#putting an already angsty boy through MORE angst

[beautifulterriblequeen]

would love to see Runaan retire from assassining and take up something softer. Maybe being a ranger like the other guardians of the Silvergrove, as they're called in the Xadia game. Especially since he's soft for animals, and sometimes you get rangers with animal companions as they move through the wild.

What does he range around for? Just Silvergrove defenses? Nah, not our boy. He's got Guilt! He loves Xadia and he still wants to protect it, and he's also got all these precision violence skills. How to use them effectively without continuing the Cycle, though?

Well. There are all these horrible nighttime ghosts flitting around every night now. And arrows can strike them, as we've seen. And the Xadia game had a whole plot arc centered on what happens when restless spirits return (hint: you kill them a couple more times, really good and dead for suresies). And I think Runaan would be pretty good at such a job.

It's got angst and sorrow - he'd have to range all over Xadia, whether Ethari comes with him or not (he's coming with him), and spend his time dwelling on those who died violent deaths and had unfinished business - things Runaan's assassin job directly contributed to. His hands really could make his amends, by putting to rest these angry spirits to protect the living, and looking his past deeds in the eye while he does it.

Some of the spirits he encounters may be people he killed, even. And that's where things get interesting. In order to save people from avenging spirits, he'd have to shoot someone he already shot. And that's pretty angsty. Will he still be hard enough not to hesitate? Or will he get caught up in the guilt and shame of his place in this grand engine? Would he let them hurt him, would he even be able to stop them if they tried, if they recognized him specifically? Ohoho. Ohohohoho.

*steeples fingers* Yes good, I would deeply enjoy seeing ghost hunter Runaan and wardcrafter Ethari taking on a seemingly endless array of tormented souls armed with what I can only imagine are truly inspired haunt-proof trinkets and weapons specifically tailored to control and take out ghosts.

Not least because it would mean Runaan gets a new outfit. 😇

[monzabee]

the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.  

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?” 

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”  

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.” 

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–” 

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?” 

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?” 

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”  

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.  

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”  

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.” 

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.” 

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone. 

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.” 

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?” 

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”  

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment. 

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.  

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!” 

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.” 

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”  

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?” 

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–” 

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”  

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–” 

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”  

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”  

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”  

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.” 

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.  

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?” 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”  

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.  

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.  

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.” 

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?” 

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.  

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.  

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!” 

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover. 

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!” 

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”  

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.  

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?” 

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.  

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”  

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.” 

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?” 

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...” 

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?” 

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”  

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”  

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers? 

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?” 

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.  

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?” 

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?” 

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?” 

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.” 

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.” 

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.  

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”  

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?” 

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.” 

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?” 

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?” 

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.” 

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”  

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?” 

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.  

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach.   But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.  

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.  

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”  

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.  

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.  

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.  

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.  

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”  

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”  

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to chilisade5594@gmail.com, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.” 

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.” 

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.  

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?” 

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”  

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”  

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?” 

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.” 

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.” 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.  

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?” 

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” 

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?” 

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.” 

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”  

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?” 

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.” 

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”  

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.  

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”  

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?” 

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”  

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!” 

“I know you don’t,” he nods.  

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.  

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.  

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!” 

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.  

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.  

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.” 

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.” 

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.” 

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.” 

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up. 

[hexxynn]

you're my forever | best friend! anakin x fem!reader

word count : 10.2k

warnings : MDNI 18+, anakin and reader are 18, angst, angst, so much angst, self deprecation, reader has a mom named lucille, insecure! reader, modern!, jock! anakin, swearing, anakin worshiping the ground you walk on, reader is described as having a tummy!, praise, even more praise, anakin talks you through it, arguing, readers parents are divorced, pet names, virgin! reader, oral (f receiving), piv, no condom mentioned (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, aftercare (i think that's all?)

summary : you develop feelings for your long time best friend, anakin. you fall into a pit of bedrot trying to cope and push him away, only for him to push back. what you didn't know is that he felt the same way.

a/n : my first fic ever pls be kind lol, this is my first time writing smut too, so any tips would be appreciated! im lit new to tumblr so please don't be afraid to request anything. also im literally a slut for angsty sex and praise can you tell? also this isn't proofread soz

You didn't know when your feelings had turned from platonic, to overwhelmingly romantic.

Honestly? It was scary.

You had known Anakin for a while, him being your neighbor for most of your life. That was, until you moved, but only to downsize after your parents split. The quaint neighborhood, the only thing you had ever known, being torn away from you. Luckily— your parents didn't want to move far, so you stayed put in the same town, just in different neighborhoods.

You were two when you guys met, both of your toddler selves adorned with the aroma of innocence and childhood. Your moms had both bonded, over the struggle of motherhood, while you two seemed to find each other in the purity of your early years. He came up to you, with a simple ask to push him on the swing; an offer you couldn't refuse. Retorting with an, "as long as you push me after," which couldn't help but earn an eager grin from Anakin.

As you two pushed each other, giggles and laughs emerging from the silence of the neighborhood, your mothers had noticed the bond and smiled; knowing their friendship, and the one forming by the swing sets, would go on past this little encounter. They exchanged numbers, beams from ear to ear, knowing they found comfort in each other, and a pal for their children.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

As time went along, they set up playdates, leaving you two to watch shows, and do little things only young kids would do, whilst they sat on the back porch of your house with a wine glass in hand. You and Anakin would watch silly things, and you would play with his toy cars; in exchange, he'd play dolls with you (no matter how girly it was, or how frustrated he got in his three year old brain).

The neighborhood gossip would flow from their lips. Inside, the sounds of juvenility and jolly would make themselves present in some of your earliest memories. Your moms has been content with the current exchange. The simple call to come over, no matter whose house, with the almost immediate response from the other, and you and Anakin were dragged into their friendship, building one of your own. It worked out nicely.

As you grew up, playdates turned into school, and he was your best friend in elementary. Bus stop hand holding was the cause of teases from the boys (not the girls, who thought it was 'cool' you were able to get a kindergarten boyfriend), eliciting a shrug of nonchalance from Anakin. He would defend you, and go back to the swing sets with you, returning back to your place of blossoming friendship. He didn't care much for what the six year olds had to say, knowing you already for over half of his life. The bond your mothers had created was stuck, and would be for a while.

Once you got to middle school, there was a shift, though. He found his guy friends, understanding the game that adolescents liked to play with jokes and gossip. While he still walked you to the bus stop, he didn't see you as much in school. Especially with the deferring interests you two had grown. You had become a bookworm, immersed in studies as soon as you entered the next phase of your life, while he became athletic and would stay after school to play soccer with the other boys in the field behind school. Nevertheless, he'd come home and his mom would tell him they're going to your house. With no protest— he'd go. He would never turn down seeing you. Without prying eyes and weird looks, he could be himself and return to the faithful friend he'd had for so long. The simplicity and routine created never felt off, even as the times changed. He would always run back to you.

Until High School started. Things changed yet again, messing with the routine you two had created. He didn't walk you, or drive you to school, but would bring you food, smile at you in the halls, and nod his head in the structured environment of school. It was more than middle school. You two still saw each other as much as possible, but hangouts got a lot different. He got into football, and the schedule was rigorous. Yet, you'd still go to his games, cheer him on, and wait until he got home to personally congratulate him. He never even let flings, or girlfriends throughout the years, change his behavior towards you. It had never been explicitly romantic, but you two were closer than most. He'd hold your hand to drag you to his room, and vice versa. He'd let you drape his legs across him on the couch, or let him spin you around in a hug after his games.

He saw you more than middle school, his maturity hitting him slightly. He valued you, and you valued him, and that was one of the first things he'd ever known. This platonic relationship he held with you, was one of the things he cherished most. He wouldn't let anything get between you two, no matter what was to come in the future. He'd never let you go.

You on the other hand, immersed in studies and prepping for college, had turned a lot of hangouts into study dates. Which was okay with him, as long as you two got to see each other. He'd lounge in your room while you sat at your desk with a textbook and computer. He'd bring you food when your mom called that dinner was ready, knowing your academics had pulled you away from reality. His nurturing nature stayed the same.

You two had both gotten into different colleges, across the state. He got a football scholarship, and you got an academic scholarship at a prestigious college on the west side. You knew what was to come as the summer after senior year approached.

What you didn't know was to come, was your feelings towards him.

You didn't know when your hand holding started making your tummy flutter, or when his hands tracing patterns on your calves had you feeling flustered. Sure, he changed a lot in High School. He got muscular, grew his hair out, had more charm and appeal. He had girls swooning. But you? You never expected to be one of those girls.

Coming to terms with your feelings was definitely a task.

At first, it was jealousy. Jealousy towards the girls who were able to openly fawn over him, with Anakin relishing in the attention they bestowed on him. He loved living in this spotlight, and the rush he got when girls would whisper and giggle sentiments about him. He adored all of the looks and the eye fucks he would get in the halls. It was an ego boost.

You wished so terribly you could be one of those girls. The ones he'd kiss after his games, the ones who went out with him on Friday nights. You just weren't that girl.

Sophomore year came with heated jealousy, and Junior year came with longing. Senior year, you slowly came to terms with it. It wasn't until after graduation, when you relished in all the attention he would give you on summer days, that you fully realized what you were feeling. You had never had a boyfriend throughout all your years, academics taking priority over any man.

The beginning of summer was torture.

He was mindful of his last couple of months with you, giving you his full, undivided attention.

And you fucking loved it.

At the same time though, you hated it. The torment of the sudden affection you received, along with an endless stream of texts and calls when you two couldn't be together. It made your feelings all the more real, and you couldn't do it any longer.

You were then slowly trying to distance yourself, for your own sanity, to protect your feelings and soften the blow of college. You were frustrated, angry, and hurt all at the same time. It wasn't his fault, but your brain blamed him for all of it. You were starting to resent him, and hole up in your room, only coming out for meals and water. It had been this way for about a week now, in the middle of June, and the contrast from this to the way you were two weeks before was startling. Especially to Anakin.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

Your mom, Lucille, was standing on her back porch per usual, pacing around her best friend, also known as Anakin's mom. Though she was across town, it wasn't far. A mere ten minute drive at most.

"I just don't know what's gotten into her, you know? One minute she's going out almost every day with Ani, the next she's- she's- god!"

Lucille was very annoyed, to say the least. The state she had found you in was worrying her, and her financial situation with college didn't assist in her anxiety.

"Did something happen between her and Ani?" Lucille pondered, quirking a brow up inquisitively at her friend, sighing. "Not that I know of. In fact, he's been asking about her," Shmi sighed heavily. "She might just be stressed about university, you know?"

"I know... but she normally comes to me about these things, Shmi! And now she's this void," Lucille sat down, wine sloshing in the glass.

Shmi rubbed her back, smiling softly. "Just be patient, Lucy, maybe try to have a heart to heart with her? Sit down with her," Shmi pondered.

"Yeah... yeah, sure. I'll do that," Lucille returned the soft expression Shmi reflected onto her, letting out a huff. "Can you come by tomorrow morning? I'll keep you updated," she asked, while Shmi rubbed her back.

"Of course. I'll head home, love you," Shmi replied, standing up and walking into the cool air of the house, watching the moonlight cast the house in a low glow. The hardwood floors leading to the front door were bleached from the sun, it's constant rays hitting the floor from the many windows in the home.

"Love you, too," Lucille wrapped her friend in a hug, wishing her off. "What to do," she looked at her feet, shutting and locking the door, heading upstairs to talk to you.

She heard soft music coming from your room, probably from the speaker Anakin had gifted you Junior year. She recognized the soft hum of your voice, and Lucille was then unsure if she wanted to disturb your peace. But, she knew it was for the better.

A soft knock resonated in the empty hallway, and she heard your hums stop, followed by your music. Your footsteps could be heard trekking to the door, that once opened, revealed darkness in your face.

Your bags were heavy, face devoid of any feeling as you tilted your head to the side, "Hey, what's up?" You muttered, avoiding eye contact with your mother.

"Can I come in?" Your mom requested, analyzing every feature you once held. It was sad, depressing, and a mess all in one. You straightened your spine, opening your door wider and flicking on the light. With no words, you sat on your bed, the white comforter all messy and tangled in an array of clothes; unfolded laundry you were too tired to do.

Your mother sat next to you, placing a hand on your back. "Is everything okay?"

"Mhm, why do you ask?" You force a smile, nodding your head. Your appearance spoke much differently though, along with the state of your bedroom. Your hair in a messy updo, and your clothes scattered around the carpet. Spandex and an oversized tee adorned your figure, hiding the body you once loved to dress up with random articles of clothing, a uniqueness reflected in your personality onto your style.

This wasn't you.

"You've been in your room for a few days now, what happened to your summer plans? The job you were looking for?" Lucille removed her hand, placing her cheek in her hand.

You again avoided eye contact, looking to your window. "I'm just tired, Mama," you replied in a hushed tone, chewing on your already scabbed lip.

"I know, hon, I know. But we're all worried. Me, Shmi, Anakin-"

At the mention of his name, you dropped your head again. Deep down, you knew it wasn't fair to anyone. But you couldn't help it. You'd rather put up your walls before letting yourself get hurt with a stupid crush. "It's okay, I promise," you again put up a facade.

"Is it me? Did I do something?" Your mother started to tear up, placing a hand on her chest. The last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt you. She had never seen this from you before, though.

You finally made eye contact, shaking your head rigorously. "No, of course not. I just need to sleep," you scrunched your nose, trying not to let the tears fall yourself.

"Okay... but if you need anything I'm here, alright?" Lucille stood up then, making her way out the door, shutting off the light on her way out.

In the absence of another person, you felt yourself rotting in self deprecation all over again. The mention of Anakin just hurt you all the more. You hated doing this, you really did, but crying for hours on end seemed to help, even in the slightest.

So, you sat back in your mess of sheets and blankets, music starting up again, as you scrolled through photos of you and Anakin over the years. Even looking at photos of him with girlfriends, his smile brighter than ever. Kisses on cheeks, arms around them in photos. A reminder of something you could never be to him. A hole was making its way into your heart, one that only he could fill, and you were devoid of any reciprocation to your feelings.

But, back at the Skywalker's residence, Shmi had come home, setting her keys on the rack, and plopping down on the couch with a soft thud. Even she was confused and frustrated, thinking of you as one of her own.

At the sound of the door opening, and footsteps, Anakin came tumbling down the stairs, excited to see his mom after a long day of work, knowing she went to your house immediately after her shift.

She perked up at the noise, laying back and turning on the TV. "Hello, Ani," she yelled to the hallway, as he came walking towards the living room.

"Hey, Mom! How was your day?" He asked, setting himself next to Shmi, leaning back in the cushions. His hair was damp from a shower, clad in a black tee and plaid pants.

"It was good, stopped by Lucille's after work," she muttered, with him letting out a chuckle in response. "Assumed so, it's around ten— you're normally not out this late unless it's Lucille's," he nodded. "Did you see Y/N?" He then asked, turning his head to face Shmi.

"No... I didn't. Have you heard from her at all?" Shmi frowned, watching him shake his head and loll it back on the couch, a sigh escaping his lips. "No, I haven't. I'm worried, you know? Did I do something?" He asked, looking for some sort of answer. Your absence was sudden, and no matter how many times he'd call or text, you wouldn't respond. Your location stayed the same as well, the icon staying on your house, so he knew you weren't busy. He didn't want to intrude though, and push boundaries, but he truly had no idea what was going on with you. And it hurt him.

"I don't think so, she's avoiding Lucy as well," Shmi looked at her son quickly while she channel surfed, finding something to hopefully fall asleep to on the plush tan cushions.

Anakin sighed, standing up. "Tell Lucille I'll be over tomorrow, okay? I'll see if I can figure it out, might be too personal to tell her mom about," Anakin assured Shmi, standing up to make his way up the stairs.

"Okay," Shmi replied simply, feeling sleep overtake her soon enough.

Anakin, though, made his way up the stairs, racing to his phone. He pulled up your contact again, pressing the call button, and listening to the same ringing tone that he's heard for the past week bounce off of the walls of his room.

He sighed when it hit your voicemail, the sound of your once cheery self beginning to speak. He hadn't heard your voice in so long, it ached and left him confused. "Tomorrow," he told himself.

He'd see you tomorrow, no matter what it took.

Tomorrow didn't come soon enough, though, leaving Anakin tossing and turning in his sleep. He was so, so tired, so worried, and so anxious about what would happen. He had no idea if he had done something wrong, his brain relentlessly bullying him with 'what if's'. He kept waking up in cold sweats, eyebrows furrowed with concern for you. He cherished you like a lifeline, and he felt like he was slipping away as you did from him. When morning came, he had bags under his eyes, and his hair was tousled with the constant running of his hands through his hair throughout the night. He didn't know what if it went wrong today, or if you gave no response and shut yourself off.

He didn't even eat, too sick to his stomach to do so, waving a small, "bye," to his mother before slipping into his car, and Shmi had sent a text to Lucille as he left.

Shmi

He's on the way.

Lucy

Alright, she's awake. Ty for sending him over 😘

Shmi

Anytime. Want to come over while they talk, give them a little space?

Lucy

On my way.

And with that, Lucille had left her own home, knocking on your door and letting you know where she was going. You had hummed in response, getting into the shower, preparing to repeat the cycle of bed-rot you had created in the recent days.

The water soothed you, hot streams battering on your back as you sunk into the tiled floor. The speaker still let out hushed instrumentals and lyrics of your playlist, allowing you to wallow in your feelings. Not even washing your hair, or your body, you simply laid there. Tears were scarce at this point, not able to flow down your cheeks, as you looked at yourself in your naked state.

You doubted Anakin could ever, ever, love something like this in the way you loved him.

It was honestly sickening, in your opinion, how you destroyed yourself over him. Promises to him left unkept, and your friendship flowed down the drain, following the stream of the water. The sad, angry music you hummed along to only allowed for your wallowing to fester into an ugly knot in your stomach.

Some Phoebe Bridgers lyric had you leaning on the wall, closing your eyes. Too many years wasted. Too many tears shed over Anakin.

As the song was reaching its peak, you were oblivious to the sleek, black jeep that pulled into your driveway. Your room perched in the back of the house, anyway, so it was hard to hear over the shower and the music, along with your own humming. You were unaware of the unlocking of your front door, which Anakin had a key to, and the sound of his footsteps bustling up the stairs of your home. Which would have been bad, had it been an intruder, but it was just your good ol' Anakin.

As he made his way up the stairs, he heard the music in the shower, and the sound of your voice, the murmurs of lyrics you sang along to. He also heard the familiar pattering of your bathroom, having also showered here one too many times after games. Your bathroom was attached to your room, and he didn't want to disrupt, so he simply opened your door and sat on your bed.

When he walked in though, he was shocked. Your entire safe space was in disarray, a mirror of your emotions. If there was one thing about you, though, it was that you were a tad bit messy, but never this bad. He frowned at the thought, and decided to lay back on your messy bed, pulling out his phone to check the time. You should be out soon right?

But as fifteen minutes passed, he was getting impatient. He strolled up to your door, knocking softly.

"Mom, I thought you were at Shmi's?" Your voice was raspy, and quieter than normal, a pang resonating in his heart.

"It's me," he softly said, hand on the door.

You were struck with shock, sitting up immediately, feeling guilty and overwhelmed suddenly.

"I'm busy, come back later?" You pleaded, hoping to avoid him. But if anything, Anakin was persistent, and when he says he's doing to do something, he'll do it. Your brain had hoped silently that he'd take it, making his way out, so you wouldn't have to face him.

He shook his head, "No. We need to talk, now. Are you almost done?" he inquired, leaning his side on the door now, dragging his fingertips over the ridges of the wooden door. You didn't respond, and he didn't hear any movement, so he continued to press. "I swear to God, Y/N, I'll come in there if I have to."

Fear struck your veins, and you stayed silent, hoping he'd go away. "We can talk later, I'm busy," you simply replied, shaking your head at his perseverance. You always adored that about him, but now was a bad time for him to do so. Now, you wanted him gone. He was no longer your sanctuary, but a cause of fear and pain to you. Knowing him, though, he wouldn't stop.

And you were right.

You heard the handle jiggle a little bit, before a groan was let out behind the door. "There is no need to lock the door in your own home," he sighed, turning back to your room. A bobby pin should work, right?

"It's to prevent people from coming in, y'know, like you're trying to do," you rolled your eyes and scoffed, borders and walls making their way back up. You heard his footsteps walking away from the door, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. One obstacle down, right?

But then, you heard the jiggling of the doorknob again, and the click of the lock, and a sense of alarm surged through your veins. "I'm coming in," he announced sternly, before you heard the creak of your bathroom door opening. He had successfully found your bobby pins littered around your vanity, from various updo's you'd style your hair with during school. For a second, he was glad for the mess, which allowed him to find it so easily.

"I'm naked!" You screeched, though the shower curtain covered anything he could possibly see.

He chuckled, scoffing, "I've seen you before," he sarcastically uttered, hands finding purchase on the counter behind him, facing the curtain. The only barrier between you and him in the current moment.

"Yeah, when we were four, asshole," you shot back defensively, groaning at his antics. You still continued to attempt to avoid him, dragging out your shower for as long as possible.

Anakin grabbed the towel off of the seat, reaching into the curtain to shut the water off. "Get out," he demanded, "or I will personally come in there and wrap you in the towel myself," his aggression didn't go unnoticed, knowing now that something was definitely wrong between you and him.

"Fuck, fine," you sneered, standing up and reaching out for your towel, which he handed to you through the curtain. You stood up, wrapping yourself, and peeking through the curtain. Shit, he still looked as beautiful as ever. Even more than the photos you would look at while letting sobs escape your lips. He wore a white ribbed tank top, paired with gray sweatpants, hung low on his hips. He looked like a mess himself, curly hair frayed at his neck, sticking to the skin from the steam.

He raised a brow, looking away in respect for you. "Go get changed, I'll wait here," he muttered, allowing you to be at least respectable before he confronted you. As a result, you zoomed past him, quickly grabbing a pair of drawstring shorts and a hoodie, knowing you wouldn't have to waste time on a bra if you were in something baggier. After slipping into your clothes in your closet, you opened up the bathroom door again, and he followed you forward to the center of your room.

He eyed you up and down, finally taking in your features and your state. Though your hair was dripping wet, he didn't miss the puffy circles around your eyes and the split lip you often had when you worried about something too much. His face softened, ever so slightly, as you sat on the bed in front of him, while he continued to stand in front of your figure.

He broke the silence as soon as you sat, "Y/N..." Anakin muttered, folding his hands across his chest in front of you. You gulped, picking at the strings hanging loose from your shorts, "what's so important that you had to interrupt my shower for?"

"You act like you were doing something important. You've been ignoring everyone for days now," he began, eyeing you up and down as you fidgeted and avoided his eyes. Those damn eyes.

"I was, I was showering. Hygiene is important, Anakin," you retorted, turning your head to the window on your left.

"You know what I mean," he opened up his stance, running a hand through his hair. You hardly ever called him Anakin anymore, just Ani. The fact that you used his first name sent shivers down his spine.

"What do you mean?" You inquired, acting oblivious, hoping he'd leave and let you go back to your previous state. Though, as mentioned, when Anakin was determined to do something, he'd do it.

He took a step closer to you, peering down, "You've been avoiding me for days now. Everyone, for days now," he pouted slightly. "You promised you'd tell me everything, so what's going on? You know I don't judge," he assured you, getting down to face you, sitting cross legged on the carpet of your room.

"It's nothing, I promise," You said the same thing you've told your mother consistently. "It's nothing," you repeated.

"It's not nothing, if it's got you like this," he tried to smile warmly, show you he was there, to bring comfort, to bring peace to your mind. "Yeah, well, it's not something I'd like to share with you."

Now that stung, a pain radiating in his very bones, your words leaving him stunned momentarily. You shared almost everything with him. Everything that ever stressed you, he'd hug you and distract you until you were a laughing and smiling disaster. You had never been so closed off, so defensive.

Unknowingly, unintentionally, he shot back, "I've given you every piece of me to show you how open I am, and you can't do the same back? What happened to you?"

Venom laced his voice, making you finally face him. It made the blow all the more easier, while it also gave you a heartache you couldn't possibly fathom. "Life happened, Anakin. We're no longer silly teenagers living our lives, we're adults. We're growing apart," you let your arms fall to your sides, helpless to the heat and tension growing between you two.

"We're about to go off to college, and I've been spending every waking moment with you. We didn't just drift, something changed. I'm trying my hardest to be here, you know? Support you, give you a hand, and you won't even open up," he shifted uncomfortably, sensing an argument arising, which has never before occurred between the two of you.

"It's nothing you can help, Anakin. It's out of your control, so leave it be, and get out," you persisted.

"Get out? Get out?" He shot straight up, standing up in front of you, inching closer to your balled up figure facing him. "You don't kick me out of a place that is basically my second home," he raised his voice, causing you to stand up to face him at the same time.

Before you could speak though, he continued his banter, "So you admit something is wrong," he pointed to your chest, jabbing your collarbone while he spoke the words, voice booming out in the silence of your bedroom. Your stance was less defensive now, as he slowly broke down the barrier, and he continued, yet again.

"I told you, it's nothing you can help with," you replied with a hushed, raspy voice, not wanting to bicker.

"Just tell me what it is, then? Is it school? Because while I may not be as smart as you, I have damn well studied for hours on end with you. I have given up movie nights, going out with you, for all of that shit. You're perfectly fine. You're set. You've got a scholarship, and you'll be fine!"

He continued to step closer to you, closing the space ever so slowly, as you shrunk under his words. "If it's your daddy, fine! But I watched the divorce, the split happen. I watched as you were torn between your parents, and held your hand through that!"

"So tell me, Y/N, what is different this time around?"

Your throat was dry, not wanting to respond, everything seeming so stupid now. How were you supposed to admit, right to his face, it was him? Anakin, the one who held you, the one who made you laugh, the one making you cry yourself to sleep.

"Is it boy troubles? Because I haven't seen any man swoop down and carry you in his arms, and I would have heard about it from your mom. You haven't told her shit, either. So it's got to be pressing you, huh? Just let it out!"

He continued his verbal attacks on you, his frustrations from everything being let out on you. You wanted to shrink back, run away, but there was nowhere to go. Your gut was churning, bubbling, as a sob almost escaped your throat. "You wouldn't get it!"

"Yeah, I don't fucking get it because you won't tell anyone what's wrong," he immediately responded, again taking another step closer. You swatted the hand that was on your chest away, pushing him back from the close proximity. He stumbled, catching his balance, before turning to the side and letting out a low chuckle. "I see."

He saw the polaroids of you and him, laying on your nightstand, shaking his head, "It's me, huh? What the hell did I do? Just tell me," he almost begged, yelling at the top of his lungs at this point. You glanced back and let tears finally escape your eyes, sniffling from the flow. He noticed, slightly softening, as you began to yell back, finally breaking the dam.

"It is you, idiot! Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you smile at girls like they're everything to you, bring them home at night to cuddle and hold them. It's the way you style your hair, and the way you saunter with your huge fucking ego!"

Oh, now he was confused. You despised his guts because of the way he was? Always has been?

"And you know- you know, I wish I was one of those girls! But you've never even looked at me that way, Anakin! That's the issue! That you've been so oblivious to the way I've wanted you, turning around and fucking other girls while I wait at home for your text that you're safe! It's all of it, Anakin," you let out a choked sob in the midst of your sentence, looking him directly in the eyes, "You go around and play football and don't even give me a sideways glance in the stands! It's so, so wrong to feel this way about you, someone I'm just supposed to care about. But no, I fucking love you, Anakin, and it hurts, it hurts so much. You sit and flirt with the cheerleaders in the cafeteria, giving them kisses on their temples and wrapping your arm around them, in public! But I will never, ever, be one of those girls to you. I will always be the best friend. I will never get to feel you longing for me, and never get to feel you loving me the same! That's what's wrong!"

You finished, letting out a huff, and realizing what you had done. Anakin stayed silent, processing your words, mouth open in shock. You were so terrified, yet so relieved that you had let everything out all at once. You knew now that you had crossed a line, broken a border down in your relationship with him. It had turned from sweet, innocent bliss, to rage and despair, mixed with love and fury. You knew you could never come back from this, back from the words that flew out of your mouth. You were desperate for him, and you would worship the ground he walked on if it meant you could receive one backwards glance held with the passion he held for the other women. But you knew you'd never get that, and you'd spend all of your life searching for a person to fill the hole he created in your heart, but never quite filling it up fully. It would be like a bandaid, covering it up temporarily, but the wound would still exist. It would still rot underneath your skin.

"You mean it?" Anakin simply said, words quiet, as he took a step towards you again, looking into what felt like your soul.

"Every goddamn word."

As soon as the curse left your lips, he grabbed you so swiftly, so tenderly, colliding his body with yours as his breath fanned across your lips, waiting for you to say no. You froze instinctively, still coming to terms with the fact that his hand was laid on the small of your back, the other placed on the back of your head, inching you closer. Before you knew it, the feeling of his lips encompassed yours, with unspoken feelings reverberating through the action. You immediately kissed back, gripping his shirt with the arms in front of you, pulling him instinctively closer. He pushed your frame impossibly close to his, wrapping his arm tighter around you, clutching onto the hoodie you wore.

His hand had gripped your sopping wet hair, earning a small noise elicited from your mouth into his, leaving his kiss softening in satisfaction. It was filled with need, hunger, and years of built up frustration. He handled you so softly, as if you would break, tears still streaming down your cheeks. A sob wracked your chest again, causing him to pull away.

"How in the world could you think I could never love you?" He questioned, bringing you into a hug. You continued to clutch his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. He gingerly set you down to sit in front of him, while he kneeled between your legs. His hands were placed on your knees, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess bestowed upon him.

"I'm not them. I'm not the cheerleaders, or the dancers, or the athletes you date. Look at me, Ani," you grabbed onto his hands, squeezing. His expression showed guilt, love, and anger. Anger at himself, for ever making you feel like this. For ever making you feel like you were the second option, and that he could never adore you. Because for years, he has.

"Oh, honey, you are so much more than them," he brought a hand up to cup your cheek. "I have loved you for so long, I can't believe you ever felt this way," he mumbled, kissing your knees after he uttered the sentiment. "You are everything to me."

He wiped the tears off of your cheeks with his hand, raising himself on his knees slightly. "I'm so sorry I ever made you feel that way, because you are my first and forever love."

"You mean it?" You mocked him, your normal attitude coming back to life. He grinned like a cheshire cat, watching you beam back in the midst of tears.

"Every goddamn word," he mocked back, grabbing your hands and placing kisses on them, "you could never compare to any other girl. You are worth so much more to me, I promise. You are my sun and my moon, my stars, I revolve around you. I love you, so much," he praised you, placing one of your hands on his cheek.

You began to cry again, tears of happiness this time, knowing it was okay.

"No, no, don't cry baby, please," he kneeled up, know facing you directly. "You're too pretty to cry."

You shook your head in disbelief, looking down at your lap.

He kisses your forehead, softly, bringing you close to him. "I'm so sorry," he profusely apologized. He left kisses down the side of your face, peppering you, before meeting your lips again, where you wrapped your arms around his neck as he hunched over. He never once disconnected your kiss as he hooked his hands under your thighs, pushing you back on the bed and under him. The kiss grew more needy, more desperate, as his hands rubbed your outer thighs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. As you did so, you pulled him down closer to you, your two bodies moving in sync with love, care, and adoration.

You tugged on his hair, making him grunt softly into your mouth, making you giggle slightly. "What was that, hm?" You mumbled into the kiss. You honestly were lost with what you were doing, your first kiss taking place on the playground at recess, and had never gone as far as to continue kissing someone.

"God— you, Y/N," he pulled away, looking at you from above, the locks of hair falling from his head, caressing his jaw. He scanned your face for any hesitance, any doubts, and in finding none, he leaned back down, caressing your arms in the process.

"Wait, Ani," you stopped him before his lips could meet yours, bringing one hand to trace along his jaw. "I've never done anything like this before," you mumbled, partially out of embarrassment and nervousness. He had then begun to pull away fully, out of respect for you, before you trapped his hips in with your calves, pulling him back down.

"We don't have to do anything, I promise, I don't expect anything from you, nothing— I swear," he promised, grinning at you from above. "I want you to feel as comfortable as possible," he told you, realization hitting him that you most likely had never done anything beyond kissing, and he didn't want to pressure you into anything you wouldn't want.

"No, that's not what I mean. Ani, I want to," you told him, the heat growing between your bodies, his sweatpants and your shorts being a soft barrier between what could occur.

