free, quick and nearly 100 percent effective after a three-month waiting period. However, vasectomies are for men who are done having kids, as they’re difficult (and sometimes impossible) to reverse.

There have been a few other attempts to fill the birth control gender gap: Vasalgel is a potentially reversible solution that acts like a vasectomy, but with an injected solution rather than actual surgery. This means the process is reversible, in theory. Vasalgel made headlines in 2017 when it was successfully tested on monkeys, but there hasn’t been much movement since.

There is one potential bright spot for the future of male birth control, and it comes in the form of a thin needle. 

“Most of the research has focused on the combination of testosterone plus a progestin, another sex steroid hormone that is found in men and women,” University of Washington chief of medicine Dr. Bradley D. Anawalt told Endocrine News in 2016. “Previous studies of male hormonal contraceptives have shown that injectable formulations provide effective contraception that is far superior to the condom and compares favorably to most female contraceptive options.”

In October 2016, researchers reported the results of a study into a particular injection-based method of male birth control. The shots (200 MG of norethisterone enanthate and 1,000 MG of testosterone undecanoate, injected every eight weeks) were tested in 320 men and found to be 96 percent effective. However, the study was halted because the men involved reported particularly high rates of adverse side effects, most notably depression and other mood disorders, but also acne, muscle pain and increased libido. Even with these effects, more than 75 percent of participants said they were willing to continue using the shot.

The most recent advancement in male birth control comes from the National Institutes of Health, which announced in November plans to study a gel designed to prevent pregnancy. The gel, NES/T, is rubbed into a man’s back and shoulders and works via a progestin-based compound called segesterone acetate and testosterone. The NIH is recruiting participants and the study is set to be completed in September 2021.

And that’s about it, when it comes to the technological landscape for male birth control. Promises, tests and silence.

The point here isn't that female birth control sucks or that men are purposefully thwarting attempts to devise a male version. In fact, most men I know are eagerly awaiting the day they can pop a pill and not worry about making a baby. 

I'm simply tired of treating my body like a hormone-bomb test site. I'm sick to death of the daily side effects of protecting myself -- and my male partners -- from pregnancy. 

That doesn't mean I'll stop any time soon. The possibility of pregnancy is still scarier than the side effects of birth control, for me and for now. I just wish men had as many terrible, effective, agonizing, freeing and emotionally disruptive options as I do.

* * * * * *

I wrote the above words in March 2019, while waiting for my Lyft to arrive at St. David’s South Austin hospital and take me back to the hotel. I typed them deliriously into the Keep Notes app on my phone, caught a few hours of sleep and then got back to covering the show.

When I returned home, I told my gynecologist about the hospital visit, the pain, the convincing heart attack symptoms. She nodded sympathetically and slid a Skyla device into my uterus. One week later, she checked on it with an ultrasound, and found a 5cm cyst inside my left ovary. It was a dense, black hole on the monitor. Endometriosis.

“Wow, it’s big,” she commented. “I’m surprised you haven’t been in more pain.”

I had been. I’d told her about it. But she’s a gynecologist -- her entire job is dealing with women in pain. My complaints of nausea and vomiting, significant weight loss, spasms of agony in my gut and irregular heart rhythms were not cause for alarm in this space. They were simply the price of having ovaries.

I had surgery last week to remove the endometrial cyst and surrounding damage. The procedure was supposed to take about an hour, but mine took three. At one point, my gynecologist was concerned she’d have to remove my entire left ovary, but she managed to keep my organs in place. Regardless, surgery isn’t the last step in living with endometriosis. It’s just the start.

The birth control bouncing around my body for the past 15 years likely kept my endometriosis at bay. The brief gap in IUD placement simply allowed my doctor to finally see it. All along, what I thought was pain from rupturing cysts was actually this disorder sticking my uterus together and filling my ovary with pus the color and consistency of melted chocolate. The cyst was apparently pushing against my bladder; since having it removed I’ve realized how painful peeing used to be.

Like with so many other symptoms, I’d gotten used to it.