"You want to?" He questioned, anticipation almost hurting him in his core. You were willing to give him one of the most treasured, most vulnerable parts of yourself, to him, and he couldn't quite fathom that.

"Yes. Anakin, I've always wanted to do this with you, since I knew I fell in love," you leaned up to kiss his cheek, then you kissed the shell of his ear, whispering, "let me be yours."

With that, he bent down to kiss you again, gentle hands and tender touches. "I'll be careful, and tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?"

You nodded, bringing him back down to you, yet again, as the kiss grew heated. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, allowing you to open your mouth, letting his own wrap around yours and explore your mouth. The feeling itself was sensational, and you wished you had confessed sooner. Your hips bucked up to meet his, knowing only clothing separated you two. You reached down to tug on his shirt, enticing him.

He sat up, ripping his shirt off quickly, and you took the time to admire him. While you had seen it many times throughout the years, you couldn't get enough, knowing this was the man who loved you, who adored you, who pledged himself to you. Your hand traced along his abdomen, and up his chest, with slow circles and movements.

He looked down to you and your hoodie for permission, to which you grew embarrassed and shy. He stopped, again, tracing his hand along your hip, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not wearing a bra, Ani," you muttered with embarrassment, and he looked at you inquisitively at the fact. "Honey, do you know—"

You interrupted him, mid laugh, "Yes, I know, I'm just nervous. My body, and uh—"

You were cut off, almost immediately, with a tut from him. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I promise," he told you, looking at you as if you'd break with a single touch or glance.

You nodded, beginning to lift your shirt up yourself, before he stopped you, kissing you and setting your wrists down. "Let me show you how much I love you," he told you, so sincerely, that you felt your body heat up and tense.

His fingers found the bottom of the garment, beginning to lift it over your head, as you lifted your arms up for him to slip it off of you.

He could have practically cum at the sight.

He was met with your soft skin, only for him to see, and his sweatpants tightened ever so slightly. Your breasts splayed out, tummy revealed, and it was all for him. Would forever only be for Anakin.

He kissed you again as you held him, trailing pecks down your cheek, and to your neck, where he suckled the skin and nibbled. You whimpered quietly, never having even thinking you could let out anything from kisses.

"You're so, so beautiful. Sculpted by the gods themselves, I swear. If I could worship a statue of you at a temple, I could," he whispered into your collarbone, moving his pecks downward. You became inherently flustered at his words, a garbled mess, until his breath was fanning in between your sternum. His palms found your ribs, inching upward to your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipple. The contact jolted you, overly sensitive and becoming needy for him to make love to you.

"So divine, I swear," he spoke over your nipple, before his mouth latched onto it, suckling like it would be the last thing he ever tasted. Yet, at the same time, it was so pure. Merciful whimpers left your garbled throat, hands tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

He switched over to the other breast, the other one being caressed with his saliva coating it, hardening at the contact. He let his teeth drag along the peak, almost teasingly, before kissing the bud and moving downwards.

He moved down to your tummy, kissing all over. His tongue licked a stripe from your sternum to your navel, then kissing the skin above your shorts. "No matter how insecure you are, your tummy is perfect," he mumbled into the skin, teeth gently grazing the skin as he sweet talked into your skin, lust filling his eyes as he made eye contact with you from above him.

"Anakin, I need you," you muttered, not able to hold the eye contact as he sat between your legs, where you needed him most. He smirked, nodding as he did so, "I know, baby, just wanna take my sweet time with you," he spoke, so close to your core, where your desire lingered for him. He could practically taste it as well, bending down lower, his teeth biting on the waistband of the fabric, slowly pulling it down. His other hand met the other hip, assisting in his teasingly slow antics. He shimmied the shorts off, looking back to where you laid underneath him. He adored you, to say the least, and the way you're looking at him as him twitching in his pants. Desire and need are painted all over your expression, as he finally looked down to your panties.

He noticed the damp spot on the gray cotton, his mind going crazy. He did this to you. God, he loved it.

He kissed the wet spot, earning a small noise that strangled it's way out your mouth. Those damn noises to him, would be the death of Anakin himself. He then looked up, "Is this okay?" He questioned, wanting to make sure you were alright more than anything.

"Yes, please, Ani," you begged, watching him then tauntingly pull the fabric down your hips. Before looking, he begins to kiss the inside of your thighs, tongue dragging along the plush of the skin. The freckles and moles and scars, everything, he was taking in as he tasted you. It was perfect to him. You are perfect. He wanted to make sure you knew that as well, his attention switching to the other leg, repeating the same tantalizing licks and nips and kisses, sucking gently as he got closer to your center, leaving light hickeys and eliciting noises from you.

He then made eye contact with where you needed him most, a small sigh of his breath leaving a tingling sensation for you. "All of this, for me? You're too good to me," he spoke, before taking his first lick, a stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. "Y'taste so heavenly, honey, please," he begged for nothing, knowing he already had you as putty in his hands. You fell limp as he pressed a damp kiss to your clit, using one hand to pull back your folds for him. You were glistening with desire, leaking onto your sheets. He was disappointed he couldn't take the chance to lick it up off of the sheets, your hole twitching and practically clenching at this point.

He began his attacks on you, slow and steady, trying not to overwhelm you. Moans began to fill the room, letting him know he was doing a good job, only using his tongue at this point. "S'good," you spoke out, and he hummed in response, smiling in his head. All he wants is to make you feel good. This is an apology, devotion, and need all in one.

The vibrations sent shivers up your spine, fingers clutching the sheets beside you. His other hand was keeping your legs apart, the incessant twitching making him rut into the end of the bed. This wasn't about him though, this was about you.

His tongue prodded your entrance, scooping up whatever was leaking out, and he swallowed it graciously. "You're doing so well, my love," he praised. You hummed in response, not being able to form coherent words, even though he was the one with his mouth occupied. The hand spreading your folds twisted, allowing for his thumb to start slow, gentle circles around your clit.

"Is this good? Do you feel good, darling?" He asked, looking up to you as you nodded feverishly, in a haze of love and lust all at once. Your brain was clouded with the pleasure of Anakin between your legs, lapping you up like you were his final meal on death row. His thumb circling your nub, and his tongue swirling around your walls, gummy and slick with his saliva and your desire. He loved every second of it, your squirming and your hips rolling on his mouth, suffocating him in the best way possible.

His thumb began to speed up, and your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer and gripping on for dear life. And he hasn't even inserted fingers yet.

The heat between your legs grew stronger, as minutes passed of torturous circles and slow licks and prods, before you begged for him more. "Fingers, something, Ani," you managed to make out some words, jello and oozing into his palms and mouth. He chuckled at your eagerness, now using his hand he was using to hold your legs apart to wrap your legs behind his back, heels digging into the muscular blades of his shoulders. A single digit slowly entered you, curling inside, arching your back off of the sheets. His tongue moved up to your clit, suctioning the bud, and gently nibbling as his finger began a new pace. It was steady, almost leisurely, as he inserted a second finger, scissoring at your entrance. You were so, so tight, and it was heavenly to him. "Ani, faster, please," you commanded, and he damn well listened like an obedient dog, picking up the pace and curling inside of you each time, his thick fingers searching for the spot that would make you see stars. One your own fingers could hardly reach.

As he sped up and became more passionate with it, your legs trembled from overwhelming excitement and anticipation. You felt the knot beginning to form, one you had only reached on your own, while always thinking of this. Your moans became more strangled and raspy, his mouth never leaving his assault on your clit, and his fingers squelching from your wetness between your legs. The smell, the taste, everything was undeniably delicious to him. This was his Y/N, the one he pined after for so long, the girl of his dreams.

Your pussy began to ache, an overwhelming sense of your release approaching. With whatever you could make out, you uttered in a strangled mess, "C-cum, Ani, 'M gonna."

He began to get more aggressive with his suckles, and his eyes looked up to your expression as your breasts shook with every breath you took, head lolled back from the craving you had- no, the need you had for him. He felt your walls clench around him as your release was coming, his eyes never leaving you. "Good girl, I wanna see that pretty face look at me while you cum," he quickly reattached his mouth to you, the words themselves making your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck. Your eyes never left his, though they rolled into the back of your head momentarily. He felt the flutter, and the clenching of your legs around his head as you finished, his mouth licking up the last of you as he finally pulled away. "You did so well, baby. We can stop here if you want," he assured you, licking his fingers clean as he leaned up to cup your face and kiss your neck.

"I want to feel you inside of me," your lips were flush and swollen from the kissing and biting you had done, and your checks were splotched with redness as he nodded. "Fuck, you're so perfect," he guaranteed your utmost comfortability and contentment. "If you're sure."

He began to pull down his boxers and sweats in a swift motion with one hand, the other propping him up so he could kiss your cheeks sweetly and with care. "You're doing amazing."

You grinned and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips eagerly. Sweat beaded your foreheads, but the mess created never stopped either of you from continuing. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, before dragging his lips down to the corner of your mouth. He pulled away momentarily, hands reaching down to stretch you with his fingers. You glanced down to below his navel, and holy shit, was he big.

"It'll fit?" You questioned, your naïveté getting the best of you in the moment.

He chuckled, grinning and looking down at you waiting for him. He took a mental picture, analyzing every possible detail of your bare skin, and the way you looked right now. He was infatuated with you before, but this sight under him, left precum leaking from his tip. His fantasies could have never compared to this sight of him between your legs. "Yes, it will. It'll hurt at first, okay? And tell me to slow down or stop at any point, promise?"

You nodded your head eagerly, "I promise," so grateful for the way he was praising and taking care of your needs over his.

He kissed you again, dragging his tip along your folds. The red and swollen cock in front of you had you nearly drooling, but you decided to save that for another point in time.

"Are you ready?" He asked tenderly, kissing along your neck, tapping your clit with the head of his cock. "Yes, please," you chanted over and over again, like a prayer on your lips.

He let out a quiet hum, slowly pressing his tip into your folds. It slowly slipped past your entrance, earning a hiss from between your teeth.

"Are you okay?" Anakin immediately asked, though not pulling out, so he could look you in the eye, his gaze wavering slightly.

"Mhm, just hurts," you felt tears prick the corner of your eyes, and Anakin knows you've never been someone with a high pain tolerance. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you," he comforted you, pressing a small kiss to your lips, waiting for you to nod to continue. It didn't matter that even your entrance was gripping him like a fucking vice, he wanted you to feel as safe and pleasured as possible.

You made eye contact with him, nodding slowly, as he pushed in a little more, your hands finding his biceps, caged around your head, nails digging into his skin and leaving welts. It hurts, but you expected it. And there was nobody else in all the universe you would rather give your virginity to, just Anakin himself.

"You're doing such a great job, taking me so well," he smiled, hoping his voice would bring you a sense of oasis in the middle of his cock piercing through your insides. "Think you can take a little more?"

You nodded, as one hand reached down to press on your thigh, as he felt your pussy clench him so tightly, knowing you were his. Made for him. "Relax, it'll help it hurt less baby, I promise," he told you, rubbing sweet circles on your leg.

He felt your body loosen up, and he was able to bottom out into you, and his tip kissed your walls, a whimper of pain and pleasure entering his mouth from the kiss he gave you. "Good girl," he whispered into your mouth, making sure he was to never break eye contact in this moment. It was so pure, so sinful, and such a precious moment. He was lingering inside of you, movements stilled, no matter how badly he wanted to pound into you until you were crying into the sheets. You bucked your hips up, enticing him to move, and he got the memo.

It wasn't full throttled thrusts, but slow and lazy pumps in and out of you, waiting for the pain to subside. He felt so amazing inside of you, with your warmth and wetness connecting you both. The closest he could ever get to you, and he never thought he would be here. He was savoring every clench, every thrust, and every moment like it would be his last. Because it was you, and he loved you so dearly, he wanted this to be perfect for you.

Your back arched, your pussy twitched around him, all the while he was still slowly going in and out. It was celestial, the way you moaned and let out slurred words of his name, eyes half lidded and already looking fucked out, a devious and wanton expression he'd commit to memory. "Ani," you made out, grabbing the hand on your leg and placing it on your core. He understood, starting to rub spirals under the red and swollen hood of your clit, picking up his pace. Then, the pain has completely subsided, turning into seraphic pleasure, his eyebrows creating a wrinkle as they furrowed. His own pants and grunts left his lips, chest heaving from the bliss he was subdued in. He was immersed in you completely, mentally and physically. You looked so angelic, even godly, as your bodies connected in the most unholy way possible.

He had waited too long for this.

Your warm and inviting, virgin pussy, saved all for him. And now you were underneath him, his cock filling every inch of you, and each time he bottomed out his tip would meet your cervix, but not hard enough to hurt you. He treasured you, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

"Faster, Ani, I'm okay," you rested your hand on his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes, as he tried so hard to contain himself so you could feel loved for every second of it. He got off on you feeling so cherished under him, and you had never felt more adoration than in the present.

He listened though, picking him his pace, hips snapping so scrumptiously against you. You could hardly moan anymore, and you broke the eye contact, head rolling back and hitting your pillows from the amount of satisfaction you gained. He took the opportunity to look down at where your bodies met, watching his length slide in and out of you, coated in the sticky sweetness of your serene need for him. His eyes glanced over your body, watching as your tits bounced with every jolt of his body, and he almost creamed at the very sight. He was going to wait though, until you came, to ever think of cumming.

"S'well, baby, you feel so good wrapped around me. You're so beautiful, God. I could do this for hours," he praised you, feeling your pussy clench around him at the simple, yet overwhelming words. The way the plush of your thighs jiggled with every little movement, and the way your tummy followed with. He was encompassed in serenity for every second of it.

"M'gonna cum," you mustered out, warning him of your second release, building quicker than the prior one. "Go ahead, my love, whenever you feel like it," he said between pants and grunts, thumb still circling around your clit as he felt you get all the more tighter.

He sped up his pace, shifting his body to the right, the angle directly hitting that spongey spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your hands began to dig into his shoulders, the knot tightening. He could tell, watching as your thighs clenched and you let out the most wanton cry of his name, cumming around his cock.

The feeling and satisfaction of you finishing left him close to his own release, pulling your head down to look at him. "'S it okay if- fuck- I cum?"

"Cum in me, Ani, fill me up," you assured him, still whimpering from overstimulation and groaning at the feeling of him fucking your cum back into you.

His breaths were shakier, turning into soft whimpers and groans as you felt his thrusts grow messy, and soon still, feeling a gush of warmth inside of you, filling you to the brim. He stayed there for a moment, sighing as his cock softened, not wanting to pull out and disconnect from you in the most intimate way possible. He knew he had to though, as he pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty and lost.

You let out a breath of air, leaning up to kiss him. He happily obliged, rubbing sweet patterns along your hips, tracing the dips and curves with his index finger, soothing you after your release.

He leaned up quickly, making you feel cold, empty, and lost. Was he already leaving?

But no, he came back with a warm washcloth, leaning between your legs again. He came face to face with your cum and his load leaking out of you, beginning to drag wet and sloppy kisses on your knees as he ever so gently wiped up what was leaking out of you, and the mess and sweat off of your thighs. The residue piled along the fabric, which he then wiped his soft cock with, running back to your bathroom to throw it in the hamper. He crawled back into bed with you as you turned over on your side, the room smelling of sex and love.

"I'm so proud of you, you did so well," he told you, wrapping an arm around you and bringing you close to him, so you could lay your head on his chest. His palm rubbed along the small of your back, tracing up your spine.

"Thank you, I don't think I could have asked for someone better to do it with," you smiled, an after sex glow making you all the more beautiful to him.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend now?" You asked, and a dumbfounded expression was plastered on Anakin's face, causing you to worry momentarily.

"I would assume so, but only if you'll have me," he spoke into your hair, bare and naked bodies intertwined under the cold sheets. "Of course I'll have you," you comforted him, hands tracing the curve of his biceps. "You're my forever, Anakin."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

[xetlynn]

So I saw that your requests were open and just wanted to request a little something. Idk why this came to mind but could you make something angsty between hospital friend! Viktor x fem!reader. When they first meet it’s purely by coincidence and as they grow older they get closer, but reader’s health deteriorates more and more due to their diagnosis. By the time they both were going to confess it was too late. This can be set in a modern AU or not. Thank you!!

(God im such a whore for angst 😭😭)

oh man oh man oh man. How I love angst. But lowkey think I’m bad at writing it so I’m sorry if I did this dirty😭

Arcane Imagines- Viktor

Twisted Fate

[arcane] [main page]

prompt: in which fate is against you.

“Mom, please.” You roll your eyes, standing up from the hospital bed. “I just wanted to make sure!” She puts her hands up in defense as you just shake your head. “I can get up on my own.” You laugh, picking up your laptop, putting on slippers as you head out of the room. 

“I’ll be in the lounge if the nurses look for me.” You tell her and she nods her head, already tidying up your bed since you left it. You sigh at the clean freak that is your mother, walking down the hallway of the large building. It’s currently 10 pm so you’re hoping nobody’s in the patient lounge so you can do your school work in peace. It’s your senior year of high school. 

You turn the corner and into the comfortable warm colored lights that you say every room should have these types of lights instead of the bright annoying ones. You stop in your tracks though when you see a guy sitting there. He doesn’t pay any mind to you but you frown nonetheless. Wondering if you should head back to your room. 

If you did you’d have to deal with your worry filled mother. In here you’d have one strange guy who’s your age and obviously doesn’t seem like he’s going to bother you. 

You go sit down at the other side of the table that he’s already sitting at. Opening the lid of the laptop and getting started on your homework. 

As the time slowly passes you catch yourself looking at the boy, he was handsome that was for sure. “For someone also in the hospital for a reason you sure stare like an outsider.” He finally speaks up, your breathing hitches. Not expecting him to call you out. His accent also caught you off guard. It was really pretty. “Sorry.” You quickly apologize. 

“Is there something on my face?” He glances up to you with a raised eyebrow, putting down his rubix cube. “No, you just… remind me of someone.” You lie straight through your teeth. 

“Are they hot?” He asks and you smile. “Ehh, not really.” You joke and he places a hand on his heart. “Wow, way to bruise a guy's ego as he’s already clearly down.” He motions to the building the two of you are in and you snicker. 

“What kind do you have?” He inquires, you give him a confused expression. “Cancer, what kind?” He repeats and your mouth goes into an ‘o’ shape. 

“Acute Leukemia.” You answer curtly, pressing your lips together for a moment. “You?” You close your laptop, seeming as you weren’t going to be able to pay attention now. “Same actually.” He puts his hand up and you both pretend to high five one another in the air. “Twins.” You chuckle. 

“I’ve been sick since I was a child, so it’s only my luck that I get diagnosed with Cancer right before I turn 18.” You dramatically huff, leaning back in the chair. “Hah, we really are like medical twins. I had a really poor immune system as a kid. Diagnosed two years ago though. This is hopefully my last.” He crosses his fingers and then you do as well. 

“I hope so as well.” You nod your head. 

And as time passes the two of you grew close, almost inseparable. You two were the only ones who truly understood what the other was going through. Growing up sick as children, having worry warts of mothers. Then to get diagnosed with cancer, the same one might I add. You were grateful for each other. 

You were glad you had someone to warn you about what’s to come, who won’t soften the details like the nurses and doctors. And he would come to the hospital whenever you had to go back. Visiting you until the hours were over. You did the same for him as well. 

Your phone buzzes, you look at the screen hurriedly. It was the day that Viktor gets told if he’s cancer free or not. Today is important. You immediately answer, smashing the ear to your phone. “So!??” You pace back and forth in your bedroom. Antsy and impatient. 

“I uh…am…” He sounds sad and your heart drops. “Cancer freee!!” He excitedly says into the phone and you squeal out. “Yes!!! Congratulations!!!” You scream, laughing loudly. Your mom runs to the bedroom. “It’s gone?” She questions with wide eyes and a curious expression. You nod your head and she cheers, pulling you into a hug. Taking the phone from your hand. “That’s amazing, sweetheart! I’m so so so happy for you!” She tells your best friend and you scrunch your nose, smiling at her. 

Your mom and his had gotten close over the past 9 months since you had befriended Viktor. Now the two might be as close as their kids are. “I need to call your mom. We so need to celebrate this.” Your mom says and you over hear Viktor laugh, agreeing with the woman. She hands the phone back to you. 

“Sorry, she snatched my phone from me like I was some peasant.” You sit on your bed. “Well, it’s not like a peasant if you are one.” He tells you and your jaw drops. “Rude! I’m telling your mom when we go out to Hibachi grill later.” You threaten causing him to let out a snort of a laugh. 

“Hibachi grill?” He asks and you can already see the face he’s making. “Your favorite, of course we’ll be going there.” You scoff, he says a small “true.”

 “I have to go, you were the first call I made. My mom’s forcing me to call my whole family now. “ He groans. “Cancer free but at what cost.” He whines out, you chuckle. “I feel special, see you later.” You say with a smile. “See you.” He hangs up the phone and you stand up, going out to the kitchen. 

“Alright, Hibachi grill at 7, I’ll make a little reservation now.” You hear your mom speak and you bite the inside of your cheeks trying not to laugh. You called it. You knew them too well by now. You open the fridge, pulling out a water. You pinch the cap between your pointer and thumb, attempting to unscrew it but your hand feels too fragile. 

You frown, glaring at the white plastic. Trying it again. Your body was weakening from the first round of chemotherapy. You begged them to wait until after you graduated and now that you had, they set the appointment up and here you are.  You squeeze your eyes shut, throwing the bottle to the ground. “I have to go, I’ll see you at the restaurant.” You hear your mom say in the other room. Her feet heading your way. You look up at her. 

She sees the bottle that’s still rolling across the kitchen. “What happened?” She asked and you shrug your shoulders, going over and grabbing the stupid water filled plastic. “Can you open this?” You hand it over to her. “Of course.” She gets it with ease, your jaw tightens at the sight. Wanting to punch something. 

“So Hibachi at 7?” You change the energy of the room to something lighter, not wanting to hear the whole spiel of getting weaker and how it’s okay to ask for help. “Yeah, but do you need to cancel? I’m sure they’d understand.” She places a hand on your shoulder and you wiggle away. “No, mom. We’re going to celebrate my friend for being cancer free.” You spit out, walking back into your room. Upset that she would even offer that to you. 

It had been a year since Viktor was told his good news and now you’re walking into the hospital together for his appointment to check if that’s still the case with his body. You were bundled in a beanie, scarf and a large puffy jacket. It’s only 40 degrees outside but it was freezing to you. 

Viktor’s mom was supposed to be there but he told you she got caught up with something at work. You questioned it because his mom would never miss something like this. He shrugged his shoulders at your words. 

Secretly he had pleaded with his mom to just go to work so that you’d go with him instead. She knew how he felt towards you so it didn’t end up being a huge fight. Except she didn’t go to work. She stayed home due to her nerves being amped up. Not knowing if her son was going to have cancer again or not. 

The two of you are taken into a room to get the news. He had done all the blood work a few weeks ago. He didn’t want to find out over the phone so here you two are. 

He sits on top of a medical exam bed as you sit in a chair, shivering from still being cold. “You okay?” He asks you and you wave it off. “I’m fine, Vik.” You smile, your teeth chattering as you do so causing him to snicker. “Here.” He takes off his jacket, putting it on your lap. “Extra layer.” He says and you quietly thank him. 

The doctor walks in with a clipboard. “Heyy, Viktor. Long time no see. And you [Name]. Good to see you.” He grins at the both of you and you force a polite smile in return. “You too.” You puff out, holding yourself tightly. 

“So, Viktor. You are still cancer free. No signs of any abnormalities.” He tells Viktor who lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding and you clap your hands excitedly. “I only need one last test from you and then you are good to go. And hopefully I will never see you again unless it’s with [name] for the time being.” He motions over to you and you giggle. Every one of the staff knows the two of you are attached at the hip. If one’s there it’s most likely the other one is as well. “Okay.” Viktor stands up, leaving you alone in the room after they walk out. 

You sit there, leaning your head back tiredly. Using the hood of the coat as a pillow. You then feel something warm cover you, you shoot your head up, confused. “Sorry, Viktor told us you were cold.” The nurse awkwardly tells you and you thank her.

The room grows silent once again and you smile, snuggling into the heated up blanket. Grateful for your best friend. Your chest tightens at the thought of him. You were growing feelings for the boy as you spent every day with him. 

And two years later you’re standing there with your mom, Viktor and his mom ringing the cancer free bell. Weakly smiling as Nurses surround you, cheering. Viktor pulls you into his side and you grin up at him. “Now we’re both cancerless!” He squeezes you and you snicker. “Woo!” You rasp out. You currently had a cold so you weren’t all the way there but still excited nonetheless. Your tireless fight is now over. 

“Chinese food tonight!” Your mom joins the hug, Viktor’s mom following along. “Yay!” You beam. 

It didn’t last long though. You got a call about a month later from the doctor. “[Name] [Last Name]?” The lady over the phone asks and you smile. “That’s me!” You say as you were cleaning up in the kitchen. Viktor was currently in the living room with your mom. Getting ready to leave.

“I have some unfortunate news regarding your x-ray results. We have your appointment already set up on Friday for your physical if you want to hear it then unless you’d like to hear it now over the phone.” She speaks and your heart drops, palpitating a few times at her words. “I’d like to hear it now.” Your voice breaks. 

You leaned over the counter using it as support. “Um,” She was hesitant to tell you the news.

 “You have a malignant tumor in your brain, cancerous, it has spread to a point where you’d need surgery and treatment as soon as possible.” She informs you and your shoulders tense up. “The percentage of me living through this?” You quiet your voice as you ask, not wanting to alarm your mother or best friend in the other room. 

“10 percent.” She breathes out and you bite your bottom lip. “How long if I don’t get the treatment?” You vaguely ask but she immediately understands what you’re asking. 

“6 months with treatment and it failing, 3 months without it all together.” She answers your question and a tear slips down your cheek. “I’m not doing it.” You say sternly. “There’s a chance you’d live a long life if you get the surgery-” 

“I will go to my appointment this Friday to speak with my doctor. Have a good night.” You cut her off, hanging up the phone. You hunch over the sink, taking in the information you were just told. 

You’re not going through it again. You’re not making your body suffer more than it has to for only 10 percent. 10 percent!? 

“[Name], I’m heading out now.” A voice speaks behind you and you lift yourself up, forcing a smile. “Okay! Text me when you get home. Love you.” You give him a short hug, knowing if it was a longer embrace you’d break down in his arms.

“Love you too.” He says, leaving the house. Once his car is out of your driveway you collapse to the ground, letting out a loud sob. 

“[Name]!? [Name], what happened!?” Your mom falls beside you, pulling you into her arms. “Three months!” You wail, hiding your face in her neck. “I have three!” Your body shakes and she shushes you, not understanding what you’re talking about.

“Honey, breathe. Breathe.” She pets your hair and you hyperventilate harder, not able to calm down. 

“I- I got a call! From the office!” You shout out, having no other way to get it out due to struggling to breathe. 

She pulls away from you with scared eyes, staring at your face. “[Name], what are you saying?” She questions, gripping your arms. You breathe in through your nose, soothing yourself before speaking. 

“Malignant tumor in my brain. Only ten percent chance with the surgery and therapy. 3 months to live without it, 6 months if it doesn’t work but still do it.” You explain and tears build in your mothers eyes. You squeeze your eyes shut, you think this has to be a dream. There’s no way this is real. 

“You’re  getting the surgery right?” She asks automatically and you put your head down in shame.

“Right, [Name]!? You’re getting the surgery, right?” She cries out and tears spill down your face as you don’t answer her. “You just got the news, you can change your mind. It’s okay!” She talks, mainly to herself. 

She stands up, not knowing what to do with herself. “Don’t… tell anyone. Please.” You look up at her from the ground. She avoids eye contact with you but nods her head. 

On Friday your mom is gripping onto your hand, tears already threatening to fall from her eyes as you sit straight up. Your Doctor doing two knocks before entering. “[Name].” He solemnly nods his head, you do the same in return. “What would you like to go forward with?” He gets straight to the point and you glance over to your mom. She breaks down, looking away from you but not letting you go. 

“I’m not doing the surgery.” You tell him, heart thumping loudly in your chest. His face seems to flicker a sad expression before he takes a loud breath. “Alright, let’s talk about that decision then.” He begins. 

You sit with Viktor, staring at him from across the booth. Taking in all of his features with a small smile. Appreciating his presence. “What?” He chuckles and you shrug your shoulders.

“You just have an interesting looking face.” You say simply and he cocks his head to the side. “What a compliment.” He rolls his eyes playfully and you grin. 

“So, what’d the doctors say about this little sickness you have?” He points to your figure that’s very clearly ill. “Just my body having a weird effect from the medicines I’m still taking.” You lie. 

You hadn’t told him of the death sentence you had received. Or the cancer in your brain. You didn’t want anyone beside your mother to know. She told Viktor’s mom who promised not to tell him. You swore to do it before the third month. 

It’s already been one, the two of you still hanging out frequently, almost everyday. “Ah, so weird. You’re so prone to weird diseases.” He takes a bite of his food and you let out a dry laugh. If only he knew. 

You wanted to tell him how you felt before you were gone. Get it out. It’s been forever of yearning for him. The least you could get is a confession out. Maybe even a kiss from the man you’ve loved for over three years. 

Every single time you go to do it, something stops you. An interruption. Fate screaming at you not to do it. 

And in the second month, you were now in and out of the hospital, growing too weak to where Viktor couldn’t not notice something was truly up that you weren’t telling him. Even his mother seemed secretive.

He didn’t like this. 

You lay in the hospital bed, eyes closed as you rest. Your mom watches your breathing as she sits on the couch in the corner of the room. “Viktor will be here in ten minutes.” She tells you and you hum out.

“Good, I have something to tell him.” You smile softly. You were going to confess. You knew you weren’t going to make it through the week.

 

Viktor presses the button of the elevator, waiting in silence as it goes up to your floor. Holding flowers and your favorite chocolate. He was going to confess. 

The elevator doors open and he steps out, he limps a little more than usual, not having his cane with him. He was trying to walk without it in front of you. Show he’s getting stronger like he’s been saying. He heads to your room 143-V. 

As he gets closer, suddenly nurses and doctors are rushing into your room, he furrowed his eyebrows, picking up his pace to the best of his abilities. “What’s happening!?” He shouts, asking one of the nurses in passing. “I don’t know.” She sadly responds in a panic as she follows after the nurses.

He hears your moms voice, screaming. 

“No! No, no no! She was supposed to have another month!” She pleaded, getting pushed out of the room. Viktor grabs onto her.

“What’s happening!?” He asks, repeating the same question he asked before. “Oh, Viktor.” She cries, pulling him into a hug, crushing the flowers that he held. 

“Wha- what’s going on?” He shakily questions. “She never told you.” She curses you, frowning at the stupid choice that you made. 

A nurse comes out to say they’re working with you, leading them to a private waiting room. The two sit down and your mom explains everything.

Viktor sat there, stunned. Not believing this. Not believing that you wouldn’t tell him this. 

An hour passes and a nurse comes into the room. She looks like she’s trying to hide the fact that she’s about to cry. Her chin quivering. She’s been your nurse since the beginning. Since you first got diagnosed. 

“I’m sorry.” Her head bows and your mother screams out a cry. Viktor’s ears ring. His vision was blurred. 

“You can see her.” She says and your mom goes out but he stays planted in the spot. Not able to move. Not able to register what’s happening. You two were just planning to watch a movie together. To hang out and try this dessert you’ve never had.

The door creaks open and your mom is standing, her face stained with tears. “Go see her before you can’t.” She tells Viktor who nods, getting up from his seat. Shuffling his feet underneath him. Clutching onto the stupid flowers. And the stupid chocolate. He enters your room. Throwing the stuff at your feet.

“How could you!?” He shouts angrily. 

“How could you do this to me!? How could you leave me!?” He falls down to the side of your bed, grabbing onto your lifeless body. His own body finally letting him cry. 

“I was going to confess my love for you! And you die?! What the fuck!?” His voice breaks with every word, it was high pitched and hurting.

The nurses that pass by, lowering their heads. Everyone that knew you in the hospital was heartbroken. They truly didn’t think this was going to happen to you. You were good.

“And you don’t tell me you were dying? I should’ve known something was up, you were so sick! I’m such a terrible friend! I fucking suck, you… You fucking suck.” He bawls, punching the bed repeatedly. 

Your mom goes to him, pulling him into a hug and he clings onto her immediately. “I’m sorry!” He says. “I’m sorry!” He weeps and she shushes him. “It’s okay, it’s okay I promise.” She cries with him. 

Such a twisted, sick fate life had gifted upon you. 

[stevie-petey]

episode one: MADMAX

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.  “I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.  It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything. 

Summary: what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, descriptions of PTSD (slightly), swearing, and general angst and exhaustion

Words: 5.2k

Before you swing in: hello ! welcome back to the rewrite, hope yall are well :) heres chapter 1 of season 2 !!! so so so excited and ready to dive into this new season. things get a bit darker, feelings get even MORE complicated, and poor reader just really needs to take a fat nap and maybe some reassuring words. shes more angsty this season, so buckle up

-

October 29th, 1984

You originally gave Dustin the phone number to Bookstrordinary in case of any emergencies.

Now, you’re really starting to regret it.

For the fifth time this week, Dustin calls you at work to beg for money. Him and the boys recently started going to an arcade that’s opened up in town and have spent practically every day after school there this year. Sure, you don’t mind loaning your brother a few quarters, but at the rate he’s going he’s gonna drain your next paycheck.

Just as you’re thinking this, the phone rings.

Right on cue.

Alex, your coworker, smirks. “How much do you think he’ll ask for this time?”

“If I’m lucky, only a dollar.”

“Will asked me for three tonight, so I wouldn’t jinx anything.”

You gape at Jonathan, who has started hanging around your job after school just to have something to do. “No fucking way.”

“Way,” he laughs, pointing towards the phone on the counter. “Answer before Dustin sends a drone our way.”

You sigh and pick up the phone, which is on its second round of calling, and put on your best customer service voice. “You’ve reached Bookstrordinary, may I ask who is calling?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

“Aw, I’m doing well tonight. Thanks for asking, Dustin.”

“I need five dollars.”

“Ya know, ‘please’ has such a nice ring to it.”

“... if I say please, will you give me the money?”

“No.”

Silence fills the other end. Alex and Jonathan are hunched together, trying to stifle their laughs. You send them a thumbs up, and they give you one back.

“You’re a horrible sister.”

“What!” You scoff at Dustin. “I think you owe me like, at least ten bucks now. Yet you don’t see me complaining.”

A loud groan, then an obnoxious scream. “I promise I’ll clean Mews’ litter box for a week straight if you just give me the money.”

“Tempting, and honestly I’d take you up on that offer, but I already spent my last paycheck on my Halloween costume. You’re outta luck.”

Dustin gasps. “You were gonna say no this whole time? You just wasted like, at least five minutes of my time! I could’ve been digging through the couch for coins by now!”

“Jesus,” you pull the phone away from your face as Dustin continues to shout. Jonathan lets out a loud cackle and Alex just shakes his head. “I can give you some money next week–”

The line cuts off. Dustin has hung up.

What a little shit.

“You remind me why I’m grateful I’m an only child.” Alex says, now walking from behind the counter to begin stacking some books. Technically your shift ended almost thirty minutes ago, but you and Jonathan prefer to hang around for a while. It’s rare to have some time with just the two of you (even if Alex is there as an unfortunate third wheel).

“Glad I can help.” You respond. Once he’s gone, you turn to Jonathan. “And you were right, Dustin indeed wanted more than Will’s measly three bucks.”

He laughs. “Figured as much. The look on your face was genuine disbelief when he asked.”

“Mhm, I’m scared these boys will turn into horrendous teens. The lack of gentlemen in Hawkins these days is astounding.”

“C’mon, I’d say I’m a gentleman. I mean, I’m riding on your bike pegs tonight to keep you safe.” Jonathan says, waving an arm in front of his body as if to present all his gentleman-ness to you.

“Sure, bee.” Although, he has a point. Joyce has the car tonight so she can drive Will to the arcade and Jonathan doesn’t like you biking home in the dark. After what happened last year, none of the Byers are particularly keen on letting their loved ones go off alone at night. So, to ensure your safety, Jonathan has started riding on your bike pegs all the way home.

It’s endearing really, wholly unnecessary, but endearing.

Jonathan flicks your nose. “Who else would be such a gentleman to you? Steve?”

Hearing Steve’s name sends a wave of varying emotions through you. Guilt, shame, remorse, longing. You miss him. You really, really miss him.

“I thought we agreed to stop talking about Steve.” You mumble, now busying yourself with a piece of paper on the counter.

After Will was found last year, you and Steve had gotten really close. He’d spend hours bugging you at work, he’d gotten you such a lovely Christmas gift that still hangs on your wall, and you’d grown close with him in a way you haven’t before with anyone else. He would’ve done anything for you, he cared about you with such genuineness, and you couldn’t handle it.

Summer came and the heat that came with it scared you.

You’d pushed Steve away, severed any connection you had to him. It was easier when you didn’t have to see him every day at school, but ever since junior year started, you’ve been in your own personal hell.

Steve walks past you in the halls without batting an eye. He doesn’t look your way, like the months you spent learning every inch of his wonderfully unique brain and the moles scattered along his face never happened; he doesn’t give you that smile that makes your knees weak. He’s avoided you like the fucking plague, which you can’t blame him for, but it’s only made things more awkward between him, Jonathan, Nancy, and you.

Jonathan sighs. “I’m sorry, bug. I just… he seemed good for you, ya know? I was actually starting to like the guy before you suddenly stopped hanging around him.”

You play with the piece of paper, hoping that if you don’t respond then Jonathan will just drop the subject, but a thought seems to cross his mind.

“Wait a minute. Steve didn’t like, hurt you or anything, right?” You don’t respond again and now he’s starting to get worried. “Y/N, I’m serious. Did he do something to you?”

The irony of the situation is so comical you want to laugh. Here Jonathan is, demanding to know if Steve hurt you and if that’s why you’ve stopped being his friend, when in reality it’d been Jonathan who hurt you. Jonathan, your oldest and dearest friend, is the reason you’re so fucking terrified of letting Steve in. Of falling in love with him.

You’re already in love with Jonathan, you can’t put yourself through any more hurt.

But fuck, you miss Steve. You’d come to rely on him and his obnoxious sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. The way he so effortlessly filled the room with warmth.

“Relax, bee. He didn’t do anything. I just wanted to focus on Will and the boys more.” You lie through your teeth.

He gives you a funny look. “I know you care about the boys, but you know they’d want you to have some other friends.”

“I have you, that’s all I need.”

It’s all I can afford.

“Bug, I’m worried about you. You’ve all but thrown yourself into school, you work non stop here, and when you finally have some free time you’re spending it researching child psych for Will–”

“Just drop it, Jonathan!” You finally snap at your friend.

He stops, surprised by your outburst. He can see the angry flush in your cheeks now and the slight heavy breathing you do to try and calm yourself down. Jonathan drops his shoulders, defeated. He’s been worried about you ever since junior year started. You’re more withdrawn, you look like you haven’t slept at all, and now you don’t even feel comfortable telling him what’s been bothering you.

All Jonathan knows is that one day you were glowing while telling him a story about Steve and his stupid jokes, then the next day you looked frail and sickly as you told him that Steve was no longer visiting you at work.

Something happened between you two, he’s just not sure what or how to even help.

For once, Jonathan is at a loss.

–

“And then she chased Mike all the way down the street for her money! He got away!” Jonathan finishes his story with a grand flourish, laughing and hitting his steering wheel as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

You let out a weak laugh, exhausted from the night before. It’s early morning and you’re in the school parking lot, hanging in Jonathan’s car as always, and you feel like utter shit. You stayed up late last night reading this journal you’d found in the school library about acute trauma in children. It had been fascinating and there were some things you thought could apply to Will. Before you knew it, it had been three in the morning and you needed to be up soon for school.

Which leads you to now: slouched in the passenger seat, sunglasses over your eyes to block out the annoying sun, tiredly listening to Jonathan’s recounting of his phone call with Nancy from last night. Apparently they’ve progressed to nightly phone calls now.

Lovely.

Without meaning to, your eyes start to drift shut. The car is the perfect cozy kind of warm and the late October air wraps around you as if to lull you to sleep. Jonathan notices you’ve gone quiet and pokes your cheek.

“If you fell asleep I’ll tell your mom and she’ll put you back on house arrest.”

You slap his hand away. “Don’t do that, then she’ll just ban me from your house.”

“You were up all night researching again, weren’t you.”

“If you have to ask, then that’s probably your answer.”

“Y/N–”

You put a finger up, using your other hand to rub at your temples. A headache is forming and you’re three seconds away from just skipping first period to nap in the car. “We aren’t doing this again. Drop it.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “I’m your best friend, it’s my job to worry about you–”

“And it’s my job to tell you to fuck off whenever you’re getting on my nerves–”

Suddenly a loud blue Camaro comes speeding into the school parking lot, effectively drowning out whatever you’d been saying to Jonathan. The car revs its engine and almost hits a few students as it jerks its tires and then screeches to a halt, parking right next to you guys.

You and Jonathan look at each other.

“What the fuck?” You look out your window and are greeted with the sight of an attractive blond guy staring at you. His music is blasting so loud you can hear it through Jonathan’s windows.

“Jonathan,” you whisper, getting his attention. “Am I really tired or is there a guy with a god awful mullet staring at me right now?”

“He’s real.”

“Cool.” You continue to stare at the guy, unsure what to do. You’ve never seen him before, there’s no way you’d forget a face like that in Hawkins. He’s attractive, almost unappealingly attractive, and there’s a coldness to his beauty that makes you uncomfortable. He looks dangerous, like he knows how much power his beauty brings him.

The boy winks at you, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and then gets out of the car, slamming his door rather harshly. It’s then that you notice the redhead girl, much younger than him, possibly around Dustin’s age, getting out of the car as well. She slams her own door and doesn’t even spare the guy a glance as she drops her skateboard down and rides towards the middle school across the parking lot.

Meanwhile the boy saunters inside, a lazy pace in his step that also holds immense confidence. He’s cocky, cool and collected, and he takes one last look around, as if to survey his new claimed battleground. You notice a few of your classmates gazing at him with interest, which you don’t really understand. He’s hot, but his attitude alone tells you everything you need to know about him.

Once he’s gone, Jonathan finally speaks. “Who was that guy?”

“No clue,” your eyes linger on the doors he’s just walked through. There’s something off about him. “But I don’t think we want to know… C’mon, if we don’t head in now we’ll be late for our first class.”

–

During your lunch period everyone’s buzzing about some upcoming Halloween party. As you’re walking towards your locker with Jonathan, you notice a few pieces of orange paper being passed around. You don’t pay much attention to them, but when Nancy joins you two she eagerly takes a few from the girl passing them out.

Nancy playfully shoves the papers at you and Jonathan. “You guys are totally coming to this.”

“We are?” You ask, eyeing the flyer wearily. You have nothing against parties, but the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of drunk teenagers in horrible costumes is frankly terrifying to you.

“You sure are, Y/N.”

“But Nancy–”

“‘Come and get sheet faced’.” Jonathan reads aloud. “Yeah, Nance. I think we’ll pass.”

Nancy groans. “I can’t let you guys sit all alone on Halloween. That’s just not acceptable.”

“Actually,” you correct her, annoyed by the assumption, “we have a tradition with the boys. We take them out every year to trick or treat and it’s always been fun. We won’t be ‘alone’.”

“No offense, Y/N, but spending Halloween with a bunch of middle schoolers isn’t much better.”

You make a face and look over at Jonathan for help, but he shrugs. “You gotta admit, it is kinda lame.”

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like this–”

Nancy smiles at this. “See? Plus, I doubt trick or treating with the boys will take all night. You’ll be home by 8:00, and Jonathan will be listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something, while you, my dear Y/N, will be baking a fresh batch of cookies and throwing away all the candy corn you find.”

“Sounds like a nice night.” Jonathan responds, and you nudge your shoulder with his. It does sound like a nice night, one you’re looking forward to.

“I forgive you for your earlier betrayal.”

“Guys!” Nancy stops at her locker now, slight frustration in her voice. “Just… Come on! I mean, who knows? You guys might meet someone and–”

Her words are cut off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted in the air and spun around, Steve having snuck up behind her. Nancy now puts all her attention on him, he has his arms wrapped low on her waist and he’s wearing sunglasses inside like some idiot, and your heart hurts. He looks good, too good.

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.

“I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.

It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything.

Steve, as if sensing what you’re thinking, risks a look at you. Your eyes meet his and for a brief second no one else exists anymore. It’s just you and him in the small Hawkins high school hallway, where he’s yours again in a way that’s clouded with “almost” and “not enough”, and you want to tell him how lovely he is and how horrible you feel for hurting him, but then he diverts his gaze and focuses back on Nancy and you’re thrown back into reality.

He isn’t yours. Hell, he isn’t even your friend anymore, and you’re the one to blame.

Once Nancy and Steve start kissing, you share a disgusted look with Jonathan and silently agree to leave.

“Young love, huh?” Jonathan jokes bitterly when you’ve left them behind.

“I hate it.”

And you do.

You’re really starting to hate this whole “love” thing.

–

The only highlight so far this school year has been you and Will growing even closer. When Jonathan told you that Will started seeing the Hawkins Lab people for treatment and to see how he’s been recovering, you pulled Joyce aside later that night to ask if it’d be okay if you spoke with Will yourself. Since everything that happened last year, you’ve only become more interested in psychology, and you’d be lying if you said Will wasn’t an interesting case study.

You told Joyce that you’d been doing your own research, reading journals upon journals, and she made you a deal. You could help Will as long as you also took care of yourself, that you wouldn’t place an even heavier burden upon yourself. Of course you agreed, promising her you wouldn’t, and that’s how your weekly chats with Will began.

Jonathan had been against it at first, telling you that you didn’t have to worry about Will because you already do everything else for the kids. You told him you could handle it, and secretly you liked helping Will because you were able to pour all your anxiety and complex feelings for Steve into research and studying. It was a win-win in your eyes.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Waters had been extremely understanding when you asked for Wednesdays off. After all, you’d been working at Bookstrordinary for almost three years now, so she was quick to make the accommodation.

Now here you are, another Wednesday spent at the Byers’ home. You’re sitting with Will in his bed, the both of you quietly scribbling with his crayons. You’ve learned that he’s more receptive if you draw with him, if you take your time.

“How was Dr. Owens today?”

Will pauses mid-scribble. “Fine.”

“Just ‘fine’? Nothing else?” Your head is down so he doesn’t think you’re studying his reactions, but you keep an eye on him anyways.

“Yeah. I told him about my latest episode.”

“You had another one? Would you like to tell me when?”

Will thinks for a moment, and you tell him that he of course doesn’t have to say anything if he doesn’t want to.

“Last night. I was back in the Upside Down… and there was this… this thing.”

Now you stop drawing. “Like the monster we killed last year?”

“Different,” he shakes his head. “This thing was evil.”

Will’s eyes are darting everywhere around the room, and you can see his growing unease, so you decide to put the topic to rest for now. Clearly the episodes are getting worse, scaring him more, so you shift gears.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry for the episodes, but besides them how have you been feeling? Is school getting any better?” Earlier this month Will had confessed to you about the kids in school calling him “zombie boy” and treating him like a freak. You did your best to comfort him, and once you finished your chat with the boy you’d gone to Joyce to let her know.

Will sighs. “School is… school.”

You reach out and move some hair out of Will’s face. “I’m sorry, little bee. Middle schoolers are idiots, they’ll never understand how much you went through. I mean, I had to face that monster for only about twenty minutes. You had to hide from it for days, so you’re honestly incredibly braver than me.”

This gets a smile out of Will, which you’re relieved by. He’s been quiet lately, more closed off, and you’re worried that with the one year anniversary coming up, his episodes will only get worse.

A knock on the door, and then Jonathan pokes his head in. “Hey, guys. Mind if I join?”

“Actually, I think I should go. Bob’s been begging me for my cookie recipe, so I’ll leave you two alone.” You send a look Will’s way, a you better talk to your brother about this look, and he weakly nods his head.

As you walk past Jonathan out the door, you lean in close to Jonathan and whisper, “he’s struggling at school. Be gentle, kids can be fucking awful.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, silently thanking you, and you close the door behind you. While you want to help Will, make sure he’s adapting well, you also recognize your limits. He’s not your brother, Jonathan is, and you know he’ll be more open with him.

Joyce is in the kitchen with Bob, making some popcorn over the stove. He’s filming her with his ridiculously large camera and you can’t help but smile as you watch them. Joyce looks so happy around the guy, laughing more than she’s laughed in the last five or so years you’ve known her. She deserves this, she deserves a guy like Bob. Sweet, slightly silly, but good.

When Joyce sees you lingering in the doorway, she waves you in. “Hey, honey. Any luck with Will tonight?”

“A bit, he told me some of what’s happening at school. He still seems… off, but at least he was opening up. It’s a good sign.”

Joyce hums, but you can sense that there’s more on her mind. You look around to make sure Bob isn’t near, he’s busy digging through a cabinet to find a clean bowl, so you move closer to the woman and lower your voice. “What did Dr. Owens say this time?”

“Claims we need to just pretend everything is okay, despite the fact that it’s getting worse.”

There’s an edge in Joyce’s voice, so you’re careful with your words. “Well… I think he’s right.”

“You do?” Joyce turns to you, her voice loud with surprise, before she quickly remembers Bob is near and lowers it again. “Why do you think that?”

“I was up late reading a new journal I found about acute trauma in children. It’s been almost a year since Will disappeared, he spent days in complete fear, almost died… I mean, it makes sense that his body is remembering those traumatic effects.”

“So you think we should just leave Will alone, let him suffer through his episodes without any help?” There’s more confusion and fear than anger in Joyce’s voice, and you rest your hand against her arm.

“I know it seems counterintuitive, but the best studies we have all show that we have to let those who suffer from post-traumatic stress adapt at their own pace, through their own ways. They hate feeling pitied, and I have a feeling Will is starting to as well.”

Joyce turns the stove off and shakes her head at you. “You sound like Hop. I thought you hated the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” you chuckle, now helping the woman peel off the foil and sprinkle some salt onto the popcorn. “He just reminds me too much of my dad, and we all know how that ends.”

“Well if you ask me, I think it’s because you two are so similar.”

You gasp. “How dare you!”

Joyce laughs and the seriousness from the previous conversation dissipates. Bob finds a clean bowl and together you and him pour the fresh popcorn in as Joyce prepares the drinks. They’re having a movie night together, and you want to cry because of how adorable it all is. Joyce deserves this.

“You know you’re welcome to join us tonight, Y/N. It’s Will’s turn to choose the movie.” Joyce tells you, but you politely decline.

“Normally I’d love to, but I should get going. I have some homework and I promised Dustin I’d bake him some Halloween treats.”

“Oh!” Bob turns to you. “Speaking of, you promised you’d give me that recipe of yours!”

You and Joyce share an amused look. “You caught me, I did. I’ll write it down right now and you have to swear that no one else will look at this. Deal?”

Bob nods, ecstatic, and you grab a piece of paper and quickly scribble down all the ingredients he’ll need and how to make the cookies. Joyce watches fondly, and you fill with warmth having pleased her. When you’re done, you hand the paper over to Bob and make him cross his heart, just to be extra sure he won’t reveal all your secrets.

“Scout’s honor!”

“Very good then, soldier.” You salute him, and then pull Joyce into a hug. “I really gotta go now. Can you tell Jonathan I said goodbye?”

“Of course, bike home safe, alright?”

You wink at her. “Scout’s honor.”

Bob lets out a loud cackle and you can’t believe that this guy is real, but Joyce is laughing along with him and you’re pleased she’s found someone as endearing and kind as him.

–

As soon as you get home you throw down your backpack and bunker down at the kitchen table. Your mom isn’t back from work yet and Dustin seems to be off somewhere doing god knows what, so it’s just you and Mews for now.

Mews plops herself on the table next to an essay you’ve been working on and you scratch her head as you work. You get lost in your writing, humming softly to yourself, enjoying this small moment of peace.

You won’t admit this to Jonathan, but he’s right. You’ve been overworking yourself, your body aches and your eyes droop with exhaustion almost every day now. But keeping yourself busy is what’s helping you stay afloat. The more you pile onto yourself, the less time you have to think about Steve and his stupid smile and stupid hair and stupid face.

In the middle of one of your sentences, Dustin flings the front door open and scares you. “Jesus, dude!”

He doesn’t spare you a glance, but when he sees Mews on the table with you he suddenly looks a bit alarmed. “Mews is here?”

“Yeah…? She’s helping me with this English essay.” You respond, confused.

“Huh,” Dustin thinks for a second, but seems to shrug it off. “Anyways, I’m home.”

“I can see that.”

“Are you gonna ask about my day?”

“How was your day, my dear brother.”

Dustin hops onto the table and shimmies his shoulders. “I met a girl.”

“What?” You drop your pencil in shock and Mews scatters, your exclaim having frightened her.

“Don’t act too surprised, geesh.” Your brother rolls his eyes, but then he frowns. “Actually, technically speaking I haven’t met her yet, but–”

“You have a crush?” You’re in shock. In your eyes, Dustin is still a baby, no older than six years old. And yet here is he, thirteen and talking to you about a girl.

“Yes, Y/N. Her name is Max, she has red hair and is new, and she’s totally awesome.”

Red hair? You remember seeing that girl in the parking lot earlier today. “Was she with that weird new guy, the one with a mullet?”

Dustin nods, so you poke him in the stomach and ooh at him. “I saw her this morning, she was prettyyyy.”

He shoves your finger away and blushes, which you find adorable. Dustin’s first ever crush, you can’t believe how old he is now.

“Yeah, she’s pretty, but she’s also just awesome. I think she’s the one with the new high score on Dig Dug.”

“Dig Dug?”

Your brother scoffs. “The arcade game the party always plays? Honestly, do you not listen when I tell you about my days?”

“Alright, fine. If you can remember what I told you I did yesterday, then I’ll apologize for not listening better.”

Dustin closes his mouth, unable to recall a thing.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick his hat. “Anyways, since you officially like girls now, I’ve been dying to give you some girl advice.”

“Y/N–” Dustin groans, but you shush him.

“First things first, always be a gentleman. Max does indeed seem cool, but I’m sure she’d appreciate a nice and polite young man like yourself.”

Dustin nods. “Okay, be kind. Got it.”

“Good. Now secondly, we Hendersons are charming people, so just be yourself.”

“Duh,”

“Lastly, if she shows interest, tell her how you feel. Better you’re honest and true about how you feel rather than hide it and sulk.”

Dustin snorts. “Says you.”

You look away from him, slightly hurt. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“C’mon, Y/N. When are you gonna tell Jonathan you love him? I mean, everyone knows you do, it’s about time you confess.” Dustin drones on, unaware of your hurt feelings. “And he’s obviously in love with you, you guys are disgusting to be around–”

“He doesn’t love me back.” You whisper, looking down at your paper. You feel pathetic, confessing this to your little brother.

Dustin freezes, now realizing you’ve gone quiet. He can feel your mood darken and he feels like shit for not noticing it sooner. He’s upset you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought he did, I mean the party and I all assumed…”

His words fade off, and you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. It’s embarrassing, you shouldn’t be pitied like this by your brother. “It’s okay, I know what you meant.”

“Y/N–”

You get up from the table and gather your things, shoving them into your backpack. “I’m gonna finish up this essay in my room, then I promise I’ll start baking those marshmallow puffs you like–”

Dustin jumps down from the table and blocks you from leaving the kitchen. “Jonathan is an ass–”

“Language–”

He doesn’t let you interrupt. “You’re cool, he’s stupid, and I’m here for you. Alright? Don’t make me pull a code blue on you.”

You wrap your brother into your arms, something he hadn’t been expecting, and allow yourself a small laugh. “No need for a code blue, I promise. Just, give me like an hour to sulk and then I’ll be as good as new. Okay?”

When you pull away, Dustin eyes you, but understands he won’t win this argument. The two of you handle your emotions the same way: alone, in solitude, away from prying eyes. He knows you just need some time to yourself, but he still feels like a jerk for upsetting you in the first place. “Fine, but if you’re sulking later I’ll flick your nose.”

You flick his nose and then quickly flee to your room, Dustin not far behind you. “Flicked you first!”

“Not fair!”

You slam your bedroom door and giggle as you lock it. Dustin bangs on the door, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. You tell him you’ll be out as soon as you’re done with your essay, and then go and sit down at your desk. Sighing, you dig into your bag and pull out what you need. Without meaning to, you look up and see your Spider-Man poster, your wonderful Christmas gift from Steve, hanging in front of you.

The small joy you’d been feeling vanishes.

The poster stares back at you, you can almost hear it calling you a pathetic coward, and you feel guilt claw at your throat. You close your eyes, remembering the cold from that winter day, and you can almost smell the cologne Steve had been wearing when you’d thrown yourself into his warmth. Sometimes, if you sit still enough, you think you can feel the ghost of his embrace.

You open your eyes.

Steve isn’t here.

Of course he isn’t here.

You exhale, feeling the familiar ache and exhaustion within you; junior year is looking quite grim.

-

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[sameheart-sameblood]

Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more. 

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years. 

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand. 

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living. 

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long. 

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia. 

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall. 

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way. 

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life. 

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep. 

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied. 

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask. 

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather. 

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before. 

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow. 

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next. 

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears. 

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket. 

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee. 

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out. 

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs. 

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface. 

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant. 

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops. 

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best. 

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible. 

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn. 

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again. 

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you. 

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs. 

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.” 

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.” 

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?” 

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?” 

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.” 

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool. 

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human. 

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder. 

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons. 

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it  is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do. 

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths. 

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin. 

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new. 

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle. 

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.” 

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic. 

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower. 

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood. 

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in. 

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“ 

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope. 

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state. 

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears. 

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.” 

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on. 

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood. 

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid. 

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.” 

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?” 

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing. 

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable. 

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning. 

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones. 

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it. 

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask. 

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.” 

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad. 

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying. 

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants. 

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion. 

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to. 

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away. 

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.” 

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel. 

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair. 

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract. 

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry. 

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting. 

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain. 

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back. 

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut. 

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow. 

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child. 

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.” 

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed. 

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle. 

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…” 

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but  pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table. 

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers. 

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe. 

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds. 

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms. 

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see. 

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over. 

******

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Maybe a bit of a weird question, but which of the "duo becomes a trio" version do you prefer the most with sashannarcy?

Not a dumb question at all! I've actually been thinking about this ask a lot because I can't come up with a conclusive answer. I think all three possibilities are interesting, each bringing something different to the table.

Marcanne + Sasha puts Sasha in the uncomfortable initial position of being the third wheel for the first time in her life, kinda like in The Dinner, and I just know it would either drive her up the walls (if this is like... pre-redemption) or she'd be the biggest most supportive bestie who 100% wants her girls to be happy (post-redemption) even if the denial is killing her. Think... her behavior during Commander Anne, gritting her teeth and smiling and insisting on Anne being in charge. That's her here. It drives Anne and Marcy crazy when she makes excuses to not hang out because she doesn't want to get in the way, it's like they need to trick her by having one join the two later on in the outing, and even when she's having one-on-one quality time with one of them, she can't stop talking about their love life, as if saying, wouldn't you rather be with your girlfriend right now? Because I can leave. I can drive you to where she is and leave. I can pay for your dates even. And they're sick of it because they don't know how to let her know they're in love with her and want to date her too. She barely lets them get a word in, as if she's already made the decision for all three of them.

Bonus angst points if they think she's straight because they only ever saw her date boys and, you know, they don't want to gang up on their straight friend. Meanwhile Sasha never came out to them because she didn't want it to read as a romantic advance (-> a possibility that only exists in her head) and now it's too late because, well, obviously, they will think she's trying to get into their relationship or something. These three idiots, I tell you.

A younger Sasha would be a menace, though. Oh it would make her so mad. Biggest marcanne anti. She loves them too much to physically hurt them but she's get incredibly aggressive and keeps trying to exert control over them. Marcy reacts much more meekly than Anne, assuming Sasha just needs to be reassured she's not being left out, but Anne gets murderous like... she's had enough of Sasha's weird obsessions with power and control, and now she's trying to tell her fucking girlfriend what to do? She's always been protective of Marcy, and even if Marcy doesn't like it, it feels like she has to fight off a dragon for her with Sasha acting like this all of a sudden.

Angsty either way :D

Sashanne + Marcy is equally angsty for entirely different reasons. Marcy is a lot more passive, like, unless fffffucking Andrias outs her for shits and giggles during True Colors or something, I can see her keeping her feelings secret for years and years and years. She's just so happy to see Anne and Sasha getting along so well and being the best versions of themselves! Amphibia changed them for good. Her, though? She came back broken. She doesn't feel like a better version of herself, she just feels worthless. But it's fine! It's fine. Her friends still want her around, for some reason, even though she's so far away and they're dating and surely, they wouldn't want to spend every sleepover they have on videocall with her, right? Oh, silly Marcy, of course, they probably just have a lot of sleepovers they don't tell her about. Why should they, anyway? They're girlfriends. Marcy is... the old childhood friend who left years ago.

It IS a lot like her favorite mangas, though... her two childhood friends, turned hot (by highschool standards) popular girls... taking a liking to her? Nerdy little Marcy? She already lived through one anime plot and she barely made it out alive, she doesn't expect this to go anything like her fantasies. She knows better now. She'll just... love them from afar. They don't need to know.

Little did she know that Anne and Sasha spent one solid 1/3 of their time together looking at photos of Marcy and gushing over how cute she is. Admitedly, it took them a lot to admit to each other that they liked her. Like, surely that's practically cheating, right? It actually comes up after one of Marcy's visits to LA, in which she stayed in Anne's room for about a week, which pretty much meant a week-long sleepover to which Sasha invited herself to immediately.

It was a bit awkward. At first, Marcy found it cute that they didn't sleep together for her sake. They probably didn't want to make her uncomfortable. They were very thoughtful, but not enough to realize putting her in the middle only made it worse. The worst part is that all the cuddling was accidental, like, they were all pretty much turning their backs to each other when they went to sleep! Waking up all tangled up wasn't anyone's intention. Cue Anne awkwardly asking Sasha, as soon as Marcy is out of earshot, if it made her jealous that she's been spooning Marcy for the past few days, and if they should change their sleeping arrangements. Sasha is jealous but not for the reason Anne thinks.

Everything boils over... pretty much as soon as Marcy walks through the gates of the airport. They both feel like they're going to cause the end of their relationship right there and then but they just need to be honest with each other, and they're uttely delighted to learn they both feel the same way. That night, while on videocall with Marcy, cuddling together while seeing her get ready for bed in her cute little pajamas as she rambles about anime and whatnot, they fully admit to themselves how much they love her. It's an experience. Little whispers of "look at her!" and "she's so cute!" are shared.

They can't wait to have her back in their arms.

Sasharcy + Anne is an interesting case because I consider Anne a very good influence on the other two, and depending on the moment of their lives, they could be very very unhealthy and they may handle things terribly. Marcy would never think to speak a word of her feelings for Anne, and Sasha would overcompensate by being wayyy too possesive of Marcy. Like, she never had to manipulate or threated Marcy before, because she always went along with whatever she said, unlike Anne who tended to be more reluctant. Now though? There's no reason to boss Marcy around, but... but... no one can accuse her of being tempted to cheat if she accuses Anne of trying to steal her girl! Right? No one can accuse her of wanting to cheat if she accuses Marcy of wanting to cheat whenever she hangs out with Anne! She's looking deranged right here. Marcy freaks out when Sasha implies that, because she thinks she didn't hide her feelings well, she thinks Sasha saw right through her. Really, Sasha isn't seeing shit, she's just projecting. Anne, for her part, is incredibly turned off by these obsessive displays of possessiveness, like, jeez, if she ever thought she liked Sasha, this is making her change her mind. She's crazy. Dodged a bullet with this one. She still loves her but she's not even thinking about a relationship with this maniac atm. She does feel bad for Marcy - she loves her, and she doesn't want to get in between her and Sasha, but... but... this is her best friend. She doesn't want to see her like this. She ends up practically fighting Sasha over her, which makes Sasha's insecurity and Marcy's anxiety skyrocket. Oh no dear God, this is terrible, someone please stop them, they're eating each other alive.

If they're a bit older and healthier, the situation would be much different. I feel like Sasha and Marcy would understand each other in a way Anne might struggle a bit more to get, so they may actually confess their feelings relatively early, but they would also feel like they put Anne through soooo much already, that she doesn't deserve both her best friends lusting after her too. There's only so much Anne can put up with. Plus, they don't want to ruin things and lose her. They're happy together and they're happy to have Anne as their friend. It's okay. Even if they tease each other a lot whenever any of them has any one-on-one quality time with Anne. They like making each other flustered by bringing her up.

Anne starts to notice them acting weird around them, but whenever she asks if they're okay, they insists everything is fine, so she lets them be. She's relatively well-adjusted here, accepting her feelings while not acting on them because she doesn't want to get between them, but a lot of it is also just denial, y'know, it's no big deal. Okay, so she's in love with her two best friends, who are dating each other. But that's okay. They're happy. They're healthy. They're doing great. Both parties are in heavy denial and going nowhere. It's a mess.

Btw there's this wonderful fic by @glacecakes with a hanahaki disease premise about these three in this specific configuration, I highly recommend it!

Anyway yeah I don't know if I can pick one. The three possibilities are super interesting and they all lend themselves to different forms of angst and fluff and everything in between. If I HAD to choose... maybe Marcy joining sashanne? The idea of Sasha and Anne gushing over Marcy together is so endearing to me. But I love all three options. I need to find more fics with these general premises, damn.

[gulliblelemon]

gulliblelemon's fics

I thought I should probably have a place where I put all of my fics together and update as I go. I don't want to put this as my pinned post - I like having my fic recs there! But I'll link to this so hopefully it's not too hard to find. I've tried to be accurate with my genre tags, but it's well-known that my angst barometer is broken. If you think I've got any wrong, let me know!

If you're after a particular vibe I've also done separate posts for genre here: angsty, hurt/comfort, fluffy, pining, long fics, short fics

Please Try Again Later (canon-div, T, 32k) - angst, hurt/comfort What would have happened if Simon was around when Wille got the call about Erik.

Happy 18th, Crown Prince Wilhelm (post-canon-div, G, 4.3k) - fluff Canon divergence from end of s2. Outsider's POV of Wille's 18th birthday celebrations if he hadn't stepped down.

What Would I Do Without You? (AU series, T, 37k) - fluff, angst, hurt/comfort How things might have gone differently if Wille and Felice were already best friends before Hillerska. Starts with some (very) fluffy one shots, gets angstier.

i want it to be easier (canon, T, 1.4k) - pining Missing moment with Simon, Rosh and Ayub from s2e5 after "Did he just say he'd give up the crown for you?"

See You (Soon) (AU, T, 18k) - fluff, pining Wille didn't go to Hillerska but sees Simon at the jubilee. And does everything in his power to see him again. And again.

The Umbrella (AU, T, 35k) - pining A University AU in which Simon and Wilhelm meet by accident. They continue to bump into each other until they start to form a tentative friendship.

Making Music (AU, M, 15k) - fluff, pining A non-royal AU where both Simon and Wilhelm are on a three week intensive music course in the old Hillerska building.

Where We Left Off (AU, T, 84k) - angst, pining, hurt/comfort Simon meets Wilhelm by accident in the wake of Erik's sudden death. This story follows their lives through the years, and through more of their accidental and on-purpose meetings.

The Last Slice (post-canon, T, 2.9k) - fluff(?) Wille is invited to play video games with The Gang. He has a few things he needs to say.

Unconventional (canon-div, T, 1.8k) - fluff Canon divergence where Wille doesn't step down, a moment where he makes a decision about his future with Simon.

Controversial Clothing Opinions (post-canon, T, 1.3k) - fluff What does Wille think of the infamous plaid pants?

It's Just Us Now (canon, T, 1.8k) - fluff, light angst Wille's internal monologue during movie night s1e2.

Thirteen (AU, T, 4.1k) - fluff Wilhelm is not enjoying his thirteenth birthday. That is until a beautiful boy stumbles across him and invites him to join him and his friends having fun in the palace grounds.

Paper Frogs and Fairy Tales (AU, T, 21k) - fluff, pining Simon works in a bookshop. Wilhelm shows up for a royal book event. Neither of them are particularly pleased with this set up... at first.

Why'd You Invite Me In The Middle Of The Night? (AU, T, 11k) - angst, pining Wilhelm and Simon were best friends at school, until Wilhelm pushed Simon away and stopped speaking to him. Years later, Simon receives a text from Wille inviting him to his wedding.

I'll Wash, You Dry (post-canon, T, 1.1k) - hurt/comfort Simon and Sara have a moment to talk about forgiveness and the future.

Purple (post-canon, G, 1k) - fluff Simon asks why Wille chose purple for his nails. A small post canon conversation, and then a peek into the future.

In The Crowd (AU, T, 7.6k) - fluff Ex-Crown Prince Wilhelm enjoys open mic nights at small, unassuming bars. Simon is an aspiring musician trying his hand at performing.

Intoxicating (post-canon, G, 300) - fluff Simon likes how Wille smells

Dear Diary (canon, T, 1.4k) - fluff Two entries from Simon's diary, one during s1e5, one post canon.

Multicoloured Snapshots (AU, T, 6k) - fluff, pining Linda is getting remarried. Simon approves of her husband-to-be but the wedding preparations he's gotten roped into are a huge hassle. At least the photographer is cute...

Worth The Wait (canon-div, T, 16k) - angst, pining What would happen if Wille arrived at Hillerska already in a relationship. The story of Wille and Simon (and Felice's) friendship over the years as they grow closer and ignore the obvious.

Future Favourite Regret (AU, T, 12k) - fluff, pining Simon spots Wille across a crowded room. After spending a night together, they go their separate ways. But apparently the universe thinks they're not done yet.

Anywhere With You (AU, M, 57k) - fluff, angst, hurt/comfort When Simon lands a singing job on a luxury cruise liner, he expects to work for a few months and head back home. What he doesn't expect is to fall in love.

Simon Eriksson Is Not Sick (post-canon, G, 1.3k) - fluff, hurt/comfort Simon Eriksson is not sick. Except he is. Luckily he has the best boyfriend in the world.

Autumn Drabbles (post-canon, G, 1.4k) - fluff, hurt/comfort A series of 14 drabbles written about the first autumn post-canon. Almost completely fluffy.

YR Drabble Week Collection (mix, T, 1k) - fluff, hurt/comfort A series of 10 drabbles. Some AU, some during canon, some post-canon, some canon-divergence.

The Icing On The Cake (AU, T, 12.3k) with @iwouldnevergetintofanfic - fluff Somehow, Wille has managed to end up holding the fort in Felice's cake shop. Of course, the worst case happens and a customer walks in. Not just any customer, though. No, the most beautiful man Wille has ever laid eyes on.

And I Need You Now Tonight (AU, T, 30k) - angst, hurt/comfort Simon and Wille have... an arrangement. But then something happens that throws their delicate agreement out of the window, and they're left having to figure out what they are to each other. Enemies? Indifferent colleges? Friends? Or... something else?

Paper Stars and Fairy Lights (AU, T, 11k) - fluff Simon has already had enough of Christmas when his car brakes down just when he's trying to buy a Christmas tree. Help comes from the most unlikely of places, and maybe he and the Prince of Sweden can help each other to rediscover the joy of Christmas.

Warm This Winter (AU, T, 6.7k) - fluff Simon is helping Linda run her stall at the Christmas Market. And he is cold. Luckily there is hot chocolate. And intriguing strangers who make it their mission to make sure Simon stays warm.

Ally Wherever You Land (canon-div, M, 46k) - (light) fluff, (light) angst, pining, (light) hurt/comfort The initiation scandal breaks before Wilhelm is enrolled at Hillerska. Erik finds himself having to win the public's approval and recruits Wilhelm's help, along with a Hillerska student who might raise Erik's profile within the LGBTQ+ community: Simon Eriksson.

[milf-murdock]

Hi!! I love love love your writing! Especially your 141!Reader series <3 I don't know if you take requests, but your last post about Simon and baby Joseph made me so angsty and I would love to read more angst from you. Could you please write about Simon thinking 141!Reader was KIA on a mission? Thank you!!!

Anon....who....who hurt you???? I’m kidding 😆 mostly 👀 But for real, this one HURT. Like. OUCH. This man has been through so fucking much…but let’s put him through a bit more 😈😈😈 also, I did very much hurt my own feelings with this one. So I’m thinking we might need a part two reunion because I don’t know if I can leave our Ghosty boy in shambles like this

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

The rain patters against the window in a steady rhythm.

Simon watches the fat raindrops roll down the small window pane, one foot anxiously tapping against the concrete floor. He didn’t know why he was called to Price’s office, but there was an ominous charge to the air. Call it a premonition, or maybe an instinct, but he knew in his bones that something was wrong. 

The click of the door handle pulls Simon from his thoughts as Price enters the office, a heavy silence filling the air. 

“What’s happened?” Simon's voice has a hard edge to it, cutting straight through the bullshit. Watchful eyes appraise every detail of Price’s body language, and Simon notes the deep sunken look of his captain’s eyes accentuated by a somber expression. 

Price avoids Simon's gaze, staring down at the oak desktop before him as he takes a seat. The captain wasn’t one to mince words or beat around the bush, but even he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the situation despite his many years in the service.  

Simon's heart hammers in his chest, every second in the unknown feeling like an eternity. This isn’t right, he thinks to himself. 

Price steels himself with a deep inhale, pulling his gaze from the desk to face Simon head on, looking past the mask, speaking to the man he knew laid beneath. 

“I wanted you to hear this from me, son. You…deserve to hear this from me.” 

Simon stops breathing. 

With practiced determination, Price continues his speech, having rehearsed the words in his head the entire walk down to his office. 

“Reconnaissance mission, Operation Blackout, suffered multiple casualties after a long-range detonation by enemy action. There’s been no contact with the team, and rescue attempts were unsuccessful due to the extensive damage caused by the explosion. All team members are presumed KIA. The official course of action…”

The rest of Price’s speech is drowned out by the dull roar in Simon’s ears; his blood runs cold, his rigid body barely breathing. 

This can’t be happening. Not again. Never again. 

Simon's thoughts grip him by the heart, squeezing painfully. 

I can’t do this again.

He had already lost everyone once. Had built impenetrable walls, designed to protect him from this type of pain. 

But you. You and your goddamn charm, and your soft smiles, and your relentless fucking attitude. You broke down those walls brick by brick, made Ghost–no, made Simon– feel more like a man than he had in years. You slipped past his ironclad defenses and took his heart without him even realizing it. 

And just when he had finally opened up, just when he had finally convinced himself that maybe he could be happy–that you could be happy together. It all came crashing down. 

In the distance, Ghost could hear shouting. A chorus of denials piercing the air, heavy ragged breaths filling the silence between. 

A heavy hand fell on Ghost's shoulder and he found himself back in his body, looking up at Price, voice raw. 

With a stark realization, Ghost realizes it was him. He was the one shouting, the one gasping for breath. 

The world tilted out from under him. 

____________ 

Ghost left Price’s office a different man–a mere shell of the man who entered. With every step he took, he felt himself slipping further and further into the familiar safety of Ghost, an unpierceable facade moving through the world. 

Everything felt wrong. Every step. Every breath. He felt like he was moving underwater, every action taking twice the effort it should. 

The next few hours pass in a blur. The official order that he was being sent on leave. The ensuing argument with Price over the orders. He eventually just gave up. Leave, no leave, it didn’t fucking matter. 

None of it fucking matters. 

Johnny tries to see him before he leaves, meeting Simon on the tarmac. He tries to be there for his lieutenant, his friend. 

The red rim around Johnny’s eyes reminds Simon that he wasn’t the only one who had lost you. They had all lost you. But even that which should have been a comfort, a sort of kinship in the grief, meant nothing. Simon didn’t give a singular fuck. He turned away from Johnny mid-speech, leaving the Scotsman to sit in his grief alone as he watched Ghost disappear into the aircraft. 

____________ 

It takes every ounce of strength Ghost has to make it through the flight. To make it through the drive back home. To make it through that door. 

Keep it together, soldier. Don’t you dare fucking lose it, Simon Riley. Just a bit longer. 

His belongings crash to the floor as the door slams shut behind him. He doesn’t even bother turning on the light, instead using the faint glow of the moonlight through the curtains to guide him to the cabinet. 

Ghost pulls the bottle of bourbon from its resting spot, not even bothering with a glass as he pulls off the corked top and takes a hearty swig. 

The burn of the liquid is invigorating, filling Ghost with a quiet simmering fire. 

He takes another drink. And another. 

He walks through the flat in a daze, the amber liquid dulling his senses, sending him even deeper into the haze of his grief. 

Ghost finds himself in front of his dresser, staring at the wooden drawers. 

Taking another drink, he steels himself as he yanks open the top drawer. Rummaging beneath the pile of socks and t-shirts, Ghost digs out the small velvet box. He grips it tight in his hand, the small object groaning in protest as waves of rage and pain overtake Ghost, threatening to pull him under. Hot tears slide down his face, but he doesn’t even notice. 

With a roar he throws the velvet box across the room, the impact fracturing the drywall. Ghost’s knees go out from under him and he crashes to the floor, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. There would be no repairing this. No amount of time could heal this type of heartbreak. 

You were dead. 

And as far as Ghost was concerned, Simon Riley died with you. 

[lilgoblinbitch]

saw your post about rick and daryl, do you think you could write a rick TOWL smut with him angry that you left your post and got yourself injured and he takes out his frustration on you? idk why just had that idea after the recent episode😫

Grimes' Dominion 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

a/n: ahhh omg yes i actually had time to think abt this for a few nights. i added a bit of plot to this because i love me some backstory & descriptions. but anyway i made this pretty lengthy so if u wanna skip to the smut part just look for the '💋'. here is your plotty smut! lmk your thoughts ₊˚⊹♡

warnings: smut 18+, PinV, unprotected sex, oral/face fucking (male receiving), slight bondage, fingering, ass slapping, hair pulling, orgasm denial, degradation (use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’), language, mentions of blood and injury, angsty angsty angst!, reader is a mother, overall Rick is very rough so you have been warned

wc: 6k

MDNI

It was training day at your post. You had recently graduated from consignee and signed up to become a CRM soldier. It took you six whole years to get to this point. While your agility and militia knowledge were already unprecedented, the CRM didn't fuck around when it came to producing the world's most unrivalled soldiers. It was serious business.

Nearly eight years ago, you trekked a long journey down from your small community in southern New Jersey. You lost everything: your husband, your friends, and the people you lived with and grew stronger with through the grisly and dilapidated post-apocalyptic world. Terrible people – which were apparently becoming more and more common – destroyed your community, leaving very few survivors. It was you and your newborn child who managed to escape safely; you weren't able to go back to see if others had made it out. For almost two years you were alone, and your only hope left was keeping your baby boy alive...

Fast forward two years after the traumatic fallout you managed to escape, you discovered, or rather you were found by, a giant military in Pennsylvania, called the CRM. A military that bordered and protected a whole city of people – 200,000 of them. Out of desperation and maternal instinct, you bargained with the militia in hopes to give your two-year-old son a stable future. The CRM agreed to place your son in a 'nurturing fostering service' within the safe confines of the protected city – known as the Civic Republic of Philadelphia – so long as you swore to abide by the military's code and regulations by becoming a consignee.

Of course you agreed, because you were nonetheless terrified of what would happen to your baby boy if you didn't play it safe with this strong force. But for a while you lost it, you couldn't bear not seeing your child – they took him from you. You became defensive of your child, throwing yourself into dilemmas with whoever refused to listen to you. Except no one ever took notice of an angry and hurt mother because the CRM showed little mercy about their policies. And no matter how much force you put into finding hope about getting to your son, you'd always end up falling right back where you left off.

Soon enough you learned from acquiring an acquaintance that not only did the CRM take the only family you had left away from you, they were the ones responsible for destroying your home in the first place.

But now, six years later, you were predisposed to fight whoever and whatever got in your way in order to see your son again. You were a force to be reckoned with.

"No, you're doing it wrong. You gotta follow through, like this—" your sweaty hand maneuvered the heavy spear, sending it soaring through the air at high speed and finally piercing the bullseye of the target. You turned to the soldier beside you, who, to say the least, looked perplexed.

"What?" You huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face. "Ya give up? Need a break?"

"’Ey! Rogers, I'mma need ya to head back inside. We're gonna start sizing you all up for your new gear."

A brooding and strict man, Sergeant Major Rick Grimes, commanded the young man beside you. "Uh, yes sir," he saluted, then jogged toward the dome-shaped building.

Rick Grimes used to be a consignee like you were, and you even heard stories where he tried escaping at least four times. No one ever fled, or even attempted to, without failing. Escaping the hellhole was like trying to fit your right shoe on your left foot, it was entirely fruitless. But you heard all the stories about Rick, and how he got to become a leader. After the death of Lieutenant Colonel Donald Okafor, Rick was trained to replace his position by virtue of General Beale taking note of his loyalty to the military. Now, Rick was scaling further up the ranks. He was Sergeant Major, and in charge of the post you currently resided in.

You looked up to him, though, not because he was your leader, but because he understood you. He recognized how it felt to have your family ripped from your hands and not be able to do anything about it. You were able to bond with him. Most nights he would invite you to his apartment and the two of you'd spill your guts to one another over a glass or two of bourbon. That is how he got to know you, and see through your clouded demeanor that you kept in check. You were fierce and obstinate, because the place you were trapped in forced you to be that way, and truthfully Rick admired that about you. He was never able to relate with someone as well as he did with you.

Feedback echoed from Rick's receiver and he lifted it to his masked face, stating his position and whatnot. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to give you an order. "Well?"

He turned his attention to you, finally. "We need to talk." His one good hand snagged a hold of your arm and guided you toward a smaller brick-designed building, which you recognized to be the building that housed the high ranking officials like Rick himself.

"What do we need to talk about? And why is Rogers getting his gear but I'm not?" You struggled against his grip, a decision that ended with futility as his clutch tightened when you tried pulling away from him. You furrowed your brows and grunted in annoyance.

"Relax, sweetheart, you're not in trouble. Actually it's quite the opposite." Once again he faced you, stopping in his tracks as you both had reached the air-conditioned building. His grasp on your arm loosened and then reached for his matte black helmet detailed with red outlining. Your eyes darted across the room, taking in the essence of prestige and momentarily locking in on the various framed photos on the walls, which depicted a few recognizable CRM authoritative figures. One particular photo caught your attention, and you carefully examined it, discerning it to be Rick himself with a shiny black name plate decorating the bottom of the frame.

Your gaze finally diverted back to Rick, whose helmet popped off in a swift motion, freeing his slightly disheveled brown and gray curls, and his stern blue eyes – the spellbinding reflections to his enigmatic soul. And this man was undoubtedly a sight for sore eyes. 

The silence was disrupted by the shuffling of Rick’s boots, his curt footsteps leading him across the room. He pulled out a chair from the corner and without any trouble picked it up with one hand and set it down across from a dark wooden desk. “Sit.” He motioned to the chair, and then found a seat in the larger, more cushioned chair adjacent to it. Without a peep you sauntered over to the wooden chair and sat, folding your hands on the desk in front of you. 

“You gonna keep me on edge or are you gonna tell me why I’m here and not at training and getting my gear?”

His serious eyes bored into yours now, hinting that he wasn’t in the mood for your cynicism. “I brought you in here to tell you that you’re going to become Colonel under my order.”

You scoffed comically and dropped your hands to your sides, gripping the chair with force. “That’s ridiculous. Me – Colonel? Why?” 

Rick’s focus never left your unserious face – one that was twisted with amusement. With a slight tilt of his head, he spoke, “Because you’re one of the best fighters and you’re fit to start leading, I know it. And I trust you, so does Major General Beale. We both expect your habitual commitment from now on.”

While you were still preoccupied with processing this information, Rick reached into one of his sleeve pockets and pulled out a silver badge, decorated with ‘Col.’ followed by your full name. He slid it across the desk toward you and you scrutinized it before giving him a look of disapproval and sliding the badge back to him. You shook your head in defiance.

“No thanks.” 

He frowned and once again his frigid stare taunted you, something you’d undoubtedly gotten used to very much over the past few years that you'd known him. He leaned forward and for a second you could feel the steam emitting from his nose as he exhaled, eyes scanning your face for any signs of possible sarcasm. You were dead serious now, though.

“This isn’t an offer you can refuse. It’s an order,” the sergeant commanded, grabbing the badge reiteratively and this time placing it firmly into your hand. “So take it, and don’t lose it.” 

You remained perched in your spot, not stirring any muscle, just studying his face with the badge dancing across your fingertips. Rick was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Now do as I say, and meet me in that meeting room over there, in 10 minutes.”

You snarled and swiftly rose, shoving the badge into your zipper pocket. Without even giving Rick another look you booked it out the door full tilt.

All throughout meeting with Grimes and Command Sergeant Major Thorne and overlooking your shared brigade of soldiers, your mind couldn’t escape the worry you had about your son, and how you were going to escape and find him. Your mind raced as you tried to recollect what the map of your base looked like, so that you could pinpoint which weak spots there were around the perimeter.

You recall a little while back which security took which shifts at each area of the southwest perimeter where your complex was, but it wasn’t all that simple since sometimes they’d switch shifts around. However, security officers periodically switched their attention to different areas at a time out along the walls, so you could use that as leverage to sneak your way around and cut a hole in one of the fences–

Nah. That would be too obvious, and dangerously stupid. You needed to really think this through – come up with a strategic plan. So that’s what you were prepared to do after your first night of training as Colonel. 

Sweaty and disheveled, you entered your sleeping quarters and kicked the door shut, immediately peeling off your bulky armor and tossing your heavy combat boots across the floor. With a satisfactory sigh, you trotted over to the shower and flipped the handle all the way to the left – you needed a steamy shower to filter out all the stress your body had been loaded with that day. Not only that, the steam would help you think, and you needed your head clear if you were going to figure out how to leave successfully that night. 

If you were going to escape – if. You needed to keep that thought in mind, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a piece of cake.

Frantically you shoved a handful of essentials into a black backpack – a lighter, duct tape, a pocket knife, flashlight, and a small glock you 'borrowed' from your trip with rick to the armory earlier. After zipping up the bag you threw on your combat boots and your gloves. You checked your watch for the time; 11:48 it read. The moon was scintillating in the sky and beaming with conviction. You took one last glimpse around the room to check if you had forgotten any extra tools or gadgets, and before you confirmed that you were ready to head out, you spotted something on the rusty gunmetal colored nightstand.

Inquisitively you wandered over to the table and examined a small, white folded paper. You unfolded it and inside it read, in urgent script:

“Meet me at my place at 11:30 tonight. Need to talk again.

-R.G.”

Too late now. Not happening. Besides, you were sure it was another booty call because for one, on busy task days like tonight, Rick often had a knack for ‘letting off steam,’ which meant fucking your brains out. Sorry, Rick, but my child is more important to me than easing your sexual frustration. And two, it was already reaching midnight…why else would he want to “talk” to you so late at night? Rick was just too obvious.

Speaking of Rick…

The man who shared his bourbon with you for the first time two years ago. That very night he had spilled to you CRM’s legacy and the nightmares behind it. The two of you bonded over your mutual grievance toward the antagonizing militia. Rick spurred hope in you finally leaving and finding your son; if anyone could help you escape it was him. But he changed – his interest in leaving the CRM no longer seemed to exist. After all, he was already climbing his way up the military rank. He was gaining power and respect, and that seemed to be more crucial to him then getting back to his own children. 

So, screw him. He had his chance to leave with you, and it already passed – because now you were tiptoeing out your apartment and being welcomed into the darkness of the night.

You were cautious of your surroundings, turning a few corners and eluding one or two officers. You noticed the southwest wall, which didn't look impossible to climb. You discovered a hefty pile of broken shipment container parts – bingo. And that's what you used to climb the wall. unfortunately your endeavor led to you stumbling and hitting both your knee and your arm against the metal object, then landing with your hands scraping against the unforgiving concrete. Fuck. What an idiot you were. Surely someone within about twenty feet of you heard you basically eat shit.

Gritting your teeth and whimpering from the twinge that shot through your knees and hands, you managed to put every fiber of your being to use and push yourself off the ground, only to end up on your ass with a humph. You winced as you peeked at your hands, using the flashlight from your bag to examine how badly cut they were. Blood leaked from multiple crevices in your palms, and you didn’t even bother paying much mind to your bruised knee or elbows because there was no time to dawdle.

“Shit. You need to get up now!” You scolded yourself, but as you tried standing up completely, your knees buckled. Well, at least behind this building it was dark enough for no one to see you, unless they heard you already…

Your alert ears picked up the sound of shoes marching upon the solid ground, and you cursed to yourself; someone was coming, but there was nothing you could do because they had already heard you most likely. “Just play dead, or pretend you passed out!” 

You heard your name being called out from somewhere behind you.

The pace of your heartbeat quickened drastically, causing your head to spin toward the voice. Well, shit. It was Rick Grimes himself. This time his helmet wasn’t on and he seemed to have abandoned his uniform. He was instead dressed in jeans and that black tee that always hugged his muscles so perfectly–

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice boomed in your ears as he knelt down to your level, and you shivered.

You wheezed and resumed your pursuit of getting your ass off the wretched ground, to which you failed. Rick noticed the cuts and bruises decorating your injured body and his face softened. He sighed, gathering your belongings, and then in one swift motion he lifted you up off your feet, holding you bridal-style. You bit your lip to stop the tears forming in your eyes; your plan backfired, you got caught, and now everything was out of your control. You felt so stupid and useless.

Rick shifted around with you in his arms, taking one last glance at your injured figure. “Oh, honey. Let’s get ya cleaned up now.”

He had carried you all the way to his room without any hindrances, and the whole time you honestly thought about kicking out of his tight grasp, nailing him where the sun doesn't shine, and booking it out of there. But the way his strong arms cradled you made you melt into him.

Rick lay you onto his large – well, larger than your own – neatly made bed and pulled your shoes and socks off. Before he could reach your pant zipper to pull them down and examine your knee, you slapped his hand away, scowling at him.

“I can do it,” you promised, although of course your trembling hands reaching for the zipper illustrated a paradoxical story.

Not to mention, the stained blood and soreness reminded you that you needed to ease up on any further use of them. It felt like carpal tunnel. Damn, that concrete did some numbers on you. Your exasperated grunts caught Rick’s attention and he ignored your misleading comment, zipping your pants down and peeling them off himself. The look you gave him could have been detected as either annoyed or demoralized. Either way, your body was weary and your mind still raced with unrelenting thoughts. 

Rick brought back a wet cloth and a first aid kit he kept under his sink. Gingerly, he brushed the cloth over your battered hands and then bandaged them up. You let out a few pained huffs while he went to work on your scraped hands and busted knee with his doctor abilities. When finished, his eyes scanned your body, being certain he didn’t miss any other wounds or minor cuts.

You, however, were busy ogling him; his beautifully sculpted figure that was outlined by the black t-shirt he wore, and the scruff that layered his defined jaw, and the way his pink lips pursed as his rough hand prodded your exposed flesh – it sent you into a trance. 

He adjusted his gaze back to your face, and you snapped out of your trance promptly, painting that stern cast back on your expressive face. You recalled why you were irritated with him in the first place – he prevented you from escaping.

“Y’alright now? Gonna tell me why you were scurrying around past midnight with this bag on you?”

Your hard stare didn’t falter. He tsked at you and grabbed the backpack off the ground, unzipping it, and dumping its contents onto the bed. When he recognized the gun to be one from the armory, it was his turn to scowl at you.

“You better start talking before I get angry, sweetheart.” His body flexed as he folded his arms across his chest, eyes cornering you and making you feel small.

“I was–” you cleared your throat and sat up with your hands on your bare thighs, “I was going to escape, Rick. I… I need to see him…”

Rick lowered his head to the floor in disappointment, rubbing the bridge of his nose while his other arm rested on his hip. He paced the room. “You knew this was going to happen. We even planned it together, for fuck’s sake!” You pleaded with him, emotion spilling from your lips. You stared at his back, watching the way his muscles tensed. “I have a child I haven’t seen in years and I–”

“Yeah, so do I!” He interrupted, “But that life is over, there is no more escape plan pipe dream. Don’t you get it?!”

His pacing ceased, and he waited for your focus to meet him. When it did, he inched toward you daringly, almost wanting you to test his patience.

“I got you that ranking because I trusted you and expected you to be cooperative with me in this mission. I was planning on trying to convince Beale to let you visit your boy but that won’t be for a while. I need your trust in this,” Rick’s footsteps approached the bed, his towering figure intimidating you. “Do you understand? Look at me—” his rough hand pinched the sides of your chin to tilt your head up at him. 

Your lips cracked open to speak but truthfully nothing could be said in that moment. The tension in the air was heavy and laced with despondency. You choked trying to enunciate words as you felt your shoulders drop, and your heart chugging on. Soon you gathered yourself from breaking down in front of him, masking the persistent commotion going on inside the walls of your skull, and the unabated sense of dread pouring over your body. You nodded your head in compliance and Rick released your chin.

This was a confirmation that Rick was never going to let you get away. And if he did end up finding a way for you to see your boy, living under an unlawful and controlling military organization was not something you stood for. With or without Rick, you needed to escape with your son, using any proper chance that swung your way. But if it was going to be without Rick, you needed to be secretive. 

You batted your eyes at him, aiming to give him a reason to believe that you were officially yielding to him. The way you looked under him, all battered and desperate, made a spark ignite in his brain. You belonged in this position – underneath him, following his lead, and obeying his orders. He was going to need to show you how insistent he really was.

Your attention remained undivided. Rick stepped backwards a foot and took in the sight of you – your whole body and the way your thighs begged to be kissed and touched.

“I’m assuming you saw the note I left you, right?” His tone dripping with vehemence and his southern drawl rasping, relaying a yearning to your eager core, which you attempted to ease by clenching your thighs. He certainly did not miss that.

“So you were planning on not only ignoring my note, but being reckless and trying to leave this post and then, what? Risk getting caught and dying and never getting to see your son ever? You need to get your head on right, and I’m telling you this from experience, because it’s never going to work out the way you want it to, no matter how perfectly you think your plan will go.”

You gulped and studied your hands, which were thankfully stinging much less. You fiddled with the bandage, until Rick demanded your attention with his authoritative tone.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you to cooperate with me. Keep that in mind,” he warned.

Your front teeth bit into your pouty bottom lip as you struggled to make yourself look uncritical of his “plan.” Rick’s eyes targeted your every move as you, this time successfully, propped yourself up and off the bed, bending down to grab your pants which were sprawled out next to your feet. 

💋

“What were you gonna talk to me about, y’know….if I ended up showing up earlier?” You flipped the pant legs so that they were no longer inside out.

“I was gonna do this—” Your heart quickened as he neared you rapidly, his arms finding themselves exploring your body and causing goosebumps to multiply across your vulnerable skin. He dexterously greeted his lips to yours, catching you by surprise. The man was quick with it. 

You melted into the kiss while his hands continued to trace your curves, eliciting longing whimpers from your throat. You craved his touch.

Breaking away from the kiss, the Sergeant gave you no time to protest, spinning you around so that your back was facing him. Taking your jaw prisoner in the tight clutch of his hand, his hot breath fanned against your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck come alive. “Originally I was going to fuck you gently, make you relax from your big day—” His hand slid to the middle of your back and he forcefully bent you over on the bed, scoring a small grunt from you. He took your pulled back hair into his hand and with a tantalizing tug of it, he pushed his clothed hips against your bare ass. “But now I’m not gonna be so easy on you, because you decided to go and put yourself in danger. Well, I’m gonna have to punish you instead of reporting you, hm? For your own sake…” 

Your heat practically leaked through your panties and down the inner part of your thighs. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you loved when he was rough with you. It stirred you up with the perfect concoction of salaciousness and angst.

Still, your alacrity temporarily repressed your aroused state and you barked back at him, “All I want is to see my son…you have no goddamn right to take that from me, Rick,” you cried, with your trembling hands supporting your upper body as he gripped your hips.

Rick delivered a firm slap to your ass cheek, then promptly straightened you up and turned you around to meet his sifting stare. You gulped, feeling submissive under his touch. You watched the way he contorted his face in vexation and you abruptly felt overpowered by him.

“In case you’ve forgotten you are under my command, and if you disobey me I have every right to correct you where I see fit,” he eyed your pout, huffing, “and I fucking told you already – you have to be patient, it’s gonna take a while.”

The hope you had was dwindling slowly, even though you really wanted to trust him. It almost felt like putting your full trust in him was equivalent to playing with fire. You couldn’t tell the difference between the two anymore. But ultimately Rick was right, you were under his command and the very least you could do at this moment was take his word.

His leer intensified. “Get on your knees.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and felt the command jolt through your body with a cogent nudge. You conformed to his request and scrunched your face in slight discomfort from your bruised knee making contact with the floor, but it was still tolerable. With urgency he unbuckled his belt and wasted no time in freeing his thick, throbbing length. The sight of his cock was not something foreign, as you’d slept with him many times; but the way he was so much more ambitious in getting his cock inside your mouth and feeling you gag around him, made you squirm.

The restless man bucked his hips forward, enjoying the way your soft pouty lips hugged his shaft so magnificently. You moaned softly, the vibration inciting a groan from Rick as he grabbed at your hair. “Gotta do more than tha’. I know you know how to be a good slut f’me.”

You took his whole length in your throat, feeling spit drip down your chin as you choked. You started to bob your head back and forth, becoming accustomed to the size of his dick and how it collided with the back of your throat incessantly. He took it upon himself to grasp your head and guide you up and down as his hips pushed against your needy mouth. Your tongue traced the veins that protruded across his length, as your head quickened its pace. His grunts echoed in your ears and you prepared for his sweet release when you apperceived the twitch of his cock against your tongue. 

“Fuck, yes…good slut,” Rick sung out as he thrusted thrice more, shooting his thick warm seed down your throat and riding out the remainder of his orgasm. He pulled out and stared intently at your lips licking up the remnants of his juices while panting. His hand patted your head in approval.

“You think you deserve to cum tonight?” He taunted, his hold on your hair taut.

You didn’t respond, but instead observed the way his muscles flexed when he lifted his shirt off his back, and how he flattened his hair back with the palm of his hand. You were getting wetter by the second, shifting your thighs in anticipation.

You stood up, tracing your hand over his bicep and fluttering your lashes at him enticingly. He smirked, recognizing that look to be your calling for him to fuck your brains out. Your hands reached down to lift your own shirt off, but he swatted them away in protest, throwing the shirt across the room hastily. All you desired was for him to make love to you, to comfort you and promise you that everything was going to work out, and frankly your sore muscles from training could use as much appreciation as they could obtain. But love-making wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

Rick flopped you onto the bed, and effortlessly your panties were torn off and thrown next to your shirt. He kneaded your tits with his hand then bent over top of you to hungrily kiss your lips. Your fidgety hands stretched up to tussle through his hair but he broke from the kiss to pin both your hands above your head, rousing a dissatisfied whimper from you. The carnal man bent down diligently to grab his belt and release your hands for a moment, before grabbing your wrists and securing the belt around them.

Bondage wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to you but you had never expected Rick to ever want to partake in it with you. Nonetheless, your core ached further for his touch. His hand went back to pinching your sensitive nipples, while keeping his ferocious eyes locked onto yours, and lowering his head down to your throbbing heat. The lewd mewls escaping your parted lips sent Rick into a frenzy. You bucked your hips up in an attempt to get him to do something, to give your desperate parts the treatment you longed for, except he just remained concentrated on the way you jerked and crumbled beneath him – he wasn’t even touching you anymore, and yet he had you folding already. How pathetic you looked.

“Rick, please do something!” Your pleas left him unphased. The only thought in his mind at that moment was how rough he was eventually going to fuck you. 

Finally, his finger swiped up your soaking folds and came into contact with your swollen clit, giving it a soft pinch, stimulating a ribald whimper from you and inducing your back to arch off the bed. “What d’you want, sweetheart?” His husky tone intimidated you.

“Need you, please. ‘M lonely,” You sniffed, overworked from all the teasing. He cooed in a mocking manner, and with two fingers he plunged into you, sending you into the clouds. 

“This sweet pussy needs attention, dun’it?” He curled his fingers upward, activating that sweet spot inside your squelching sex. With his thumb he circled around your sensitive bud, accelerating the speed of his thick fingers inside your tight, wet hole. Bliss clouded over you, and your head lulled to the side.

Rick hissed, dissenting your lack of eye contact. He yanked his fingers out all the way, giving a slight tap to your voracious cunt.

“Nuh-uh, eyes on me.” The glazed-over look you gave him was enough for him to give in and slide his digits back into your heat, this time being merciless by the way he finger fucked you with racking momentum. 

Your walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers, legs syncing with the rhythm of your swirling hips. Rick sensed your orgasm approaching – he ascertained that you didn't get to reach its peak by ceasing his thumb's labor and plucking his drenched digits out of your weeping center.

Your sensual clamors didn't go unnoticed; instead he hushed you, and bringing his mouth near your ear he rasped, "I decided that you don't get to cum yet. Not till I feel like it."

Rick really loved tossing you around, especially tonight. He arose, untying the belt around your wrists – almost as if he was showing mercy, but that thought was surpassed as he effortlessly flipped you around so your bandaged hands were gripping desperately onto the sheets, as if that'd prevent you from losing your grip on reality from what was about to go down.

Your begging hole cried for his further attention, causing you to become more agitated by the second. That is, until you felt his hard cock slap against your ass cheek, and his hips striking the back of your shaking thighs. The grumpy commander pressed his leather-sling gloved fist slightly against your upper neck, just enough pressure to ensure you stayed where he wanted you. You didn't plan on leaving, though – not until he fucked you to your heart's content.

He could take a picture right now, the way your ass pushed against his solid member so hysterically, as if your pussy lived to be stuffed by his cock. In that moment, it did. Rick grabbed his cock and lined it up with your welcoming entrance, collecting the condensation on his tip.

"God, just fuck me–"

One rigid thrust was all it took for you to fully engulf him. Your eyes rolled to the ceiling, stars eclipsing your vision while his thrust followed another one, this time much deeper.

Your whines bounced off the pale room's walls, alerting Rick, who hushed you with a growl, "Shutch'er mouth, the whole building's gonna hear ya."

A third thrust ensued, with the sound of his pelvic bone smacking against your backside and the echoing of your sodden cunt being governed by his greedy shaft. The wet squishy insides of your walls hugged Rick so magnetically, he almost gave in right there.

His pace picked up with each ram of his hips, and his assault to your clit. Your grip on the sheets tightened, bandages likely slipping off but that wasn't a concern. Shy whimpers were trapped inside your mouth as you gave it your all at keeping your lewd blubbers and cusses at bay. Your soft, muffled cries continued as he pounded into you strenuously and tirelessly.

"You're not gonna try to leave again, not ever." The thumping of his hips on your ass and him fucking you into the mattress was all too much for your brain. "I won't fucking let you."

You felt fuzzy. The dauntless rebel attitude you once had vanished, and now your were a blubbering hot mess under a relentless leader. His bulging biceps flexed as his leather arm continued pushing on your neck, the other hand groping your hip and then going back to flicking your clit as his cock rutted into your core. He fit you like a puzzle piece.

Your walls were pulsating and you sensed your climax approaching quickly. "Oh, fuck, Rick!"

"Don't you even think about it. So help me god, if you do..."

Rick's demands only filled you closer to the brim with pleasure, and you weren't assured how much longer you could hold it. His thrusts became sloppier and sloppier, indicating that he was probably close too.

"Mmmph–" You focused on grasping desperately at the sheets again, trying to fixate on the way the soft fabric felt against your hands and your face which was pushed into the bed.

Rick groaned out, whispering filthy affirmations as his pounding became more jagged and his grunts more urgent. "Wanna fill ya up, but you don'need another baby, not yet."

One last press against your clit and the band finally snapped, your juices releasing all over his cock, and his orgasm causing him to grasp your hips roughly as he used your dripping hole to help him ride out his own orgasm. He pulled out, releasing onto your back with a few strokes of his slippery member.

The bottom half of your body gave in finally, collapsing and being suffocated by the plush mattress. Your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. He truly fucked the energy out of you.

"You gonna try that shit again with me?"

With half-lidded eyes you simpered and muttered, "Not without you."

[ashonheavenscloud]

crazier things || h. hyunjin

: a drunken confession from your friend, hwang hyunjin, leaves you questioning everything a week before your transfer home.

⋆｡��°⭒˚｡⋆ contents: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader, college au, friends to ??, INTENSEEE ANGST, mutual pining, two idiots and unfortunate circumstances </3

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ word count: 14.6K

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mildly suggestive content and a toxic relationship (hyunjin x oc), this whole fic is kinda heavy and angsty😭

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n: this was written WAYYY back in 2021 and posted on my other account, but i’m moving it here to keep all my fics in the same place🤣 this is the longest oneshot i’ve written and i’m quite proud of it. enjoy!

now playing - crazier things - chelsea cutler

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Hyunjin was drunk, you knew.

That was the only explanation for why he would call you at such an ungodly hour as 2 am, slurred words barely audible in between the loud music and cheering crowd that joined his voice through your speaker.

It had been awhile since he’d called you at a party- but definitely not long enough, you thought a little frustratedly. But you were mostly worried as you drove to the address you’d managed to coax out from the drunk boy’s babbling.

He was falling back into bad habits as the peak of winter approached and snow had yet to fully take its leave from the suburbs of New York- and it didn’t help that finals were approaching, and he was clearly stressed.

And that girlfriend of his putting way too much pressure on him.

Yet another worry as you pulled up to the house, music booming from the place as you hurried to where Hyunjin was leaning in the yard, no girlfriend in sight.

He hadn’t brought her, and he hadn’t called her- again.

“Hyunjin!”

It took a couple shouts of his name over the crowd for him to look up at you, and you felt a tiny bit of relief at seeing him somewhat alright.

“Y/n-” his attempt at walking over was short lived, as he stumbled with a giggle and you rushed to catch him.

The weight of his body made you sigh, grunting out, “Stand up, we’re going home.”

“Home? What home, not home.”

He barely made sense, but you understood. “Not your girlfriend’s, I promise.”

He slowly nodded, dazedly blinking as your words processed. “Okay.” He mumbled, voice small.

“Just… just take a rest here, okay?” You murmured back, as you dragged the boy from the crowd and found an unoccupied bench by the side of the road to sit him on. Quickly, you pulled a plastic water bottle from your bag and handed it cap off to him. “Drink.”

He did as he was told, and with your gentle help he downed a good quarter of it. Sighing once more, you plopped onto the bench beside him, suddenly very weary.

Hyunjin was drunk- very drunk. He had to be, when he slid closer to you on the bench, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy from the aftermath of the college party and the alcohol. That was the only explanation; for why else would three forbidden words suddenly tumble from his dazed, plush lips?

“I love you.”

Your eyes jolted to his face; his eyes were flickering closed, a small intoxicated smile on his face, his fingers finding the edge of your sweater sleeve and tugging at the material. He clung to you, smile slowly widening as he chuckled; and all you could do was stare at him, heart racing and sinking all at once.

You really might have been able to brush it off as some false drunken claim if he had stopped there, or if you’d had the courage to speak and lead the conversation away. Lead it somewhere safe, somewhere that didn’t blur the already complicated relationship you both found yourselves in- the very messy situation you should have gotten out of right at that moment.

But he didn’t stop there.

And it sounded so genuine when his head lolled onto your shoulder and he murmured, “Ha. I’m so in love with you, and you don’t even know it.”

He was drunk, you had to repeat to yourself multiple times as you drove your black Civic through the busy neighborhood streets, occasionally glancing at his sleeping figure in the passenger side. He was completely still, save for the small breaths that made his lips pout ever so slightly. With a start, you realized he was still gripping your sleeve.

And you were suddenly scared.

Because I love you too, Hwang Hyunjin. And I think maybe you meant it.

…

When it came to alcohol of any kind, Hwang Hyunjin was a lightweight. It barely took him a couple swallows to be completely wasted- and the day after was just as bad.

He groaned when he opened his eyes; despite the blinds being closed, the tiny streams of light around the edges sparked a massive headache. He closed his eyes immediately, his small glance around the room enough to assure him that he was safe- and, once again, had been stashed in your bedroom. 

He didn’t remember getting here at all. God, how many shots had he taken? He’d sworn to keep it to a strict limit. What kind of alcohol had it even been?

Groggy but guilty enough to get up, Hyunjin forced his eyes open again and stumbled out of the bed. He was sweaty and nauseous, but hey, you’d seen him worse. Upon leaving the bedroom and stepping into the living area of your studio apartment, he was met with the sight of you passed out on the couch.

You’d probably been exhausted after helping him out last night.

Another wave of guilt ran over him. He didn’t usually drink, but when he did you always seemed to be the one cleaning up his mess. Hyunjin vaguely remembered calling you part way through the night- although he couldn’t recall any of the conversation. Once again, though, you’d had his back.

He approached as quietly as his heavy feet could manage, and crouched beside you. A light blanket was half draped off your figure, and your face was smashed into a pillow. He watched your expression, noticing the crease of worry in your brow and gently massaging it away with a sigh.

He was stressing you again. He hadn’t meant to; and at this point, his guilt was overwhelming.

He decided to let you sleep, feeling he at least owed you that. He fixed the blanket, tucking in around your shoulders before stumbling away to the kitchen. First he found a bottle of Advil and downed the pill, before checking in your fridge for any food. Eggs and toast was manageable, right? He wasn’t the most experienced cook but he could damn well try.

Almost subconsciously, he peeked behind his shoulder to look at you once more. Your forehead was wrinkled with worry again. Even though he felt bad, he couldn’t help but think about how cute it was. But to be fair, you were always cute.

So damn pretty.

You suddenly shifted and Hyunjin whipped his head back to his cooking, heart pounding and ears flaming. Focus on the food, Hyunjin, he scolded himself.

But that image of you curled up behind him couldn’t leave his head as he cooked, no matter how hard he tried. He shouldn’t be thinking of you so much, especially not now- with you here, and with the symptoms of his hangover a bitter reminder of the trouble he’d caused you. Especially when each new thought definitely crossed the friend line.

After meeting you at the university library, your phone numbers had been exchanged- and oddly enough, you’d been kind to him. Kind to the boy close to failing half of his classes. Kind to the boy with a reputation of trouble. Kind, even after the first party you’d stumbled upon him- and he’d been drunk then, too. And somehow you’d started being the one person he could really talk to, and the one person that his intoxicated brain thought to call.

His reminiscing was interrupted by movement, and Hyunjin glanced back again to see you groggily sitting up, blinking open bleary eyes, the cutest yawn scrunching up your features. He caught himself smiling ridiculously, just in time to hide it before your eyes found his own.

There were the worry lines again.

“Are you okay?” You asked him quietly, standing and approaching him. Against his will, his heart thumped a little faster.

“Yeah. I guess.” Hyunjin responded, watching you survey him, eyes checking him for any sign of damage.

It seemed you didn’t find any, because after a minute you sighed. “Good.”

You reached to yank him closer by the collar of his button up, nearly making Hyunjin lose his balance as another wave of dizziness greeted his senses. Either you didn’t notice or you didn’t care; probably the latter, because you were shouting, and you looked mad.

“What the hell? You scared me half to death, you told me you were going to stop doing this!”

“I… I know.” Hyunjin weakly replied, but he didn’t have time to add anymore when you came at him again.

“You said you wouldn’t go the next time, at least not alone- and the next time, and the next time, and on and on. I’ve been covering for you, rescuing you from parties and bad dates for the past year. But I’m gone next term, and I’m not going to be here to save your sorry ass anymore.”

As if he needed the reminder of your transfer. As if he hadn’t been thinking about it since the day you’d told him last month.

“I’m sorry, really.” Hyunjin murmured, meeting your eyes to try and convey the honesty in his words. “It’s unfair to you. I don’t know why I call you every time, but… it’s not fair.”

There was silence, and oddly enough you seemed a bit caught off guard. What? Because he called you, even now? But then Hyunjin realized at last your close proximity, your nose almost touching his, your warm breath on his face. His eyes widened.

You jumped back, and Hyunjin ducked away at the same time, heart doing back flips as he tried to regain his composure, glancing at you. You, the calm and sensible one, the out of reach one… flustered.

Was it possible for a heart to swell with foolish hope, at the same time it shriveled with an undeniable sense of guilt?

But before Hyunjin could figure it out, you were running to the stove, shouting at the smoke that billowed from the eggs that Hyunjin had forgotten about. The moment was dismissed in the scramble to clear the smoke and discard of the burnt eggs, relieved that at least the toast turned out okay.

And once the toast was buttered and on plates, you turned back to face him. You opened your mouth, hesitating for a moment before quietly saying, “What are you going to tell her this time?”

You didn’t need to say who. Hyunjin bit into his toast, with no desire to answer the question. You sighed, but thankfully didn’t push it.

He didn’t need to hear your thoughts to know what you were thinking while you silently drizzled honey on your bread. Why are you with her if you always need to lie to her?

Because I don’t deserve any better. And I certainly don’t deserve you.

He avoided your eyes as you chewed on your toast, gathering enough courage to timidly ask, “I really am sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I do.” Hyunjin argued, watching you sigh and drop the toast onto your plate. “I broke my promise-”

“And you’ve apologized. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“But that’s not enough.” He whispered, watching you turn your gaze to the floor, expression unreadable. It was so often that he couldn’t figure out what you were thinking, and he’d pay every penny for your thoughts. You gnawed on your lip, and Hyunjin wondered if you might not answer. At last, you lifted your head to meet his gaze again.

“Okay, how about we just say you owe me?”

Hyunjin breathed a sigh of relief, glad you had relented. “That’s more than fair.”

“Okay.” You rubbed your temples- from stress or tiredness, Hyunjin couldn’t tell. “Good.”

Another ‘sorry’ almost slipped from his lips without thinking, but Hyunjin managed to bite his tongue. He knew that another apology would only frustrate you. But it still echoed in his head, the guilt that swam there even as he watched you tie back your messy hair, heart fluttering endlessly.

He was a mess.

“I… guess I should go.”

“I can drive you.”

“No, I can walk. I have work today.”

You whirled to stare at him. “Today?”

“In an hour, actually.” Hyunjin replied, wincing at the very idea of the headache he was bound to suffer through today. The intense smell of flowers in the shop probably wouldn’t help, either.

You were silent for a moment; Hyunjin didn’t want to break the quiet himself, so he simply watched you harshly bite your lip again before you stepped closer. Once again, his heart stumbled as you neared.

Gingerly, you reached towards him, and Hyunjin subconsciously closed his eyes as your fingertips grazed his forehead, then massaged the area between his brows.

So you weren’t the only one stressed. He hadn’t even noticed; but he did find himself slowly relaxing under your touch.

When he opened his eyes, you still looked worried- but a small smile flickered on your lips.

“So you’re going to show up to work in that?”

Oh. “How bad is it?” He asked, sheepishly.

“You stink.” And then you had your arms around him, carefully resting your head against his shoulder as you pulled him close. The rare moments you did this, Hyunjin never knew how to react to your affection- but it did send his mind spiraling, his heart dancing and leaping in his chest at your closeness.

At last he let his cheek fall on your head, letting a minute pass before whispering. “Thank you… for everything.”

Was it his imagination, or did you hug him slightly tighter? “You’re my friend, and this is what friends do.”

Yeah… it’s what friends do.

Bullshit. You’ve gone above and beyond the requirements of friendship.

You pulled away from him, and turned quickly- he noticed the small tinge of redness over your ears but was too tired to question it. His headache, though dulled, was slowly returning. 

“Go shower.” You told him, heading towards your bedroom. “We’ll figure something out for your work clothes.”

He nodded, murmuring another small thank you before ducking into your bathroom, towel in hand. He paused in front of the mirror- gosh, he really did look like a mess.

Just like how he felt.

When he stepped under the cold water, splashing his senses awake, his thoughts ran a different way. He recalled leaning against your head; your hair had smelled like citrus; he’d sworn you’d held your breath.

7 days. That was all he had left before you were gone.

…

The distance between New York City and Los Angeles was exactly 2789 miles.

You knew this because the number had been dancing through your head since the moment you’d realized you would have to move back home to California to study.

Stupid finances. Your tiny apartment was fairly cheap for its Lower Manhattan location, but it still sucked away at your funds- funds you didn’t have. At the beginning of the term, it became apparent that unless you found money fast, you wouldn’t be able to stay.

Praying for a miracle had turned out to be hopeless. Your parents, having never approved of your moving away, hadn’t offered any help. Your bitter old manager refused to give you a raise, and no other opportunities presented themselves. In the desperate last stretch, you’d taken on different gigs- tutoring, walking dogs, cleaning houses, anything you could think of- but it wasn’t nearly enough. With a month left of the winter term, your only option became evident.

You signed the forms, you received the email of congratulations! You would be attending the University of California in the New Year!

Hip fucking hooray.

Oddly enough, Hyunjin had been the first to find out. The same day you’d received the email, you’d run into the boy at the university library. Where you’d usually be able to mask a smile, fake some kind of emotion to keep him from suspecting anything was wrong, you hadn’t had the energy.

Was that considered irony? The first person to know- to comfort you, to offer you support- would be your hardest goodbye.

When was it that you’d fallen for him? You couldn’t pinpoint between the sharing of homework answers- you were both English majors- and those moments at a cafe or that beautiful library when he seemed to be the only spot of colour left in your graying life. He had the unique ability to make you forget about all your worries and troubles even just for a few minutes with a single smile- a smile so kind and genuine and warm that it felt like an embrace on its own. Meeting him had been like… finding the first crocus in spring, and knowing that the frost was fading at last. It had been hopeful; somehow knowing this person standing in front of you would touch your very soul.

And he had- in so many ways. Ways he probably didn’t realize in the moments he’d surprise you with coffee on a cold morning, or let you borrow his gloves when you forgot them. He’d touched you so deeply that you’d found yourself slipping into daydreams far too often with him involved- and with no girlfriend in sight.

The girlfriend was actually a recent development; Ava had come seemingly out of nowhere, apparently another English student that Hyunjin had taken out a couple times. Ava herself wasn’t too bad- but you still found her a tad single minded- and too invested in Hyunjin’s academics. The boy didn’t always have the best grades, and she had no reservations when it came to reminding him. Maybe she meant well… but sometimes you really did want to slap her.

For more reasons than just that.

She’d come along just shortly before you’d found him at one of his parties, dead drunk with vomit still damp on his shirt. He’d touched your soul in a different way then, and you’d never forget what he’d said to you as you’d tried to drag him out of your car, and his weary eyes found yours.

“Do you know how to float?”

“What?”

“Float. Like, not drown.” He mumbled something that you couldn’t hear before saying louder. “I drown. I drown a lot of times, even though I got everything I need to stay up. I was given those… like, those floatie thingies, but I just poke holes into them.” He clumsily pressed an index finger to his side, tapping several times. “Poke. Poke. Poke. And then I drown.”

You tried to figure out something to say, but came up empty at a loss for words. Hyunjin had only chuckled bitterly. “Grades aren’t everything, right? What a bunch of bull-”

You’d held his hair away from his face as he vomited onto the grass. As he wretched, your mind spun; this beautiful, sweet, outwardly confident boy… was just as much a mess as you.

Perhaps everyone was a mess, and some had just gotten very good at hiding it. 

Now, sitting on your couch as the sun sank lower in the sky and turned the horizon into violent shades of orange and red, your mind spiraled back to one thing.

I love you.

Ha. I’m so in love with you, and you don’t even know it.

Just when you thought things couldn’t get messier…

You shifted in your spot, glancing at the half eaten carton of food on the coffee table as you recounted your morning with Hyunjin. Why had you hugged him? You were supposed to be mad at him- but you just couldn’t be for long. You knew how hard he was trying, and that he beat himself up enough for the both of you. And anyways…

You didn’t want to waste your time being angry at him. 

The hug itself had felt like magnetism- one minute you were watching him with a small smile of endearment, and the next your arms were around his waist, pulling him close. He'd been so comfortingly warm; you’d been able to hear his heartbeat in your ear, pounding a rhythm much too fast to stop you from wondering…

I love you.

You stood abruptly from the couch, snatching the carton of food and stashing it back in the fridge. You needed to stop thinking about this; you needed to clear your head.

It was bitingly cold outside, tiny snowflakes drifting through the chill air that buzzed with noise. You’d always liked how busy it was here, even at night. You didn’t understand it, but something about how awake the world was at ungodly hours made you feel more alive, too.

You hurried down the sidewalk, keeping your hands in your coat pocket to stay warm, burrowing your chin into the patterned scarf around your neck. You let your feet carry you any which way, no real destination in mind. Music poured from the doors of small cafes and busy nightclubs still ablaze with life. You contemplated stopping at one of your favourite coffee shops, even if just to sit and drown in the warmth, but passed by with a shake of your head. You were too restless.

You forced your mind to wander to other worries as you walked- like the upcoming winter exams. Classes ended tomorrow, and the following four days were filled with studying and the actual exams. Then the morning after, you’d be gone.

It felt surreal. The month had flown by underneath a looming shadow, and you swore you’d missed several weeks. Granted, you’d been busy- often studying with Hyunjin, or working your ass off at your job. But only the sleepless nights had felt long- the rest had passed in the blink of an eye.

You couldn’t deny how attached you’d grown to the city in your time here. As much as you’d loved your home city, New York had a certain feel to it that fed into your very soul. You’d never been able to pinpoint why; you only knew that if it had been possible, you might have never wanted to leave.

For more reasons than one.

But now it seemed unlikely that you would find the funds to come back. Even the price for a visit… you didn’t want to imagine a price.

His smile haunted you. The first real friend you’d made. The one you’d hopelessly fallen for, and now found yourself in an impossible position.

There you go again, you realized with a jolt. Thinking of him.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets, forcing your mind elsewhere. The apartment complexes in front of you, the bubbling laughter from a nearby bar, the rumbling of car engines as the lights flickered from red to green. The tiny shops on the corners, and the takeout places to the left. Ah, I liked that sushi place. Hyunjin loved it too.

And it was obvious when you rounded the next street corner, eyes turning upwards as snow fell heavier around you, that walking hadn’t helped anything.

Except to make you feel even lonelier.

…

Classes ended on a solemn note for Hyunjin. He didn’t miss a single one of his teacher’s judgemental glances in his direction at the last chime of the bells. He certainly didn’t need them to tell him that most of his grades were currently sitting at dangerous spots- and these upcoming exams would be extremely important.

He needed to pass.

Whispers followed him in the halls. He didn’t miss their glances, either, as a group of students passed.

“He’s not even trying- doesn’t he know others would kill to be in his place?”

“Seriously, he received enough bursaries for me and my sister to attend a year of college.”

“He’s just a pretty face, no brains.”

He ducked out of the hall, desensitized to the phrases he was used to hearing. They’d batted inside the back of his head since he was in high school, and it had been his parents saying the same things.

Just a pretty face.

His parents had been the ones to ensure his place at the university, complete with bursaries to keep his finances well taken care of. They had connections, see, and had high expectations for Hyunjin’s future. Too bad they had such a disappointment for a child, he thought bitterly. 

Still, it was easy enough to let the words pass from one ear and out the next. He’d heard them enough times that he was almost numb to them. Almost.

Hyunjin sighed as he readjusted the bag slung over his shoulder and hurried down the steps away from campus. He had work again, and he couldn’t dawdle. He already owed his coworkers enough; Seungmin, a fellow student, had been kind enough to lend him an extra shirt for his last shift, and he didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

Luckily, the shop wasn’t too far. He arrived a few minutes early, greeting Felix- a younger boy with blonde curls and heaps of freckles on his cheeks- with a small smile as he ducked inside the warm shop, a pleasant contrast to the bitter cold outside.

“You beat me.” Hyunjin panted, pulling off his coat.

“The Professor let us out a few minutes early.” Felix explained, busy arranging a basket of flowers with careful precision. “Where are the scissors?”

Hyunjin crouched behind the counter, digging through the bottom door to find a pair of scissors and hand them to the boy.

“Thank you.”

“Hey!” This was Jeongin, a younger kid whose parents owned the shop, appearing from one of the back rooms with a cardboard box filled with labelling cards. “You’re out!”

“Except for exams, yeah.” Hyunjin agreed, fondly ruffling the boy’s hair. He pulled away, shaking away his hand. 

“Hey, you were at that party yesterday, weren’t you?”

Hyunjin hadn’t expected that. “Yeah- yeah, and you were?”

“We both were.” Felix sliced a red ribbon and tied it carefully around the handle of the basket. He stepped back, smiling as he admired his handiwork before adding. “We thought of stopping to talk, but…”

“You looked wasted, dude.” Jeongin finished, setting the box on the counter before turning eyes to Hyunjin.

The long haired boy shifted his feet under Jeongin’s gaze. “I… might have had a bit too much to drink.”

He turned to pluck his apron from the peg on the wall; Felix chuckled behind him.

“Good thing y/n was there. That’s who it was, right?”

Hyunjin avoided looking back, clumsily tying his apron. “Yeah. Why?”

“Nothing, just…” his voice trailed away.

Now Hyunjin glanced back, frowning at Felix’s hesitation. He looked a little… apprehensive? “What? What happened? Did I do something-”

“Oh, nothing bad.” Felix chuckled, his worry crumbling enough to ease Hyunjin’s shoulders back to relaxing as he turned away again. Until Felix added. “It’s just that you told her you loved her.”

Hyunjin froze with his fingers still pulling the strings tight. The words echoed in his head- taking a moment to process before the gravity of what Felix was saying took hold. He let the bow fall slack, turning slowly to face the two boys. “What?”

“She sat you down, gave you water and then you told her you loved her.” Jeongin laughed, clearly finding this very amusing.

But Hyunjin found this anything but funny. He’d said… to you…

Was that why you’d been acting weirdly? Wait, more importantly- did that mean you knew he’d meant it?

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Jeongin shrugged. “You were drunk, people say stupid things all the time when they’re wasted.”

Right. You had to think that.

Right?

“You must have been pretty drunk to forget, though.” Felix picked up his basket, nudging Hyunjin on his way past. “Hey, don’t worry about it too much. I’m sure she doesn’t care.”

Did you care?

That was the question that circled Hyunjin’s brain as he ducked away, finding recluse in the storage room to think. He’d told you- actually told you to your face- that he loved you. Sure, he’d been drunk, but he’d still said it.

Did you care that he’d said it?

He cursed his foggy memory, that hadn’t clung onto to that moment. He had no idea how you’d responded- he had no idea if you’d brushed it off or not. And he had no idea what to do now that he knew vaguely what had happened.

He recalled your flustered state yesterday morning; the tinge of red on your ears, the tenderness of your eyes when you’d looked at him…

And his wild thoughts desperately hoped that maybe, maybe that meant you loved him too.

Could it be possible? He’d wondered before, but never with much hope; only a hopeless romantic’s dream of gentle kisses and shared smiles and tight embraces that he figured would only ever exist in his imagination. And after your announcement of moving back to California, even those hopeful thoughts had disappeared. His time had run out- long distance relationships never worked out anyways, and that was even if you’d wanted one. And if so many other things didn’t stand in the way.

“Hyunjin?” Felix’s head popped through the door, his features twisted into a frown. “It’s your girlfriend. You left your phone on the counter- she wants to talk to you-”

Shit. “Tell her I’ll call her back.”

“Ah- okay.” Felix pulled out again, and the reality of his living world fell back on him like a heavy weight.

What to do now? Nothing.

He would go home. He’d call Ava, maybe find a distraction. And he’d try his very best to forget again.

5 days. He had a lot to worry about in the next little bit, that was for sure.

…

It was another two days before you saw Hyunjin. You’d promised to study with him before the exams, arranging a meeting at one of the nearby libraries in the afternoon to pore over notes and books and cram as much knowledge as possible into your brain. As usual, you arrived earlier than Hyunjin and found a free table to set up for your study session- including a few small muffins to feed your appetites. 

But today was already starting out much different than you’d intended. Once seated, you had the time to wait and realize that you were oddly nervous to see him.

In fact, as the minutes ticked closer to 3 o’clock, you swore there were butterflies dancing inside of you.

Gosh, you needed to get a grip. He was the same Hwang Hyunjin as he’d been before that drunken confession- unavailable and unreachable. This changed nothing.

But when you spotted him walking towards you with his navy backpack slung over his shoulder and black jacket making him look way too cute, you knew it changed everything.

“I brought coffee.” He smiled as he slid into the chair beside you, plopping two drinks on the table- Americano for him, steaming cup of Espresso for you.

“Thanks.” You took a sip, relishing the taste and praying the hot liquid would drown those stupid butterflies as you flipped open your first notebook. 

“Well, we can’t have a future famous journalist low on caffeine during exam season!” He exclaimed with a teasing grin- and you felt relieved that he seemed to be in at least somewhat decent spirits.

“If I get through university.”

“You will.” Hyunjin assured, sounding so confident you glanced at him in surprise. He just smiled at you. “I believe in you.”

What was it about those words from his mouth that made you feel ridiculously flustered? Those butterflies had evidently survived the coffee. You quickly spoke to hide your sudden shyness. “Well, don’t neglect your own caffeine then.”

“Ah.” His smile faltered, and you caught it easily. You didn’t need to ask to know he doubted his ability to pass. With a firm exhale, you pressed his coffee closer to him.

“We’re both going to smash these exams. Okay?”

Slowly, Hyunjin nodded and released a tense breath. “Okay.” He replied softly, lips curving upwards slightly. “I mean, with you as my study partner how could I not?”

You slowly grinned, tossing your hair dramatically. “Aren’t you lucky to have me?”

“Very.” He giggled, but the sincerity in his eyes still reached you- and you didn’t quite know what to do about that, so you cleared your throat.

“I suppose we should get started.”

You waited for Hyunjin to pull his books from his bag; his long dark hair fell before his eyes as he bent down, and you tried not to care too much about it, and the urge to run your fingers through it. At last he plopped his textbooks and scattered notes onto the table with a sigh. “Right.”

But looking over notes and exchanging questions proved to be more difficult than you’d expected. From the get go the atmosphere felt different; electric, and noticeably so. It was nearly impossible to concentrate for reasons beyond you- was it lack of sleep that made your eyes wander to watch Hyunjin flip a page, take a sip of his coffee, or mouth words to himself? Time was hazy while you couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by the small furrow of his brow, the bright focus in his eyes. You’d always thought he was absolutely stunning, but today it was harder to ignore.

You shook your head slightly, scolding yourself to get a grip. You turned back to your pages, eyes glaring at the notes you’d scribbled about Pride and Prejudice and War and Peace without really soaking any of it into your brain. 

An hour passed slowly. You worked mostly in silence, occasionally exchanging thoughts and points and sipping your individual drinks. You helped him with a few of the analyses and quizzed him (quite distractedly). The muffins were devoured in no time, the chocolate taste lingering on the tip of your tongue as you worked away for another hour. You thought you might be going brain dead when Hyunjin suddenly laughed.

You looked up quickly, confused. “What?”

“Wait, did you do that?”

He was pointing to his notes and with a start, you realized there were small drawings in the margins- doodled eyes and flowers and flames and whatnot. Your expression broke into a smile as warmth flooded your chest with the memory.

“You fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up. Remember, when Professor Watson was giving that speech about-”

“Provision and prosperity.” Hyunjin groaned in remembrance, before looking back at the pencilled designs. “I never noticed these.”

His fingers traced the outlines of the sketches, a faint smile pulling at his lips. His eyes held an undeniable fondness that had your heart doing back flips as you attempted to return to work.

But damn, he was so distracting. You couldn’t help but look back at him, still intently focused on your drawings. You once again had the urge to brush the loose strands of his dark hair behind his ear, and maybe kiss the corner of his gentle smile-

Then his eyes glanced your way- shit-

He opened his mouth, but you blurted with cheeks flaming, “Are you cold? It’s freezing, isn’t it?”

Ha. Lies, you felt like you were burning alive.

Hyunjin softly smiled. “You’re so silly, why didn’t you bring a jacket?”

You shrugged. “I don’t live too far, I had a hoodie and it’s not that cold-”

Suddenly he was sitting back shaking off his jacket. Your heart stammered and your breath caught at the sudden closeness as he turned to face you, leaning forward slightly and sliding his jacket over your shoulders.

“There.” He murmured; his eyes met yours as he paused his movements.

Yes, there it was. Electric.

He pulled back quickly, grabbing his pencil and turning his gaze away. Thankfully so, because it was that moment that your fingers curled around his jacket sleeve and heat swam to your face- it smelled just like him. Dark musk, with a slight hint of something floral.

“Thank you.” You managed at last, bending your head to look back at the book and away from the boy before you could make eye contact again- and he might notice the intense blush painting your cheeks.

He hummed in acknowledgment, scratching something down with his pencil. Otherwise it was tensely silent, leaving you room to wonder why, why, why did you pick the library? It was like your senses were on high alert in the near complete stillness of the room, your every nerve absolutely focused on Hyunjin’s small movements, the smell of his jacket, the faint brush of his knee against yours under the table; again you were drawn to slowly look at him, and with a jolt you realized he was staring back.

His words echoed relentlessly in your mind. I’m so in love with you, and you don’t even know it.

You couldn’t pull away this time, like your gazes were magnets with an unstoppable attraction. You searched his eyes, hoping to dig through the emotions in them and find answers. Had he meant it at all? His lips were slightly parted, and it took every fibre of your self control to stay still in your seat.

What are we even doing here? You silently screamed. It feels like torture, but I can’t stop wanting you.

Hyunjin’s phone chose that instant to buzz on the table, lighting up with a caller ID you recognized before Hyunjin picked it up. Ironic, for her to be the one to interrupt… whatever the hell that had been.

“Ava?”

Her voice crackled from the speaker, but you couldn’t make out any words as Hyunjin hummed into the phone. “Yeah. Okay, sure. I’ll be there soon.”

With his gaze no longer on you, you slumped back in your seat, feeling rather foolish and small. Were you just reading into things? He had a girlfriend, after all.

A girlfriend he never talks about. A girlfriend he doesn’t seem to trust.

Did it matter?

Hyunjin turned back to you, and you had trouble meeting his eyes again- this time, for a reason unknown to you. “Sorry. Ava…”

He didn’t finish, and you couldn’t help it when you looked up and asked. “Do you love her, Hyunjin?”

His eyes snapped to yours, and he seemed taken aback. “What?”

You merely swallowed, kind of wishing you could brush away the question. Where had it even come from? Curiosity? Jealousy?

Hope?

Hope for what? You damn idiot, none of this matters!

“No.”

It echoed in your head and it burned in the way that he looked at you when he said that; like he needed you to know that, like he’d been begging for a reason to tell you. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. Still, you ignored all the warning lights in your brain and all logic of your situation- because yes, it didn’t matter- and you pressed on anyway.

“Then why…”

“I don’t love her. I never did, and she knows that.” He murmured, completely unreadable as he closed his textbooks. “We just both needed someone when we felt especially lonely. That was the agreement all along.”

Your throat felt suddenly dry, and no words found their way to your tongue. Speechless, you sat silent as Hyunjin watched you, completely unreadable.

And what now?

Shit, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. 

You needed to process, to clear your spinning head. But you still felt frozen in your seat.

Luckily Hyunjin spoke first. “You can keep my jacket. I guess Ava’s coming to pick me up. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

He stored his books away, and finally a bit of sense returned to you. “Ah, okay. Get home safe.”

He half smiled in your direction, then almost seemed to hesitate stepping away. That small hesitation nearly broke something in you, but you remained firmly in your seat.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight.” You whispered, and let him walk away.

3 days. 3 days that would feel like an eternity and a second all at once.

…

Hyunjin wrapped his arms around himself, shivering from the cold as he scanned the parking lot for Ava’s vehicle. He quickly spotted the maroon coloured Sedan, and jogged towards it. As he approached, he could make out her figure through the glass. Her thick curls and wide eyes, which turned to meet his own when he knocked on the window.

“Hey.” She gestured and he slipped inside, buckling his seatbelt as she started the engine. 

He nodded back, asking, “You said you needed me?”

“Yep.” She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “And you sounded less than happy about that.”

He had, hadn't he? He bit his lip, trying to figure out what to say- but he didn’t even know what the problem was.

Hyunjin’s relationship with Ava was almost as complicated as the one between him and you. He’d met her several times in class, and then outside of class for a casual coffee. She was bold, and although a little pushy, she was one of the few students who didn't seem to resent him. When she’d suggest a kind of ‘friends with benefits,’ he’d been surprised to say the least- and his first instinct had been to say no. After all, he was well aware of his feelings for you then, so why would he agree to sleep with Ava?

But one day, after a particularly dismal week, you found him at a party far more drunk than he usually was. It was the first time you’d helped him- and when he took a look at himself in the mirror the next morning, he knew. He couldn’t do this. You already had your own problems to deal with- you didn’t need the weight of him and his feelings on your shoulders, too.

Was that dumb? Maybe. But Hyunjin had agreed to Ava’s offer, and the rest was history. He’d been honest from the beginning about his intentions, confiding his affection for you to her to make it clear that he wasn’t looking for anything more than casual sex. And it didn’t happen often- only when both of you were particularly stressed- but soon enough word had spread. Ava and Hyunjin, a couple.

Like every other rumour, he let the words pass through him. Except when it came from you- then it hurt more than he’d wanted to admit. But if that’s what it kept to hold himself back, he could find a way to push aside the pain.

Still, he’d never felt as guilty about it as he felt today. For some reason, the idea made him feel… wrong. Maybe because of what he’d said to you at the party. Or maybe because of whatever tension had lingered in the library just minutes ago, and he’d almost thought he might…

Hyunjin didn’t realize he’d fallen silent, drifting into thought until Ava nudged him back to the present.

“Sorry-”

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin looked up, as Ava pulled into the lot connected to the first few dorm halls. She turned off the engine and turned to look at him, dark eyes void of emotion. “Y/n. That’s why you’re hesitating today.”

Hyunjin wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak- but he couldn’t find the words. His mind still felt muddled from your earlier question.

“Do you love her?”

Why had you asked him that? And why had he told you the truth?

“I’m… just not up to it today.” Hyunjin responded- since that was technically true. “And I have to study some more.”

Ava didn’t say anything for a minute, just stared at him. Hyunjin felt an odd frustration boil up inside of him, although he was unsure where it was coming from. “You can’t ask me to-”

“I’m not.” She replied, pulling the key from the ignition and shrugging. “It’s your choice. But you know it doesn’t matter, right?”

Hyunjin couldn’t look at her as he spoke, fingers clutching the door handle. The car was beginning to feel suffocating. “It’s just friends with benefits. No strings attached.”

“Hyunjin… it’s never been that simple.”

His eyes jolted to find hers, staring at him intently. He noticed the nervous tapping of her fingers on her thigh, and the tiny crack in her facade in the depth of her irises. It’s never been that simple.

She… “Ava-”

“We could be good together- actually together.” She exclaimed, crossing her arms and looking away. He thought he caught a flash of desperation in her eyes. “Everyone believes it already-”

“I never meant to lead you on-”

“You didn’t.” She shrugged again, but Hyunjin was starting to think her indifference was her type of armour. He knew about that all too well. “But think about it. She’s leaving, and then what? Long distance? How long do you think that would last? If she even wants you.”

Hyunjin was frozen as the words pounded inside his brain, a chorus that he was all too familiar with, the things he quoted to himself. Ava was right, as much as he hated to admit it.

“I-” his grip on the car handle tightened as he tried to stop the trembling of his body. “I can’t.”

Ava merely sighed and waved him out of the vehicle. He clambered out, shutting the door behind him quickly. But she rolled down the window anyway and told him, “Think about it.”

He didn’t know what to say- his heart just ached, and he needed space. “See you.” He murmured, turning quickly to leave. 

It hurts. Everything hurts.

Ava called after him, her words clinging like a shadow as he walked away. “Whether you’re willing to accept it yet or not, she’s going to be gone soon- and then I’ll be all you have left.”

…

It was actually a relief for Hyunjin to have the upcoming exams to occupy his mind and suck away most of his free time. If not for the constant distraction he had from the diminishing time you had left in New York, Hyunjin wasn’t sure what he would have done. Already he thought of your departure far too often for his confused and aching heart. Two days, that was it, and he was completely torn in every way concerning you. Only one thing felt certain; there was no way to stop this. You were leaving- and you were leaving for good. Hyunjin held no power to stop it. Ava’s words flooded his brain, too, but he was determined not to dwell on that. He had more pressing things right now.

He could only watch as your last day dawned, flooded near full with exams. Hyunjin carried his worries with him even as he completed his tests, mind having trouble focusing at first when he spotted your hunched figure in one of the seats. You didn’t look his way, but he could still see the tiredness in your gaze, lack of proper sleep evident in the dark circles that were like bruises under your eyes. He chewed absentmindedly on his lip until the overseer cleared their throat, glaring at Hyunjin- the exam had already started.

From there, he tried his damned hardest on each task. He wasn’t confident by the end- but then again, he never was. When he at last handed in his paper, one of the last students in the room, he found your figure had disappeared. 

It was just as well, he decided. His next exam was the most important to do well on. You’d only serve to distract his mind.

Yeah. So why do I feel so heavy?

The next exam, somehow, passed smoothly. Maybe last minute panic and pressure had helped with his focus, or maybe you really had been quite the study partner. But by the end he was cautiously optimistic that he had gotten a decent score.

Regardless, leaving the university grounds was extremely relieving. At least now he could leave this burden behind- he’d done his best, and he supposed the rest was up to fate now. The day was cloudy and warmer than yesterday- maybe even warm enough for rainfall to replace the snow. He sent a silent prayer against it, and hurried down the sidewalk.

His dorm had never felt more welcoming; Hyunjin dropped his bag in the entrance and promptly collapsed onto the nearest surface- his couch- with a heavy exhale. His eyes closed, a headache stinging at the edges of his brow. 

And here his thoughts of you resurfaced. The horrible realization that you were leaving tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

It felt surreal, like a dream he’d wake up from soon enough. Reality would return and you’d be staying, finances taken care of- and Hyunjin would be better, the hollowness in himself somehow filled. No problems, no worries; just the two of you, strong and whole enough to face anything the world could throw at you.

“If only.” He whispered to the empty room, returned only by dull silence.

He couldn’t just sit here, or he would go insane. 

He was seeing you off tomorrow at the airport, but the time that stretched until then was sure to be agonizing. He wondered if he’d be able to sleep. He wondered if he would be able to bear the steady march of time; sixteen hours to go.

His hands itched to grab his jacket and run out the door to find something heavy to drink. He wanted to drown his dread and anxiety in bouts of alcohol, the feelings caged in his chest threatening to shatter his rib cage with its pressure. Instead, he stood abruptly with a resolute shake of his head, heading for the kitchen. If he just kept himself busy, he would be okay. He wasn’t about to show up at the airport with a raging hangover. That wasn’t fair to you and was hardly how he wanted his goodbye to be.

Goodbye.

His fingers twitched. Hyunjin blew out a breath and pulled a package of ramen from the cupboard.

Fifteen hours and fifty-eight minutes. He ripped open the package and set to work.

…

You had one more exam than Hyunjin; you took it later in the day, late in the afternoon. Your previous exams had all been haunted with the shadow of your approaching departure, and you’d desperately pushed them away. You’d had a tough sleep the night before, which didn’t help your already foggy brain, but you were still fairly optimistic as you stepped out of your last exam room. Tests were your forte, something you’d always excelled in. Even the opinion essay hadn’t proved overly difficult. You were almost cheery as you walked away from the school grounds.

Almost.

At the main gates, you turned around and simply watched. Students huddled in groups big and small, laughter carried by the wind as celebrations ensued, grateful for exams to be over. A light layer of snow glistened over the ground, melting around the edges; a sparrow hopped over its branch, carefree. Your smile faded as your eyes trailed the area, every building, tree and person.

“See ya, I guess.” You murmured, absentmindedly tapping one of the gate’s stone pillars. The first of many goodbyes you’d face today. Already you felt heavier.

Your feet dragged slightly over the sidewalk as you trudged in the vague direction of your apartment. A couple students waved and shouted farewells, but none of them were close enough acquaintances to offer anything more. You stopped off by your work on the way home, and it was almost relieving to have a final farewell. It was like tying everything up; exchanging thank yous and good lucks that made it a little easier to smile as you found your way to your apartment afterwards. Upon entering the silent space, however, you felt your smile fade as your mind wandered to your most difficult goodbye.

And Hwang Hyunjin, you certainly aren’t making it any easier.

You busied yourself with packing, stuffing all of your belongings into a large suitcase and travel bags. Accompanied by gentle music and the fading light outside your window, you felt slightly more at ease. Slowly your flat was emptied- the only food, a few cartons of Chinese food and sushi, was quickly devoured- and your bags were ready by the door for the following morning. A last sweep of the rooms later, you flopped on the floor exhausted. 

By now, the sky had darkened significantly. The lights of the city stretched out to the horizon, a faint golden glow rising from the busy streets that rushed on without a care in the world. As if one of its residents wasn’t seeing this view for the last time.

And here they were; tears that filled your eyes and blurred your vision of the rising skyscrapers and bustling cafes below as you pressed your fingertips to the cold glass of the window. Damn. You shook your head when the first tear slipped over, wiping your eyes. You would not spend your last night crying. If you had to leave, tonight would be one to remember, you were determined.

But how? How, when the hole inside you felt so vastly empty? You swore nothing could make you forget it. Hell, nothing ever did.

Except… 

You sat up straight with sudden clarity. Maybe you did know exactly what you wanted tonight. 

Maybe it’s foolish. Maybe it’s selfish. 

But even if it was, you couldn’t help it. Shit, Hyunjin. You couldn’t begin to understand the grip you have on me.

Your phone was out of your pocket in an instant and before you could chicken out, the line was ringing. You waited, breath held, for several tones before… click.

“Y/n?”

You’d never been more happy to hear his voice. You swallowed, fingertips sliding down the glass. The city really did look so pretty tonight.

“You owe me, remember?”

“Anything.” He replied, and the genuine care in his tone nearly broke you. You blinked back more tears as you struggled to answer. LA would be so lonely without him.

Your voice was quiet when you at last spoke a little shakily into the speaker. “Can I come pick you up?”

… 

When the phone call ended, Hyunjin’s mind flew into a frenzy.

As soon as you’d asked him, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes. He didn’t need a reason to see you- but now that you’d hung up, and the silence of his empty apartment greeted him, he began to worry.

It was very unlike you to call out of the blue like this- and request to see him instantly. Was something wrong? Had something happened? He quickly changed into something nicer- a red button up and black jeans- before anxiously waiting in the lobby downstairs, coat in his arms.

The minutes seemed to stretch on for ages before he finally spotted your car pulling into the parking lot. He hurried out the door and jogged towards your vehicle, greeting you first by your rolled down window.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, breathing heavy from his short run.

“I’m sorry this is so sudden- I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, slow down.” Hyunjin stared worriedly at your face; you were trembling and almost as out of breath as he was. “Take a breath.”

You nodded and inhaled slowly, before blurting out, “Let’s go somewhere. I want my last night here-” you swallowed roughly. “I want it to be special.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. Hyunjin timidly took your hand and squeezed it. “Where are we off to then?”

You smiled then, and Hyunjin wished he could capture that moment in his brain forever- the way your eyes softened around the edges, and he could almost feel a bit of your stress melt away. “Get in and you’ll find out.”

Whatever little luck brought you here to me tonight; thank you.

And his heart hammered a little faster as he took his spot in the passenger’s seat and realized that for your very last night in New York, you’d wanted to spend it with him.

“Alright.” Hyunjin strapped on his buckle. “Ready.”

You glanced sideways at him, and a little grin pulled at your lips. “What do you say to sushi?”

…

Of course Hyunjin held no complaints about ordering from your favourite sushi place, and in no time you were wandering the streets of New York, sharing a large tin of sushi rolls. You’d abandoned your car in favour of walking, and it was oddly easy to forget about your upcoming departure in Hyunjin’s presence. For now, at least, you were with him and you could pretend that it could last forever. You fell into a natural rhythm quickly, even down to the last piece of sushi that you- of course- fought over.

“It’s my favourite kind!” You whined, as Hyunjin laughed and held the tin out of your reach.

“I’m sacrificing my evening for this.” Hyunjin teased, as you rolled your eyes. He laughed, making you smile grudgingly before he lowered the tin and offered it to you. “I guess you can have it, though.”

You made a point of enjoying your last piece as Hyunjin discarded the tin and you moved forward again. Your eyes observed the busy city with its towering skyscrapers and buzzing cafes and the nearby park. It was still weird to you how quickly this place had grown to feel like home. 

You noticed Hyunjin watching you, and raised an eyebrow in his direction. He simply shrugged with a bashful smile. “Everything’s really pretty tonight.”

You nodded, ignoring the sudden urge to hold the boy’s hand as he walked beside you. You crossed the street while fighting the tug in your chest, before resolutely stuffing your fist into your coat pocket. “Look at the fountain.”

Both your eyes turned to observe the bubbling fountain as students and couples and friends balanced on the stone ledge surrounding the clear water. It was oddly quiet today as you trailed behind Hyunjin to stand beside it. You watched him stare at the water, a small smile on his face.

“Remember when you fell in-”

“Yeah, you promised never to mention that again!” You exclaimed, smacking his arm as the boy laughed.

“You asked me to take a picture, but when you turned to pose-” he was giggling uncontrollably now, and you couldn’t help but smile at that. “You tripped and fell-” 

“I got soaked, and the water was freezing.” You replied indignantly, as Hyunjin settled on the ledge as his laughter subsided. You joined him after a minute, and all was silent again. 

“We used to make wishes in the fountain, too.” Hyunjin murmured, almost too quiet for you to hear. “But I don’t think I have any coins now.”

You turned your head so you could see the water ripple with the next gentle breath of wind. “Maybe we’ve run out of wishes.” You whispered.

Was it the dim lighting, or did Hyunjin have faint tears in his eyes? But then he blinked and they were gone, and he was standing. He gestured away with his head, smiling. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”

You stood, looking down each of the paths. Each one held memories that you’d shared with your classmates and various acquaintances- and more than any of them, with Hyunjin. You didn’t know if you had the willpower to move yet.

“It’s okay.” You tilted your head to look at Hyunjin, who smiled gently at you before looking back at the scenery and adding, “Take your time.”

His thoughtfulness always caught you off guard. Again, you felt the urge to take Hyunjin’s hand in yours. It was nearly unbearable because he didn’t even notice your struggle, still staring out at the park grounds.

Ah, what the hell-

Before you could lose your nerve, you grabbed Hyunjin's hand and quickly intertwined your fingers with his. His head whirled to face you, eyes wide as they stared at your hands locked together. You braced yourself, half expecting for him to pull away. Instead, he squeezed your hand lightly and smiled before joining you in watching the bustle of the park one last time.

Maybe you were only making this harder for yourself- for the both of you, even. But his hand in yours felt so good in this moment that you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

…

Hyunjin could tell how difficult this was for you, even before you’d stopped by the fountain.

He wondered if he’d been in the right for bringing up the incident- but you’d been smiling, and that was what mattered tonight. Helping you to enjoy that last bit of time you had in this city, painted with memories.

So he pulled you forward into a light run, an idea tugging on his brain as you called after him.

“Hyunjin- what-”

“Trust me, I have an idea.” He replied, glancing over his shoulder at your chasing figure. He was relieved to see you smiling again. “Let’s hope it’s still cold enough, though.”

Your curious expression was adorable. Hyunjin just hoped you’d be as thrilled with his idea as he was.

At last, he found what he was looking for. Your eyes stretched wide as you took in the ice rink- luckily still usable- and Hyunjin waited nervously for you to speak. “Well? What do you think?”. 

“You remembered.” You said softly, turning to Hyunjin with your eyes aglow. You slowly smiled at him- and Hyunjin thought he might do anything to earn that smile from you again. “You remembered I wanted to try ice skating one day…”

“Why not now?” He tugged on your sleeve, and immediately you nodded.

“But… we don’t have skates.”

“An easy fix.” He responded, and in minutes you’d rented two pairs of skates. Another few minutes as you laced them up, and then you were both standing before the rink, empty save for a few other people.

Hyunjin stepped carefully onto the ice first- a little melt-y around the edges but ice nonetheless. “Here.” He offered you his hand, suddenly feeling shy when you stared at it. At last you took his hand, and his fingertips tingled at the touch. 

“Here.” He grabbed your other hand, ignoring the heat on the back of his neck and ears as he helped you onto the ice. You wobbled slightly, gripping his hands tighter. Hyunjin chucked at your wary expression. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

You didn’t look assured but nodded anyway. “Alright, now what?”

“Skate!” Hyunjin faked releasing your hands, and you gasped, reaching to take his fingers in a death grip. He felt a rush of immense pleasure run through him as you pulled him back to you, even as you muttered curses at him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself-”

“Asshole.”

“I promise, no more tricks.”

“You’d better mean it, Hwang Hyunjin, I swear to god-”

He laughed, and slowly started to skate backwards. You inhaled sharply, but attempted a step forward, then another. It was shaky, for sure, but after a minute or so you started to loosen up.

“There! You’re a natural!” Hyunjin grinned, watching as you pushed out slightly with your next step. You looked at him, eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s like…”

“Flying. Isn’t it?” He murmured, and you nodded. “Ready for me to let go?”

“Okay.” You said, and Hyunjin released your hands.

He watched breathlessly as you inhaled before lifting your right foot. With a small push off the other foot, you were sailing forward- a small wobble, but you remained upright as you took the next step. And the next, and the next.

“Hyunjin!” You shouted, beaming, and Hyunjin’s heart was soaring with you as you attempted to turn and come back to him. But he beat you, too excited at your success. He skated to you and before he could think better of it, he’d pulled you to his chest in a tight hug.

“You were flying.” He said with a soft laugh, while simultaneously feeling a lump in his throat as you wound your arms around him. He felt oddly emotional as he held you, before having at least enough sense to let you go after a brief moment. “You did it.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to without you.” You replied, softly.

And for some reason, those words made his heart ache.

“Come on.” He murmured, reaching to take your hand again. “Let’s skate.”

And keep pretending that tomorrow will never come.

…

Hyunjin knew that you both spent hours on the ice, but it passed by in the blink of an eye. You were a fast learner, and after a while you were both whizzing over the rink, chasing each other, and spinning one another in circles. Every time Hyunjin’s eyes met your excited ones, it left him breathless; he was just that in love with you.

However, your feet grew tired eventually and you retired from the ice. After you returned the skates, you continued down the pathways of the park side by side. You were practically glowing, and Hyunjin found himself feeling proud that he’d been able to make you smile like this tonight.

The sky was dark now, and the park was growing quieter as more people retired for the night. With the late hour returned Hyunjin’s sense of dread. He was again made aware that he had such limited time with you, and it was gnawing at his mind feverishly. He wanted to hold your hand again, but he felt hesitant now. Why would he, when he’d have to let go again anyways?

“Look!” You exclaimed, bringing him out of his thoughts. You were pointing to a shaded booth ahead; a short line of people were waiting for a turn for photos. 

“Do you want to?” Hyunjin asked, to which you immediately nodded.

“It’ll be a nice momento for tonight before we have to head home.” You murmured as you approached the line, and the pair in front of you stepped inside the photo booth.

Hyunjin felt a sharp pang in his chest at your words, but made sure it didn’t show. He merely smiled, determined not to bring down your mood. “That would be nice.”

And as it turned out, it was exactly what you both needed. Between goofy faces and funny props, you were both laughing again as you tumbled from the box and received your photo strips.

“You look ridiculous.” You gasped out, pointing to one of the pictures.

“Hey, speak for yourself.” Hyunjin replied, and you collapsed into a fit of giggles again.

Eventually you calmed down again, and you realized just how late it was getting. Hyunjin wished you could have an eternity to spend here, just soaking in each other’s presence, but all too soon he was back in your car. The streets were painfully clear, bringing back Hyunjin’s sense of dread as a few raindrops began to fall, before evolving into a slow drizzle.

He’d see you tomorrow too, he tried to assure himself as he watched the rain fall. 

But for some reason, this still felt like the end.

And when the triad of dorm halls came into view, an easy goodnight seemed increasingly more impossible. Hyunjin frowned when you stopped by the side of the road- just outside of the parking lot- grinding to a stop and turning off the vehicle. He glanced at your face, half hidden in the darkness, but with visible wetness on your cheeks.

“Y/n?” He murmured gently, deep concern rising in his already tight chest. When you didn’t look at him, he carefully took your hand. You flinched at his touch, but when Hyunjin moved to let go, you only gripped him tighter. It was completely silent, save for the faint sound of the rain on the car roof.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, rubbing your hand with his thumb, hating how utterly hollow your eyes looked at this moment. He wished he could somehow take away every pain that burdened you, and fix every shitty thing that tore you from this place and from him. You deserved so much more, and if he could give it to you he would in a heartbeat. Now, all he could do was watch as you slowly looked at him and locked gazes.

The rain pounded in time with his heart that suddenly spud up. There was something unfamiliar in your eyes; something blazing in them. Something like a spark.

How it happened, Hyunjin didn’t know- but then your lips were firmly attached to his, moving slowly to capture his own perfectly. And he was kissing you back, and nothing else mattered anymore except the roaring fire of adrenaline overtaking his body as he quickly moved to grasp your face in his hands and kiss you harder. It was deep and passionate and raw with emotions that now burst into the open; months upon months of yearning and longing and at last he knew exactly what you tasted like- and he could tangle his fingers into your hair and press you closer, closer, ever closer.

You were lightning, and you’d set him ablaze.

And just as suddenly as it had started he was pulling back, finding his own cheeks tear stained, gasping for air that hadn’t seemed important seconds ago but now felt impossibly needed.

“No, we can’t, we can’t-“ he sobbed, hating every word of what tumbled from his lips when his heart screamed anything but ‘no.’ “I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry but we can’t-”

“Why not?” You choked out in a fervent whisper, a desperate gleam in your eyes that were also muddled with tears. “Crazier things have happened, right?”

“It’s impossible.” Hyunjin whispered, almost choking himself, on the words and his hatred of them. But if this world had taught him anything, it was that life was never, ever fucking fair.

“I can’t love you.” His breathing was ragged as he blinked harshly against tears, trying to keep his composure, keep strong like he’d always made himself be; yet those crystals of pain dripped down his cheeks anyways. “You’re going to California and you’re going to graduate and become an incredible journalist. And I’ll only stand in the way.” Hyunjin tried to collect himself again, fighting the raw feeling of his throat- but he’d never felt pain as horrible as this. You’d been so perfect in his embrace.

“I could never deserve you anyways.”

“Hyunjin… that’s not true. We….” But your words were aimless and you fell silent again, biting your lips as another tear trickled down your face. You knew it, too, didn’t you? Things could never have worked out between you- it was a horrible, bitter truth.

It was his fault, he convinced himself then. His fault this was so hard for you. 

He had to let you go, if only for your sake.

But before he did, he allowed himself to gently brush away your tears, and softly kiss your stained cheeks. You closed your eyes as he gently kissed your forehead- when he tore away from you at last, his aching heart tore, too.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could manage before he pushed open the car door and stumbled out of the vehicle into the drizzle of rain. It was mere seconds before he felt the too familiar ache in his chest welling up again, and he dashed towards the dorm buildings before you could see him break.

He forced himself not to look back- for your sake or his own, he wasn’t sure.

…

Hyunjin’s mind was spinning as his feet carried him into the nearest building. He didn’t even realize that he wasn’t in his own dorm hall until his phone was in his hands, and he was speaking into it.

“Can I come?”

It hurt too much. The wrenching pain in his heart was unbearable as flashes of that moment in the car ran through his mind like a film. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream; more than all of those, he wanted the pain to go away.  It was instinct that took him here, knocking on the door and hearing her soft voice tell him, “Come in.”

It was dark inside, only a sole lamp giving light to the room. Ava was perched on the edge of the couch, black skirt riding suspiciously up her thigh as she twisted her hair. Her catlike eyes found his own. “That’s it then.” She whispered as Hyunjin found himself reaching for the doorframe, feeling weary. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Your hand had been so warm in his.

Numbly, he nodded. Ava exhaled, biting her bottom lip as she stood, languid and feline in her steps towards him.

“Come on, baby.” She murmured, leaning in to mumble in his ear. “Let me help you.”

He let her pull him forward, mind warring against itself as she made fast work of his shirt, kissing down his collarbone and sighing against his skin. He was pushed down onto the couch, his own hands acting instinctively- mechanically- to crawl over her skin. She hummed in approval, looking at him with gleaming eyes. “I’ll take care of you.” She purred, climbing on top of him and trailing kisses along his jawline as she raked her fingers through his damp hair. Her lips ghosted over his as his shaky hands unclasped her bra, fingers trailing her skin as her warmth pressed closer.

And Hyunjin felt utterly cold.

Every night he’d done this, it had been out of hopelessness. A way to distract himself- from school, from his own misery, and most importantly from the girl he could never have. And maybe he was an asshole for it, but it had been the only thing he could think of to keep himself from chasing after you. He’d known right from the first moment he’d fallen for you that you were way too good for him and he’d been sure he could only bring you misery if you knew of his feelings. So he’d hidden them, and with Ava’s help he’d kept himself busy. 

But now he’d tasted your lips, and for a split second it could have been you in his embrace. It could have been you as his lover. And no touch of Ava’s could make him forget that feeling, and the intense loneliness in his heart could no longer be buried without you.

Hyunjin pulled back instantly, pushing out of Ava’s grasp and whirling to stand. He stumbled, light headed, suddenly needing so much room away from her and the act that he could no longer play a part in. He mumbled out a mindless apology as he leaned heavily against the nearest wall, the huge hole in his chest rapidly expanding. He looked back at Ava, her shadowed figure frozen on the couch.

Strangely her eyes held no surprise, only resolve. The room was silent for several beats- just heavy breathing, and Hyunjin’s heart racing in his ear- before she spoke.

“I knew you didn’t love me when this started.” She murmured, gathering her discarded shirt over her knees as she glared at the wall. “I didn’t expect it; that wasn’t the deal. I guess I just hoped that somewhere along the way, you might start to.”

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin whispered, shaky hand finding his hair- then running over his face, his neck, anything to distract from the ache in his heart. 

She merely looked at him, expression like stone. “Save it. I don’t want your pity. And I don’t think I even want you anymore.”

He hardly registered those words, the pain in his heart so overwhelming that he thought nothing else would be able to shake him. He just took it, feeling guilty and pathetic and broken.

“Go home, Hyunjin.” Her voice trembled as she turned away again. “And don’t talk to me anymore.”

When he stepped outside, he didn’t even feel the rain. He paused under the frigid drops, staring up at the sky for who knew how long. It had never been so hard to take a step, but Hyunjin forced himself one by one to walk away from the hall.

Eventually Hyunjin arrived at his own dorm, soaked and shivering as he shuffled into his room. The door slowly closed behind him with a click, and the dripping bag in his grasp slipped to the ground. 

He stood numbly in the doorstep for several seconds, mind trying to process his surroundings now that he’d been greeted with quiet and calm for the first time that night. At last he moved robotically to remove his shoes- but his foot caught on the lip and he stumbled, knees hitting the ground painfully hard.

Oddly enough, it was this moment that broke him.

It started in welling tears and trembling hands as he ripped the shoe off and dropped it to the floor, trying to catch a breath that continuously escaped him. It all hit him in a wave, emotions too strong for names; the first sob burst from his lips, followed by another and another and another. Once it started, he couldn’t stop- he slowly rocked his body and subconsciously lowered himself to the floor, too weary to stay upright. He found his arms curling around himself, head burying into their cold embrace and finding little comfort as the emptiness of his room and his heart consumed him.

As tears fell faster and his sobs wretched harsher, his mind screamed at him. Pathetic. You’re so pathetic. Laying on the cold floor by his door, crying so hard he nearly vomited, Hyunjin certainly felt that way.

He wore himself out crying, with too little energy to pull himself any farther than the kitchen. Exhausted, he collapsed with heavy breaths on the tile; he could still feel your photo booth pictures in his jacket pocket.

It was a relief when sleep came and allowed his mind to drift away, momentarily giving him peace from the bitterness of reality. When he eventually awoke, the sun greeted him with bright happy rays that he could not smile for. Today was your last.

He’d promised to see you off, hadn't he?

Pathetic.

Yeah, he was. And he couldn’t bear to follow through.

Ten minutes before your flight left, he was still on the ground, miserable and guilty and hollow.

I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry.

…

You strained your neck to see over the crowd as yet another warning reminded you that you needed to board your flight immediately. But desperate hope made you stay, clinging to the plea that Hyunjin would come. He had to.

“This is the last call for flight 325, departing to Los Angeles, California in ten minutes. All passengers please ensure you follow…”

Your grip on your bags tightened, but the crowd was thinning and as you scanned the area again- no Hwang Hyunjin.

You couldn’t wait any longer.

Holding your bags, you raced to board, eyes sweeping the area one last time before you entered the cabin, heart sinking.  You found your spot, packing your bags into the overhead compartment before falling back into your seat. Now that you were still, you had a minute to process.

He hadn’t come.

You glanced out the window and found the scenery slightly blurred. What, tears? You blinked quickly to clear them, swiping at your eyes with a sudden wave of frustration. So what if Hyunjin hadn’t come? So what if he’d broken his promise? It didn’t matter now. You were leaving for good, and you could hardly expect him to bid you farewell after everything. 

You didn’t want to admit it, but as one stupid stubborn tear dripped down your face- it hurt like hell leaving without a proper goodbye.

Why hadn’t he come? Was he so ready to cut ties and move on now that you were leaving? The ghost of your shared kiss lingered in your brain, and you had to wonder; why had you done it? It had been stupid and selfish, but you hadn’t been able to help it. He’d looked at you with so much warmth and concern that you’d acted on impulse- and once your lips had touched his, you couldn’t have pulled away if you wanted to. But why had he kissed you back, and why hadn’t he come today, and why couldn’t you have had more time? More time to kiss him like that. More time to love him, and share coffees and muffins, and share glances across lectures that were particularly boring. You wanted him close, and just when he could have fallen into your embrace, you were dragged away- and now you’d messed up a relationship with someone you loved for a stupid kiss. Idiot.

Perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be.

But damn, you’d so hoped it would be.

The plane jolted as it began to move, heading for the runway. You wanted to swear to yourself no more tears, but as more and more memories of New York flooded through your mind it was impossible.

Silent droplets traced your cheeks as the plane’s speed picked up, and then you were off the ground. At that very moment, it hit the hardest.

Goodbye, New York. You stifled a sob, eyes squeezing shut as not to see the city below fade from view. Goodbye, Hyunjin.

…

A month later

Hyunjin wanted to call you, he really did. 

He missed you every day, but he couldn’t call you. Couldn’t even muster up the courage to text you, because it wasn’t fair to you. Why would you want to hear from him after he’d broken his promise and left you hanging? He would go to the ends of the earth if you asked him to, but he would not chase after you- not if he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt you again.

He had never deserved you. He didn’t know if he ever would have, either.

He collapsed on his couch after work, exhausted from the day and the heavy snow that had been dumped on the city and made travelling much harder. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he released a long sigh. His eyes fell on his phone, sitting on the coffee table and his heart clenched. 

What he wouldn’t do to see your smile again. 

He made himself shake his head and stand up. Walk to the kitchen counter, find a mug from the cupboards. He carefully poured boiling water into the cup with a tea bag and brought the steaming drink with him as he settled back on the couch. The silence immediately consumed him.

He couldn’t even try to lie to himself; it was so much lonelier without you. Everywhere he looked had your fingerprints all over it; the fountain, the university, his dorm. Even the flower shop housed your ghost from the days you’d stop by, complimenting the baskets and clipping the ribbons with him. He remembered how happy you’d been in summer when the first of the roses had bloomed and you’d had stores upon stores of them. 

“I’ve never seen so many roses in my life-” you breathed, mouth open. 

He was tempted to tease your gaping expression as a resemblance to a fish, but he was too endeared by your wonder to mention it. “You should see the store during Valentine’s.”

“There’s more then?”

“There’s hundreds of them, in every different colour.” Hyunjin grinned when you plucked one and observed it.

“No thorns.”

“We clip them.”

“Ah.” You put the stem experimentally between your teeth, and this time Hyunjin couldn’t help himself.

“You look like a beaver.”

You frowned, pulling the rose from your mouth. “It’s supposed to be charming.”

“Yes, a very charming beaver.”

You threw the rose at him, and Hyunjin clumsily caught it with a laugh. “Hey, don’t be mad. I’ll even make it up to you.”

You’d raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“I’ll give you the rose for free.”

He offered it to you, and watched the tips of your ears flame. With sudden shyness, he shrugged. “If you want it.”

“Yes.” You murmured, carefully plucking the rose from between his fingers. A second of tense silence passed before you blinked, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” If it makes you smile, then anything.

Would the ache in his heart ever heal? He missed everything you’d been together, back when California hadn’t been a part of the equation. More than anything, he just wished you were beside him again.

If you hadn’t left, what would have happened? Would you still have kissed him? Would you be what he woke up to every morning? Or would he have messed it up anyways?

His eyes trailed to the sealed papers that lay beside his phone- midterm marks he’d received the day before and hadn’t yet found the courage to open. He didn’t know what would happen if his marks had suffered, but it certainly wouldn’t be pretty.

But… he would have to face them sooner or later. With hesitancy, Hyunjin grasped the papers and turned them over. After pausing for a breath in and out, he folded them open.

His eyes scanned the pages, desperately finding each grade mark as he held his breath. His first few had remained the same, or improved by barely a couple points. And the very last one, his most worrisome class…

Had improved. 

Improved.

He grinned at the terrible mark, in all its glory, and laughed. Relief swept through his body as he sank back into the couch, letting the paper fall away with his anxieties. Maybe he wouldn’t flunk out, after all.

And who helped him to study for it?

The smile faded slowly as your face swam into his mind with a sharp pang in his chest. This time, however, it came with a realization- of you.

You, who’d touched him in so many ways. Who’d always had his back and had always believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself. Who’d meant so much to him, so much that he thought he might even love you - and he was just going to let you go because of a few mistakes? Because of a little distance?

He still owed you at least a dozen apologies, and there was so much left unsaid. And he didn’t know what the future held for the two of you; he didn’t know if you’d be able to pick up all the broken pieces and carry forward or if you’d only be separated and splintered further.

All he knew was that a part of him was out there, 2789 miles away. And it hurt too much not to try and fix it.

I must be the biggest idiot in the world. He thought with a shake of his head. Whether as your friend or your lover- or something in between- no matter what happens with us, it’ll be worth it if I have you.

So he steeled his nerves, took a deep breath and let it out again. Then he picked up the phone, and dialed the number he’d had memorized since the day he’d met you.

His heart raced in his ear as the tone rang. He didn’t know what you would say. Hell, he didn’t know what he would say. He really didn’t know anything. 

But maybe one day, if the universe decided to give you both a break, then maybe- just maybe- you’d see each other again. You’d be beside him again, and he’d be able to wrap you in his arms, place his head on top of yours and his bleeding, broken heart would slowly start to mend.

He could believe it; he could hope. Because your tentative hello that crackled over the speaker sounded cautiously hopeful, too.

After all, crazier things have happened, right?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[pookie-mulder]

July 2024 fic roundup

Here are the highlights from this month! I really love doing these. It helps me be more engaged with what I’m reading and actually remember individual fics once I’m done with them (rather than stuffing them in the collective “fic soup” in my brain, where they’ll combine together until there’s no hope of remembering details). Anyway, I highly recommend doing some sort of fic journal! I’d love to know what you guys are reading.

🦆👧 Temporum VI by Emily_M1013

This is the third installment of a wonderful Emily AU, The Mallards series. I love how it puts its own spin on canon events, and I’m delighted every time I see an update in my inbox!

🤫🪪 Snakebitten by @onpaperfirst

My favorite thing about this fic is the way it adds to canon without rehashing what we’ve already seen in the show, building on season 5 so seamlessly. (The motel scene is 👌)

👰‍♀️🤵‍♂️yesterday’s future by @thursdayinspace

This fic answers the question I posed in this post: What if Mulder and Scully got married right after William was born? I loved it so much! The angst and the longing and the overwhelming love were just perfect.

👓😩 spectacular by @thursdayinspace

Scully has a thing for Mulder in glasses. Mulder has a think for Scully in glasses. They bang about it. (And who can blame them, really?)

🌳☕️ Suncadia by @sisterspooky1013

A banger from the great sisterspooky! It’s a casefic set in the weird post-Millennium era where they kiss sometimes but haven’t established the terms of their relationship yet. Pining and yearning abound!

🏥👰‍♀️ Something blue (and something pink) by @sunflowernyx

Mulder and Scully get married during the cancer arc. It’s sweet, angsty, adorable, and tender. I thoroughly enjoyed it!

🐶🪤 A Change of Seasons by Jo-Ann Lassiter

Still making my way through @lilydalexf’s survival fic recs! This one is a one-shot; perfect for when you want a bit of hurt/comfort without all the peril and drama.

🌨️🌲 Frozen by @dashakay

Classic, cozy, cabin-in-the-woods fic where our two favorite agents get snowed in and finally admit their feelings for each other.

🏥👻 Finding Rokovoko by prufrockslove

An instant addition to my holy grail list! This is the first fic I’ve read by this legendary author (I think?), and BOY HOWDY do I see why they’re so revered. I finished this fic in one sitting, reading late into the night (yes, I was very tired at work the next day).

I think it’s best if you go into this one mostly blind. All you need to know is that MSR are teetering on the knife’s edge between UST and RST, there’s plenty of cancer arc angst, and they go on a spooky adventure that will give you the creepy crawlies.

📝📱 Belphegor’s Prime by prufrockslove

Another absolute banger from the legend themselves. This fic is as close to perfection as humanly possible. The way everything comes together is just incredible. If you haven’t read it yet, do it now! Shirk all other responsibilities and devour this fic in one sitting!

One of my favorite things about this fic is how ruthless Mulder is. I don’t think I’ve encountered a version of him quite like this anywhere else. His intense love for his family and his innate sense of duty are intensified to the point where he skirts the boundaries of what’s morally acceptable. He’s so desperate to protect his loved ones and fix the world that he will do anything, even if he risks becoming his father(s). It felt so organic and natural for him to become that version of himself under the extreme circumstances.

Anyway, if you’re a fan of time travel, DILFs, or characters whose greatest strengths become a curse, this is the perfect fic for you!

🎪🎡 More Than a Feeling by @sisterspooky1013

A s6 casefic where M&S go undercover at a traveling carnival. I love how fleshed-out the OCs were — it really raised the stakes of the story and made you care what happened to them. Such a fun read!

🐞🩺 Inspection by @ingridgradient

Our favorite agents use tick checks as an excuse to touch each other. Need I say more? Things get hot! (Thanks for the rec, @is-on-its-way!)

P.S. If you like this one, check out let’s have a look by girlfromnowhere (thanks for finding it for me, @randomfoggytiger!)

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿✝️ Hiraeth by prufrockslove

This is one of those fics that leaves you gobsmacked that someone wrote this for free and posted it online for anyone to enjoy. The amount of detail in this story is truly unbelievable. I don’t even normally like total AUs, but this one won me over!

Mulder and Scully’s medieval counterparts are so far removed from anything in canon, yet they still feel exactly like the characters we know and love. This fic is an absolute master class in characterization. I am now a prufrockslove stan account.

———

Special shoutout to @skelavender’s latest installment of fall into place, which isn’t out yet but I had the pleasure of beta reading. Guys, you are in for some serious shrimp emotions. It’s got everything you could ever want. I can’t wait until everyone gets to see how awesome it is!

[speakofthedebbie]

by popular demand (re: one person) some radioapple fic recs!! (i hope thats what you meant lol most of the fics i read are just radioapple)

Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis

just yes. thousand times yes. so basically my boy luci has some sleep troubles and that somehow leads to a qpr with al look its been a while ok just read it

Managerial Liberties by the same fella

these two tags explain it pretty well

something that sticks out to me about this is that charlie is actually (reasonably) cold to adam and like. im actually surprised with how little ive seen that. i mean i dont think id be exactly buddy-buddy with my besties killer either. only 3 chaps as of writing but already looking to be a radioapple classic

im not sure if its meant to be read as such but it kinda feels like a squeal to bedtime rituals in a way (edit: not meant to be read as such, just the same vibe)

devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss

also just yes. basically a really not cool joke evolves into a blossoming romance because why wouldnt it. (man if i had a nickel for every radioapple fic that had a masquerade that was sabotaged by the vees- *gets shot bc i cant mention osas yet*)

i’ll hold you close (i’ll stay the course) by the same fella

the entire time i was just going "yas king! put that egotistical flatscreen in his place!!". basically luci reminds the overlords who he is and vox shows he can be more of a threat than he lets on.

ykw fuck it just the entire series (i didnt mention i would give anything to not give a shit (but i do) and my perfect rock bottom (my beautiful trauma) because the first one sounded a lil too angsty and ive gotten enough of that from other sources [pointedly glares at Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love {also coming up later!}] and the second is (mostly) smut and ive been trying to step back from that because "ive seen worse" isnt a valid excuse for that torture actually)

Of Saints and Sinners by the forever amazing @morningstarwrites!! (if you see this i have a serious question: is this your first time ever writing a fic? because how do you get so much right the first time- [not even beginners luck could explain this level of skill])

i could sing its praises until my death bed but ill hold off so i can explain whats happening. basically after burning down a meeting room several times, luci and al make a deal ("not a deal!", luci laments to the void): they will attempt to be civil and maybe even friendly, and by the end luci will owe al a favour. whats the favour? read it yourself dammit! seriously, 10/10, i am foaming at the mouth till friday (depending on how this goes, that might be tomorrow or today)

Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love by Starlit_Rainfall (no tumblr in sight, so AO3) (i. urgfgh. what happened. i was just smiling over the fluff while crossing to go to school. where did it go. where did it gooooo)

if thats anything to go by, the last few chapters have been rough. the fluff feels so far away that i cant even explain what happens. luci was waxing poetic about swimming in maple syrup for al, i remember that much. also emily is there (fallen) tho we havent seen her in a sec. if you read it, warning for the gut punch of angst that starts chap 32 "She/Her" (though the chapter before that, "Should Alastor Know By Now?" ends pretty rough too)

Freely We Serve by @romanaxe

i dont remember how i managed to stumble upon this but im having a great time. basically alastor is a new sinner fresh in hell (but time doesnt matter and the whole cast is still here) and thinks "what better way to gain power than be the personal assistant of the heartbroken king of hell!" features a 6(?) year old charlie and a morally dubious lilith (also i loved eepy al X3)

A Family Forged in Hellfire by Green_Ghostwriter (once again, no Tumblr, so AO3)

this ones a bit newer (10 chaps), is so far mostly exposition and the slowburn pot hasnt even been put on the stove, but as just a hazbin fic in general i see the potential. basically its a 1920s au where heaven decides little charlie doesnt deserve to be raised in hell and is sent to earth with a "foster" family where her actions in life will determine witch realm she will return to after death. her "parents", al and minzy, are given false memories so they can claim the girl as their own and gee i wasnt kidding when i said it was a lot of exposition. erm honestly explaining anymore would tech be spoiling so go read it!

The Red Thread That Binds Us by @scun-gilli

{{future me prefacing this by saying i have no idea where i was going with yesterdays thought process, all you need to know from it was im on chapter 27. also scungilli your comment is making me very worried 😟 well theres no mcd tag so im sure itll fine, right? RIGHT, SCUNGILLI??}}

basically its a king x kings guard au where al and luci grow up together and only grow closer after a. certain life event for al (its fine guys trust :)) [she said, like a liar]) then al is sent of for royal guard training school (ik its not called that i forgor 😭) but dw he comes back. just watch out for graphic depictions of injuries (i think thats this fic) angst and a sneaky eve bc radioapple fics are allergic to happiness (or maybe im not looking hard enough lol) (also im really tempted to make the friendship bracelets they had 👀)

somewhere down the line by kj_crwm (AO3 link)

this one starts off as human!alastor/lucifer but by the middle(?) its just regular radioapple. basically al is encountered by luci while finishing off a job who agrees to keep quiet. luci just keeps on showing up, reveals hes the devil to which al us just like "lol ok" and eventually they get in a relationship (ooh lala 👀) but they break up after saying some hurtful things to each other (oh nono 👀) with luci promising al they will never cross paths again. if you watched the show then well. you know that doesnt happen 😂 most human!al radioapple have al summon him (no hate to them) so this was an interesting change of pace

cannot stress it enough but this is a WORKING list i WILL be coming back to it bc these are purely the fics i could think if off the top of my head. IN FACT, if any of you have radioapple fics you love, SEND THEM THE FUCK IN! i am one person whos only been in this fandom for 4 months, and reading fics/shipping radioapple even less, theres bound to be some ones i missed that you think are Worthy™️! and if theyre nsfw then at the very least it shouldnt be the main focus

EDIT: so sorry anyone who reblogged this before had to see the disgusting unedited version. literally just found out that tumblr doesnt apply edits to reblogs. what the fuck

[jabberwocky-warrior]

Silver and lilia angst

[general lifespan angst/ hurt-comfort] [Diasomnia Chapter Spoilers] [The end is kinda rushed] [Sebek and Malleus mentioned] [not edited] (lrt I was literally coming on tumblr to post this and saw this post that touches on the same thing)

Lilia is 700 and lets say he has a good 100yrs left in his life. He would still outlive silver.

To make it more angsty, lilia doesnt realize he will outlive him. he's thinking like a fae; 100 years is a short time to them. he hates the idea of his boys watching him slowly get weaker as his age catches up to him. He doesn't want his boys to see the man they admire for his strength lose said strength.

Silver already knows his family will outlive him. Not to say, he's accepted it but he knows it. He knows malleus will look the same while he is old and gray. He knows Sebek will still be standing guard for Malleus when he's retired. Silver knew these things like they were facts. But when it came to Lilia Silver wasn't sure.

Silver played with the idea of many different futures with his father.

Would his father take care of him? Would they live in their little cottage together like they do know? Sitting around the fireplace, with his father reminiscing about the past. Walking around the small path in the forest, the same route he's walked since he was little. Would they sit together on that old bench his dad made when he was little to watch the birds together?

That day at the dorm when Lilia said he was leaving, silver didn't think about it much. His father had gone on trips throughout his life and had always come back.

It wasn't until Lilia talked about losing his magic that Silver realized his father wasn't planning to come back. Though he would never say it out loud, he was angry. His father was leaving him. Leaving him before he graduated. Before he was knighted.

Malleus takes it worse. Overbloting before Silver can sit in his anger anymore. Silver fights. Fights for his family. For his father. And for his surrogate brother.

When all is said and done, Malleus is returned to normal. Lilia and Mallues have a heart-to-heart. But when they turn and look at silver, he breaks. He hides nothing.

Sebek isn't surprised by the lifespan. He's known Silver would pass before him since they began training together. But Malleus and Lilia are. They look at him wide-eyed at the realization Lilia would outlive him.

Malleus seems to go through a few stages of grief. But Lilia looks numb. His eyes are far away. Lilia's plan was to travel the world but to return when he got closer to the end. He knows what it's like to not have a body to bury. He never wanted to put Malleus and Silver through that.

But now as he looks at his beautiful son that helped him heal from his past. The son he learned how to clean a baby bottle for. His baby boy would have been dead or dying by the time he came back. He was so caught up in not wanting his sons to see him get weaker, he never stopped to think about what he would miss while gone.

He already knew he'd miss his graduation and his knighting. but he never thought about Silver's first love and first heartbreak. If Silver had a wedding or a child.

In that small moment, everything he would miss came flashing through his head.

Shaking his head and grabbing Silver's arm, Lilia pulled his son into his embrace. Neither of them say anything as they hold each other. Slowly they moved to the ground still holding each other. Lilia pulled Malleus down to join them. Sebek was pulled into the embrace soon after.

If Silver started crying no one mentioned it. If they all stayed on the floor holding each other for a few hours, no one mentioned that either.

~~~

In the end, Lilia stuck around. He still went traveling but only for a week to months at a time. A better deal than him disappearing for years at a time.

[jwirecs]

RECOMMENDED ARRANGED MARRIAGE AU💍

hello, hello! here are my arranged marriage au - nct recs! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers💝

requested by anon (i literally went through 44 pages of my svt tag and i dont think i’ve read any skz arranged marriage aus, so for now, its just nct..)

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Before I Go || @yutaholic​​​​​​🔞💕💔✅ (doyoung x reader)

↳ The day has come for you to marry Doyoung and life as a princess is not what you expected. Your new husband is distant and there is trouble stirring within the monarchy. Now more than ever, you are determined to kindle a romance with the prince, but you soon learn that your marriage will be put to the test in ways you could never have imagined.

Binding Bonds || @jaedore​🔞💕💔✅ (jaehyun x reader)

↳ Being the daughter of a top fashion brand, an arranged marriage isn’t what you’d expect coming out of your mother’s mouth. Especially when she says that it’s with Jung Jaehyun, the son of the CEO who owns one of the biggest trading companies. Of course he’s a heartthrob, a ladies’ man, and prince in the media, but in reality, he’s a royal pain in the ass. Your patience, emotions, and sanity is tested when you’re forced to share a life together. Will it crumble to the ground of the empire you’ve build or will there be a change of heart?

Coming Home || @cupofjae​​​​​​🔞💕💔✅ (yuta x reader, smau)

↳ an arranged marriage between two of the most powerful families drives a son away from the only home he has ever known. however, two long years past in success until his past comes knocking on his door, literally.

Lucky Number Seven || @paintmebare​🔞💔✅💯💯💯 (johnny x reader)

↳ When your less than lovely cousin makes a jab at you, you finally snap and tell her that you're dating her ex-boyfriend (even though you haven't spoken since high school). Johnny agrees to play the role of your boyfriend, though the longer you pretend to be in love, the more you realize you might actually be crushing on him.

MOON RIVER || @ppangjae​​​​​​​🔞💕💔✅ (jaehyun x reader)

↳ Your mother warned you of many boys. She’s warned you of the immature ones, the players, and even the fools and cowards. But man, she has never warned you of guys like Jeong Jaehyun, the President’s son, who seems to be falling in love with you with every passing day even though he’s already engaged to someone he’s been set up to marry.

***Seeds of Pomegranates || @/anashins​​​​​​​🔞💕💔✅ (jaehyun x reader)

↳ (this was also included in my feb-march nct fic recs, so please do head over to that post! this isnt under the arranged marriage type of au, but it gives off the vibes of it to me!)

Anon Request || @alluringjae​🔞💔✅ (jeno x reader)

↳ Anon: “ hi dear for the birth months special can you do this as angsty as you can. angst “ you weren’t there...why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren’t there!” and “All I wanted was a happy ending.” + prompt ‘As you begin to fall asleep, you feel a gentle kiss pressed to your temple and a blanket draped over you’ THANKYOUUU

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 7

“the losin’ touch, the waiting game”

A/N: so originally this was not going to be a super long chapter, but I felt like a lot needed to be said and boy, was I right. This is another angsty one, but I promise there will be more development of Joel & Beanie’s relationship coming in the next chapters!

Summary: Joel faces punishment for his violent actions towards Lucas. Tensions rise when Joel makes some accusations that test Tommy’s loyalty towards his brother.

~word count: 8.3k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! reader

Warnings: angst, family arguments, bigotry, picking favorites, punishment, tension, trauma responses, alluding to depression, explosive anger, resentment, violence against an animal (not depicted but there’s enough detail for assumptions to be made) mentions of a bullet wound, deprecating negative thoughts, mild gaslighting, unknown motives, mixed emotions, making up, starting over, soft Joel!, protective! Joel, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions (skin color/body type) readers nickname is Beanie (coffee beans) +18 minors dni!

main masterlist series masterlist playlist

“Joel, do you know why the community that Tommy and I have built here has been able to thrive for so long?” Maria inquired her brother-in-law who was presently sitting across from her and Tommy. In short, Joel was brought in for questioning after Lucas showed up to Doc's home a few nights back with his broken wrist and a layer of skin missing from the side of his face where Joel had it shoved against the stone wall.

Word had traveled fast through the community, and Tommy clearly didn’t have his brother’s back.

Joel was irritated to say the least. He was hurt by his brother, hurt by Ellie, and by you. He knew you didn’t have the intentions to hurt him, and he couldn’t hold it against you, but man, did it sting.

“Because you don’t condone violence amongst community members.” He gruffly responded under his breath as he crossed his arms over his chest. His jaw was clenched under the sunlight peeking through the windows as he grinded his teeth together.

“Exactly, so what do you think happens when someone in our community acts out violently?” Maria mirrored his actions as she leaned against the bar countertop with a deadly serious look on her unamused face.

“For fuck sakes, Maria. You ain’t have to lecture me like I’m a goddamn kid. Jus’ fuckin’ reprimand me for my actions and get on with it.” He snapped.

“Don’t talk to my wife like that, Joel. Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Tommy chimed in as he stood up from his chair but Maria held her hand out in a stopping motion, giving her husband a warning look.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You’re actin’ like I killed the guy! I broke his wrist and roughed him up a bit. You both realize I could have made it so much worse, right? What the fuck else was I supposed to do? You saw the emotional state Beanie was in after Lucas grabbed her! Y’wanna reprimand me for doin’ what I feel was the right thing? Be my guest, but I won’t sit around here another fuckin’ minute while you lecture me for it.” Joel threw his hands up in the air frustratingly. He didn’t like to be put on the spot, especially by his own family.

“You’re off patrol for two weeks. You are not authorized to leave your house under any circumstances. Tommy will bring you your meals. If you demonstrate good behavior, then I’ll allow you to return to patrol before the two weeks are up.” Maria spoke calmly.

“You’re forcin’ me into fuckin’ isolation? Wonderful. Ain’t like I don’t already know what that feels like on a personal level.” He grumbled under his breath as he stood up from his chair in a haste. He had nothing left to say to either his brother or sister-in-law, and even if he did, it would have fallen sharp on his tongue from the anger that was simmering in the pit of his stomach like a kettle on the stove just waiting to boil over.

He didn’t even pay attention to the sound of the bar stool scraping behind him as he shoved open the bar door on its hinges before storming out. Tommy was right behind him, calling his brother’s name as his palm came to rest along Joel’s shoulder.

“What the hell is the matter with you, Joel?!” Tommy hissed under his breath as the older Miller brother whirled around to face him with a stern look.

“You didn’t even bother to fuckin’ defend me, Tommy! What the hell happened to havin’ each other's backs?! You knew exactly what I was gonna do! Don’t stand there lookin’ at me like that as if you wouldn’t have gone and done the same if it was Maria havin’ a fuckin’ panic attack on that goddamn bathroom floor!” Joel snapped as he yanked his shoulder from his grip.

“Defend you?! What in god’s green earth would I defend you for?! You assaulted Lucas! Every goddamn person saw you drag him into the alley, Joel! This has nothing to do with Beanie, and everythin’ to do with you tryin’ to be the bigger man! For fuckin’ what? To burn some steam off?! Lucas grabbed her arm! He didn’t grab her in a malicious way, Joel!”

“Oh, so that just fuckin’ makes it okay?! You’ll defend him but not your own goddamn flesh and blood? So be it.” Joel spat as he jabbed one of his fingers directly in the middle of Tommy’s chest. “Y’know what I fuckin’ think? I think you’re a goddamn pussy, Tommy. I don’t regret what I did, and I’d fuckin’ do it again in a heartbeat. So don’t even bother bringin’ me my meals. I don’t want to fuckin’ see your face.” His voice cracked as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. Tommy could see his finger trembling as his brother struggled to keep his composure.

“I never fuckin’ said that it makes it okay, Joel! Did those words leave my goddamn mouth? No. If you would just let me fuckin’ finish? Lucas shouldn’t have grabbed her. He had no right to touch her, but Jesus Christ, did you really have to go and break his fuckin’ wrist for it?” Tommy sounded exhausted and on the verge of defeat.

“If I didn’t go out there and teach him a lesson, then no one would. If that kind of behavior goes unpunished, what kinda message do you think that sends to the community?” He was awaiting Tommy’s answer but when he didn’t receive one, he scoffed under his breath and turned on his heel to head home.

Tommy did agree with him. That kind of behavior couldn’t go left unpunished, but he couldn’t argue with his wife and her judgment on the situation. He was between a rock and a hard place when it came down to taking his brother’s side, or his wife’s. Joel’s behavior had to be addressed, but what of Lucas’s and Seth’s? Was he really about to let bigotry fester like an open untreated wound in his community?

“Joel..” Tommy uttered in an unsure tone.

“What?” Joel muttered back in a bitter gnawing tone.

“I’m sorry.” Tommy wanted to say more. He should have said more, but he couldn’t find the words.

“No, you ain’t. You ain’t sorry for shit, Tommy. Couldn’t even defend your own goddamn brother back there? Fuck you. I’m done here.” Joel snapped before he walked off, leaving Tommy in the dust.

Tommy was going to have to swallow his ego one way or another, he was going to have to swallow it and not throw it right back up. So that’s exactly what he did, he swallowed down his pride with one hefty gulp before he walked back into the Tipsy Bison where Maria was still standing in the same position she was in previously before Joel had stormed out.

“Maria, we oughta think about this whole situation through a lil’ more rationally. I ain’t sayin’ we shouldn’t reprimand Joel, but takin’ him off of patrol for two weeks ain’t the way to go about it.”

Maria raised an eyebrow in her husband’s direction with a tight shake of her head. “So, Joel throws a hissy fit and you then decide to take his side? Tommy, he assaulted Lucas. He broke his wrist. He’s lucky we aren’t fucking throwing him out of town. I could have easily exiled him, but felt that was too harsh of a punishment to instill on my brother-in-law.”

“Maria, I hear you, but what about Lucas’s actions? Seth’s? If we’re gonna punish my brother, we should punish them as well. You and I both know I’d never let you throw my brother out. Don’t even bring somethin’ like that up.” He warned her with a disappointed tilt of his head.

“How do you propose that we reprimand them? It would be unfair if their punishment was as severe as Joel’s. Neither of them acted out in a violent manner, Tommy.” Maria attempted to reason with him.

“Maria, with all due respect, Seth called Ellie and Dina a homophobic swear. He harassed them in fuckin’ public. You and I did not witness the way that he grabbed Beanie. No one did because they were in the corner outside of the bathrooms. He claims all he did was grab her arm, but how are we to know for certain?”

Maria let out a sigh as she dropped her arms at her side. She did not enjoy disagreeing with her husband, but it came with being a leader. If Joel goes unpunished for his actions, what kind of message does that send to the community? On the same token, Seth and Lucas’s behavior was unacceptable as well. “Okay, let's meet in the middle on this issue then. Joel is off patrol for 1 week and he’s on house arrest during the evening. Lucas and Seth will be on septic tank duty for that week.”

“I don’t think it's wise for us to take Joel off patrol at all. Maria, he’s one of the most able bodied men that we have. Takin’ him off patrol could put the town at risk. I’m jus’ sayin’ that I personally don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“We have more than enough able bodied men on patrol, Tommy. One week without Joel isn’t going to be detrimental.”

Tommy let out a sigh as he shoulders slumped forward knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to convince her. Maria was pretty damn hard headed when she needed to be. “Alright. I ain’t gonna argue any further. I’ll let Joel know, but after he’s cooled off a bit. He was practically steamin’ out there.”

It was Ellie’s suggestion that her and Dina go and check in on you. It had been days since you left your home since the incident at the Tipsy Bison. You were practically rotting away on the couch in the same spot that Joel left you. Still dressed in the same clothes, with the cup of tea he made you left untouched on the coffee table. You watched the sun rise, and fall each day. You heard the birds chirping outside the window, and the buzzards singing their song, but you did not move. It was as if you were dead from the inside out. Your skin felt filthy after being unwashed, and you could faintly taste copper along your tongue where you had chewn the fleshy bit of your cheek to ruin. Your cuticles were torn with crusted blood along the edges. You welcomed the pain with open arms. You couldn’t even recall tearing your nail beds to shreds.

When you heard the faint knocking at your front door your head just barely turned to acknowledge the sound. You could hear two familiar voices just outside the open window where the cream colored curtains billowed softly in the breeze.

“Hey, Beanie?” Ellie called. “You in here? It’s jus’ Dina and I. Can we come in?”

No answer.

“Well, it’s rude if we just barge in there, El.” Dina whispered.

“It’s been days since anyone has seen her, Dina. We gotta make sure she’s alright.” Ellie whispered back.

You blinked slowly at the clicking sound of the front door being opened.

“Beanie?” Both girls softly whispered amongst each other as they stepped inside.

“In here.” You croaked. Your throat felt raw and rubbed dry like scratchy sandpaper. Was it not just days ago where you had moments of wanting to kiss Joel? Now look at where you lay.

“Oh, Beanie..” Dina trailed off as her and Ellie discovered your curled up frame on the couch.

You diverted making eye contact as the two teenagers approached. Kindness felt so foreign to your skin.

“Have you been laying here all this time?” Ellie asked as she lowered herself along the edge of the coffee table.

You meekly nodded in response.

Your sullen eyes slowly flitted up when you saw the look that Dina and Ellie gave one another. It was the look of concern, not pity.

“Can we help you up?” Dina softly asked as her hand reached out to gently touch your arm.

“No.” You whispered as you turned your face into the pillow.

“We gotta getcha out of the clothes and into a bath or somethin.’ Can’t just let you rot away like this, Beanie.” Ellie was so much like Joel that you would have believed that she really was his own blood.

“Please don’t touch me.” Was all you could muster out as Dina slowly retracted her hand.

Dina and Ellie opted to sit with you instead until Ellie grew curious when she noticed your record collection on the nearby bookshelf. “Y’mind if I take a look at these?”

“Knock your socks off, kid.” Well, at least your humor hadn’t shriveled up and died in some hole too.

Ellie didn’t need to be told twice as she pushed herself up from the coffee table and padded over to the bookshelf. She was extremely careful as she flipped through the records. “Woah, Stevie Nicks? What I wouldn’t have given to see her live.” Ellie murmured softly.

“She was incredible. Saw her for the first time in ‘87. I was just a teenager then. Stevie always had somethin’ special. Grew up listening to her along with Zeppelin, Queen, Depeche Mode, just to name a few.” You mumbled as you slowly sat up from the previous fetal position you had been in.

“Holy fuckin’ shit. You saw Stevie live?!” Ellie lit up like a goddamn firefly as she set the record down gently.

“Kid, I've seen them all live. The 80’s and 90’s were a time to be alive. My friends and I went to as many live concerts as we could. Traveled around the country at one point in an RV. Totally tried the whole groupie thing for The Rolling Stones. I may or may not have kissed Mick Jagger at one point. He was definitely way too old for me, but as a teenager I could have given two shits.”

“Oh my god, you kissed Mick Jagger? Beanie, you swear you ain’t makin’ this all up?” Ellie and Dina were both immediately drawn into your past as you recalled memories being a teenager back in the day.

“I swear on my parents grave, I am not making this up. Back then concerts weren’t all that expensive, and my parents were pretty big hippies so I had a laid back childhood and upbringing. They were always playing music in the house and took me to my first concert when I was 10, and from there the rest was history.”

“Do you have any pictures? I love Depeche Mode. I listen to them on my walkman frequently.” Ellie stated excitedly.

“I’ve got what’s left of the pictures I salvaged after outbreak day. They’re upstairs. I’ll go and get them for you girls.” Suddenly the world didn’t feel like it was weighing down on you like a bag of bricks. Your lungs breathed in a hefty gulp of fresh air, and it no longer felt like you were drowning in an endless sea. It had been years since you brought up your past, but to see both Dina and Ellie show genuine enthusiasm and curiosity? It sent a warmth simmering up your spine.

It didn’t take very long for you to find the box of pictures inside one of your dresser drawers. They were a fair bit dusty and faded, but they instantly brought back wonderful memories that you clutched so tightly to your heart. You shared the same giddy excitement as the two teenagers on your couch as you brought the pictures downstairs.

You sat comfortably between Ellie and Dina as you went through each picture in vivid detail. You were Texas born and raised, and you were damn proud of it. Your parents were the definition of peace, love and happiness. They raised you with goodness in your heart and harmony in your soul. You learned to share your space with simple living things. You always had a soft spot for animals with the dream of becoming a veterinarian from the day you could walk. Turns out, you couldn’t stomach blood very well so Vet school was out of the question. This didn’t deter you from saving every injured creature that would cross paths with you.

The yearning to own an establishment came later in life. At first you thought about opening an art store, apothecary, nursery, or even a bookstore. Coffee was one of your favorite pleasures, and that’s how cuppa smiles came to be. That was the beauty of life at its core. You could wake up one day and decide that you didn’t want to be the person you were presently. You could change your looks, your wardrobe, your aspirations and hope that you got it right this time around.

“Hey, Beanie? Would it be alright if I kept this picture of you?” Ellie asked. The picture was of an 18 year old you. It was graduation night and you were in the back of some guy's pickup truck with a bottle of cheap champagne in your grasp. Your smile was bright and full of life. Eyes wild, filled with mischievous as you grinned at the camera. You were the epitome of beauty. A woman who had made it, and had her whole life ahead of her.

“Sure, you can keep it. I haven’t looked at these photos in years, so it’s nice to see them getting some attention. Is there a specific reason why you wanna keep that one?” You asked with genuine curiosity.

Ellie turned, looking at you with a knowing smile as she held the photograph gently between her fingers. “You just look beautiful and happy.” She murmured with a shrug. Little did you know..Ellie had all the intentions to pin the photograph up on the fridge at Joel’s right where he could see it every morning, and every night.

“It was graduation night. I was absolutely drunk out of my goddamn mind in that photo. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall out of the damn bed of the truck. That dress I was wearing was a real killer too. It was my favorite.” You looked over at her with a small smile tugging on your lips.

For the rest of the afternoon you told the teenager’s more stories, played a few albums on your turntable. Suddenly, taking a shower didn’t seem so terrible anymore. Ellie and Dina gave you your privacy as you bathed, but they stuck around to keep you company through the approaching evening hours.

For a moment that voice inside of your head was muffled, gagged by kindness and unable to lash through it with its sharpened claws. One night of peace seemed a hell of a lot better than none.

Whenever Joel was feeling particularly stressed, he would turn to the domestic comfort and safety of his woodworking shop that was tucked away in his shed behind his home. He did have a little workspace upstairs in his room. His shed was like his own personal safe haven. He could escape there for hours while his hands crafted something beautiful. The same hands that could break a man’s neck in one swift movement could also be held steady while he carved intricate details. Antlers for a moose, swift hooves for a mustang, delicate ears of a doe. Hands that could bruise, and hands that could heal. Hands that clutched a knife and held a life between his weathered fingertips. Hands that grasped a gun like it was an extension of his body. Hands that would tremble, hands that were bruised, torn, broken. Hands that could hold your face so tenderly, so softly as the rough texture of his thumbs brush your tears away.

The rain was softly pattering along the roof shingles as he was working on his newest piece. It was two horses nuzzling in an affectionate way. It was Tex and Tess. He was working on the wispy strands of your mare’s mane when he heard footsteps slowly approaching the small space between the open door. His undamaged ear zoned in on the exact movement as he deciphered who it was. It wasn’t Ellie. It wasn’t you..so that narrowed down his choices immediately. Based off the distinct sound of hesitation, Joel knew it was Tommy and his demeanor already shifted as he tossed his chisel into the nearby toolbox before crossing his arms over his chest with a gruff sigh.

“I come in peace.” Tommy reassured his brother as he gently pushed open the shed door with his shoulder.

“Y’sure about that Tommy? You ain’t come here to rub salt into the wound?” Joel muttered under his breath, nostrils flaring slightly. He was still pretty fucking pissed off at his brother if it wasn’t obvious enough by his body language alone.

“No, i’m here cus’ I was able to get through to Maria on decreasin’ your punishment.”

“Wow.” He huffed, “It’s a fucking miracle.” He deadpanned with a tight shake of his head. “Y’tell her it’s a fuckin’ stupid idea to take me off patrol?”

“Well, I was able to convince her to decrease your punishment to one week off patrol instead of two. I tried to tell ‘er that it’s a risky decision to take you off patrol, but she wouldn’t listen.” Tommy responded as he sank down into the chair nearest to the door.

Joel scoffed as he jaw clenched tightly. “Listen, I respect your wife, Tommy. I’m all for women’ bein’ in leadership roles, and she’s done a damn good job keepin’ this town safe, but she’s got some poor fuckin’ judgment right now. I give it one day before someone gets their head blown off out there.”

“Joel, what the fuck else was I supposed to do, huh? You’re fuckin’ lucky she didn’t decide to throw your ass out.” Tommy bit back.

“She’d be a goddamn fool if she threw me out. She jus’ wanted to make an empty threat so you’d be an obedient husband. She never wants to admit when she’s fuckin’ wrong. Whatever, I'll eat my goddamn punishment with a smile on my face.”

Tommy rang his fingers through his hair with a sigh as he sank back into the chair. “Yeah, well I personally think Lucas and Seth are bein’ let off easy for their actions. They’re gettin’ a week on septic tank duty.”

Joel turned in his chair fully as it scraped across the ground. He let out a full on belly laugh as he shook his head. “Fuckin’ septic tank duty?!” He hissed. “Y’gotta be fuckin’ jokin.’”

“I ain’t.”

“Lucas has a broken fuckin’ wrist! How the hell is he gonna do shit? Not to mention he’ll jus’ find a way to get out of it. Seth is jus’ an old racist n’homophobic fart. He’d rather drop dead before he takes a punishment.” Joel could feel his blood begin to boil at the distaste towards Maria’s choice of punishment.

“Joel, I know you ain’t a fan of Lucas cus’ of how he grabbed Beanie, but you’re gonna drive yourself mad holdin’ a grudge like this. Seth is your stereotypical dickhead, and if I had the authority to kick him out myself? I would.”

“It ain’t have anythin’ to do with Beanie, Tommy.” Joel was quick to snap back. “I don’t trust the guy. Y’remember when we found those bodies in the woods? He barely blinked an eye! He’s got the whole goddamn town wrapped ‘round his finger just cus’ I broke his poor poor wrist. He’s like a snake, i’m tellin’ ya!” He spoke exasperatedly without a care in the world if he was making some wild accusations. Accusations were only false until evidence was presented to turn that false claim to be true.

Joel watched as his younger brother scrubbed his hand down his face with a roll of his shoulders. “Jesus Christ, Joel. Do y’hear yourself right now?! Fuck. Y’can’t be goin’ n’makin’ these wild accusations without any evidence to back it up! Look, I ain’t a huge fan of the guy either, but I ain’t gonna be wavin’ my finger around like you are.” He shook his head disappointedly.

“Course you ain’t. Why don’t ya jus’ go’n turn a blind eye like everyone else then. Go ahead and be a fuckin’ sheep, Tommy.”

Tommy breathed in deeply through his nose with his eyes squeezed shut. He knew that Joel was smart. Smarter than most of the community would believe him to be. Joel also wouldn’t go and make wild accusations without having valid emotions set behind it. If Tommy was going to prove himself to be loyal to his brother, then he was going to have to start making those tough choices now.

“Alright, lets jus’ calm down here for a second, alright?” Tommy tried to reason with him.

Joel was dead silent as he leaned his weight against the chair with a stern look crossing his weathered features as he waited for his brother to continue.

“If you’re suggestin’ that y’wanna start keepin’ tabs on Lucas’s whereabouts, you better have a damn good plan at not gettin’ caught. Cause if this whole thing goes up into fuckin’ flames? Y’know I ain’t gonna be able to defend you without a solid amount of evidence. I’ll take the bullet for ya, but you better give me a damn good reason to, Joel.”

“That’s exactly what i’m suggestin’, Tommy. Maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe I'm losin’ my mind, but somethin’ about him ain’t sittin’ right with me. If I'm proven wrong, there won’t be a bullet for ya to take.” His tone was much softer now as he un-tensed his shoulders and jaw.

“Alright. Y’do what you gotta do, but don’t let anyone, and I mean anyone, figure out what you’re up to.” Tommy declared in a serious tone as he pushed himself up from the chair.

“Thank you.” Joel murmured.

“For what?” Tommy asked with a slight raise of his brow.

“For havin’ my back.”

“That’s what brothers are for ain’t it? Jus’ don’t make me regret it, Joel.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Tommy responded with a slight nod before he was slipping past the shed door and into the steady rhythm of rain.

Joel sank back further into his chair as he faced his work bench once more. He gently blew off a bit of wood dust that had settled along Tess’s delicately carved forelock. He worked on the sculpture for hours into the late night until he inevitably fell asleep at his work bench with the soft pattering of rain to lull him into slumber.

Maria was eating her words after one day of not having Joel on patrol. Cody was grazed in the shoulder by a stray bullet that was shot at point range from the nearby treeline. Raiders, no doubt. This one was just a scout, but a skilled one. Not as skilled as Tommy, who ultimately took him out.

Maria dismounted from her horse as Tommy was checking the body for any clues. Any information that would lead them to the raider camp. His search was fruitless. Unrewarding as he crouched down along the bloodstained earth with a sigh. His eyes narrowed in on where his bullet was buried in the scout’s temple, right between his eyes that were now staring up at the dove gray sky, cold and lifeless for eternity.

“I told you it wasn’t a wise idea to take Joel off patrol.” He muttered under his breath as he stood up straight.

Maria ignored her husband as she stood over the body. “Are there others?”

“No. Jus’ the one. That ain’t to say that this one didn’t come from a camp. Most likely was a scout.”

“I thought they would have moved on by now. What the hell are they sticking around for?” She asked with a shake of her head. As far as she was concerned, the raiders should have moved on by now. What was their purpose for sticking around? There weren't nearly enough of them to devise a plan of attack on the town.

“No clue. What I will say is that we’re gonna have to patrol the area more frequently. Expand our routes in every direction. More importantly, Joel is back on patrol startin’ tomorrow.” He leaned in close to his wife as he spoke. This wasn’t him asking for her permission, this was him telling her.

Maria didn’t argue with him.

Joel was back on patrol the following morning. He remained neutral with his sister-in-law. He felt no reason to be smug, especially when he was trying to keep a low profile on himself. It did come as quite the surprise when Maria showed up on his doorstep to personally ask him herself. Now, he was back in the saddle on Tex with the strap of his rifle resting across his shoulder as he rode next to Tommy.

It was fairly quiet as Tommy mapped out the next patrol routes to take. Tex and Timber were as quiet as two mice as their sturdy hooves flattened the earth beneath them. There were no alarming signs of raiders. No danger that could be detected as Tommy placed a marker down at the midpoint. Joel had eased Tex to a halt as he leaned down and gave him a gentle pat on his jet-black neck. His eyes zoned in on a rustling in the tall wispy grass. He noticed fur and white spots as he carefully dismounted. Tommy was half paying attention to his brother as he was scribbling something down on the map.

Joel had slowly crouched down as his hands gently pushed apart the tall grass. There he found a tiny fawn, not more than a day old, curled up in a protective position with only the tips of its tawny colored ears visible. His face softened as he gazed at the innocent creature. He wondered if its mother was nearby. He knew that fawns were often left in a safe area while the doe would search for food. He was just about to stand up when the wind direction shifted and the stench of death attacked his senses.

“Holy fuck.” Tommy stated in disbelief as he was standing over the fawn’s dead mother. At first he thought this was the work of wolves or another predator, but this was man. The poor creature was butchered in a disrespectful and heinous way. Both brother’s had butchered many game animals for meat, but not in the way that would send a grown man buckling to his knees and retching the contents from his stomach. The doe’s body was mangled to say the least. The details were too gruesome for even Joel or Tommy to describe.

“Wolves?” Tommy asked in an unsure tone. He knew the answer.

“No. Wolves wouldn’t kill like that. This was man’s work.” Joel grimaced.

“A warning?” There was a sharp edge to Tommy’s tone as he leaned his weight back into the heels of his boots.

Joel kicked at a patch of torn up grass with the toe of his boot. “Can’t know for sure, but it’s a possibility.”

Both Miller brother’s attention diverted to movement in their peripheral vision as the fawn had hesitantly crept out from the tall grass. Its legs were still a bit wobbly with each step it took towards Tex and Timber. Both horse’s were gentle and curious as their heads lowered towards the tiny, defenseless creature. The fawn’s coal black nose nuzzled against Tex’s before it collapsed to the ground with a squeak.

“We can’t leave it out here to die, Tommy.” Joel sighed as he placed his hands on his hips.

“What the hell are we supposed to do? Take it back with us? Joel, it’s a goner without its mom. Jus’ let it meet its fate.”

“No. It’s innocent. Jus’ barely a day old. It doesn’t deserve to die out here alone or god forbid get torn to shreds by wolves. I won’t stand for it.” Joel muttered as he approached the fawn once more. The poor thing was trembling as it tried to escape between Tex’s front legs.

“Hey, easy there little one. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” Joel softly spoke as he shrugged his flannel off his arms. “You’re alright. You’re safe. M’gonna take care of ya.” He cooed as he gently brought the flannel around the trembling creature and scooped it into his arms. The fawn struggled for a moment as it cried out for its dead mother. Joel continued to soothingly speak to it while his fingers gently stroked the top of its delicate furry head. Once the fawn recognized it was no longer in danger, it settled in Joel’s arms and soon fell asleep as it was ridden with exhaustion and malnourishment.

“Where are ya even gonna keep a fawn, Joel?” Tommy asked as he mounted back onto Timber with a huff.

“Dunno. Maybe I can make a pen or somethin’ next to Tex’s stall. I’ll figure that out when we get back.” He gruffly spoke as he used his free arm to mount back into the saddle. He was careful to not jostle the fawn too much as he held it securely with his freehand clutched around the reins.

He tilted his head downwards in a somber motion towards the fawn’s deceased mother.

I’m sorry, my dear. Man can be so cruel. So unforgiving towards Earth’s innocent creatures.

The tidings of a new morning kissed your skin like dew drops along a flower petal. You were so grateful for the company of Ellie and Dina. They had shown you unconditional kindness that came purely from their souls. Now you have two new friends. The three of you would become as thick as thieves. Until then, you were back in your shop with the door propped open to welcome in the fresh late spring breeze. Summer was on the horizon in a day's time. You decided to spruce up a little to get your mind off Joel and how you dismissed him on your couch after the incident. Your heart hurt as your mind replayed the image of his hurt stricken face as he slipped past your door. The night was so perfect, too perfect. You knew you’d see him again, but when? Under what context? You couldn’t blame him for not seeking you out. You never meant to hurt his feelings and of course he knew that, but your heart still stung. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

You were drawn away from your present thoughts when the bell dangling along the door chimed. Your heart skipped a fucking beat as you immediately assumed it was your Joel. You were already subconsciously checking your appearance in the mirror along the wall when you heard someone clear their throat. Your face fell mildly for a moment when you turned the corner. It wasn’t your Joel; it was Lucas, with a visible bandaged wrist.

“Hey, Beanie.” He waved with his good hand as a lopsided smile spread across his lips.

Your eyes zoned in on his bandaged wrist as he approached the countertop where you were presently standing. When did that happen? How did that happen? Who broke his wrist? Did..Joel have something to do with this?

“Lucas? Hey, how are you doing? I uh–wasn’t expecting you to drop by.” You calmly spoke as you nervously played with your fingers behind your back.

“Could be better. Nice place y’got here. I shoulda stopped by sooner. What’s your speciality?” He gestured to the chalkboard menu above the countertop.

“Lattes. Any flavored latte really. Would you..like one?”

“Sure. Surprise me with the flavor.” He shrugged as he looked around with an unreadable expression on his face. “I’m sure you’re wonderin’ why I stopped in today, huh? I just wanted to apologize for my behavior the other night. I had no intentions to send you any mixed signals, Beanie. If I was coming across in a suggestive way, I am very sorry.” He apologized in a calm and collected manner as he stood a few inches from the countertop.

“Oh, it’s alright. I suppose I should apologize as well for the way that I reacted? I’m just..not used to people reaching out and grabbing me like that. I am sorry for causing a scene. I know that you didn’t have any ulterior motives. Was the way I reacted a direct result in the cause of that bandage around your wrist?” You asked quietly as you grabbed a mug for the latte.

“My wrist?” He chuckled then as he leaned his elbow against the countertop casually. “You could say that. Your guard dog has himself a bit of a temper. S’a good thing it was a clean break. Scraped my face up pretty good too.” He responded in such a casual tone that you couldn’t help the slight chill that rolled down your spine like a dripping faucet.

“Im..sorry? My guard dog? Are we talking about Joel? He broke your wrist?”

“Darlin’ who else would act that way? Yes, it was Joel. Cornered me in the alley and shoved me against the wall.” He tsked under his breath with a sigh.

“Lucas, I'm so sorry. I swear, I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t tell him to go and break your wrist.”

“Beanie, s’alright. He’s a violent man. Probably woulda killed me with his bare hands if he got the chance. Anyway, I jus’ wanted to make sure I cleared the air with you first and foremost.”

Your stomach felt slightly queasy as your fingers trembled out of sight. You weren’t naive. You knew that Joel had killed numerous people in order to survive for this long. You held no judgment towards him. Everyone had to kill at some point in order to survive. Why would he act in such a manner if he no longer had to function in survival mode? Joel’s violent outburst towards Lucas wasn’t sitting right with you at all. You could feel your heart rate increase as you clutched your chest with a shaky breath.

“I’m–i’m sorry he did that to you, Lucas. I appreciate your apology, and I accept it.” You stuttered out as you nearly spilled a bit of coffee on your hand while you were handing him the mug.

“Like I said, it’s alright. Don’t go and worry your pretty little head over that violent Joel Miller. Thanks again for the latte.” He was looking right into your eyes now as he took the mug from your trembling hands. He stepped back from the counter followed by a tip of his imaginary hat in your direction. “See ya around, Beanie.” He left through the front door of your shop moments later and disappeared down the street.

You were left frozen on the spot as you used a rag to wipe away the stray dribbles of coffee from the counter. Your hands were still trembling as you busied yourself with more cleaning.

Joel would never. He wouldn’t.

Oh, but he would.

He did.

Why would Lucas lie about his wrist?

Joel is a violent man.

It's in his nature.

He’s dangerous.

Unpredictable.

A ticking time bomb.

And you’re a fool if you think otherwise.

Maybe that nagging voice inside of your head was right. Maybe Joel wasn’t all you believed him to be. This was about to be put to the test when his familiar scent wafted in through the open door. You heard his boots scuff along the wood flooring as the bell chimed above his head. He was holding something in his arms. You couldn’t tell what it was, but by the flushed expression on his face, whatever it was held a sense of urgency to him.

“Beanie.” He breathed out as he held the bundle in his arms close to his chest.

“Joel.” Your response was meek as you stepped around the corner of the countertop.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go. Couldn’t leave this poor baby out in the wilderness to die.” He murmured urgently as he approached.

“Joel, what are you talking about?” You asked with a hint of caution laced in your tone.

“This..fawn. Tommy and I were patrolin’ and I found it in the tall grass. Its mother was..killed by wolves presumably. I couldn’t just leave it out there. It’s barely a few days old.” He spoke softly as he gently pulled back the flannel to reveal the tiny fawn’s head. Its big brown eyes stared up at you with thick black lashes. The fawn showed timid curiosity as it sniffed the air for any immediate threats.

“Oh my goodness.” You whispered in disbelief as you peered down at the innocent creature.

How could a man be so violent, yet be tenderly holding a fawn in his arms as if it was fine delicate china that would shatter from the slightest touch.

It made your head spin.

“I ain’t got a single clue how to take care of it, and there's no tellin’ if it’ll make it through the night. Can..you help me, please?” He looked into your eyes, pleading silently.

“Joel, of course I'll help you. It's probably starving. Why don’t you..sit down and i’ll get some milk. Hopefully the poor thing will drink it.” you murmured in a hush tone as you disappeared behind the counter. There was a fridge in the back room that stored milk, cream and the occasional snack or two. You grabbed the small bottle of milk and a bowl before returning to the front area. Joel was sitting stiffly in one of the chairs as the fawn laid comfortably in his lap. You took the seat across from him with the bowl and milk bottle sitting on the table before you poured a bit into the bowl. “Here, put a bit on your finger and see if it’ll nurse.”

He slowly looked over at you before he nodded and used his free hand to dip one of his fingers into the bowl. The fawn was already lifting its head towards the familiar scent of milk and when Joel slowly lowered his finger towards the fawn’s nose, it immediately began to nurse. Joel stilled in his seat for a moment as images of a baby Sarah nursing from a bottle in his arms surfaced through his mind. She was so tiny. A silent tear rolled down the cavern of his cheek as the fawn sucked the few drops of milk from his finger.

“Joel?..”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as he went to brush the stray tear away.

“Joel, what..happened after you left the bathroom?”

God, she knows. She knows and now she’s afraid of me.

You watched as he inhaled a sharp breath before his eyes slowly flitted over to yours. He held a steady contact before he finally spoke.

“I did what I felt was right. It’s not alright for anyone to go and grab someone like that. He had no right to touch you, Beanie.” He breathed out.

“And you had the right to break his wrist?” Your voice trembled slightly as you watched the way his face fell.

“Beanie, I–couldn’t jus’ let him get away with that. I only wanted to protect you.” He tried to reason with you.

“Joel, I never asked you to protect me. You can’t just go and break people’s wrists just because they touched me. Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”

“You never had to ask. It comes naturally to me. Look, I've already been punished for my violent actions. I couldn’t leave it alone because you were a wreck. I came into the bathroom and you were thrashing like a goddamn fish in Tommy’s arms. You wouldn’t even let me get near you for over ten minutes. Don’t you remember? Honey, you were in fuckin’ shambles.” He nearly whispered as his voice cracked.

“I–I don’t remember, Joel. I don’t remember any of it.” You could feel the tears begin to brim along your waterline as your fingers trembled in your lap. “I..was that bad?”

“Beanie..you tucked yourself between two sinks with your back facin’ Tommy and I. My intentions were to just..rough him up a bit. He didn’t even know what the hell I was gettin’ on him for. He acted like he had done nothin’ wrong. Look, if you hate me now, and you ain’t want nothin’ to do with me, jus’ please save it. I’ve endured enough pain in my life. Jus’ rip the bandaid off if that’s what you gotta do.”

“What?” You looked over at him with tears freely rolling down your cheeks, mirroring his own. “Joel, I don’t hate you, I just didn’t understand why you did what you did. I wish that I remembered what had happened so that I could wrap my head around this whole thing. Lucas came in here about twenty minutes ago and told me what happened. He also apologized for how he acted, and then he left.”

Hell had suddenly frozen over in Joel’s world when you recounted Lucas having the nerve to show up to your shop and apologize for his behavior. Joel knew he had to remain calm despite the temperature of his blood skyrocketing. Lucas was here. He was in your shop, and Joel was not happy about it.

“Beanie, S’alright that you don’t remember what happened. I don’t wanna end up triggerin’ your memories or nothin.’” He sighed softly as he thought about the careful choice of words he’d have to use when discussing Lucas. “Lucas was here?..Well, I'm glad that he apologized. Is that all he said?”

“Joel, it’s not okay that I don’t remember. I can’t fucking recount anything after the moment he grabbed my arm. It’s all a blank screen in my mind.” Your tone alone gave away how frustrated you were as you vigorously wiped away your tears. “He–said that you’re a violent man, and that I shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about it.” You whispered the last bit out as your eyes drifted down to your trembling palms that were resting in your lap.

Joel bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough that he could taste copper along his tongue. He swallowed hard as he tried to calm his nerves. How dare he. How dare he try and turn you against him. What was this little conniving snake trying to stir up now?

“He’s right. I am a violent man.” He muttered under his breath. “I’d be a fool to sit here and try to lie to you, Beanie. I’ve done some godawful things in the name of survival, but I'd never hurt you. I’d never grab you like that. I’d never cross those boundaries. Beanie, please jus’ be careful, okay? Please.”

“Joel, I know you’d never hurt me. I don’t care that you’re a violent man. Who am I to judge you? Everyone has had to kill to survive. I’m no saint either. Look, neither you or I can go back to that night. I wish I could. I wish I could reverse the clock because I was having such a good time with you, Joel.” You looked over at him with glassy eyes as you sniffled softly.

“You..don’t care? Do you truly mean that, Beanie? I was having such a wonderful time with you as well. I’m sorry that I allowed myself to act upon violence. I should have jus’ stayed in the bathroom with you and Tommy. Should have stayed with you.” His head dropped slightly in mild defeat.

“Joel, of course I mean that. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for pushing you away when you tried to comfort me on my couch. You were just trying to help and I pushed you away..”

“Sweet girl, you don’t have to apologize for a goddamn thing. You needed space, so I gave it to ya. You know your body best. I wasn’t gonna try’n force you to let me stay. Last thing I wanted to do was make you uncomfortable.” He murmured sincerely.

You wanted to laugh through your tears when he called you sweet girl. You weren’t anywhere near the age of a girl anymore, but it was still a thoughtful gesture that you appreciated more than you realized.

“Can..we start over? Can we put this all behind us?” You asked hesitantly as your hand slowly reached across the table.

“Course we can. There ain’t anyone here that can tell us that we can’t. Clock’s still goin’ but that doesn’t mean we gotta stick with the times. We can go at it at our own pace. Whatever we’re comfortable with.” He reassured you as his hand that wasn’t occupied with the fawn reached towards you across the table.

Your fingertips brushed before they interlocked in a gentle squeeze as you both fell into a moment of silence.

“What do we name this little one?” He asked softly as he dipped his free finger back into the bowl of milk.

“Bambi?” That seemed like the obvious choice given the circumstances.

“Nah.” he murmured with a boyish grin. “How about Beanie number 2?”

“How original.” You mused with a soft smile on your lips.

“Or what about Honey? Pretty sure it's a girl.” He shrugged.

“Honey. I like it.” You murmured as you squeezed his hand gently.

“Y’hear that, Honey? We’re gonna take care of ya. Remember that horse you were nuzzlin’ on? That’s Tex. He’s gonna be your protector too. We’re gonna make sure you have a good life, alright little one?” He spoke so softly to the innocent creature that gazed up at him like he had crafted the sun for that fawn with his bare hands in his toolshed.

How could a man be so violent, yet so tender.

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